Harvesting garlic and garden happiness

It’s that fine time of the year when my garden is incredibly lush and productive. The patio pots of annuals, encouraged by good soil and a little boost of 20-20-20, are stunning in their old favourites simplicity, the bird bath at the west fence needs constant refreshing because the birds love it so much, and the strawberries and raspberries are ripening daily, with the blueberries not too far behind.

In the veggie garden, the red Russian and Mexican garlics have flopped over and began to get that tell tale sign of bottom browned leaves which signals that harvest time is here. In the back of the garden, in her favourite spot on the twirling circle, my gardening companion Morgan is waiting for me to finish lifting the bulbs so she can inspect the harvest. And then, just as I gather my garlic on the little marble table and sit down, she jumps on my lap for a cuddle.

And I’m stuck! 😀

But what a lovely place to be stuck in. From the back of my garden I see a flicker calling from the peak of the roof of my lovely 1920s Craftsman cottage. The loft windows are open and I can see my grandmother’s old Singer. I’m thinking I really should use it more. I look across the veggie garden and realise that now there’s room to spread out the leeks, or maybe buy more kale plants, but for now, there’s a cat on my lap, the sun is shining thru the saved apple tree and catching the crystal leaves and glass globes, and there’s a lovely harvest of organic garlic beside me, which I grew myself. It’s happiness to be here.

And then, having had too much love, Morgan jumps off my lap leaving long-haired cat detritus behind and rolls in the leaves and sand on the twirling circle.