The day goes not well. I’m like one of those bees you find on the pavement.
But screw that, right? I’m going to tell you what happened with my pelargoniums.
Since we’re in drought (oh, hush. we are, so), I decided to jolly up my garden this year with pelargoniums. Most people call them “geraniums”. They’re relentlessly flowery and cheering, and very drought-resistant by nature, and since I am not always well enough to water my plants, they seemed the sensible option. On the recommendation of @Alan_199 over on Twitter, I decided to incorporate some of that water retaining gel stuff into my potting compost. I am entirely innocent of such technological advances (in fact I am naturally suspicious of them, if I’m honest). Anyway, I bought a box of it which contained two large sachets – each the size of a tennis ball, say, tipped out my soil, flung in a sachet of the dry gel and some fish, blood and bone, mixed everything together and potted up as per.
Now, normally when you pot up a plant you make sure the soil surface is about half an inch below the rim of the pot, so that when you water it, the water sits on top of the soil and then sinks in, rather than just running off. I positioned my lovely pots around the garden, then filled a watering can and set about soaking them.
All looked well on the first pass.
By the second pass, the soil … wait, this is odd. The soil is now level with the rim of the pot.
By the third pass, the water-retaining gel had really started to swell, and the whole lot rose like black, glistening soufflés, ambitious for the sky, far past the pot’s rims, the poor plants tilted like badly maintained gravestones.
(Actually, this one isn’t that bad.)
I’m going to have to re-pot the lot. What a doofus. Still, it made my mum laugh.