Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts

Monday, 12 August 2019

Life force


Energy. Somewhat erratic today.


This foggy image accurately reflecting
the current mood under stormy skies.


This one conveying temporary bursts of energy
when the sun pops out again.
Plenty being done, directed or delegated,
but not necessarily effectively.
To whit the cake for tomorrow's visitors, in a cold oven 
the oven mysteriously having been turned off
at some point in the proceedings.





Never mind - here are cheery flowers


and here are the apples that must be Used.






More cheery flowers I am proud to say
raised from seed by moi


and coordinating tomatoes
raised from little plugs from Rocket Gardens
many months ago.



 Energetic grandchildren wending their way here as we speak.
Stand by everyone. Stand by.


Saturday, 16 March 2019

Spring corners



It has been the most remarkable year for Mimosa.
It must have been that early February warmth because
I have never seen it flower so abundantly.
I usually miss the moment when a few branches can be found at the florist
but this year it was everywhere, smelling of clean water.
This one was in a scrubby little patch next to some public toilets.


Bonnard had it outside his studio window.
This painting at the  Tate Modern exhibition
made a change from all the ones of his wives
stretched out palely in tepid bathwater.




Gorse and its coordinating This Way sign.


Purple leaved plum, now sadly blown about by recent gales.


Wild garlic.




Banner in a patch of rarely penetrating sunlight.


 A bold decision to paint this dresser top.
Previously preserved in all its knotty, stained, 
multi-nailed original condition for twenty years, 
because it somehow seemed necessary to respect its antique status, 
I suddenly saw it for what it was - ugly.


And it wouldn't be Spring (or Autumn) without observing
that the rainbows are back.

Sunday, 4 November 2018

The Last Hurrah- Great Dixter











 One could almost believe in an eternal autumn.
These gardens show so little sign of decline.

If only I could say the same about myself.
More Pilates and less cake perhaps?





Saturday, 1 September 2018

Windfalls



 In other news, I knitted a bunny for grandson 
as a companion for the elephant I knitted granddaughter
using another one of Julie Williams' wonderful patterns.
I cheated with the jumper as I had some self-striping wool 
left over and it meant fewer ends to sew in.



The garden is getting tangled and unmanageable.


So naturally I turned my attention to something tangled that I could sort out -
the ribbon drawer.
This is kept in a small chest of drawers that used to house
 my father's wireless-making equipment.
Top drawer buttons,
second drawer spools of thread,
third drawer tape measures, needles, pins, fixings and scissors,
fourth drawer, ribbons.

As a child there was a ribbon drawer for my hair.
I loved choosing a ribbon for the day.
They didn't stay in my hair for long though.
Now I come to think of it, there was a handkerchief drawer too.
Does anyone still give a child a clean hanky each day?
We had a pocket in our school knickers for them.
How bizarre!
A colourful hanky was a vital accessory for the ferryman game.
You chanted in a line opposite one child,

Ferry me across the river,
do boatman do.
For I've a penny in my purse and my eyes are blue.

(They aren't but that didn't seem to matter.)

Then the boatman would say. 
I'll ferry you across the river if you can show me something with the colour ...
and then you had to produce said item.
If you couldn't and with a brown school uniform it was a challenge
for the unprepared,
you had to race across the invisible river without being caught.



Miniature autumn tints in the bonsai walk at Wisley.



Giant pale pumpkin looking like 
a giant something else in the vegetable garden.


Windfall apples in the orchard at Wisley.
Too tempting not to try several of them and lament 
the paucity of choice in our supermarkets and greengrocers.
They all tasted so different.
When I say all, I mean a few.


I so wished I could pick these for crab apple jelly.


I seem to have been waylaid by Instagram. I thought it would never happen.
You might like to pick up some windfalls over there from time to time.

Friday, 15 June 2018

Rose parade











No black spot.
I've no idea why not.
No special treatment was applied,
so it is just an unexpected blessing.

The window boxes are covered in black spots however.
Slate dust showers down on them daily.
Some respite today perhaps
as the builders haven't arrived.
They move in mysterious ways.
Perhaps the van will be blamed.
Or the remote relation in hospital.
Or the football.
When is the first England game?
It's going to be a long slow job.