Fallen leaves are the finest treasure a gardener can have, the raw material for the black gold that is leaf mould. Some magical alchemy of dead leaves, fungi and time produces the sweetest, cleanest, softest compost possible. And you can’t buy it – you make your own or go without. On Wednesday we filled old sand bags with leaves from around the garden and on Thursday I built a leaf mould bin. Being something of a traditionalist at heart, mine is made from wooden posts (reclaimed from a broken rustic trellis) and chicken wire. I know that I can keep filling it until there are no leaves on the trees and it will take all I can put in, appearing to be full, then sinking a foot or so in a week to make room for more.
It’s been a good week – we’ve done all the root cuttings for Oriental Poppies and Verbascums and Peter is well ahead with the long job of cutting the hedges. I’m feeling a bit more on top of things now. Next up are the tulips to plant, digging over and manuring the new veg plot, and the slow picking through the borders to remove what’s dead and unattractive.
The egg-fest continues – five yesterday and three today. But my camera is well and truly bust, so no pictures, without which blogging seems a little dull.
And since it’s on my mind, what does the election of Barack Obama mean to us all? Partly to help myself answer this question I bought his autobiography today, written in 1995 when he was 33, on the back of being elected the first black President of the Harvard Law Review and being asked for his story. Having read two chapters I’ve discovered that, in addition to being obviously eloquent, clever, persuasive and good-looking, he writes beautifully and comes across as deeply thoughtful and perceptive. A recent cartoon in an American newspaper showed a sign on the White House lawn, by the lake. It read ‘Please do not walk on the water’. I think that neatly sums up the huge sense of hope, faith and expectation in this one young man. I hope he can handle it. I believe he can.
Recent Comments