|A season-changing chill was in the air this morning as I stared vacantly from a window of the near-empty 208 as it rattled through the gullet of Northbridge for no apparent reason. Good stolid burghers do not catch government buses at 7 o'clock on a Saturday morning. in place of substantive flesh, I wrapped my cardy around my slim frame, and pondered on the joys of autumn in my garden.|
It is time to ring the changes in my oft-commented-upon, bloomin' flower bed around the back. After the torrential rains last weekend, I started to remove the more bedraggled looking Petunias, the ones that went in first. They were planted last September, would you believe! Tomorrow, I will remove the rest of the Petunias, and Sweet Williams, dead-head the Marigolds, and prune them to shape, ensuring that they occupy a satisfying "shape" in the garden-bed, allowing me room to mass up some mauve, pink, and white Cyclamen.
Mmm ... this might create all sorts of colour clashes with the yellow, orange, and rust coloured Marigolds. Will have to play it by eye. I am reliably informed by our resident bloke, that the compost was a solid block, and he turned it enough times this arvo to make it crumbly for me. He and his motley crew are heading out Mudgee way next weekend, so it will be a good chance to spread compost.
While the cats are away ...