Six on Saturday – Raindrops keep falling on my flowers


Someone must have speeded the film up.  It can’t possibly be Saturday again.  There is so much to cram into every week, it doesn’t seem fair that the time seems to pass more quickly at this time of year.   As we are pondering this anomaly, puzzled looks on our faces, gaining yet more wrinkles, there is a more than likely a crack team of scientists studying this very phenomena.  Let us hope so.  I could do with a few more hours at the very least.  The hard fact is that we are back in our happy place again.  Six on Saturdayland.  Take a look at the website of The Grand Vizier of the Independent State of SoS where you will find other Islanders and a guide to help you on your way if you wish to join in with the conga.  Let us proceed.  Due to circumstance all of my flowers this week are a little wet.  It has mizzle/drizzle/rained all day and although this scuppered my plans I am pleased for the garden.

First of all we have a gazania, the first flower to open from a couple of trays of locally grown mixed plants.  I’m sure they have been enjoying the hot sunny spell we have had up until today.  Quite what this sun-loving, South African daisy will think of the dreary North Devon weather I can’t be sure.  Might make a nice change, although this is unlikely.

Salvia argentea

Next we the Salvia argentea, silver sage, a fabulously furry creature that I have mentioned before in Six on Saturday – Monochrome.   I am pleased to report that it over-wintered and is as adorable as ever.  A pet without the vet fees.


Now we have a hosta, which has so far escaped the inevitable ravages of molluscs.  In order to keep a keen eye on it, it lives in pot outside the front door.  It was a gift, along with a couple of others, from Chambercombe Bob and is just about to flower.  I am very fond of it.  Bob’s nice too.

Nasturtium 'Black Velvet'

On to Nasturtium ‘Black Velvet’, which although is quite velvety isn’t terribly black.   A bit out of focus, but it was raining and I was balancing and who cares.   This seed was purchased at an end of season cut price jamboree/full-on-combat event.  Everything was fifty pence, I am hyperventilating just thinking about it.  Myself and Nancy Nightingale wrestled a rather persistent lone male shopper for the spoils.  No prizes for guessing who won the bout.  We make a fine tag team.


A rather pretty pink pelargonium is next, unnamed, bog standard, generic and quite beautiful.


Finally, a little late on parade, we have a buttercup yellow primula.  Bought on a stall somewhere on my travels, perhaps car boot sale or open garden.  It is a welcome splash of colour before my tardy dahlias begin their display.  If I can keep them safe.  Which is not a given.

That is your lot my lovelies.  Until the next time!



Today we went on a jolly.  It involved the following, which on the face of it appear quite unjolly, events.

  1. A very early start
  2. A car journey
  3. No train
  4. A bus replacement
  5. A young woman who talked nonsense at high volume, without a breath and mainly about herself, for an hour and a half.
  6. A train
  7. The hi-vis pupils of The School for the Extra-ordinarily Excited who joined us.
  8. A twenty minute walk through a Stepford-esque estate when we saw not one person, but for a rather reticent postman.
  9. Several hours of intense retail immersion.
  10. The purchase of unnecessary and cluttering items, to add to the rest.
  11. More spooky houses and no people.
  12. A long wait on a windy, cold train station, situated underneath a flight path, with views to the motorway and seats that only a yogic master would find comfortable.
  13. A train – not ours
  14. A train – cancelled
  15. A train – not ours
  16. A train – ours
  17. The returning pupils who had not worn themselves out one iota.
  18. A dash to the replacement bus.
  19. A man who wittered on for an hour as he was busy for the other thirty minutes sniffing and drinking cider.
  20. A car journey home.
  21. Collapse.

A great time was had by all.



This morning I spent an educational moment or three studying a bee who was trying to exit a campanula flower.  Mrs Buzz-u-like’s drawers were full of pollen and she was slip-sliding and wheel spinning, as if her path was lined with treacle.  Perhaps it was.  It was pure slapstick.  And educational of course.  I learned never to enter a campanula flower without a ladder.

Plan B

Yesterday I implemented Plan B in my relentless battle against the unremitting mollusc onslaught.  B stands for beer.  Beer traps.  This morning I fished out the inebriated/drowned and was impressed/horrified to find approximately forty of varying shapes and sizes in just two traps.  They were enticed by Tesco’s definitely not finest but cheapest beer.  Not the prettiest way to start a day, poking with an old fork at bloated slimey mini-sausages.  It did however substantially improve.  Sun, more sun and a whole lot of gardening.