It has been a shamefully long time since I spent a couple of hours in the garden, but this weekend, I finally managed it. I have been hiding inside, cold and grumpy that the snow was halting my normal routines. And I was rather worried that when I stepped outside, I would find a great deal to depress me. I couldn’t help but worry about the passionflowers, the herbs and the chard I had left, entirely unprotected, to brave the elements.
There was a lot out there that was just miserable mush. The cobaea which had covered most of the fence was now slimy and horrible and very much dead. Cobaea, or cup-and-saucer vine, is a perennial, but hails from warmer climes, so is generally grown as an annual in this country. Every year I wonder if this is the winter when the vine will survive, and every year it winds up as mush. That’s not a great problem as the plant can reach an enormous size in just one season, so cutting the enormous tangle of stems down is almost a relief, an attempt to regain control.
The seedheads I had left for the birds were now far past their architectural, frost-dusted best, so they took the chop as well. And as I hacked back the dead sedum stems, I found the pick-me-up I wanted: hundreds of fat little buds clumped around the base, ready for spring. I can’t wait.
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