ON THAT SAME QUESTION (A LONG BLOG)

The title refers to the mystery of where ideas originate.

Anyway, this is the way to the wood up the path that will be redone soon - I have bought two great big bags of 20mm slate clippings for that.

The wood itself is heaven especially in the early evening when the sun gets lower highlighting the campion and pignut.

I have assaulted the rhododendron at the far end of the garden raising its canopy to eight feet and revealing a swathe of bare ground. The branches look very attractive and I should have done this a long time ago.

The goosegogs have sawfly and mildew and so I got out the fungal spray, put the appropriate amount into the sprayer and walked across to the tap, looked at my watch and emptied it all on the ground! The fact that Stan Laurel was born in our town is having an effect?

Last blog I mentioned white and as it is now June here is the May blossom on the way up to the house.

On my mower shed the white Clematis montana (I think it is Albert) is in full display. It looks pretty good in the left hand photo - on the right is another view over the bin store. Well, have to put them somewhere.

There seem to be too many house martins for one nest but they have built two nests actually against one another - communal living.

Other birds are paired off too - goldfinches and pheasants.

R has retreated to the writing shed some afternoons and is unaware of the ducks flying in to land on the roof waiting for the ladies with the horses next door to feed them - poem -

"YOU CAN'T CATCH YOURSELF DOING IT?"

Written after reading 'On That Same Question', page 15, On Keeping Company With Mrs Woolf by Neil Curry.

There are ducks on the writing shed roof,

Or is it duck? A pair of mallard

Risen from the pond where they dabble

And sow duckweed, eat the tadpoles.

Soon only the drake will visit

Whilst she sits on the nest above the dam,

Tucked in the reeds (or is it reed)

Of the mill reservoir in the back field.

They are waiting for the horse ladies

To scatter seed which they do every day.

Rooks congregate in the ash trees above,

And pheasant, or is it pheasants, strut,

At least the cocks do. The hens skulk

In the brambles, plumage blending in.

Then there is a thunder of wingspan

As hefty pigeons clatter in.

I sit up on the terrace and watch,

Hear the gentle quack of bonding.

If I had been in the shed, writing,

I would not have known they were there.

Apart from all that the garden is bursting with flowers - R is not so keen but I love things that scatter themselves around like the aquilegias.

I have also started, as I have mentioned before, selective mowing (being a bit lazy) which has gone down well with R as the longer areas are full of buttercups.

She also has a dandelion moment in the spring when there is a splash of gold in the fields and hedgerows, not I am glad to say, in the garden.

Our six new Erysimun Bowles Mauve have turned into two rather scraggy old plants as this was all the man on the market had left - they were cheap so I should not complain too much.

Woke this morning to birdsong, chattering martins above our window nest building and a snoring pigeon on the roof.

This is going to be a long blog as I only posted yesterday and have written all this.

Tried an experiment as the rhubarb looking a bit sad with the heat and dryness - pulled off all the stems on two plants, watered and fed them, will see how they regrow.

It is only Saturday - I said this was a long blog - and in the afternoon R cleared the forget-me-nots whilst I watered - the BBC weather forecast said it would rain but it didn't. Still dry.

Looked in the freezer and still had 20 pounds (about 10 kilos) of frozen plums. So I have made some Victoria Plum and Cinnamon Jam - just a hint of spice. As I was doing this a fledgling blackbird arrived at the open door and peered in. It seemed completely fearless (or stupid) and only wandered off after I took its portrait to a background of parental cacophony.

The mallard are almost tame now, sit outside R's shed whilst she works, only six feet from her. They did not even move when I came out having fuelled her up with a cuppa tea.

It is the next day I am hiding in my room, as R has taken over the house with her friends, drinking wine and eating apple cake. I am stiff from being sorted by the osteopath and acupuncture by needles. So why not continue make this blog longer - because it is long enough.

As the bluebells are now over let me give you a blast of Carstarmont Woods in Scotland to finish.