Sunday, March 22, 2009

Even the garden won't save me

There'll be no sewing today. I haven't the temperament for it.

Yesterday's market went well enough, given that it was both bloody hot and violently windy .... not the most conducive of environments for an outdoor market, you might say. Toof was the first thing to sell, and then the mint and pink flannelette cat, then a tiny red polka-dotted bird. A few doorstops, a tissue pack, some lavender sachets.

My new tote though, One Car Off The Road, (made from more delicious Echino fabric) sold as well, and I only finished it moments before the market. A small four-year old dressed in a bright red t-shirt that said "Fire engines to the Rescue" decided he wanted it for his library bag, and refused to budge, in that stubborn way of four-year olds.

I think he liked the colour and the cars more than the ecological statement the tote makes .... but never mind. As long as he likes it, that's the main thing. Perhaps the message will seep in subliminally over time.

But I don't feel like sewing or being creative today. I just want to be stodgy and quiet.

I had (I just typed "hate"accidentally and had to delete it, that probably says enough about my state of mind) ... that is, I had a night of bad dreams last night, bad dreams about just about everything. And so today I've woken up in a mood.

Even going out into the garden didn't help a great deal, and usually it can pick up my spirits in a moment.

Today, stepping onto the path, I breathed in the delicate perfume of the white roses. They spill like seafoam over the top of my picket fence, and at the moment the scent is rising off them in the warm sun.

Ordinarily I'm not fond of the Iceberg virus that infects so many inner-city gardens. I'm more a Tequila Sunrise kind of rose lover - vivid orange petals with bright yellow hearts to them. Or Adof, warm deep apricot. Or Lagerfeld, a cool and delicate mauve, similar to Blue Moon but ever so slightly more regal.

But these Icebergs were here when we moved in, and I haven't the heart to rip them out. They're slowly being overshadowed by the giant grasping robinias though, which started out as moptops and get bigger every year, despite me taking to them every spring with a hacksaw and giant snippers. One day they'll swallow the roses altogether, and they'll stop frothing along the top of the fence.

Having watered the gardenias, I thought briefly of taking some box hedge cuttings. The plants have had a burst of growth after the week of misty rain we had here in Melbourne, and they've grown long arms that wave over the brickwork. If I catch them at the right time I can pot them up, and hey presto, extra new box plants, for free.

But there are other things to do in the backyard today ahead of taking cuttings. There's ugly wire trellising to put up against the ugly south-facing wooden fence. It's a festival of ugliness out there right now, but once the trellising is in place, I can start training the passionfruit vines along it.

And hopefully in a few seasons time all the ugly will be gone, and instead there'll be fresh warm passionfruit to crack open in summer instead.

1 comment:

a cat of impossible colour said...

How weird, I had a long night of awful dreams on Saturday night as well. Perhaps there was something in the air.