In the language of flowers, the Lily of the Valley is said to symbolize the return of happiness.
A kind of lucky charm, then?
My foot! That's just a load of rubbish!!
Last year I planted some, cause I thought it would be awesome on the first of May to greet my friends with some sprigs of home-grown Lily of the Valley.
Believe me or not, it just brought sweat and tears!!
And yet, as I'm new to growing plants, before embarking on that May Flower journey, I had surfed the web in search of the balmiest Spring breeze.
It was as clear as a bell : lily of the valley was the easiest plant to grow.
To spread its sweet fragrance, it just needed shade and moist soil.
No problem : I live in Brittany, the best place to be for Lily of the Valley, (and for me, too!).
I planted the roots under the canopy of a hazel tree, and waited patiently till Spring came round the corner.
Mid-April my hardy " lucky charm " had made itself comfy, and its white buds and upright stems were spreading all around.
I was absolutely delighted, but unfortunately my happiness was
short-lived...
One morning Dearhubby came back from the garden with a few leaves of my precious white flowers and crushed them under my nose.
Jeez! What about the delicate fragrance I had been longing for all throughout Winter? Gone with the wind!
Within a wink, the garlicky smell of my so-called lucky charm killed my dream of a new Mayflower Land, and my Lily of the Valley, as well.
Wild garlic has never brought happiness and luck, but only sweat, tears and, even worse, blisters on my hands caught when trying to dig out that pungent invader!
Sweet Lily versus Stinking Jenny (an undercover agent's name for wild garlic) is a losing battle.
Up to now I have not found the miracle recipe to get rid of those cheeky squatters, so all your tips and tricks would be welcome!
An unlucky budding gardener
I planted the roots under the canopy of a hazel tree, and waited patiently till Spring came round the corner.
Mid-April my hardy " lucky charm " had made itself comfy, and its white buds and upright stems were spreading all around.
I was absolutely delighted, but unfortunately my happiness was
short-lived...
One morning Dearhubby came back from the garden with a few leaves of my precious white flowers and crushed them under my nose.
Jeez! What about the delicate fragrance I had been longing for all throughout Winter? Gone with the wind!
Within a wink, the garlicky smell of my so-called lucky charm killed my dream of a new Mayflower Land, and my Lily of the Valley, as well.
Wild garlic has never brought happiness and luck, but only sweat, tears and, even worse, blisters on my hands caught when trying to dig out that pungent invader!
Sweet Lily versus Stinking Jenny (an undercover agent's name for wild garlic) is a losing battle.
Up to now I have not found the miracle recipe to get rid of those cheeky squatters, so all your tips and tricks would be welcome!
An unlucky budding gardener
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