Am up and about and getting reacquainted with my garden. The bad weather has finally broken and both yesterday and today have been sunny and warm here in Versailles. Here are a few photos:
This is the hedge that separates the garden from the parking lot. As you can see, last week it was a bit out of control. I usually trim it with a pair of hedge shears but I'm not allowed to do that sort of thing these days. Instead, we purchased an electric hedge trimmer at Truffaut's and my spouse took care of it on Sunday. Here is the result:
In both pictures you can see the horrible locust tree in the middle of the yard. We hate it, the neighbors hate it, but the landlord has forbidden its removal. So we just cut it back and let the cats use it as a scratching post.
This, on the other hand, is a tree we love. It was a volunteer that appeared one year and it had such pretty flowers that we just decided to let it grow. This year it was big enough (and we pruned it just right) to provide some shade for our favorite spot on the patio.
There are two vegetable beds in the middle of the yard. This year I planted an artichoke, lettuce, broccoli, and cherry tomatoes. Because I think vegetables by themselves are boring, I planted capucines (nasturtiums) and gladiolas too.
And finally in two big pots on the patio are the regular tomatoes (taller than I am) and some vines I grew from seed. The latter should flower soon and I am eagerly awaiting the event since I threw away the package and no longer remember what they are supposed to look like in bloom.
For all its imperfections (many weeds, uneven edges, haphazard design) I love my garden. When I am at my lowest, I feel better just walking on the grass and smelling the roses or sitting on the patio and watching the sunlight illuminate each bed, move over the grass, and end up at the end of the day highlighting the rose bed on the other side. It's less work than you might think - I just carry my clippers and spade with me and do a little every day. Good therapy too. For “Where you tend a rose my lad, a thistle cannot grow.”