Fleurs du Mal

Have you seen any of the latest disaster movies? You know, world ending, general draught and famine? I have – in real life, on my windowsill.

Let me start from the beginning: you know I got booted from the allotment garden, right? For neglect, or some such. Ever since, I have been feeling somewhat put off by the entire concept of nature. Sort of like I imagine Eve might have not gotten right on with growing another batch of carrots, once ejected from Eden…

The result is this:

A complete collapse of the local eco-system. The Synadenium grantii, the Euphorbia pulcherrim and the Hoya carnosa – all deceased. Appleblossom Rosebud, Bill Holdaway and Dodd’s Super Double are on their last legs. And don’t even get me started on the basil and the sage – the last of their dried remains were sprinkled over last night’s pizza.

For some reason, this has not shaken the Better Man’s faith in my fertile prowess. Last night, we had gotten to the point in our endless and ongoing discussion about the new apartment that concerned it’s balcony.

- I don’t really worry about the view (of the ugly 70’s yellow corrugated steel façade facing us). I’m sure you can do something with flowers that’ll block it out.

- Yes. Of course. I am woman. I know how to cultivate. (thinking – what how when)

- You know. Something big and leafy, that climbs. Lots of green, some exotics.

- Yes. That will be possible for me to achive. It will not be a problem to grow and exotic Californian garden on our balcony in February, because I am woman and my fingers are green. (Thinking – gaah, ugh, panic)

- Some evergreens, and a trellis. Ivy, maybe, and hortensias.

- Absolutely. I will not make you regret your faith in me because I am woman and I can make something out of very, very little. (maybe if I hang a green curtain, he won’t be able to tell the difference??) -

 And we’ll sit on the balcony, on long balmy evenings. It’ll be like another little room.

- Yes. And it will be romantic. (Oh dear God grant me the power to build another little room).

- You know, like Baudelaire wrote:  Les soirs illuminés par l’ardeur du charbon, Et les soirs au balcon, voilés de vapeurs roses. Que ton sein m’était doux! que ton coeur m’était bon! Nous avons dit souvent d’impérissables choses Les soirs illuminés par l’ardeur du charbon.

And now? Any and all tips on how to grow an arbour on a Stockholm balcony in February are more than welcome. Alternatively, any and all tips on how to keep the Better Man blind with drink till midsummer. Personally, I’m thinking to stay on theme with Absinthe.

Seedy

There has been some strange white stuff falling in droves from the sky lately. It covers the cars. It covers the trees. It cover the icy patches neath the cars and trees.

But it will not cover Cuz and I!

In the face of all this drivel they call winter, we spent the night working on our allotment. Or at least, on a lopsided sketch of it.

In less than three hours, we planted twenty or so different kinds of vegetables, some of your more common herbs, and two kinds of fast growing potatoes.

We built a grill in one corner, erected a fence, lay down a small winding stone pathway, and moved the compost, with a few bold marks of the pen.

I was thinking also to build a small hammock. But better keep something for next summer…

While we were working, we had a lovely meal consisting of foie gras, rustic french salami, manchego cheese and some salad.

Gardening is hungry making work.