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This morning I became a veritable barber in a dead-heading spree.
I began with the prolific Japanese anemones in the front garden.
As I look out of my sitting room window each morning, I think of that excellent blogging poet Pleasant Street, who commented recently that she preferred to see older blooms alongside the fresh ones, “like life”. Although our reason for dead-heading is not vicariously to deny the effects of ageing, but rather to promote new growth, Pleasant certainly has a point. In deference to that I have left the blooms immediately in view to nature.
I also gathered up some of the branches broken by the winds. As the day continued the winds gradually returned to approach the 60 m.p.h. expected this evening.
Remarkably little damage has so far been incurred. Here are the Palm Bed;
the corners at the house end of the Brick Path;
the Gazebo Path;
the solanum and clematis draped on the dead tree;
petunias and begonias in large pots;
and rose Gloriana.
The Small White butterflies flitted around everywhere.
This afternoon Elizabeth visited and we took a trip to Molly’s Den, where I photographed a few random displays.
Not quite so random was this scene, taking me back to one Christmas in the 1980s.
Louisa would have been about six or seven when Jessica and I bought her an ironing board. “Just like Daddy’s”, was her delighted cry.
This evening, before Elizabeth returned home, we dined on Jackie’s perfect pork paprika and wild rice. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank more of the Fleurie.