Mr Bun should know that it would take more than a few measly wheelie bins to keep me out. I’ve got past a lot worse. I’ve got past a lot worse here. In fact, just for fun, I leapfrogged over each in turn and then back again.
And if I had known this beauty was waiting for me, I would have done a double back flip as well. Perhaps only a mental one.
It was predicted but you never can be quite sure, I have been disappointed before. As we slept it started, but in the morning it was hard to say quite how much had fallen. A morning at The Buns, planting in mainly mizzle with a little drizzle, showed just how little it had penetrated into the soil. It would have to try harder. And this afternoon it did. Proper rain. Welcome rain.
In our house we are very happy that the wind has changed direction. As I type I am accompanied by a roaring, whistling, splashing medley. Much mischief is occurring in the back garden, where the weather is doing its utmost to uproot plants, dishevel pots and flatten the shed which is being held up by ivy and good intentions. On the other side all is relative calm. As our bedroom is at the front of the house, this means that our night will be a quiet one. The windows will not rattle and creak while I lay alert planning what to do if they fall in, the floor boards will not shudder in authentic haunted house manner and we will hopefully sleep the sleep of the innocent. Which is good for everyone. I am very grumpy if I don’t get my sleep.
I was quite the opposite of grumpy when I spotted this little rose flowering at The Bun’s today. So sweet, so vulnerable, I wonder if it will be there in the morning.
Yesterday I struggled with the weather, it was cold and windy and dark. I didn’t want to play autumn’s game. I wanted to hibernate. Snuggle up until spring studying picture books full of adorable photos of puppies and kittens.
Today was similar, weather wise, but somehow different. Fully base layered up (not sure where I will go from here) I shrugged off the drizzle and miserable. Greeted by a jump jet spaniel ensured that my day started with a wide grin and a happy heart. The company of the fabulous Mrs Bun meant that there was no turning back, my dreary mood could not persist.
Mr Bun undertook The Job of the Century and returned battle scarred and triumphant. I was suitably impressed. Mrs Bun laughed at his wounds. You will be pleased to hear she has retired from the nursing profession.
This wonderful little rose did its bit too in the good vibration department.
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.
When I saw this flower today and questioned Mrs Bun about it, she said “Not a clue, it must have come from a freebie packet of seeds but can’t remember which.” But I knew it. I knew I had grown it. I knew I had loved it. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was called. A cosmos flower with different foliage to the usual Cosmos bipinnatus – the likes of ‘Purity’ and the Sonata series. And it niggled me. Whilst methodically dead heading lavender I was all the while thinking “I know it, I know I know it” trying to access the part of my brain that stores such information. But nothing. I admitted defeat, I googling “orange cosmos” and hey presto there it was, Cosmossulphureus. Of course, of course! So simple. But when you’ve admired so many plants, there will be occasions that one of your old loves slip your mind. It can only get worse.
A splendid day at The Buns. The sun shone, a breeze cooled, flowers bloomed.
But something was amiss in the Land of Lemon Drizzle. Was there an inkling of strain in the sultry air? What could the problem possibly be? I think I have been forgiven for relegating their lavender from No. 1 in the hit parade to equal status with the French example. However, I’m not so sure that Mrs B has forgiven me for telling everyone about her rejection of my geum pressie, and by association of me and my undying love and loyalty, as documented in a recent Six on Saturday.
Perhaps I should stop mentioning it, that might help. One more time wouldn’t hurt.