Off The Edge Gardening

Today I visited a cafe that I have never previously been to or even knew existed.  In that cafe I was meeting a woman who I have never met before, but I was pretty certain she was real.  Ninety percent certain.  After taking my order the man behind the counter noticed me peering around the room.  “Is everything OK?” he asked.  “Yes” I replied “I’m meeting someone here and I don’t know what she looks like”.  “Oh”  he said at a loss for anything more constructive.  I continued “But I know that she is not a man or a dog and as they are the only inhabitants of your fine establishment I can only guess that I am here first”.  “Great” he said “You now have the advantage”. “What advantage would that be and why would I need one?” I wondered, but didn’t say out loud to avoid overt rudeness. “You can choose exactly where to sit” he explained.  “Perhaps he is a mind reader, I had better be careful” I thought.  “Stop thinking” I thought again.  “I see, and where would you recommend?” I asked looking around the almost empty room. “Well our most popular table is the one behind the man eating the enormous bacon buttie” he explained “people will clear that table of dirty dishes just to sit there”.  “But surely that man would be irritated if, bearing in mind there is a room full of vacant tables, I decided to sit right next to him”.  At this the dining fellow looked up and gave a slight nod of agreement, unable to speak due to his sandwich eating activity.  This apparently hallowed place didn’t look particularly special to me, maybe I was missing something.  It was decided. “I will sit over in the corner, away from the window, diagonally opposite the breakfasting gentleman.”  And so I did.  I have always been wilful.

My mystery companion arrived moments later and I recognised her as such instantly.  She was very nice.  We had two coffees and many words.  This event may happen again, but next time I will let her choose the table.

This photo of a self-seeded fennel has absolutely nothing to do with coffee, cafes or tables.  However I do not have a picture of any of the above so it will have to suffice.

More of the same today.   We slipped and slided like a muddy Torvill and Dean, digging up self-seeded ferns and throwing them on to the Bonfire That Never Burns.  They will be quite safe there.  During a particularly heavy spell of rain I sheltered under a Paulownia.  It was even more painful than being in the open.  Anticipating when the huge drips that were falling through the gaps in the canopy would land on my head was quite disturbing.

This afternoon I decided that I couldn’t face putting on my sodden waterproofs, dripping gloves, wringing hat, squelching boots and doing it all over again.  So I went home.

A wet day, a mizzly day, a misty day, a day that didn’t get light.  But not a windy day.  Glass half full.

Today was not the day to be a top heavy, shallow rooted, annual.

To prevent the almost inevitable toppling of the sunflower forest and the consequent squashing of the less stout souls below, my first job this morning was to dig up the giants.  First I had to remove the extensive corsetry that was valiantly attempting to hold them in place, although they were already at a jaunty angle.  All it took was a quick nudge from a fork beneath and we had a controlled felling.  I then passed them over to Lady Mantle who cut off the worthy flowers which she lined out on a low wall.

It may have come to your attention that it was a tad breezy today, and has not yet relented.  I sincerely hope that the howling and crashing coming from outside is the wind and not an early Halloween visitation.  For all the weather’s vigour it was pleasantly balmy and, after the sun shook off the Saharan dust, it was bright and blue skied.  This made for unexpectedly good working conditions.  Of course everything had to weighted down and throwing weeds into a trug was a miss and miss affair.  Later I chased the cut sunflowers around the garden, scooping them up and taking them into the house.  Lady M. had been diverted.

The journey back was scattered with twigs and small branches and the odd young tree that had been battered just a little more than it could cope with.   I was glad to get home.

I hope you stayed safe and damage free.

A combination of bad weather and feeling a little below par meant that I didn’t work today.  Instead I sat at home sorting out my photos.  Perhaps a little sorry for myself, periodically watching the wind and rain wallop my plants outside.

In the olden days the job of photo-sorting would have entailed sitting on the floor shifting through reams of prints and negatives.  We still have storage boxes containing ancient pictures from across the years. Occasionally I will delve into these museums and wonder at my youth and waist size.  Not often enough though.  It is good to remember.

Nowadays it means sitting at the computer and trawling though virtual files.  And blimey, don’t I take a lot of pictures.  The increase in shots since the devil digital arrived is not tenfold, but perhaps a thousand fold, or maybe ten thousand fold, and they need to be culled and named and archived.  Being the efficient librarian that I am, this job hasn’t been done for two years.

I may be some time.

I spotted these little snails sheltering beneath a fennel leaf.  A fragrant umbrella, how sensible.