It’s like the Somme. No, not your soul after the day trip to the Christmas market although it does feel like you’re suffering from advanced trench foot. No, we’re talking about the winter garden. Not the dance hall in Weston where you made such a fool of yourself in 69 no, your garden that looks like it’s taken a sustained shelling ahead of an attack and indeed an attack is what is needed. On that first doll-eyed-blue morning sky get out there, and despite the overpowering temptation to tuck a rake under the arm, don’t.
No matter what size your garden go welly-footed corner to corner and as the roar from the Easyjet overhead making its final turn into the local airport fades let the mind picture, in bright Sony Bravia colour, what you want to be there in six short months time. I know you say you’ve got no imagination (your partner said so) and in many ways it’s true you don’t, but for this you have hidden powers you were entirely unaware of, the eyes of Laura Mars!
Now stand perfectly still and hear the polite laughter of friends and the clink of wine glasses (let’s hope they didn’t find the 2015) against sporks as admiring murmurs are heard around the swaying heads of Lilly and Gladioli punching up through drifts of Petunia, Impatiens, Geraniums, Lobelias and Crane’s-bill and yes, you are seeing all this in your minds eye now and no, that is not the distant rumble of guns at Buvet, nor is it the Mothers Pride van bumping down the lane, it is the rumble of your determination approaching to make your garden happen. It’s a long way…..
By guest blogger Jack Gardner.
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