There is seldom need to sow nasturtium more than once. Not in my world anyway. In this garden we dance a horticultural dance, sometimes I am leading, more often not. At this time of year they are ever marching like a marauding army. Tumbling through and over and round, charming constrictors in opal fruit hues. Rarely do I have the inclination to pull them aside. It could be that I am aware that their days are naturally numbered. The caterpillars are munching and before long a wayward frost will turn them to mush. I am confident that next year they will return as strong as ever, just a few months hiatus in their domination. And yet again I will let them run wild.