Gary is coming back - hooray! (GP is nothing to do with what I used to be.)
The garden is awash - boo! The paper says it is likely that 2014 will be the wettest year on record - and after a good summer and a very dry September.
One of the most important things about a garden is how it uses light and how the house interacts with the garden. How the garden looks framed by windows, how doors lead out into the garden, how the two interconnect.
This is the view 8 years ago from a bedroom window after the timber frame had gone up - R looking out,
and this is the view now with the frame in this week.
Not all windows have to be standard and this Westmorland window lighting the stairs and both halls, I have to admit, was the idea of the architect. It is at the back of the house and has north light and not much view - but we like it.
Took the grandchildren new spring viewing yesterday. There is something magical about cool fresh uncontaminated water welling up from the seemingly solid ground. I am not surprised that ancient man found these places special.
So we have been in Scotland for a few great days with B (finally got her to come) and returned to find our white birches were not delivered as the big lorry could not get to the house - coming tomorrow in a Transit van so lots of digging and stuff ahead.
This morning the trees have arrived, my back is off again (our bed is too soft)(or I am) but must dig on despite orders from R to the contrary - she is going out to Yoga so . . . .
One big bonus is the three sacks, lots of straw (to be used on the strawberries next year) and bits of string (for tying up things).
It took nearly two and a half hours to get them in and I had to move one as I dug the hole into the soakaway from the septic tank.
The holes do not need to be deeper than the trees were at the nursery and Weasdale said that as they were raised in poor soil they do not need lots of feeding.
So now we have the original six white birches and fifteen more.
The leaves have come off the great white cherry this week and are creating their own golden carpet. Not all the colour is yet gone.
I had to get the trees in this morning as I knew it was going to rain from lunchtime on - and it has.
(I have just found a packet of scilla bulbs I had forgotten - they will need to go in pronto.)
The new spring has dried up.
I REFUSE TO TALK ABOUT UKIP AND FARAGE, WELL, OKAY A BIT - NO WAY THAT THEY MIGHT GET ENOUGH SEATS AT A GENERAL ELECTION TO HOLD THE BALANCE OF POWER. Whoops - I am getting into politics again.
I understand that it is snowing in Buffalo, USA. Please keep it - I want my sweet peas to last until next year. Here they are in collapsed state behind pot on pole.
It is raining - my perennial excuse for not gardening.
It is Saturday.
The peanuts are going mouldy in the feeders.
Last night went to see the film Mr Turner - some great acting and cinematography, compost of a story line - all bits - not 5* - slow at start - thought about going to sleep or leaving for a drink but stayed for a Fry's chocolate cream at the interval - reward for putting in the birches.
And then it became showery in the afternoon. R tied up the bed by the back door (the one at the side) and I took that rake up to clear leaves of the paths and unblock the streams. In many places water was disappearing into the beds of the rivulets.
It was moles wot done it.
When we had our very dry September they dug runs into the side and bottoms so water suddenly disappears into a mole run to reappear - somewhere. The spring is running again after this morning's rain and I have found a new stream near the rhubarb patch.
Speaking of that on the soil nearby was a Fox Pooh!! You can always tell it is a fox by the aroma.
Ah! The joy of gardening and nature.