Showing posts with label plums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plums. Show all posts

Saturday, 29 September 2018

What can I tell you?

I have been blogging lite.
Coupled with the struggle my ageing computer has 
to upload photos to the blog,
and the amount of time I have spent away from the computer indoors,
Instagram has been all too seductive.

But September is nearly over
and as it has been so splendidly abundant
Instagram cannot satisfy the need for a splurge,
so here it comes.


An arresting sight on the beach.


Fruit picking at Maynard's Fruit Farm on its last open day.
(Premature I felt - the trees were groaning.)









A pebble beach can seem a tad dull until
you have time to look at each stone more carefully.
The colour range in the shingle at my feet was astounding.





The last of the Open Gardens on a rare wet day,
but the colours sang out and the crowds were absent.
Sad for the charities but in some ways kinder to the borders.

We went to an Open Garden at Perch Hill (Sarah Raven's Cutting garden).
It was magnificent but the crowds...
there must be so much colateral damage.






I don't know how I managed to give the impression that
we were the only people there!





On the other hand a late afternoon at Wakehurst Place
was very peaceful.


This little chap is also a very peaceful sort.
He smiles and gurgles and puts up with
his sister's tender ministrations.
He is growing apace and my knitting barely keeps up.

And now I must find my passport.
There is a big chap to visit soon.


Monday, 8 February 2016

Plum blossom placeholder



I'm glad I took this while I could.
I doubt it will survive Storm Imogen intact.
I write that with gritted teeth.
I deplore the personalisation of weather
even if it is even-handed about the gender now.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Plums on a tray




Destined for a tray bake plum cake.
Riveting stuff.
I blame my broken glasses.
Someone sat on them.

What were they doing in your pocket you ask?
Well sometimes I would rather look unframed about me
 with a compromised focus
than look clearly 
in a restricted field.
So I put them in my coat pocket.
Then I take the coat off and put it on the bench
and someone sits on the coat.

That'll be £60 to mend the snapped bridge, says the optician.
So compromised focus it is for the time being.
I have an assortment of old glasses to press into service
until I'm due for another eye test.