We managed a good morning’s work before the rain set in later in the afternoon.
I cut the grass while Jackie clipped more of the Back Drive hedge.
Part of this consisted of a fuchsia which, despite severe autumn haircuts, has really become very unkempt overgrown. Because it was the only reasonable plant in this area when we arrived were were reluctant to remove it. We have still kept a small section, but the main cluster just had to go. Discovering that it could not just be dug out without serious damage to the garden forks, Jackie employed her tried and tested Time Team technique requiring the use of a trowel. I then wielded a woodman’s axe to hack out the roots.
This clematis and these poppies form part of the planting separating the drive from the gravelled patio, in one corner of which
the hydrangea Serrata Miranda, behind and to the right of the planted urn, is thriving.
Between this plot and the Rose Garden, Elizabeth’s Bed is nicely plumped up.
The rose Ballerina dances us into the Rose Garden,
blending nicely with Florence’s petunias.
Summertime ascends the corner of the orange shed,
and the first Deep Secret bloom has survived balling from the rain to flower well enough. Balling is the term given to the soggy balls to which unopened roses are reduced when they are subjected to lengthy precipitation.
The solanum has taken over from the now spent clematis Montana the task of brightening the dead tree stump beside the New Bed.
Wedding Day rose, attracting hoverflies and beetles,
is now preparing to cast its veil over the Agriframes Arch.
Evening primrose blooms on the Back Drive northern bed,
where poppies are buzzing with bees,
which, when they expressed their disgruntlement at my poking a camera up their bums by turning on me and crawling around my head and neck, took me back to my first desperate encounter with the creatures.
In fact the only poppies that don’t harbour these beings are Californian.
This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, pea fritters, pickled onion, and gherkins. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Carles.