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Among his other tasks this morning, Aaron finished weeding the original section of the Brick Path,
and sprayed herbicide along the gravel of the Back Drive where an old gold iris has bloomed.
Many plants, like this pansy-like mimulus, have happily self-seeded from last year,
others like two mulleins threatening to dwarf the roses among which they have taken root, may themselves be quite content, but their neighbours are not so.
We may have left it too late to move these two giants to the rear of the Back Drive border.
Rose Gloriana is far more prolific in this, its third year in the Rose Garden,
the faded blue entrance arch to which bears creamy Madame Alfred Carriere.
Altissimo stands sentinel at the corner of The Rose Garden and Elizabeth’s Bed,
where this sturdy fuchsia suspends its delicate pink flowers.
Cheerful erigeron cascades from the wall of the New Bed that contains
this pink-striped clematis,
as healthy as this, one of Jackie’s rescued spindly little twigs, mounting the front fence.
This evening we dined on pork medallions in barbecue sauce, with crunchy carrots, broccoli, and new potatoes. I drank Parra Alta Malbec 2016. Jackie had already imbibed her Hoegaarden on the patio beforehand.