Coming up roses, part 2

As reported last month, the roses are coming back nicely. Most of the bushes have buds on them.

  

Some are almost ready to burst into flower. Hurrah!

I want to give them as much encouragement as possible, which means surrounding them (and the lilac, which has now had its first dose of Dave’s magic “make flowers” cocktail) with compost and/or sea soil. What I don’t want is the compost and/or sea soil being sprayed all over the rest of the slanting bed when I water them.

I know! I’ll make rock circles around them to keep the good stuff  where it needs to be.

I survey my handiwork. It’s okay and it should do the job, but I’m just not quite sure. I go inside, make myself a cuppa and come back for another look. Nope. Just looks like a job half done. And it’s not as if I have any shortage of rocks, is it?

Much better. Settle myself on the swing with Stella to admire my rocky rose bed. Oh, that smug feeling of a job well (rather than half) done.

Elsewhere in the garden: Came back into the house Monday morning after watering the garden to report thrilling news to my visiting friend Catherine: the regular peas are sprouting! She shares my excitement. It is after all what we gardeners (both proper and useless like me) live for, is it not?

This morning there is further excitement. Despite the fact that one of the cats (my money’s on Roxie) keeps trying to use the veggie bed as a litter box, a row of beet leaves has appeared! No sign yet of carrots, lettuce, spinach, rocket or squash, but it’s still early days, isn’t it? (Or isn’t it?)

Fingers crossed.

Rhodo Dave puts me straight

Across the road at Pat’s, in addition to his two heavily lilac-laden trees, his heavenly-scented rhododendron is in full bloom. In fact, rhododendrons are flowering all over the island – except in my back yard. I’m putting this down to the lack of sun back there. After all, the California lilacs in the back flower much later than the one in the garden, so why not?

This looks like it's going to flower, doesn’t it? (Doesn’t it? she repeats plaintively.)

I thought so, but then I realised these are simply new leaves, not flowers. Bollocks.

Nearing the end of rehearsals for Will Shakespeare The Panto, which I directed in 2014, BJ, one of the longstanding panto cast members, looked at me and asked, “What about the children?” To which I replied: “What about them? I’m letting them in, am I not? What more do they want?” BJ pointed out that there was no point in the script assigned to giving sweets to the rug rats. Apparently simply allowing them to attend wasn’t enough. They needed sweets. “Fine,” I said, “you can hand out sweets during the Act One finale*.” Sheesh. Anyone would think that pantos were children’s entertainment. (To avoid a similar debate the following year, I deliberately included handing out sweets in the script. Personally, I still think it’s bloody pandering.)

* Act One finale: A rousing version of Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.

I was reminded of this conversation yesterday when I went to the rehearsal for A Visit From Miss Prothero. 

Dave, our director, and his wife Jan have dozens (nay, scores) of beautifully flowering rhododendrons scattered around their property. I mention my two rhododendrons showing no sign of wanting to flower, proffering my theory that they’ve been slowed down by lack of sun. Dave looks at me and asks, “What are you feeding them?” I stare back at him blankly. Feeding them? What is he talking about? No one told me rhododendrons had to be provided with slap up meals. “Erm,” I mutter. “I water them.” Surely that’s enough? Au contraire. Apparently, in addition to sun and water, they need food. I see.

Fortunately for me, Rhodo Dave has lots of rhododendron food. He sends me home after rehearsal with a supply.

And he tells me I might want to give my only-ever-flowered-once lilac some of the same food – if I would like it to ever flower again. Well, erm, yes, I would rather like that. (I am, of course, immediately suspicious about the year the lilac did actually flower. Krys was here alone with it for three weeks while I was in England. Had she been cooking four-course meals for the lilac? It begins to seem highly likely. How sneaky was that? And this, of course, is much more comforting than my previous theory that the lilac liked her, but doesn’t like me.)

So, this morning both rhododendrons and both lilacs have been fed. Dave, bless him, realising how completely hapless a gardener I am, promises to remind me when the next feeding is required.  

Now that I have learnt the error of my ways, I confidently predict that this time next year my rhododendrons and lilacs will look just like Pat’s.

  

Just kidding. (I can dream, can’t I?)