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I started out well with the tomatoes and peas this year, but owing to chronic non-interest in holding a hose while the pots got wet, they kind of... died. They grew really well! Apart from the disease that the tomatoes got that I didn't spray for soon enough. And the snails on the peas.
OK, so it wasn't a complete disaster but I unequivocally proved that I shouldn't have the care of anything that can't yell at me when it needs fed. Cats have squeak'o'clock (human? it is the dinnertime? why is plate empty? Squeak?), plants just kind of wither and I notice about a week later.
Realising that this is really a character flaw, rather than a scheduling issue, I decided that I would shortcut the issue with technology.
As of about six p.m., the front garden and my two main pots now have watering hose buried in them (ie, that kind of hose with holes already punched in it). All I have to do is plug in a main hose, wait three to five minutes while reading a book, and turn hose off again. As I am lazy, I am hopeful that I will actually remember to use this option. It cannot get any easier than turning a handle on the hose tap.
The hose buried into the pots has a normal hose (ie, no holes) connected out the base. Said hose feeds through the garden (full of camellias and busy lizzie that I am unable to kill, even if I want to), plugs into a three-way water splitter, which I can plug into the tap by the spa pool. The hose in the front garden, all I have to do is unroll two metres of hose from the big long hose on the front tap between the garage doors, and plug it into the bit I left poking up from the buried hose in the garden behind a hebe.
I also purchased more hebes, in the hopefully not vain hope that some of them will survive my inept brown-fingered gardening techniques. And marigolds, as the cats don't tend to dig up and shit where the marigolds are planted.
Admittedly, a lack of cat shit will more likely be attributable to the entire CONTAINER of cat repellent I also dug through the front garden.
Hey, I live in hope, alright?
OK, so it wasn't a complete disaster but I unequivocally proved that I shouldn't have the care of anything that can't yell at me when it needs fed. Cats have squeak'o'clock (human? it is the dinnertime? why is plate empty? Squeak?), plants just kind of wither and I notice about a week later.
Realising that this is really a character flaw, rather than a scheduling issue, I decided that I would shortcut the issue with technology.
As of about six p.m., the front garden and my two main pots now have watering hose buried in them (ie, that kind of hose with holes already punched in it). All I have to do is plug in a main hose, wait three to five minutes while reading a book, and turn hose off again. As I am lazy, I am hopeful that I will actually remember to use this option. It cannot get any easier than turning a handle on the hose tap.
The hose buried into the pots has a normal hose (ie, no holes) connected out the base. Said hose feeds through the garden (full of camellias and busy lizzie that I am unable to kill, even if I want to), plugs into a three-way water splitter, which I can plug into the tap by the spa pool. The hose in the front garden, all I have to do is unroll two metres of hose from the big long hose on the front tap between the garage doors, and plug it into the bit I left poking up from the buried hose in the garden behind a hebe.
I also purchased more hebes, in the hopefully not vain hope that some of them will survive my inept brown-fingered gardening techniques. And marigolds, as the cats don't tend to dig up and shit where the marigolds are planted.
Admittedly, a lack of cat shit will more likely be attributable to the entire CONTAINER of cat repellent I also dug through the front garden.
Hey, I live in hope, alright?
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