Can't wait...

I wasn't going to do a blog today.  But then I remembered.  I'm off to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show again tomorrow night, and between the eye make-up and the fishnets, I probably won't have time to write anything.

So here I am.  What a stunning day it's been.  I've made the most of the weather by planting lots of weird and wonderful little brown nuggets which claim to bloom into something spectacular come the summer.  As you know, I am not blessed with the greenest of fingers, working on the premise that if a plant survives a year, then it's allowed to stay.  I've had these bulbs for some time now, and had been waiting till the frosts were over before I planted them.  That is what it said on the bag, and who am I to argue with Mr Unwin (purveyor of fine seeds and bulbs).

However, my best friend Mrs S, who is to gardening what Rick Stein is to the humble pollock, pooh-poohed my fears of planting too early.

'They'll be fine', she said, 'they need a bit of frost to start them off''.

So I've planted everything, from dahlia to begonia to some weird looking things whose name I can't pronounce but which looked very pretty on the packaging.

Where my borders are concerned, I am the eternal cock-eyed optimist, and I have every faith that come June, my garden will be a blaze of colour.

Of course, none of this might happen.  This is one of the better things about being 55.  I won't remember where I've planted them so if they don't come up, I shan't question why.

As the husband tells me, if you can't see the problem, then there probably isn't one.

Wise old fool...