Today, still on sick child duty, I realised around 4pm that I was in danger of being home for the entire day and not spending any time in the garden. I buckled Brighid in the pushchair and pulled stones out of the roses garden and thought a little more about whether I would pull the roses out. Because of the narrowness of the bed (bordered by concrete on one side and our brick house on the other), digging the roses out would very likely mean killing them rather than transplanting. I'm a little unsure about killing a perfectly nice rose plant (or four). I am going to keep the small one which does not ramble and which produces rose hips. Not that I've done anything culinary or medicinal with them, but I like looking at them and someday I'll play apothecary with them.
I only got to pull stones out for four minutes, maybe less. But I was in the garden, and my life wasn't all kitchen and mothering.
Precious.
1 comment:
Ah yes...I have somewhat hazy memories of the band;-) Dh would wanna rip the roses out...he wants to rip the lawn of our rental property out - eek!
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