There’s not a lot to see in my garden at present, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to show you anyway.
Here’s the main plot. As you can see, not a lot is going on in there:
Very beautiful, as you can see. I am an expert gardener with many skills who knows what she’s doing (a.k.a. blatant lies.)
But what, I hear you ask, are those two mystery beauties up the back. Well, they’re eggplants. That I planted in September. Which refused to die over the ridiculous summer, but also haven’t got any bigger. I don’t know what’s up with them. I’m going to keep an eye on them just in case they are up to TREASON of some kind.
(I think it was water? There’s nothing there now.)
These aren’t the only stubborn bastards holding on from my summer garden. I have the world’s smallest rosemary bush and some lemon thyme that never got big enough to actually put in anything and is now sadly curling up into a sad husk of its former self.
Somehow, I also have potatoes! I think. I planted potatoes in these bags, but they died off. And not in the ‘we died off so you can harvest us now’ kind of way, but the ‘you left us in the sun when it was 45 degrees C you heartless woman’ kind of way.
And now I have suspiciously potato-looking plants coming up, all healthy confidence. Look at that posture. I don’t know for sure, but I think there might be potatoes in those bags.
Then there are the definitely-potatoes. I cut the sprouty ends off some potatoes and popped them into this shopping-bag-lined-bucket with a bit of dirt. I suspect I should have removed some of the debris from the dirt before I started, but this is anarchy, so there you go.
So that’s the garden! I’ll give you updates as we go, because obviously the reason you’re reading a romance writer’s blog is because of your deep love of gardening porn.
(If this is gardening porn, it’s the really dirty kind *ba-dum-tsh*!)