All right, I know it’s been ages and ages since my last post. A) I’ve been working like a nutcase, and B) every other moment – almost – has been spent gardening. That’s because I have rather rashly agreed to open my garden. To the extremely professional garden club here, so to people who know what they’re doing. In a fortnight or so.
This gem is the one of the veg beds:
Garlic harvested, broad beans eaten. Need to weed, dig over and place squashes – in huge pots – on top. Rain keeps stopping ‘play’. Play! Ha!
How about this, then?
Whaddya mean, what is it? It’s the bonfire heap, of course, up at the top of the meadow. Oh shiiiiiiiiiittttt. But P reckons a quick strim and this will look acceptable, if not enormously better. though we might need to dispose of an entire Matto Grosso’s worth of cleavers.
Then there are other terrible areas such as behind the greenhouse, notably, and under the camellias. But my main focus, when it isn’t raining and sometimes when it is, is this:
It’s a flower bed. Oh yes it is.
(PS: When P asked ‘are you opening the garden this year?’ and added ‘it’s quite good because it means everything gets done’ I should have hit him with the spade.)
(PPS: and yes, the letters on the image titles are indeed significant.)
(PPPS: Back in a fortnight. Assuming I live that long.)