One of many moments of joy today.
After a month long sabbatical, today I returned to work. I call it a sabbatical because it sounds grown up and important and as if I am doing something worthy with my time. Researching the lesser spotted snoddlegrass perhaps or volunteering in the Home for Grumpy Old Men or maybe knitting hats for bald eagles. None of these are the case. It mainly involved good intent and excessive inertia. Oh, and chocolate.
After a dreary December I was ready for a break and the thought of sog and mud free days was enticing. For the last couple of weeks I have been restless to return. Batteries recharged. My clothes a little tighter. Ready for action.
It rained, of course, but not until just before lunch. And it was lovely to be part of the Westwell Hall pack again. My cleaned and sharpened tools are dirty, my coat mud-encrusted, twigs are in my hair, order has been restored and all is well in the world.
Cistus flower, looking slightly embarrassed at arriving at the party just as everyone else had gone home for a kip.
It was a struggle to get an even vaguely in-focus photo today. This was partly to do with the gale force winds that were assaulting plants and gardener alike, and partly to do with the fact I had so many clothes on it was hard to extricate my camera and take a shot.
In order to keep warm, this vinca was doing the dance moves to YMCA. For sake of the photo, we are lucky that Y is quite a long note.
Tropaeolum tuberosum at Westwell Hall. The first flower of the season. Better late than never.
A couple of months ago, on Button Moon, I was handed a couple of boxes. These boxes contained bulbs and corms and were accompanied by a wide smile of pride. They were several weeks out of date and had been liberated from the bargain bin. But this was no ordinary bin. It was a Waitrose bargain bin. In return I offered my narrow smile of fear.
The planting times were past and they more shrivelled than ideal, but ever the obedient servant, I planted them and hoped for the best.
Purple anemones, palest lemon gladioli and crocosmia have all chortled at my concerns. None though have been more divine than Gladiolus murielae, the Abyssinian gladiolus. A glorious white and purple butterfly. I never doubted you for a moment.
Fed up with “bee on flower” photos yet? Surely we can fit in just one more before the season is over?
Bee, borage, background of calendula. Job done.