This has been a week of firsts, and today was my first day back at The Farm.

It was a day of mist that swiftly thickened to fog.  It was mild and unobtrusive and blurred the edges of the world.  All was veiled in an ethereal blanket, not threatening but embracing.  My mood however was buoyant.  I bounced and enthused and irritated those that had been working hard since the new year. We made plans for the coming weeks.  We toured the site and Mrs G carefully listed* my suggestions and even added some of her own.   Next we studied plant catalogues and further lists were made.  When it was time for me to leave they promised to instigate some of the new projects before next week.   As I pulled the door closed I could have sworn I heard ripping and giggling ………

This blurry witch hazel, Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Jelena’, is sporting the lone survivor flower from what was once the promise of many.  A tangle of joyous burnt orange banners.  Although I have no concrete evidence as to what happened to the burgeoning buds, my money is on either Public Enemy No. 1 AKA White Spot the Chicken or PE No. 1½  Flurry Bloomin’ Bunnykins and his pals.  In the coming months I forecast heartache in my continuing war with these arch criminals.  No doubt most of the tears will be mine.  Not yet though, today I am walking on the sunny side of the street, metaphorically speaking of course.

*This was after a fraught interlude whilst the correct notepad had been selected and matching pen located.

10 thoughts on “Blurry

  1. Weather, chickens, bunny rabbits, pigeons, voles, mice, other peoples’ cats – and we all keep on gardening. Please let Hero know that I have been spreading mushroom compost and very good it looks, too, thank you.


  2. Any creature that ate my precious witch hazel would end up dead meat. At the moment I am waging war with the neighbour’ s cat. He doesn’ t eat my witch hazel, but he preys on my lovely birds and poos in my garden. He does this while I am watching him with a contemptuous look on his face.


  3. A few decades ago I noticed my first witch hazel. The owner told me they were dull most of the year and barely worth their growing space. My gut response was different: I would endure 364 days of ‘dull’ for one glimpse of the witches dancing crumpled ribbons.


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