Wyn Drabble says his watering is targeted at the plants he wants to thrive. Photo / NZME
Wyn Drabble says his watering is targeted at the plants he wants to thrive. Photo / NZME
"Man – despite his artistic pretensions, his sophistication, and his many accomplishments – owes his existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains." (Anonymous)
It's raining as I type this. It's a refreshing sound after the succession of warm days and mild nights.
But the best news is that I don't need to water the garden today. Holding a hose is not too onerous a task you might say, but that depends on how big your garden is – hosing a big garden can eat seriously into your day.
You could turn on a sprinkler and walk away, you might say. No. My watering is targeted at the plants I want to thrive whereas the sprinkler also nurtures The Enemy, weeds, nature's graffiti.
As far as I'm concerned, the soil between the rose bushes can sunbake to cracked concrete hardness. I'm not going to do anything to encourage growth there. The only tilled areas are around the base of each rose bush.
Besides, a sprinkler is simply a backyard summer toy for toddlers to run through, screaming with delight.
Despite advertising claims, I've yet to buy a "kink-free" hose that doesn't kink. That really hoses me off. And it never does its kinking close at hand; it does it around the corner of the house so that you have to put down the hose and head back round the corner to find the source of the problem.
When you return to the unkinked business end of the hose, it has transformed into a writhing serpent in need of your control. This is far from easy and cannot be done without drenching yourself.
One method is to work bit by bit, hand over hand, up towards the business end of the hose. But it won't work. The hose will save one final writhe until just when you think you've gained control.
Another method is to carry the business end back round the corner with you, but that's not as easy as it sounds because unkinking generally involves the use of two hands.
I'd also like to discuss potted plants. I like them because you can group them into interesting little clusters and change the groupings as the whim takes you. But, in summer, the sun bakes their terracotta, and they need hosing every day.
Wyn Drabble
And let me state in this public forum that I loathe coriander. Don't get me wrong. I love the fragrant flavour of the fresh leaves sprinkled over appropriate dishes. In fact, for me, sprinkled is the wrong word. I tend to bury my meal under an explosion of fresh greenness.
No, it's the growing of it I loathe. It's the fact that it bolts so quickly. One day you will notice that it looks ready to start harvesting so the next day you pick up the garden scissors and head out for collection. In that short time it has gone to seed.
I decided to give it one more try this year. I shouldn't have. That also hoses me off. Fresh coriander will need to come from the supermarket.
My Italian parsley is doing the same. I guess I can blame the heat. There are plenty of seeds and they will grow, but mostly not back in the same pot.
You might cheekily suggest that I am the one going to seed. I don't think it's quite that bad yet, though I will admit that I might need repotting.
So, back to the rain. I certainly wouldn't say that it's hosing down outside; it's just gentle rain I can hear falling, but not so gentle that I can't hear the saved man-hours. It's music to my ears.
