You have a week, a whole lovely week or maybe even several weeks of holiday ahead of you, and your garden needs work. Gardens always need work.
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There's weeds in the flower beds, the branches are bare on what used to be the apple tree till the possum found it, and the fruit flies think your peach crop is their Christmas dinner.
It's time to do nothing at all.
The world needs a rest, and so do you - or at least as much as you can get. Most of the world's problems would be solved if everyone did less permanently, from war to wanting what we don't need.
Those weeds can be mulched by dumping hay on them in a few weeks' time. Seeds will germinate better when it's not quite so hot. The apple tree leaves will grow back, and the possum will be back too - or another one, if you remove the current inhabitant. Fretting about this one will achieve nothing. Borrow chooks to clean up the fallen peaches, or hire a kid to throw it all in a garbage bag, or bribe them with a trip to the swimming pool. (Note to all parents: this is a gardening column, not one about the legality of child labour or advice on bringing up kids.)
It can be surprisingly hard to do nothing in a garden, when you've been doing stuff all year long. You might need to ease into it gently:
Hold a hose
Unless it is actually raining or you've had deluge lasting more than 10 minutes, your garden needs water. This last few months' showers leave the surface wet, but the soil dry underneath.
Find a comfortable chair, cushions, a shady spot, the tap, the hose, a good book, something cool to drink. Now turn on the hose, sit, and point the hose in a useful direction. Continue till you feel no urge whatsoever to prune off the dead roses.
Borrow a dog
Sit in the shade and throw a frisbee. If the dog isn't the kind who instinctively brings back balls, sticks or frisbees, have a bunch of sticks instead, to throw for the dog to dance around triumphantly once they've found each one.
Look at a bulb catalogue
This can be done online, and indoors, especially in heat or thunderstorms. Bulbs for winter and spring should be ordered in February, and not planted till then either. But this is the best time to dream about them - where new ones might go or bulbs you've never tried before, like miniature rockery daffodils, or a patch of saffron crocus for all your cooking needs or a delight of tulips.
Or maybe investigate a native plant catalogue, or look at The Friends of the Botanic Gardens website. They have a wealth of knowledge about what fascinating bird, bee and butterfly attracting flowers, trees, bushes, ground covers or ornamental native grasses would be fabulous in your garden. Be careful, in case you are tempted to buy and plant those native darlings now. Don't. They too will better if planted in March or April, with enough time to get growing before winter sets in.
MORE JACKIE FRENCH:
Snooze
This is an excellent garden activity for this time of year, especially if Santa leaves you a hammock or a squatter's chair, the wood or cane kind where you stretch out and survey your acres - or square metres - or doze. Squatter's chairs became known as "banana lounges" in the 1960s when the world began to be built out of plastic, but hot plastic is not fun to lie on.
But a blanket to lie, with a pillow for your head, works as well.
Play Hide and Seek with the kids
Your role in this game is simple. Once again you find a comfy spot, and you are "base". Everyone has to hide till you count to 1000. Yell "cooee" and everyone has to get back to you without being caught by someone else.
But do not, under any circumstances, decide that 2024 will be the year you will plant the perfect garden, and tend it for ever more. If you haven't caught the gardening bug by 20, you're immune to it. Find professional advice for a garden that won't need tending - trees, ground covers, limited paving.
And for those gardeners who have tended their garden in the last 12 months - this is the time to literally smell the roses, pick the fruit, or a sprig of mint or borage for your cool drinks, or salad greens for dinner. It's the week to enjoy the fruits of your labours - or the fruits and flowers of someone else's.
This week I am:
- Smelling freshly cut lawn (someone else mowed it last week, but the scent lingers).
- Listening to the Annual Currawong Operatic Recital every morning, when 50 or so currawongs gather in the branches to compete.
- Picking fruit and veg with kids. This doesn't count as work; also we need to make the family holiday lemon cordial, essential for a holiday.
- Harvesting out first red finger lime crop. I'm waiting for the kids to share the adventure of opening the purple-coloured fruit today, hopefully finding small, ruby red globules that burst with a zing of lemon in your mouth.
- Leaving the carrots for the reindeer, as the wombats have so much lush grass they aren't interested in carrots just now. Or humans. Or even other wombats. 'Eat, sleep, scratch, repeat' is the wombat song for the holidays.
- Grateful to every reader who's followed this column, asked questions, offered plants, and helped control global warming and contributed to the national Happiness Index by greening a small slice of the Canberra region. May all your snails migrate to Tasmania, your possums stay discrete, and life bloom for you all 2014.