An Apology

 Springhill, March 2026

Dear Reader,

I am very sorry - very, very sorry that I have been neglecting you. The truth is Nelly's Garden is very, very old (for a blog) and is getting tired. It's not that she wants to actually kick the bucket - just that she wonders if there is any point in rambling on and on about dogs and crocuses (croci?) and other stuff even though the internet is full to the brim of people rambling on about their opinions, dogs, obsessions and that is even before AI gets properly started.

I will try to do better. That is if you can bear to listen to my nonsense.

By the way, I despise Drump, Fartage, Netanyahoo and if that bothers you, you can do one.

Anyway, in the meantime, here are some photos of the croci (crocuses?) in my garden.

Kind regards, 

Nelly.

 

Conversations

 

Enter Bert who comes out with this statement,

I have to say, you shock me.

Me, sewing my knitted blanket,

What point are you making?

It’s a lovely day, and here's you sitting knitting and a ball of stuff to be doing outside.

Well! It’s alright for him. He’s got a new toy to play with – a battery operated lawnmower. He got me a leaf blower at the same time but that’s two seasons too late, or early depending on how you look at it.

When I told Swisser about the leaf blower, I told her I felt a bit guilty about getting it, and she had a lot to say on that subject.

A leaf blower! What’s wrong with a rake and a brush?

I admitted that she had a point. But said,

Have you seen the amount of trees we have? The size of this place? I need a leaf blower as well as a rake. I’d be weeks, months gathering up all the leaves that fall here. And anyway, they all go to the compost heap in the end.

She argued on,

They’re so loud. so antisocial, so unnecessary. I hate them. Bloody men with all their noisy machinery.

I say,

We have no neighbours so won’t be bothering anyone. And it’s the beech leaves* that are preventing wild flowers coming through at my would-be meadow. Maybe if I could get the leaves gathered up in the autumn the orchids and cuckoo flowers would spread and there’d be more orange-tip butterflies.

But I couldn’t convince her. So changed the conversation to another of her annoyances, the volume of tourists that clog up her personal beach at PBT. It’s my opinion that she would be far happier if she lived up a long lane with no-one near her.

To return to Bert and his remarks about me doing needlework on a rare sunny day. I was raging at him but knew he was right. I put down my needles and went outside where I took pictures of the crocus then watered and tidied up my potted herbs.

*Beech leaves can form a tight seal on lawns or low-growing meadow areas which prevent low-growing or delicate wild flowers from growing.

Gardening Time

 That’s my first day of jury service done, and as everyone should know, the first rule of jury service is – you do not talk about jury service. Today involved a lot of waiting around – and in the end, I wasn’t one of the chosen few. Phew!

I’m let off for tomorrow, too, which is just as well because Kerry Sister is Up North, and I will spend some time with her. I'm looking forward to it.

With her visit in mind, I had ventured out to the polytunnel on Sunday - my first proper working day there since Storm Eowyn ripped the cover off the middle bay. I wanted to tidy up my overwintered perennials in the hope that she’d take some off my hands.

Bert was working there too, and as usual was telling me about all the jobs I could be doing.

Those Sweet William could do with being planted out.

That honeysuckle needs cutting back. You could do that.

He always does this. I told him he was overwhelming me. He said I just don’t like being told what to do. I disagreed. However, after giving it some further thought, I realised we were both right - I did feel overwhelmed, and I definitely don’t like being told what to do.

Feeding the Family

 

Zoe got back on the plot today. There wasn't that much to do in the polytunnel so she started planting native trees on the cleared areas where Bert was cutting down the larch. 

Then it was six o'clock and time for supper. I made cottage pie with sponge and custard to follow. The girls refused kale. The adults chewed it purposefully (it was a tad tough) whilst commenting on all the health benefits we expected. Whatever it is those girls are eating, or not eating they are both half a head taller than me. And only half as wide.

I'm probably cancelling out all the goodness of the kale as I sit here drinking a Portuguese red.  But - I'm home alone, Bert is off gipsy jazzing with Les. Don't judge us.

Spring is well on its way. The witch hazel is almost over, the croci are beginning and tomorrow Jazzer and I are going to the zoo. Probably for the last time in my life. I need to say goodbye to the gorillas.

Quiet Saturday

 Crocus in the garden, with monkey puzzle in the background

I was awakened by the dogs at ten past six, then waited until seven before going to get my Saturday Guardian. I buy it once a week at my local garage, and the rest of the week I read it online. There were more people around than usual, one man doing a fairly big shop. I filled a basket too, milk, 4-pack of toilet roll, bleach, cheese, chocolate. Life's neccessities. I sidestepped the other customers as much as I could and kept a very decent distance from Hans.

The tightening of restrictions in the sensible part of Ireland was mentioned and it was said that it might be time for a proper lockdown here too. There are a lot of people who are flouting the advice/rules, whatever it is.

Bert has been ever so slightly getting on my nerves these past few days and I'm sure I've been getting on his. But I had a thought, this...

If I have to be closed up at home with one other human being, Bert is a good one. He is patient, kind, funny and so what if he doesn't put the milk back in the fridge or the lid on the tea caddy? To show my gratitude I baked him a cake and didn't use a recipe. I put apricot jam in it and plain yogurt and it was lovely.

 A patch of wood anemone in Bert's wood

The first few days of staying at home were unsettling. I spent far too much time online, scrolling through news sites, coronavirus updating and Twitter. I exhausted myself so much that I could barely read for pleasure. These past few days I've been spending less time online and more time gardening, walking and reading. And weird tasks like degunking the shower outlet.

And I've pulled a chair over to the window in my bedroom and sometimes I sit there, reading, or just watching the chickens. It's very peaceful especially as there are far fewer vehicles on our road.

Bert has just called me to watch the final episode of  This Country. Stay safe everyone.