Not only am I confused about what day it is, I am a little befuddled as to which week of the year it is. Hence, I spent a fair amount of time on a blog which is appropriate to next week. No matter, it is money in the bank I suppose. We are getting paid for this right?
“Paid for what?”, you might ask, for Six on Saturdaying of course! That universal weekendly past-time of the great and the good. To join our blissfully happy, mind-controlled crew, just pop on over to Propfessor X to find out what is going on. There are definitely no subliminal messages hidden in this blog, definitely not. Just don’t blink. Shall we proceed?
First, we have Allium aflatunense ‘Purple Sensation’, one of many this week I should imagine. In a slow crawl towards extending the season in The Bed of Anarchy, I planted these bulbs last year. Or was it the year before? Whichever, there aren’t enough of them to make a good show. They move around the border all on their own, as if looking for more of their own kind. I may well have to rectify that.
Now we have a lone lithodora flower. Blue. That is all that needs to be said.
Onto my arty-farty shot of the week and the interpretation therein.
The raindrops, suspended on the waxy surface of a hosta leaf, illustrate how we are living in our individual bubbles at the moment, where we have little choice but to reflect on inner demons and angels. There is no escape, we can see our loved ones in their respective bubbles, but can’t reach them. If we did, we would destroy them.
A moment after this shot was taken next door’s cat knocked the leaf with her tail and the drops fell to the ground and disbursed. I like to think this symbolises the futility of me trying to be serious. The End.
Next strawberry flowers. So white, such promise. And if you are listening out there; Mr Slug, Mrs Snail, The Blackbird Clan; I am not sharing!
Then we have Aquilegia ‘Egg’, a flower I have featured before. It is called Egg because OH nicked the seed from the farm where we used to get our eggs. Later I asked the farmer’s wife what had happened to the mother plant, she said it had died. My noble plan is to grow another and, at the dead of night, possibly wearing a balaclava, anonymously leave it on her doorstep. Otherwise she might arrest me for seed theft, although it wasn’t me, honest guv. She is rather scary, and looks very strong. The farmer’s wife that is, not the aquilegia, which isn’t scary at all.
And finally, the biggest and most beautiful of our Woolies Acers. The young leaves are at their best at the moment. The stresses of grown-up life, the sporadic watering and summer winds that go with maturity, have yet to distress them.
That is my lot for this week. Hope you enjoyed them. Keep on keeping on, my friends.