Since moving into our house I have had to let go of my fantasy that I am a great gardener without a garden. I now have a garden and have had the overwhelming realisation that I am not a great gardener or even an ok one. However, I forge on, buying seedlings, moving plants (eek, I even moved the peonies, in my gung-ho enthusiasm), planting green things and god forbid actually watering the plants.
I am not sure how long it will last as I have a posse of garden predators to contend with... one free-range sheep (good-bye roses), 5 peacocks (they scratch the 'blood and bone' fertiliser from the beds), countless wild bunnies (we love kale and lettuce yum), and, a possum who lives in our roof and does nightime raids on the newly purchased seedling punnets (at least I think it is the possum).
So you see the odds are stacked against me, add two pre-schoolers who love to help, and the garden and me bio-relationship is mostly strained. Still, I live in hope of a reunion.
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