Sunday at last—a day off, and blissfully so. I woke not to the alarm, but to the sound of birds. Even better, I was able to drift back to sleep for a while. When I woke again, the dawn chorus had passed and the birds were already busy about their day. The clocks in New Zealand sprang forward last night, so I’ve no idea what time it was. But I decided it was time to get up.
I started the day with a cup of peppermint and liquorice tea while checking blogs and answering emails. Then it was time to knit. I managed about a dozen rounds on my DPNs and nudged the pixie boot to its next milestone. This version is gliding along far more smoothly than its predecessor—what a relief.
At some point, Tony announced it was time to visit the garden center to shop for chilli peppers. I decided to tag along and sneak a few extras into the trolley. Once home, we had a quick lunch and headed straight into the garden.
First things first: I dug a hole under the cherry tree and planted another hellebore. I do love them—and the way they spread themselves around. The more ground they cover, the less I have to keep tidy. Next came two wildfire chillies, a Carolina Reaper, and a red capsicum, all tucked into the new greenhouse alongside some very sorry-looking marigolds. Hopefully they’ll perk up and help keep the bugs at bay. Tony, meanwhile, was busy planting tomatoes in the big greenhouse.
See that bright blue packet on the shelf? That’s the sulphates packet. THE packet. The one that housed the monster spider. (((Shudder)))
Next, we dug a hole in a sheltered corner and planted a lemon tree. Yes—I got my way, and we now have a new lemon tree. While Tony busied himself with lawn food, I planted sweet peas in the big barrels on the front patio, alongside the pansies and other flowers from last time.
Then came the broccoli, planted beside the cauli flowers. I picked a small cauli that was ready for the kitchen, then planted a few rows of leek sets in the next bed and covered them with netting to stop the blackbirds from digging them up. They do love to rummage through the gardens—especially that bed, which still wears its winter blanket of straw and leaf mulch.
Finally, we gave everything a big drink with some especially smelly food recommended to us. It’s made from leftovers in the factory that produces frozen fish fillets and fish fingers. Need I say more?
I made sure to stand for a while beneath the cherry tree. It’s not so pink now—many of the blossoms have drifted away—but enough remain to draw the bees, who hum through the branches like tiny, winged blessings. Their quiet industry filled the air with a calming pulse, a reminder that the garden still has its own rhythm.
The smaller cherry tree is just beginning to bloom. It’s not as showy as its larger sibling, but it holds its own charm—modest, steady, and still beloved by the bees. They don’t mind the difference. They simply go where the nectar calls
The wind’s rising now, and we’ve retreated indoors after a successful couple of hours in the garden. The soil’s been turned, the lemon tree’s in, and the bees have had their say. It might just be time to pick up the knitting again and let the pixie boot march on. Or maybe, just maybe I'll dig out the mohair and start something new.
How did your Sunday unfold? Did it come with soil, stitches, or something entirely unexpected? I’d love to hear.
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