Ever since I was in Cornwall I’ve had a bee in my bonnet about plants.
Anyone who knew me 5 years ago would have laughed and insisted it was a practical joke. You see, I’ve never really been into gardening or plants (had a knack of killing both plants and goldfish – not intentionally and not together). My parents would spend hours in the garden and I never understood. To me gardening was boring and it was what old people did.
In our last house I wanted to have plants. We had a tiny little patio garden and I bought pots and filled them with bedding plants. I bought a rubber plant (which I still have and it’s huge now) but that was my one and only house plant. My excuse was the impossibly thin window sills in our Victorian terrace.
I vowed I’d have more plants when we moved to our new home back in December 07. Until today all I had was my rubber plant.
Apart from 2 dragon trees (Paul picked those) I’m really not sure what I bought. I had to read all the labels and work out where the plants would be happiest. We’ve got plants in the conservatory, lounge, bathroom and hallway.
We didnt’ stop there.
The lady who lived in our house before us was a fantastic gardener. We have a mature garden which blossoms and blooms without any kind of intervention from us. She had all sorts of hooks for hanging baskets. Here’s my garden helper, #2son, putting our plants into pots and baskets.
I found the plastic cauldron I used to hand out sweets last Halloween, punctured a couple of holes in the bottom and turned it into a plant pot. It’s now outside the front door along with 2 hanging baskets.
Looks appropriately witchy now!
AND I didn’t forget the birds. They now have a little bird house hanging from the tree at the bottom of the garden and a feeder full of peanuts!
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