Arnfinn claims that I don't have green fingers! Deep - very deep - down in my throat the words are under construction, trying to emerge, but because of too many hurdles and hindrances won't - namely that I tend to agree, but won't admit it!
Since I have never been given a gardener for Christmas (which is on my wish list every year!) I have to do it myself.
Gardening is a wonderful thing,; fresh air, sunshine (sometimes), green growing things, God's beautiful nature....I love and enjoy it - the only thing that keeps me from doing it all the time is probably that I have one or two other things that need to be done also, and they often take priority.
My mother in law has extremely green fingers. She has had berries, fruits and vegetables in her garden always. She even grew potatoes for their large family - enough to last all winter. Even her indoor plants are always healthy and beautiful. They must really love her. But then again, she grew up on a large farm and was taught how to plant, nourish, and harvest.
Wonder what my plants think of me? They sometimes have to go without water for longer than they deserve and re-potting is done every half a century. Maybe it's not really that bad -
But back to my garden. I have one enemy - the beautiful roe deers that live and breed in the woods next to the Duck and Cherry. They come to my garden for dessert (often while I am happily sleeping) - and feast on pansies, young berry bushes, and the bark of fruit trees.
I salvage the bushes and trees again and again. One of my apple trees is only half an apple tree because the other half was eaten by the deers.
I have brought it back to health like a sick child, applied remedies, and cut the branches into shape again. It gives yummy apples, though it looks a little funny. I have also brought a small red currant bush back to healthy living after the deers chomped on most of it.
But yesterday I had had enough of the deers rummaging my garden. This summer they have already feasted on three bushes, so I decided to build cages around my babies. Pictures show a small berry bush eaten by deers, a young apple tree protected and propped up (with ski poles!), and my fancy boxes around the red currant bushes - built from scraps of wood in the garage. There's also a photo of the unripe cheeries that will have to be covered before the birds eat them, and lastly a warm little Hector relaxing in the shade while I try to salvage my garden.
So if I cannot be a gardener with green fingers in my husband's eyes, can I be a little bit of a carpenter?