If you are one of my 154 followers on Instagram, you know that sometimes I post pictures of my wild, old and pretty much unattended garden. The beautiful shiny apples, the blackberries on top of the shed, the fig tree visited by loud birds in search of a snack, my beautiful plants (the ones that are still alive at least), the Lavi corner and the fresh laundry on the line.
Yesterday it was a different story though. Let me walk you through it.
I woke up early then went back to sleep and woke up late and had my coffee couch potato style.
No, I didn’t look like this. Most likely I looked like this:
Minus the facial hair. And the hairy legs. I had waxed recently.
Then I read a little (I had started Open by Andre Agassi the night before and it’s absolutely awesome). I ended up snoozing until boyfriend got home and ordered food for us.
The yummy grilled chicken wrap from Delisserie made me feel a bit more energized so I decided to move to the garden to enjoy its raw beauty and the unexpected September sunshine. I took my phone with me, to Instagram some autumnal snaps.
Except after one look and a few sniffs I got back inside, grabbed my wellies and some marigolds and went back very, very determined.
Now, you see, the lovely birds visiting the fig tree for occasional snacks must have had either a war or a festival in my garden. Smashed, rotting figs were all over the ground and on the table and on the chairs. I managed to sort out the garden furniture with a hose, a brush and a cloth and clean the mess with a rake. Yuk.
I moved further, in front of the shed, under the apple and the plum tree. Same story, rotting apples and plums all over the ground and those tiny annoying flies circling them. Double yuk. I grabbed the rake again, cleared the ground and abstained from making a controlled fire, pretty much because I don’t know how. I congratulate myself for such a great idea. Then I put everything in bags with my marigolded hands and then outside in the bin. Triple yuk.
I didn’t disturb the lynxes under the ping pong table, they seem comfy there and they seemed to had brought the extended family. Maybe some other day when I feel more cruel.
Bottom line, the garden looked better by the end of the day. Still not very instagramable and I felt like I should have lit some scented candles in there to kill the smell of dead fruit.
But soon leaves will die (or dry?) and when they dothey don’t stink and they look pretty and when you step on them they sound crunchy like pretzels. Unless…