Driving past the neighbours' front gardens, already bustling with the bright colours of springtime blossoms, I cannot help feeling a little saddened by the tumbling cascades of purple aubretia decorating numerous walls and rockeries. Saddened because, arriving home, I look at my own front garden and see no tumbling cascades, despite having planted some aubretia last year, precisely to be able to see its cheery lilac petals welcoming me home after a long day at wherever I spend my days.
I only noticed the omission a few days ago, when, admiring the display of yellow and violet violets in my planters, I remembered with a sinking heart that that was where I had planted the aubretia. But it was nowhere to be seen. Unlikely that some thief had snatched it in the night, I realised that I had most probably been over-enthusiastic in my preparation of the ground for the winter-flowering violets, and had cast out the faded stems of the aubretia. Possibly I had merely transferred it to an alternative location, but I have since scoured the back garden hoping to see a hearty clump, but with no success.
It is particularly galling because, being a hardy annual, I had deliberately selected the aubretia as an investment for the future, something that would appear year after year and save me a small fortune in bedding plants. Sadly, it is not to be. There is probably a moral here, something about best laid plans not gathering moss or spoiling broths. But it is little consolation.
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