Dwindling ...

...the number of posts and the number of readers I suspect

and the harvest too

but it was a good year for French beans

and I will definitely grow them again.

Sissinghurst and Great Dixter continue to mellow beautifully

 and there is an exciting new place to visit,

Tillingham, a biodynamic vineyard, 

with rooms and a restaurant in the heart 

of the Sussex countryside.

There was a son in San Francisco

and another newly established in Tokyo.

This butterfly looks a little how I feel.

I'm never good with the shortening days

and this seems to have been a particularly swift descent into Autumn.

Pencil sharpening, new term feelings were not as marked as in previous years

but for this one

a fifth birthday

and an exciting first week at big school are under her belt.

For now, in these troubling times,

I seek solace in scenes like those above,

the writings of Gladys Taber, (thanks Nan)

and seek to adopt the Zen-like attitude

of this ram.

See you, I hope,

before we all fall over the cliff.

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.

Magnolia days

There was once very little choice in paint colours.

I remember Brilliant White being heralded as a breakthrough,

previous whites tending towards the yellow.

You could also have Primrose yellow

and a peachy pink, eau de nil and a rather chilly blue,

but magnolia won hands down in the popularity stakes,

despite not resembling any magnolia I have ever seen.

A quick check around tells me pale grey is the new white,

(Elephant's Breath by Farrow and Ball if you're feeling flush). 

What fun it must be - choosing the names.

Notes from the sick bay

Well it's hardly original of me I grant,

but I have a Cold.

Or it's had me, for about a week now.

Who's counting?

The days and nights are merging in a mess of screwed up tissues,

creased sheets,

menthol inhalers,

Miss Marple DVDs,

turmeric drinks because the internet says it's anti-inflammatory,

honey and lemon because that used to be good enough,

and the annoying thing is,

it's looking so bright and inviting out there.

I ought to be out in it.

I ought to be doing so many things.

There are birthdays to attend to.

And spring cleaning.

And grand-daughter to play with.

But I have a Cold.

And no one else must get it.

I'll come back to that important point.

My mother never got colds 

and I tell myself I have inherited that handy gene

because it really is quite a rare occurrence.

I saw this one eyeing me up a few times

but laughed it off.

Look who's laughing now.

Yesterday I thought I had turned a corner.

The violent sneezing stopped and the diaphragm stopped hurting.

(A cracked rib surely?)

I even spent most of the night asleep instead of wandering around at 2.40 am

(a time nobody should see twice a day) 

thinking the house seemed a little surprised

to be hosting me out of hours.

But no. The Cold had a new plan.

Travel down boys. Check out the bronchi.

See what mischief we can do there.

So now the coughing has started in earnest.

The forty a day sort of cough,

which coupled with the turmeric stained fingers is all too realistic.

Dr Google has been consulted again.

Plenty of fluids, 

stay hydrated, 

create a moist atmosphere - yes got the message, 

gargle,

Advil (why do I always end up at Mayo clinic?),

it's a virus so don't even think of asking for antibiotics,

if you've got a fever and chills and you're over 65 and pregnant

and you've been ill for much longer than one week you wuss, 

maybe then consult your physician. I mean GP.

But they've all got it too.

So stop feeling sorry for yourself.

It's only a Cold.

Nobody wants to hear about it.

And crucially, just before you're completely recovered

and you will be, give or take three weeks,

and even though wraith-like in appearance,

one of your nearest and dearest will get it

and not only will they cast a baleful eye in your direction,

despite all your hand washing,

but they will need nursing.

And the sick bay, so recently vacated

will be occupied again.