I don’t really have any right to feel so chuffed. It’s not like I did much to make it look like this. Lavender is like one of those
annoying women who looks fabulous without doing anything. My washing machine waters the plants and I didn’t even plant them in the first place. We had a lady minding the house a couple of years ago and I asked her to plant them, because I had done the really clever thing of buying five lavender plants the day before going on holiday. However, I did give her these instructions and they are pretty much fail safe. It also helps that Mediterranean plants like our soil, because it’s sandy. If your soil has a lot of clay, which is excellent for making mud pies, mud bricks and the like, just add some sand when you’re planting.
Anyhoo, the house sitter called me in a flap whilst planting the lavender plants because my neighbour, A.K.A. The Garden Gnome, told her that my grandfather was buried there and she should look out for bones. I did my best to ease her fears
and told her not to worry, because he was buried really deep down and said my neighbour was probably trying to chat her up in his own special way, because he’s like that.
Let’s leave that story well enough alone, because this is a cheery post about lovely lavender and how it gave me the Martha Stewarts and had me out there snippety-snip-snipping away with my pretty bonsai scissors (they were Dad’s scissors, he had a lot of books on bonsai, but no bonsais made it into my living memory.)
The trick to drying lavender is to cut the stems as long as possible, just above the leaves (or strip the leaves) and tie with a piece of string and hang up side down somewhere out of direct sunlight.
Feeling inspired by At Blooming Lovely, I made some pretty bunches with the extras.
My friend Karen took these lovely pictures. Just quietly, I think lavender gave her the Martha Stewarts too, because I did catch her fussing over an errant blossom.
What brings out the inner domestic god/goddess in you?