We received a generous amount of rain overnight and light drizzle during the morning of a generally overcast day.
Jackie continued her work on clearing beds while
I carried clippings and other refuse to the compost bins before a lengthy training session for what Andrew Petcher has termed the Dead-heading Olympics.
Nugget visited me briefly, but otherwise preferred the company of the Head Gardener and her filled trug from which he plucked provender to provide for his latest brood of offspring. The poor little chap was looking very sodden as he ignored the rain for the greater good.
In this image you can find “Where’s Nugget?” (87)
For one brief period before lunch clematis Madame Julia Correvon smiled in the sunshine while sparkling raindrops caused roses, hemerocallises and others to gladly glisten;
a veritable hive of bees clambered over each other buzzing on opium.
This evening we dined on roast chicken; crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; and tender spring greens with green beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.