For Whom The Bell Tolls..

You know, I'd love to have a big cottage garden. A massive vegie patch out the back, filled with potatoes, plump carrots, brightly coloured capsicums, piles of tomatoes for eating straight, and making sauce. And elsewhere within the garden, fruit trees, laden with goodies, spring being heralded by massive shows of tulips, daffodils and irises pushing their way through the earth. Huge climbing vines of roses in loads of colours (particularly yellow), a big kitchen garden of herbs in every flavour, along with Lavender, pansies, gorgeous colour and flowers.

There are a couple of obstacles to this though, not the least of which is the fact that big mac is allergic to bees. You see, I have been living a double life. I am of course, me - music nut, knitter, spinner, sewer, food freak. But although I might try to hide it I also have quite the black thumb. One might go so far as to say that I am the botanical grim reaper.

Got a plant you want to die, quickly and horribly? Give it to me. Through over loving it, neglect, or plain stupidity I will manage to kill it in under a fortnight. They catch horrible diseases. They wither and crack. They burn, they get mould on them, they flatten out onto the earth and sometimes - they plain just up and vanish. 'What the hell? I swear to god I planted a gardenia here two days ago? Now there's just a hole?' I am of the opinion it upped and ran as soon as it got a chance, one moonlit night.

A few christmases ago, my mum gave me a lovely planter box, filled with four different varieties of herbs. Surely, thought I, this lot will live? They were a GIFT after all? And so began my battle with a neighbourhood tomcat. Who decided on top of my precious herbs was the BEST place to sleep. Every morning they were curiously flat and I got up really early one morning and discovered him asleep, and discovered the WHY for the flatness. So I moved it up higher, onto a ledge. He knocked it off the ledge, thus tipping the herbs out, and went back to sleep. I replanted the herbs, put them up even HIGHER, and he did this little trick again. After the second replanting, I put chicken mesh over them. He pissed in the planter and every last herb died. I guess he really did show me who was boss. I can compete with many things, but tomcat urine is clearly not one of them.

When we moved into this house it was February, In the middle of one seriously hot summer. The weekend we moved in it was above 40 degrees celsius both days, and water restrictions were in full force. So, you see the tree out the front never really had a chance. It was a really young tree, you see, and it was already convulsing when we moved in. It was the heat that truly did it in, not me. Although I suppose Master Mayhem ripping it out of the ground didn't help? At any rate, it did leave a round paved area of garden bed in the front yard looking rather bare.

Meet Barry.

Barry is, as you can see, a lavender plant. He is also, however, a hostage of sorts. You see - I said to Mac that if I could get Barry to live, maybe I could try again, you know? Get some more plants. Maybe some pansies, or again with the herbs. But first, Barry has to grow.

Here he is, freshly planted, and has been told of his fate. Live? Get friends. Die? Bin. He looks confident in rising to meet the challenge, dontcha think?

Still. I'm sure any thoughts you can send Barry's way would be appreciated. It's a lot of weight for a $6 lavender from Bunnings to bear all on his own.

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