Dusky aquilegia in the dappled shade.
Which was where I was skulking most of the day. Unfortunately this did not involve a hammock, the latest hort-lit blockbuster or even a pint of piña colada. Just spiteful nettles, strings of enchanter’s nightshade and stubborn self-seeded ferns. Well you can’t have everything.
Yesterday was tough. I made it til 2.30 and the threw in my trowel. This Catananche caerulea, Cupid’s Dart, was still looking cool, blue and refined in the post 30C temperatures. I, however, was red, blotchy and sweaty. I thought a photo of the flower would be preferable.
It is hot, but I expect you knew that already. Back to work tomorrow after a long weekend off. Lovely holiday weather, not so good for working. Never mind, I am well prepared with cooling clothes, cover ups, sun screen, hat and water bottle all at the ready. Expect another tale tomorrow night.
Something else that is a bit toasty is this Geum ‘Blazing Sunset’. A bit tasty too!
My beloved Dad died too long ago to be quite right.
It was only this year that I realised that when I say “he died too soon” what I really mean is he died too soon for me.
Does that make sense? Do you understand?
Over the years I have had so much to tell him, things I needed to share; some that would have pleased him, made him proud, others would have made him angry. He could have given me comfort when I needed it most, he would have made me laugh as he always did, given me a cuddle just because, and have continued to be his charismatic crazy self.
What I am trying to say is that I wasn’t finished with him yet. I’m still not finished.
Of course he would probably argue that he would have preferred to hang about a bit longer as well.
In the mists of time, on a bizarre whim, I pruned his roses. They all died. He laughed I think. He wasn’t bothered. He forgave me, yet again. They were horrid standards anyway. It was for the best.
My pruning skills have improved greatly since.
Happy Fathers Day x
So much to share, so little time to do it.
Kalmia latifolia, mountain laurel, gorgeous.
Again I am falling back on the “pretty picture less words necessary” scenario.
This is the flower of Fox and Cubs otherwise known as Orange Hawkweed or, for the botanists and swots, Pilosella aurantiaca. I love foxes and their cubs and I also love this native wildflower.
Just in case you were wondering, ‘out of focus’ is very fashionable in these parts. Please bear in mind that this is North Devon and we do have our fingers on the photographic pulse, the latest trends may not have reached you yet.
I am sure I am not alone, but when I have been away from home, even for a short time, I need time to reconnect. As I by necessity I leapt straight from the frying pan into the fire, back to work with barely time to remove my sombrero, it has been a disconcerting week. However today was a home day. Time to re-accustom myself to real life. Well my version anyway. The morning was spent writing, the afternoon in the garden. Aquilegias seem to have taken over. When they were in bloom they were a blessing, now they are an irritation. I cut off the flower heads, carefully avoiding seed spill, to attempt to stymie their progression. Gladiolus byzantinus, previously admired for their profusion, had forced their magenta heads through many, crushing and stifling. Under one pushy group was this Fuchsia procumbens ‘Variegata’, barely surviving the thug’s presence. I cleared and replanted, gave my apologies and hope that I will be forgiven for my negligence.
Things were buzzing in Echium City today.
Was anyone paying attention? Do you remember me mentioning my distinct distrust of flying? My absolute terror of turbulence? So which one of you organised this as reported in the Majorca Daily Bulletin
Let us say that we arrived with a bang. And a crash. And an hour late.
The 45 minute late night drive to the villa was illuminated by continual lightning on all sides. Half an hour after arrival, coinciding with a crack as if the world were splitting open, the lights went out. After some tentative poking about in fuse boxes we went to bed to the sound of torrential rain and sporadic flashes.
By lunch time the following day the electricity was back on, the rain had stopped, the Mediterranean sun was doing its best, and I had already spied jacaranda, hibiscus, lantana, oleander, and bougainvillea.
All was well in the world.
So why is it called Cat Mint again?
Landed and tired but happy. A little like this pussy cat.
Off The Edge Gardening