Not everyone relishes working on a Bank Holiday. Myself, I don’t mind at all. Not when it is a day like today. So I decided to make a scrapbook of my adventures for your delectation.
The road then opened out to dramatic views across to the sparcely clothed hills of Exmoor National Park, exuding the perfect amount of gloom as befits such a moorland. There was no gloom in my heart at the sight of these wild and wonderful vistas.
And then down a medieval lane, tunnel-like and tempting, contained by classic Devon banks strewn with stitchwort, campions, bluebells and ferns. Today’s journey to Kemacott was especially enjoyable in the certainty that I would not meet the recycle lorry, with his fearless driving, on this national holiday.
In the garden we were intrigued by monsters, crawling out of the deep in their tens and transforming in front of our wide eyes. Slowly and deliberately, mesmerising and diverting us from the job of picking planting places for all the shining new specimens bought last week.
We potted up orange gazanias into blue planters and devil faced violas into an old tin baths. We took cuttings from an ancient Viburnum bodnantense and moved a misplaced hydrangea. And we found a fair maiden emerging from a patch of stinging nettles.
Slowly, slowly the monsters turned into pale ghosts, yet to develop the colour of their final incarnation. For the fully formed beauties you will have to wait for the contribution of the intrepid professional. Faint heart never won fair photographs!