We do try to keep the gardening down to a minimum.
The principle is that the less you interfere in the plant kingdom, the healthier it will be.
But the roses – except for the Thug Roses, which need only occasional guidance around a wooden pole – need to be pruned in Winter, poor aliens in this land that they are.
The pruning took place in July, and the English Maids are thriving now. This morning my mission seemed to be to help out the Honeysuckle which has woven itself over the North face of the Circle over the last 7 years.
The poor thing was mostly dead wood, so I secature’d away with heartfelt apologies. Within the dead wood, however, was a single tendril of living, pale green and leafy Honeysuckle plant. I had to extricate it from its protection, and wound it around the North wooden balustrade. I heard it thank me as I smeared some of my blood over its stem, courtesy of the neighbouring Thug Rose.
Sometimes – as today, as a fortnight ago when I stripped dead Yucca leaves from our over-ten-foot-tall specimen – they welcome a little help.
Lemons are falling, Spinach is shooting up, Jasmine almost finished but heavenly-scented, Yesterday-Today-and-Tomorrow throwing a blanket of ultra-sweet over the street gate. Green appearing everywhere, along with the straw colours of the Winter Dead.
It is such an honour to be able to give a little hand, and to hear the long-wave pulse of the plants themselves greeting the Spring, and me.