Making Up for Lost Time

I was thinking perhaps that titling this post "gross negligence" might be appropriate instead, but decided to be kinder to myself since that's a healthier approach. So let's just say I dropped the ball for the past month as it relates to the flower gardens here at Struan Farm. Anyone who knows the place knows that they're extensive, at the Homestead and at our house. Practically one could be outside tending to them daily, and probably one should be if one were fastidious. I have done a few extended stints deadheading roses and dahlias, something that could be done daily to maintain high standards. Just not nearly enough.

The ball was dropped for many reasons: busy farmstay, Community Fruit & Veg Stand responsibilities, competition from the veggie gardens, and extremely hot weather for several weeks. (Let's not forget playing with damsons too.) At one point I got sunburnt around my neck, and on my chest and forearms, despite using 50+ sunscreen (of course I always wear a hat). It was more like a rash, which makes me think that perhaps I am allergic to something in this particular "sunscreen for sensitive skin." I'm finding I am hyper-sensitive to almost all sunscreens, except for those that ruin clothing and make one look like a ghost from the black lagoon. The one I used successfully for years, "SunSense," was re-formulated about a year ago, and now I can't use that any more without getting a rash. So ghostly it seems I must be. But the rash/sunburn meant that I couldn't go outside in the heat and bright sun to garden until it subsided. I tried wrapping a rather dashing shawl/scarf made of UV sun protective fabric around my neck to cover up, one that friend Laura gave me a few Christmases ago, but every time I bent down to work I had to fling it back around my neck. Visions of Isadora Duncan, her long white scarf and the convertible, and we all know what happened there.

With cooler nights and mornings this week I've been able to crack in, and have rediscovered some semblance of a groove, spending several days in the Homestead gardens. I discovered powdery mildew on some of the dahlias, something I hadn't seen before, so after major deadheading those have been sprayed with water and baking soda (the other non-chemical option would have skim milk and water). Buckets of water from the roof tank have gone onto wilting rhodos and azaleas in John's new bed in the back in any effort to keep them hanging on through this drought, they were planted too late this past spring. Also on a sagging hydrangea at the front gate.

I'm doing my best to resist getting stressed out about what remains to be done, rather am taking it one bed at a time, putting one booted foot in front of the other with my niwashi in hand. The hedge trimmer is being deployed too.

After having a close look at the extent of the situation down there I've shuddered with embarrassment, realising we had friends who are serious gardeners stay in the Homestead recently. Are the gardens a reflection of me? I feel they are. I want them looking their best, and I don't want anyone thinking that I can't cope with what needs to get done. I also know that they depend on me, I am their caregiver and guardian, just one who's been missing in action of late.

So it's back on the job, making up for lost time!