This morning I wandered through the garden, down Downton Lane and into Roger’s field and back.
The red Japanese maple is now coming into leaf, and we may soon have to refill the Waterboy’s shell.
The clematis Montana, retrained eighteen months ago, now festoons the dead tree;
and different, delicate, tulips are bursting into life.
Dandelions currently claim the lane’s verges,
where, soon, cow parsley will swamp primulas.
On this ivy leaf, I think, is a hoverfly masquerading as a wasp.
I exchanged waves with the friendly farmer as, attracting the usual avian entourage,
he drove up and down fertilising his field, with a backdrop of Christchurch Bay.
The oak trees are producing plumage. In the bottom right of this picture can be seen another amenable gentleman,
one of the staff of Transform Paving, working on the drive of number 23.
After lunch, I rendered token assistance to The Head Gardener in replenishing and redistributing soil, then cut the grass. The bed here demonstrates the soil rejuvenation process. To the left, clog clay soil has been removed and placed where it doesn’t matter much, then replaced by all-purpose compost. That to the right is, as yet, untreated. Anyone with a better knowledge than mine will recognise a self-seeded mimulus from last year in the left-hand section. They obviously do well there. That is why the wheelbarrow contains more of these plants, to be inserted tomorrow.
For the whole time we sat in the rose garden with our pre-dinner Hoegaarden and cabernet sauvignon, a big fat wood pigeon warbled his contribution to our conversation. Or perhaps he was simply calling to his mate.
There was plenty of last night’s menu for us to come back for more this evening.
