Hi readers. Time for another exciting instalment of Megan's gardening disasters.
For those who have been following my gardening journey, you'll know I do not own any green fingers.
I'm the proud holder of the "I can't garden gene". It's a strong gene passed down on my mother's side as she had it, my sister has it and so do I.
My only extent of learning how to garden as a young girl, was learning how to spread pea straw. Remember when pea straw was the garden bed cover of choice?
Through the decades I've lived in a lot of cities and apartments that never really required getting my hands dirty. In our first house here in Hawke's Bay, it was what some would call an easy-care garden with a host of palm trees and yuccas. It was yuck. And it wasn't easy care because weeds still grow through weed matting and stones, I'll have you know.
Moving on to the next beautiful, well-established garden that had been lovingly maintained by a keen gardener, and here we are a year in and I've already ruined it.
During the long weekend I got out the green waste bin and got to work doing some weeding.
After about an hour of heavy weeding and pulling muscles in my back, I stood back very proud of what I had achieved.
With the "Old man's beard must go" ad from the 80s ringing in my head, I felt very righteous.
An upstanding member of society making my garden safe. Things were looking a lot tidier and I could see the garden beds very clearly now. Those noxious weeds that looked so pretty and were adding nice colour to the garden bed were gone. Good job Megan.
So it was then that after all the hard work and given the temperature had risen to 16 degrees, I thought I had better reward myself with a nice cold glass of something grapey.
Off to the supermarket I popped, and on the way into the supermarket, you know by the plant section - lo and behold, they were selling the very weeds I had just spent an hour pulling out of my garden.
Yes folks, I can safely say I had done the dumbest thing and spent an hour of my life pulling out some beautiful pink cyclamen!!!! My mother would be so proud. My mother in-law's tongue, however, not so much.