Inheriting a garden is a lot of responsibility. Like, way more than I anticipated. I should probably have done what Mum said to do and let Katherine take it, but Great Aunt Jill left it to me in her will. She must have had a reason for it, even if I’ve never picked up so much as a watering can in my life, and it seemed somehow disrespectful to not at least try my hand at the old green thumb.
Turns out, it’s a case of easier said than done. Who knew there was so much work involved in making an arrangement of plants appear natural? Who knew you needed so much equipment to do that work? And who knew that plants can actually die? I did know that, of course, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now. As in, it had never really affected me in any way, because I’d never been close enough to the action to witness a pomegranate get knocked off by an insect infestation, or an azalea done in by a summer heat wave.
Then there’s the question of replacing those plants. Can you buy plants online? I really don’t have time in my week to get to a nursery, and you can buy everything else online these days, so why not plants? I’m just not sure how they’d be packaged. No one wants to receive a squashed seedling, but I’ve got a native violet to order online. Australia has an alright postage system, I suppose, so it’s probably worth the gamble. Like I said, you can buy everything online now.
I guess I’m still getting my head around how plants are, like… alive. It sounds super obvious when I put it like that, but it is really dawning on me at the moment. I’m having a renaissance of understanding right now. Maybe that’s why Great Aunt Jill wanted me to have the garden. Or maybe her pen slipped while she was writing her will. We’ll never know.