This is Nancy Nightingale’s garden. After a whole month of total neglect. Yes four full weeks of being ignored.
Our very own NN has been abroad on a secret mission and her home in the meantime been home to wannabe surfers and possibly hipsters. Not a gardener in sight.
When I visited yesterday I was expecting carnage, instead I was met with voluptuous, marginally anarchic, beauty. The cosmos and dahlias, asters and sunflowers, agapanthus and canna, gladioli and lavatera, were tangled together in a deep pile carpet of pure joy.
After a dead-head-athon, the purple beans and plum tomatoes were harvested and a few of the most obvious weeds tugged.
All is ready for her return.