Dippy

I’ve been a bit dippy lately. Dippier than normal.

Last Saturday I mislaid my house keys. I had been embarrassingly (to OH anyway) counting out a tonne of small change in a local cafe and forgot put them back in my purse. Luckily we were reunited without too much stress.

In the week I forgot my steel toe caps and had to struggle through the day wearing inadequate holey pumps. This was not quite as traumatic as wearing my slippers to school, but almost.
Today I forgot my bag. I noticed that the passenger seat was spookily empty approximately 5 minutes before reaching Lord and Lady Mantle’s estate. This oversight meant I had no money, no phone, no diary, no packets of seed, no multi-tool, no teabags, no stationary kit, no paper bags, no spare pair of socks, no camera, no coffee granules, no mini first aid kit, no anti-histamines, no emergency humbugs, no manky tissues, no ear phones which would have been useless without the phone anyway, no penknife, no notebook, no pen, no other pen, no pencil. Most importantly, with the prospect of imminent disaster, I had no glasses. Luckily Lady Mantle and myself wear the same size so she leant me her diamond encrusted spare pair.

I must concentrate harder.

Petit Pain

Congratulations to Mrs and Mrs Bun, or should I say The Grandbuns.  Yesterday morning a freshly baked petit pain joined the family.

I wish the little one happiness and health, love and kindness, and of course lots of laughter in his life xx

Six on Saturday – Forlorn

Well Mr Prop you’ve really done it this time.  It has been my first day off for a while.  We have been away, dodging showers in Cornwall, and before that we had visitors to entertain, with more due next weekend.  How have I spent this glorious nugget of a free day?  Enjoying an aromatherapy massage, or perhaps brunching on avocado smashed onto spelt toast whilst perusing the weekend papers?  No, I have been wandering around my gardening in the pouring rain and howling gale trying to take photos for my Six on Saturday.  I am seriously annoyed.  And wet.  I will never forgive you.

I’m over it now.  All in the past.  I still admire you from afar.  Shall we get on?

First is a view out onto the courtyard from the relative dry and warm of my home.  I was contemplating.  I was revving myself up to venture forth.  No doubt I sighed a little.  You can see the green watering can that is too heavy for me to lug up the steps when it is full.  An anemic tomato plant, a stoically unflowering nerine and a few equally unfloriferous dahlias huddle on the step.  My pathetic greenhouse is flapping about like a demented seagull.   The ‘mind your own business’ is doing its utmost to treacherously smother the brick steps up to the main garden.  All is sog and forlorn.

I will try and cheer up as we proceed, but I can’t promise anything.  It might be a good idea to brace yourself for all eventualities.

Next is Solonum atropurpureum which is one of this year’s tranche of seed grown plants.  The decision to attempt to propagate this monster must have been made during a “what on earth was I thinking of” moment.  Alternative names are purple devil and malevolence so it is indeed surprising that I thought it would be a cuddly addition to the throng.  It is spiky and ugly and it is doing exceedingly well.

Now we have a bedraggled Dahlia australis and resident nibbler.  This plant was also grown from seed and turned out not to be the true species, a random bee must have snuck in with outsider pollen to the parent plant.  Still it is both pretty and reliable, two fine traits.  My dahlias have been dreadful this year, partly due to weather conditions and partly due to neglect.  Possibly in a ratio of 1:99.

Onto a depressed Rosa ‘Symphony in Blue’.  The first flush earlier in the summer was glorious.  Seems a little sad to see this battered shadow of its former self.   Time for it to have a sleep now and rest up until next year.

I have a confession, I have not one but two tibouchinas.  I say this tentatively as I’m a little worried that the Redistribution of the Tibouchina Party will come and liberate one of them.  But I need both, really, I do.  This is Tibouchina ‘Groovy Baby’, a diddy little shrub, but with flowers as large as its full-sized friend.  I would like a dress in this colour if anyone is feeling creative.

Lastly the delightful, Fuchsia ‘Bornemann’s Beste’.  This determined soul has thrived in the Bed of Anarchy, elbowing its way through the expanse of agapanthus and over exuberant salvias.  Sturdy and full of flower, it is a winner.

All done, until the next time, over and out.

 

 

Lichen

Lichen and granite, mustard yellow and gunmetal grey, happily cohabiting on a grievously exposed sea wall.

A few hours later, in much different circumstances, a friend’s easy chair and contrasting footstool echoed this perfect marriage.

Life imitating life.

Starry, Starry Night

It has been a very strange week with very little gardening and much mouching, more’s the pity.  Today I worked for couple of hours at Nancy Nightingale’s and then had a singing lesson.  We sang sad songs.  I do love a sad song.

The afternoon at Bill and Ben’s was aborted as they had double booked with the power tools men, so I went home.

This is a zinnia in NN’s garden.  Strange really, as neither of us remember planting either this one or its compadres.  Those fairies are up to their tricks again.