So summer has passed and although the weather is still pleasantly mild the garden is not looking very pretty. Fortunately this is the time I love. Time to cut back things, move other things and brutally eject those plants that just didn't work. My muscles have a satsifying ache - a welcome feeling, knowing how many easter eggs are heading straight to my hips.
I admit I moved some roses well before their dormant stage but I have faith that they will forgive me. Not so the lawn which continues to shrink as I enlarge the garden beds. My husband eyes me with suspicion each time I take the spade out of the shed. I've told him I'm doing it for him - less lawn for mowing, which is his domain. He can't really stop me, after all I'm the one holding the spade.
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