Today is dreary. Yesterday was also dreary. I can see these dreary days stretching miserably into the distance. It’s most definitely autumn now. Not the crisp, clear, sunny autumn I love, but the dull, flat, drizzly season that makes me want to stay under the covers. The garden desperately needs my attention, and I have … Continue reading The Garden – The Off-Season.
Those beetroot I raised from seed and planted an age ago – you know, those beetroot that I’ve been watching and waiting and watering and wishing . . . . Well, I vowed that I would give them a couple more weeks and then that was it. Well . . . . someone else has … Continue reading Oh Well . . .
You know when something horrible is happening, like a visit to the gynaecologist, and you mentally put yourself in your happy place? Well this is mine. It’s my back yard, and it’s extra special now with the recent addition of some new garden chairs. After having sat on the step all these years, Mr. B and … Continue reading My Happy Place.
After a boring day of chores I just went out to the garden to breathe in the afternoon breeze and found there were loads of tomatoes that had ripened since yesterday. Since it’s now summer proper, and after the scorching hot spell, the poor tomato plants are looking crisp, brown and somewhat naked. The lush green foliage is … Continue reading The Garden
I harvested tomatoes yesterday, and they were so sumptuous it brought to mind a quote from the poet John Keats; A thing of beauty is a joy forever. They were a joy whilst I looked at them, and breathed in their special home grown tomato smell, but they did not last forever – only until … Continue reading A Thing of Beauty . . .
It seems that what we had most of in the garden for the last few weeks was beans. We had crisp green ‘Bonapartes’, tender yellow ‘Sex without Strings’, magnificent climbing ‘Purple King’, and ‘Crimson Flowered Broad beans’. Beans are the gift that keeps giving. We’ve feasted for weeks now, and they just kept coming. I’ve … Continue reading Time to Say Goodbye . . . .
