My normal morning routine is to open the curtains – all fourteen pairs – and put the kettle on for that delicious first cup of tea for the day. I then empty the grate, lay it up for the evening, chop some wood and sticks, check and fill the bird feeders and, by this time, the kettle is merrily boiling away.
But at this time of year, of course, there is the additional shrill siren call of the greenhouse. I did a count up the other day and currently I have sixteen seed trays under cover plus more than 100 assorted seedlings that have been potted on. Add to this the plants, approximately forty, that are overwintering in the unheated greenhouse and need watering, and there’s an hour’s additional work.
I know it’s been the same for donkeys’ years but as they tick by, somehow, everything is just a bit more effort than it was 12-months ago. Even the 2-gallon watering cans seem to be getting heavier. As for more those 80 litre bags of compost, all I can say is thank goodness for the sack trolley. That’s the thing that I used to laugh uproariously in my younger days.
But despite all of this, early spring is a lovely time of year. The blackbirds are still singing their morning chorus as I wake up the greenhouse and even on a gloomy day, its lovely inside there. I always know if it’s been a particularly cold night as when I open up the sliding door a little wren twitters angrily at me from the other end and departs through the old air-intake built in to the side of the structure. He or she doesn’t overnight with my plants when its warm.
When I’m not going to my office in town and spend more time in the greenhouse, it is very likely that at some point I’m going to have to rescue a bumble bee. I don’t know what it is that attracts them but already this spring I’ve rescued six or seven. I keep a clear plastic pot and a small sheet of strong but thin card – just large enough to block off the end – in a safe spot on the bench. Bombus will eventually tire and move down to the lower windows. Here I can pop the pot over and slip the card underneath to keep the bee temporarily captive. Goodness, he is very angry. I walk him right down the garden, a long way from the greenhouse, and off he flies safe and sound.
These are the good parts of a morning in the greenhouse. The not so good bit is the wretched hosepipe. I know I’ve banged on about this in the past, but there is a fortune waiting for someone who can design and hose-end spray that stays in position, doesn’t leak and can be easily adjusted from fine spray to heavier.
If she sees more clumping down for breakfast with wet trousers, Mrs GG knows it will be a very cross husband sitting opposite - but not for long.
Happy Gardening!
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