Hell is a Box of Begonias

The Angelic World Of A Wet Pink Angel Wing Begonia Wrapped In Its Hell is a Box of Begonias

Creating good-looking window boxes was no easy accomplishment for Rachel Household, that, following weeks of trial and error, can eventually confess to a profound dislike of begonias
Last winter I decided to plant up a few and they went. Pansies and tiny daffs. Significant success… though I was amazed how often they had watering. When we moved to our new home I wished to continue with my gardening onto a window ledge.

The front part of the home is so shabby I believed I could not possibly draw attention to the dustbins, chipped paintwork, the ‘sold’ plank and plastic street foliage. But around the trunk is a window which looks out of the kitchen into the backyard: a spot for a show. So off I went into the farmers’ market in May and bought a tray of busy Lizzies and a tray of begonias, without even thinking whether I liked them or not. The begonias have done well — I mean, they haven’t died – but deep down I really, really don’t like them at all.

So it’s October and the window boxes are still going strong. They look a bit shabby but not bad, which is quite surprising really since I’m not a methodical waterer and they’ve been relying on the rain, which we seem to have had a lot of. Even so, I’ll be glad to get rid of the begonias with a clear conscience. I had to suppress the urge to throw them away through the summer, but it seemed mean, it wasn’t their fault I didn’t like them, and anyway, I feel guilty if I kill something.

Suddenly though, people are thrusting bulbs at me and colour supplements are flogging spring plants, and in my area window boxes have appeared with heather, ivy, and autumnal displays. I do feel sometimes that I should be more house-proud, that we lower the tone…

Anyway, I decided to consult some articles and found out what I don’t like, which is the single-colour, in-your-face plantings — like all reds. I prefer pretty flowers — basically I’m unadventurous and have no urge to do anything different. So I perused the range of bulbs on offer and settled on a selection of crocuses, snowdrops and traditional daffodils (‘King Alfred’ to be exact) and a few heathers and violas. This is a change from the past year’s marigolds but I believed the violas were pretty and delicate. I am not entirely convinced however: part of me is still tempted by the large, bold, bright and brassy marigolds…

Planting up will mean following the directions on the bulb adheres into the correspondence: there will be no similarity because I am not overly confident about this component of the enterprise. There’ll be the binning of the blossoms, which is demanding and ridden of this summer. Then I’ll place some stone to the container’s base, whack in some mulch, then pop up the bulbs in, have a fear about if items are close together whack my violas in on top. This will be indicated using a glass of wine because I will also definitely have to take care of cat disturbance of the very disagreeable type and also a disparaging husband…