I made a rare trip into my greenhouse this afternoon.
Dad put a lot of work into repairing and replacing some fence panels in my back garden earlier this year and I even made the effort myself to re-treat them all a few days later. It's not a job I relish repeating particularly so I decided I would shop around for some suitable hedging to grow around the lawn, initially to support the panels against the strong winds that we seem prone to, but eventually to replace the need for them entirely.
Now the grounds to Seany Towers aren't that extensive but it looked as though I would be looking for around 20-30 plants and I've been suitably horrified at what it was going to cost - even with my internet bargain hunting skills.
So this afternoon I set to raiding the green and golden leylandii that border the front lawn and armed with a new bag of potting compost and some organic rooting compound, started off 20 cuttings. My horticultural skills are hardly notable so as a back up, Dad is also starting some cotoneaster cuttings from their garden to add to mine.
The really disturbing thing is that it wasn't entirely the unpleasant chore I'd anticipated and I'd hate to think that I've already approached the age where I'm happy pottering around in my greenhouse on a weekend...
3 comments:
Cough...Ahem..Welcome to 'middle age'..cough.
I noticed this disturbing tendency in myself a couple of years ago: to potter about the garden, prefer tea to alcohol, listen to grown up radio.
Cardigans, slippers and coach holidays to Bridlington next.
Just a note about your previous entry. It's rumoured that the company you were interviewed at has picked the wrong time to expand and is in some financial difficulty. So we may be better off out of it.
Thanks for that Paul. I'm at completely the wrong end of my mortgage to have that sort of worry on my mind!
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