Let me introduce you to another diva in my garden: Fatima the Fatsia.Fatima arrived last spring looking absolutely magnificent — big, glossy, architectural leaves, the kind of plant that makes visitors say “Ooh, that’s lovely!”Then winter happened.We had heavy snow and ice. Fatima, being a dramatic soul, took one look at the weather and decided to faint dramatically onto the ground like a Victorian lady who’d seen a mouse.The whole plant collapsed.
I ran outside in my dressing gown, brushing snow off her like a worried parent, then begged Tom to help. He finally admitted she should have had a cloche on her.So we rescued her. I put a cloche over what was left, brushed the snow off, and prayed.Fatima spent weeks looking like a sad, half-dead umbrella that had been run over by a bus. Some leaves were curled and damaged, others were missing completely after Tom removed the worst slug-chewed ones.But slowly… she started pushing out new leaves from the centre.Now she’s recovering. She’s not as full and lush as she was last year, but she’s getting there. The new leaves are coming through and starting to flatten out.Fatima is the plant that proves my garden is capable of survival… just.She’s the success story.Unlike poor Caroline the Cordyline, who is still sitting there with one pathetic leaf, looking tragic and betrayed.Fatima made it through the snow shock.Caroline is still serving maximum side-eye.Every time Tom comes round, I make sure he walks past both of them.Fatima: quietly recovering, getting stronger.Caroline: still exactly the same, radiating disappointment.It’s like having the before and after pictures of Tom’s gardening skills right there in the same border.Fatima is the plant that says “I survived.”Caroline is the plant that says “This is all your fault.”And I’m just the woman in the middle, carrying a trug and a tea towel, trying to keep the peace between the drama queens while the squirrels and magpies continue their daily reign of terror.
I ran outside in my dressing gown, brushing snow off her like a worried parent, then begged Tom to help. He finally admitted she should have had a cloche on her.So we rescued her. I put a cloche over what was left, brushed the snow off, and prayed.Fatima spent weeks looking like a sad, half-dead umbrella that had been run over by a bus. Some leaves were curled and damaged, others were missing completely after Tom removed the worst slug-chewed ones.But slowly… she started pushing out new leaves from the centre.Now she’s recovering. She’s not as full and lush as she was last year, but she’s getting there. The new leaves are coming through and starting to flatten out.Fatima is the plant that proves my garden is capable of survival… just.She’s the success story.Unlike poor Caroline the Cordyline, who is still sitting there with one pathetic leaf, looking tragic and betrayed.Fatima made it through the snow shock.Caroline is still serving maximum side-eye.Every time Tom comes round, I make sure he walks past both of them.Fatima: quietly recovering, getting stronger.Caroline: still exactly the same, radiating disappointment.It’s like having the before and after pictures of Tom’s gardening skills right there in the same border.Fatima is the plant that says “I survived.”Caroline is the plant that says “This is all your fault.”And I’m just the woman in the middle, carrying a trug and a tea towel, trying to keep the peace between the drama queens while the squirrels and magpies continue their daily reign of terror.
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