charles barrow's writing

I grew a terracotta pot full of ranunculus once, many years ago. It was a glorious sight and bought joy to my heart. The cultivated ranunculus, or ranunculus asiaticus, or Persian Buttercup, is indeed related to the common buttercup, but is a much larger plant, has a tight whorl of petals, and comes in a variety of colours - pink, orange, yellow, white, or red, as opposed to the primarily yellow, open face of the smaller, wild buttercup that sprouts every year on the lawns outside. My favourite colour of ranunculus is orange. It is the vibrant, vivid orange of the marigold, the California poppy, the Solero ice lolly. I've attached a photo of some orange California poppies that I grew last year, to give you an idea of the colour I'm talking about here. That first pot of ranunculus I grew was wildly successful. I think because I grew it back then in complete ignorance of just how fussy a plant a ranunculus is. The soil, the moisture and the temperature levels have all got to be ...

It's been a sunny Sunday morning, with a chilly bite to the breeze but, still, a great day for gardening. I was out there for hours, with a break for lunch, and finally got around to doing some of the tasks that I've been meaning to do for weeks. I cut down a couple of dead shrubs, pruned the overgrown ornamental grass, re-potted the small myrtle. And I sowed carrot and beetroot seeds. And marigold, nasturtium, and dwarf sunflower seeds for a bit of colour in the summer. And I pottered around for a while, without aim. This is a vitally important part of gardening. Empty your mind, and wander around, trowel in hand but with no particular aim, other than to admire the plants. It's the emptying of the mind that is the important part. Existing in neutral for a while. I had a down day yesterday. No energy, dark thoughts, no wish to do anything, say anything, read or write anything. I probably wouldn't have eaten much either if dinner hadn't been cooked for me. I've...