Just some of the eternal mysteries of gardening

larryp wrote:Yesterday,seemingly out of nowhere, was our hottest day since last summer and the heat was stifling. Some gardening imponderables were hammered home with a vengeance forcing me to consider again some of the eternal mysteries of gardening and why we do it. Here are some in no particular order or degree of frustration.

Why the day after you transplant several roses does the temperature immediately soar to a totally unseasonable 35C and a hot wind blows through your suddenly hellish garden threatening to incinerate said roses in their new homes ??

A: Hot? What is this thing called 'hot'?

Why the day after the temp soared to 35c and filled with despair you've rushed around with the hose creating the greatest deluge since the great flood and you've draped all your newly transported roses with shadecloth does the temperature drop like a stone overnight and rain falls steadily for hours??

A: This is basic physics... for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction

Why does a climber planted on a trellis on the front verandah and facing the full blast of light flooding from the north find the tiniest chink of light in the guttering, race through it and threaten to tear the tiles off your roof?

A: This is a not-so-subtle reminder to us naked apes that within the heart of every rose lies a primal force that can resurface and wreak havoc whenever it wants to and that any attempts to tame them are futile.

Why do secateurs spades,clippers and other assorted tools conspire to camouflage themselves so successfully in the garden that you waste hours trying unsuccessfully to find them only for them to reappear magically the next day next day in a wheelbarrow completely flooded with overnight rain?

A: It's the little blue men! They work in a dimension beyond time, moving things from where we remember placing them for the sheer purpose of causing confusion and frustration. Males of our species seem to be most susceptible to their shenanigans.

Why do your newly purchased $180 automatically retracting hose reels suddenly decide not to retract when your standing in the 35C blazing sun at the furthest reach of the bloody thing and you are forced to hand feed the hose back into the reel. Like trying to feed wet spaghetti into a bicycle pump.

A: Because our $180 automatically retracting hose is really a rebadged $20 selectively retracting hose from south-east asian sweat-shops designed to fail on Murphy's command.

Why do your neighbours after rhapsodising for months about your gorgeous garden turn feral on 35C days and complain bitterly about the lavender planted on the verge blocking their view of oncoming traffic or that your ivy geranium has scrambled through a gap in the fence and is colonising their spinach patch

A: I think this is because their $180 automatically retracting hose that is really a S.E. Asian $20 knock-off also failed to retract and they were just venting... take it with a pinch of salt (a sip of lemon, and a shot of tequila... as I always say ).

Why does Lamarque when it’s 35C and a hot wind howls suddenly decide to forsake the wattle its growing into and start whipping its canes around like helicopter rotor blades, aiming unerringly for the spot where you are struggling to to drape shadecloth and manage to snag said shadecloth and with the aid of the searing gale carry it back into the wattle?

A: This is because they are actually triffids craving a meaty morsel to feed their minions.

Why on 35C days do snails secrete themselves under the rims of pots so that every time you heft said pots your fingers emerge covered with crushed shell and gooey with snail innards.?

A: This is actually a tactic employed by the above triffids that has been adapted by our airforce strike teams to create a maneuver called 'painting the target'. The target is 'painted' by invisible laser light, or in this case snail entrails, allowing the strike force to lock-in on the target to deliver a lethal strike. It's a little known fact that triffids masquerading as roses can sense macerated snail and form a psychic image, allowing them to lash out with 'unerringly' accurate precission to snare their intended target. It's a molluscan conspiracy!

Why when it’s 35C do aphids decide it’s time for a sunbake and so crowd the buds on your roses that they look like the aphids’ version of Bondi on Christmas Day?

A: I got nothing... I'm loving the image of Bondi surf goers looking like giant sunburt aphids (lobsters???) turning themselves like a pig-on-a-spit while sucking up honeydew

And finally,why when your are dripping with sweat, caked with dirt, approaching heat stroke, smeared with snail guts, trying to mollify your neighbours, searching for your tools and trying to get a patch of shadecloth from out of the wattle does a friend arrive and start to question your sanity for gardening in a 35C hellhole? My answer "I’m an obsessive gardener – so who’s claiming to be sane?"

A: insane is good... who'd be normal... only the crazy ones survive the triffids...
Larry