1 CommentFriday, 14 September 2018 | Alison
I love being out in the garden during September, don’t you?
With Twenty Eighteen’s bumper high temperatures and hot sunny days seemingly now over and the much needed rain has fallen, there is a new-ness to the overall look of the garden.
It has once again become our ‘green and pleasant land’. The desert has re-bloomed, life has returned. The parched brown lawn has been painted green almost overnight, roses are having a second/third flush of flowers, crops are cropping and hurrah, the weeds are growing furiously again.
Friday, 10 August 2018 | Alison
As this wonderfully hot summer continues into August I find that I am waking extra early and leaping, ok crawling, out of bed just to check whether it has rained during the night.
Alas no, is generally the answer, but the good thing is I am getting into the garden much earlier in the day to do all those jobs that still need doing, whether its sunny or not, before I retreat under the brolly and sip chilled elderflower cordial.
Friday, 20 July 2018 | Alison
I remember the last drought in ‘the summer of ‘76’. That is 1976. Do you?
But way back then, just around the corner, I was a petulant, grumpy teenager and had not a thought about the lack of water around and the impact it had on mum’s considerable vegetable and flower garden.
I do, however, always remember the joy of podding peas, eating runner beans every night for weeks on end, picking tomatoes and eating handfuls of cherries from our enormous tree which I seem to recall climbing. But mainly, I just enjoyed the sunshine.
Oh, and that uncomfortable feel of the spikey short tufts of brown that passed for green grass, whilst I sat with friends on the school playing field at lunch time, listening to the latest music charts on my precious (sneaked in) transistor radio, tuned in to Radio 1.
Thursday, 24 May 2018 | Alison
With two Bank Holidays in May, many of us have an extra day or two free to spend pottering in the garden. May brings the beauty of Bluebells, buttercups, bleeding hearts (Dicentra) and plenty of pink and white blossoms; These days though, the humble buttercup is generally classed as a weed, but how many of us remember picking one and announcing that we liked butter whilst holding one under our chin…. Memories of sunny childhood days playing with pals for hours in the meadows, climbing old willow trees and paddling in the brook and all without a parent in sight!