Gardening Skills
We have been spending a lot of time gardening this summer and I've been quite proud of my developing skills, but, like I am no Delia Smith in the kitchen, it appears I am no Alan Titchmarsh in the garden either. On our walk home from Catford library today, Freyja stopped at some dead, shrivelled plants growing in someone's front garden and declared 'Oh Mummy, we have these in our garden'.
She really is quite cruel. In France, one of her favourite past times was to march up to her grandfather and say 'Afi, shall we go and look at your dead plant', forcing him once again to visit the remains of the campsis he had lovingly tried to grow up the side of the garage.
I may just hand over responsibility to her, given that she seems to a budding botanist. She recently asked me to guess what flower she had drawn, at which I reeled off all the flower names I knew that she knew - lavendar, tulip, rose, daffodil. They were all wrong (of course) and when I asked her to tell me what it was she witheringly replied 'it's a geranium'.
She really is quite cruel. In France, one of her favourite past times was to march up to her grandfather and say 'Afi, shall we go and look at your dead plant', forcing him once again to visit the remains of the campsis he had lovingly tried to grow up the side of the garage.
I may just hand over responsibility to her, given that she seems to a budding botanist. She recently asked me to guess what flower she had drawn, at which I reeled off all the flower names I knew that she knew - lavendar, tulip, rose, daffodil. They were all wrong (of course) and when I asked her to tell me what it was she witheringly replied 'it's a geranium'.





