Leonurus nepetifolia can speak very nicely for itself, it needs no help from me. Of course it can’t actually hold an intelligent conversation, that would be asking a little too much. However, through the understated discipline of mime it eloquently communicates its awesome exotic beauty.
Although it was a beautifully warm day, with an advantageous breeze which greatly assisted the workers in their toils, it somehow felt different. The light has become softer, kinder. Instead of sucking the soul out of colours it is enhancing them, embracing them. I like it.
This morning Lady Mantle greeted me with “Today we are going to be drawing pictures and making notes”. The horror on my face prompted a rapid “Don’t worry, I will be doing the drawing”. This is just as well, I once came second in art-off with a 4 year old. Luckily Her Ladyship made the notes as well. She has exemplary handwriting. When later she dropped the pad into the mud she brushed it off saying “now it is a proper gardening notebook”.
We methodically examined each of the carefully numbered borders and garden areas on her blueprint, listing the plants (which for me was a horticultural spelling bee) and discussing our hopes for next season. This involved identifying plants that need to be moved or extracted and pinpointing areas that “could do better”. We also patted ourselves on the back and admired our own handiwork. This exercise took all morning but was not wasted time, quite the contrary, it was an invaluable way to spend a few hours. Now we have something to aim for. We have a plan. Quite possibly to ignore.
This sunflower is not rushing to shine. It will get there, but in its own time. You can’t hurry these things.
Did I read somewhere that fuchsias are now socially acceptable? Someone may have even mentioned that harbinger of market-flooding “on trend”. Fuchsia ‘Thalia’ doesn’t care if it is à la mode or passé and quite frankly, nor do I. Elegant, floriferous and self sufficient, I don’t need anyone to point out its obvious worth. You can, however, keep the frilly dancing ladies for yourself. Each to their own and I wish you well. There are plenty of other subtle beauties to keep me happy.
The quince at The Farm has hit puberty. Some have prematurely left home, a scattering of immature fruit tragically circle the tree, to become snacks for the badgers no doubt. But I have high hopes for this persistent beauty in particular. It is now beginning to shed its adolescent fluff, revealing the adult beneath, and elongating into the elegant pear shape of its destiny. Is it a good idea to become so attached to a fruit, when so much is at stake? We will see.
Tomorrow is a big day in the Bun household. Madeleine will be wedding Gary Baldy. The traumatised scarlet flax have rallied, managing to produce a glorious red flower just in time. One is enough. There are plenty of others to fill the jam jars. Wishing you all a wonderful day and the happy couple an amazing life together. x
ps Thanks to Mr Bun for the photo, I didn’t doubt you for a moment!
“The grass is greener”, is not a valid excuse!
Albitzia julibrissin f. rosea, the pink silk tree, has been jettisoning its flowers for the past few weeks. Most have fallen on the tarmac drive or are resting atop ferns and foliage. One dropped into the black bin now serving as a water reservoir, floating above the darkness, the end of each tassel glowing like a fibre optic light.
Today I had a postponed birthday breakfast with my lovely pals Hero and Betsy Bee. It was wonderful. It has inspired me to write a poem entitled Friends.
Friends are good
Friends are ace
Friends are welcome round my place*
Friends are lush
Friends are cool
Friends are even better if they have a swimming pool**
Friends are special
A friend always cares
Friends will never hesitate to lend you their flares ***
Friends are kind
Friends are clever
I’m a lucky lass and I’ll love them forever!****
*bring cake
**still looking for one of those, please apply in writing
*** or their tank tops
**** true
Ceratostigma willmottianum, the Chinese plumbago. Blue incarnate.
Off The Edge Gardening