As I’ve already remarked, understating the point as usual and titling the post ‘Help, I’m drowing’, things are getting away from me somewhat. See what I mean?
The meadow is badly in need of its annual haircut, about three weeks before it normally is. It’s been a funny old year so far.
I went out there this morning and discovered that the autumn crocuses are coming out, and they’re also earlier than they should be. There are even more under that lot, but I daresay we won’t see them this year as they’ll either not have flowered at all or will be beheaded in the Great Strim of September. But there are a few nearer to the house, where I clear a line of sight.
Well, that’s one reason why I cut this particular bit. The other is that due to the presence of the bird feeder, I get a good wheat crop otherwise. Wheat and the, er, rest, ahem. But despite its dishevelled nature, I can’t help loving the meadow even more. For one thing, it’s branching out:
And it’s also a great foil for the new pear tree, which has coloured up magnificently. I know, it should still be summer, but it doesn’t feel like it at all, and the pear agrees.
I nearly got excited this spring, as Madam here produced her first fruits. Alas, they all fell off, so we’ve had words. We shall see. But she’s got me over a barrel, as she’s too beautiful to do anything drastic about, so perhaps I should just accept her for what she is, a floozy of a pear tree, all show and no substance:
I’m a sucker for autumn colour. I want to knit it or weave it or spin it (dur – I’m a spinner and knitter, so that’s not surprising), and this is the first real outbreak of autumn leaves apart from the Victoria plum, which just looks battered. And the rowan is beginning to drop, too.
I suppose there are a lot of photographs this time because I’m daunted by the sheer amount of work that needs to be done, and the fact that some jobs are half-finished because of my hand problems, and the fact that I’ve got a horrific work deadline.
Instead of tearing myself away from the laptop for five minutes and doing a little weeding, I tear myself away from the laptop and do a little Walk of Doom – you know, the one that goes ‘this needs doing, and this needs doing, and that has to be done soon, and then we’ve got to do such and such…’ But it will all get done, in the fullness of time, task by task. When the scaffolding is located. (Task One. Big hedge. Too tall. Scaffolding is communal scaffolding, and makes a basic tower from which hedge can be molested in safety. Do not want to reduce height of hedge, hedge vital windbreak.)
That’s the bunny, in the background. The big hedge with the straight sides and the mohican.
In the middle of the lawn here is the non-fruiting greengage. I’ve been and looked at it more closely and I think it’s largely dead; I think it’s just too exposed here for it to flourish, and this is the most sheltered part of the garden. What leaves it produced this year have been very poor, and it didn’t flower at all. I’m a bit undecided as I hate disposing of things unnecessarily, though I think I’m coming down on the side of ruthlessness. Janet at Planticru Notes suggested a possible emergency treatment (ring-barking, basically), but I think it may have gone too far for that. There’s a bed going in roughly here, and I’ve already got some plants for it, whether it happens around the gage or not… hmm.
But there are some lovelies in this part of the garden. I’m a bit of fern fan, and some of my preciouses are changing their colour too:
How subtle. How beautiful, wurble, wurble. Don’t care about the hedge when this is next door, waiting to be admired. And my Acanthus mollis has presented me with a flower spike. It was on a warning, so it’s managed to get itself off the hook.
Best not look at the undergrowth from which it emerges. Hm.
Finally, I have managed, at last, to get a good picture of my constant gardening companion. It was a bit difficult, but I bribed him with slugs.
(And thanks to Helen, aka The Patient Gardener, for hosting the EOMV)