Sunday 28 July 2013

HERBS, EXILES AND CUTTING REMARKS


There is a door to heaven from our living room and it has been largely shut these last seven years - until this July.
It has been open most days during the heat wave (now over).
It poured in the night has filled the stream and the pond and flattened the long grass. The lovage, all nine feet of it is bent with the weight of the water.
The garden has a different scent to it - washed and refreshed.

From my window I can see the birds on the feeders but tragedy again - a young chaffinch hit the window with a thump, scared by the clattering arrival of a lumpy wood pigeon. I picked it up, still warm but dead. These small birds are incredibly light in the hand and their plumage so soft.

Outside the pheasants burble around and the goldfinches 'Coo-ee' from the upper banking.


The alchemilla mollis is coming to an end and must be cut back hard before it seeds itself everywhere. It breaks like a golden wave over paths and paving.

My daughter contacted me to ask if I had any spare herbs going for their new garden in Herefordshire. I asked what she wanted and she said this and that and that and that and that . . . . . everything but marjoram of which they have an abundance.
One of our herb beds, shown, has rosemary, sage, thyme, lemon balm and marjoram. There is a pot of herbs outside the back door and other things elsewhere so no problem with supplying her with her wishes.

Nor far from this bed are the exiles. These are plants that have been dumped on an overgrown banking for lack of other space.


Here we have Acanthus, Sidalcea and Crososmia Lucifer.

The Cutting Garden (for cut flowers not plant cuttings) is flourishing and the house is overflowing with vases.


There are alstromerias, calendulas, ammi (which is a wonderful white umbellifer and continues to grow in the vase), phlox, rudbeckias, nigella and wallflowers and sweet William for next year. We also have a wall of sweet peas. It is important to keep feeding and cutting so new flowers come and the plants do not set seed but we are running out of room!

The lawns have been mown again and R has been weeding. The last of the blackcurrants have been picked, much to the annoyance of the blackbirds, and I am scavenging the few raspberries we have, hoping to get enough for some jam. Broad beans are in and we had them last night. We were also going to have broccoli but there were just too many caterpillars in the florets.

It is all happening - a spotted flycatcher hawking outside my window, Prince George popping out, Mr. Pheasant nosing in the kitchen door, being swamped by wamps (local for wasps), a cleg bite on my right ring finger, my grandson holding a slowworm, my son and daughter-in-law C and P having their first wedding anniversary. (I wonder what they bought each other? Paper Anniversary I think).
R washed my sun hat (English cricket type) and this proved fatal - hence the rain.
Yet it is still warm and we can sit out.
Which I am now going to do with a mugga coffee and soya milk (and sugar) (and a biccy) (and the last twenty pages of a good book),

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