You have fair warning, there will be a substantial amount of joy within this blog.  Anyone looking for misery or heartache, turn away now, you are the road to disappointment.  Similarly, if you are likely to be offended by unabashed gloating, please retune your TV.

To be greeted by a bouncing Bobbie dog as you arrive at work is enough to charge the mood cells for at least half a day.  This is even taking into account her propensity to sits on top of the Armeria maritima, creating a curiously flat thrift plant.  Saying that, I am sure it is very comfortable and can we blame her?  What followed was a glorious morning spent chopping out frazzled viburnum, osteospermum and photina, planting out stocky broad beans plants and a mixed bunch of snakes head fritilleries.  For this (on top of my wages) I was rewarded with half a dozen of Big Bertha’s finest eggs and a sixer of excess beans.

Then on to the du Mauriers where pruning and mulching and feeding filled an equally enjoyable afternoon.  True, my identification tests fell on stony ground and my radical pruning techniques were mocked, but on a day such as this it could only be taken in good grace.   As I struggled out of the village, winding up the hill from hell, the car was weighed down with a boot full of kindly donated giant red canna, just beginning to emerge from their hibernation.

After such a day it would be difficult not to gloat.  A memory to put in the safety deposit box for those inevitable other days.

7 thoughts on “Gloating

  1. I’m jealous! I’m trying to clear an overcrowded pond without disturbing frog spawn or killing one of the residents that keep popping up and scaring the life out of me! So far, no ladybugs though I did disturb (and destroy) a colony of lily beetle in the rushes! And not even a mention of a breeze from you. (I know: we got Imogen, you got Juno). Clearly their resident dog is less destructive than my resident cat!


  2. Oooh, giant red cannas–we will look forward to photographs of those in future. It’s one of the best times of the year, isn’t it? The whole of the growing season in front of us.


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