"A flower garden is a great resource to a lady. We have, in our rather limited sphere, a good deal to suffer, and a good deal to make the best of, and, in each case, our minds seem healed and mollified by the sight and smell of our gay and fragrant parterres. A flower, too, is a sermon-- it preaches to our hearts and minds-- it speaks to us loudly and powerfully of the tender love of our and its Creator...Thus in every way our garden is a kind of benefactor-- it gives us moral health and physical health, pleasure and profit, recollection, and sometimes blessed forgetfulness...".
"My Flowers" by Rosa (ca. 1848) from The Armchair Book of Gardens: A Miscellanyi've been known to keep a garden and i do so love the smell of loam in the morning. i busied myself for most of 2013 with a garden, and though i still tend to see what hasn't grown in yet, and what still needs to be done (even though one is never 'done' with a garden) i am quite pleased with the results thus far.
before & after pics, and some skatalogical tid-bittery, after the jump.
|once there was this...|
|which turned into this. blessed forgetfulness, indeed.|
aside from that little dance on the wheel of karma, no pesticides or herbicides have been used on this patch of earth in 12 months. moreover, i have found that gophers and most tunneling critters are très disgustéd by an impressively effective mix of dog shit and garlic. ideally, shove a bit of both into their tunnels for a firm message. just a bit of shit will do the trick. otherwise, drop a clove of garlic down the shoot. he may protest and send the clove back up but, lady, be insistent. resend the garlic to its intended recipient, cover with dirt, and pound firmly with your foot. surely, you are more stubborn than a gopher.
|my friend adam helped because no lady is an island.|
|became this (with the help of dunn edwards london fog).|
|cattywampus blessed be.|