![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Anemones
As we were taking pooch out for her walk this afternoon, Mrs Top Of The Hill said hello, and we stopped and chatted slightly. She was just frost-protecting her veg patch, in preparation for Friday/Saturday's forecast.
I figured that it couldn't hurt, so I asked if I could dig up some of the anemones in her woods; she obviously wasn't keen on Someone Else In Her Woods, because she immediately countered with an offer to bring me some.
She's just popped down with a box of them, and I've planted them out in half a dozen spots in the front garden, to see where (if anywhere) they take.
(This, after two hours of weeding this morning. I remembered to wear long sleeves, today. The bastard nettles got me on the wrists instead. And, scarily, through my trousers as I was emptying the wheelbarrow.)
I figured that it couldn't hurt, so I asked if I could dig up some of the anemones in her woods; she obviously wasn't keen on Someone Else In Her Woods, because she immediately countered with an offer to bring me some.
She's just popped down with a box of them, and I've planted them out in half a dozen spots in the front garden, to see where (if anywhere) they take.
(This, after two hours of weeding this morning. I remembered to wear long sleeves, today. The bastard nettles got me on the wrists instead. And, scarily, through my trousers as I was emptying the wheelbarrow.)