Pots I have lots of. Patience, not so much. But I’m trying really hard to cultivate it.

The pots have multiplied, mostly of their own accord, over the last decade. I’ve been spreading their collective, spent compost judiciously around the garden with all the March-madness fervour of a ritualistic Spring cleansing, as a precursor to renewing and refilling them with all manner of brown, green and Delft-inspired loveliness.

But before I can pot up anything…

The pots need siting and they’re mostly too big and heavy, certainly when filled, to keep moving them around until I’m happy with their positions if I don’t site them quite rightly in the first place.

I’ll definitely want to place some, though I’m not sure which, along the fence line – but the fence is rotten and needs replacing first. I think I’d like to edge the new curved path with an eclectic collection – but the path is so new it’s not even laid yet. At this moment, it’s still just an idea in my head! The corners of the curved retaining wall between the house and the upper tier of the garden would definitely be aesthetically improved with height-ascending arrays of pots and plants – but the corners aren’t currently retained at all, and won’t be until I’ve positioned and filled the gabions. The garden-facing wall of the house and the adjoining crumbling-concreted seating area are crying out for floral festoonery – but the builders are temporarily occupying that area, replacing windows which won’t open with windows which will. The outdoor kitchen would certainly benefit from potted herbs – but the outdoor kitchen is currently stuck, on the wonk, in the gravel, three paces short of its eventual culinary creative space, having taken out a section of fence, carved up an arc of lawn and strained a couple of human backs (mine and Bloke’s) en route. The kitchen doesn’t yet contain even so much as a portable barbecue. The actual food prep and cooking station is, like the path, just an idea right now, this time in Bloke’s head. The kitchen ‘room’ itself, both conceptually and in actuality, isn’t even a kitchen. It’s a horse trailer,

We don’t have a front garden, which is something of a relief actually given the amount of work stacking up in the back garden. What we have instead is a block-paved approach to the front door, wonky like everything else around here – but not at all what you might presently call welcoming!

This is a place which will instantly benefit from, and where I can immediately indulge, my (impatient) penchant for pots – but the empty pots I’ve so far placed here are currently, uninspiringly, being utilised, out of necessity, as receptacles for junk mail – because we still don’t have a letter box!