Weeding done, potting done, pruning done. I love flowers and gardens, but not gardening. It hurts! We all know that, but that is the sign of a job well done, so pat on back. Ouch, be gentle!
I think I’ve told you before: My Scottish Grandad grew vegetables until he died aged 91. Every time we visited as kids and adults we had to ‘do the tour’ of the immaculate rows of the basics of life.
“Why don’t you grow flowers, Grandad?” I enquired. I was ten years old and all that dirt with only leaves and no pretties seemed unfinished to my young mind.
“Ach, ye cannae eat flooers!”, he retorted. Point taken. Actually you can, if you are into nasturtiums (spelling?) and the like. And whatever happened to sugared violets that used to be the epitome of posh on afternoon tea cakes? Ooh, they were lovely.