I have coddled the oxalis with Arran granite, along with the chamomile and sedum, pulled up the monster geranium and potted him in the hope that his evil plot to take over the universe may be at least put off somewhat, inserted various very pure and innocent looking tulip bulbs into pots to avoid whatever blighted those that I planted last year in the beds, forcibly ripped up the hideous shasta daises because they are hateful and I hate them (although I sulkily transplanted them into pots), transplanted the world's most insipid tradescantia in the hope that it will flower better in the company of things that don't want to strangle it to death, set in place a future catastrophic coup in which a montana rubens (rubens?!?!?!?1 what the HELL, sandy) will utterly destroy a rather beautiful but ultimately doomed honeysuckle that can't cope with a single spot of mildew without losing all its leaves (go for it, rubens), planted my lovely posh white fuschia which has finally recovered from the deep frost of the 2010 -14 degrees winter, collected nasturtium seeds, planted my hairy-leafed lace-cap hydrangea which I am certain nothing could possibly be interested in eating as its leaves look VERY indigiestible and horrible, and now have masses of space in which to put my "peppermint stick" and "dwarf praestans" tulips which I am assured are naturalisers and won't need stroking and saying "there, there" to like every other bloody tulip I've ever planted along with an absolute avalanche of recently and over-enthusiastically purchased crocus bulbs and my rapidly expanding and very lovely aquilegia collection, of which I am becoming quite proud (every member of which must have been dug up and replanted at least twice) and I have given up on the yellow day lilies because they are clearly idiots and am now scouting around for a pot suitable for anemonies (why did no-one tell me that it's utterly pointless planting anemonies anywhere but in pots?) and somewhere to hide my tigridia (phwooooar! they are teh sex, readers) from the coming frost, along with the other idiot daylilies (lavender and red) that I stupidly put so much effort into earlier this year (all of them failed dismally). Still to come - mutilating the euphorbia before he becomes carnivorous and eats everything, mutilating the solanum just for being ugly, crippling the buddleia and hornbeam before their roots destroy the tarmac and trying to save the other, non-pathetic honeysuckle because that one really tried this year and probably deserves to live. Oh, and decapitating the aconitum (phwoooar! it is teh sex, readers). Oh, and getting that other clematis off my dad and trying to put it somewhere (where? How?) and destroying every last remnant of the dreaded feverfew that gave out an absolute cloud of gorgeous white daisy-head flowers this year but I am assured that they will be worse than the euphorbia, monster geranium and solanum put together before the end of next year. And I really, really, really should do something about the, cough, "lawn".
I need a bigger garden.
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