Delivered this week outside the cattle grid, well rotted, fine stuff. We have already started spreading the good news - well, good for the starving plants. Cow is better and not so full of weed seed but this is well gone so we hope for the best. Anyway we should have good rhubarb next year.
R is forking away like mad, wielding the wheelbarrow with a will.
Doc does not seem to mind the new covering on the poppy bed.
So photos of the garden in all its glory, well, not quite, to the right before they poured the raft and below after and after the rain came with water on the top of the concrete slab. My old rose bed does not look too good now and the path around the front of the house is somewhat chewed up despite sheets of plywood on top of it.
The weather has turned wild with storm Diana hunting us down on Thursday.
Cannot go out in the garden for fear of the cock pheasant coming over and begging for sunflower seed.
We have our own infinity pool on top of the concrete and the pond is redolent with reflections now the water lilies have sunk from sight. There still are a few flowers in the garden if one searches - roses, the fatsias and this feverfew.
In the house the gerbera, Transvaal daisy, I forgot to put in the garden, is flowering in the kitchen window but the rest are hunkering down for winter - though the good old orchid has sprung a new flowering stem.
I have picked up sticks from the wood - R will not do it - "There's no need and anyway more will come down" - but if left the whole place will become a tangle and a mess. In heaps they can be havens for wildlife - like hedgehogs (if we had any).
Small birds are eating us out of house and home. Counted 9 tits on the feeders and 8 chaffinches, two sparrows and a dunnock on the ground beneath this morning.
So I sip my tea, eat a ginger biscuit and gawp at the mess the world is getting itself into - is Trump real? What does Putin have over him that Trump never criticises him? After all the Brexit stress and cost are we going to end up still in the EU? David Miliband for PM? Personally anyone but Corbyn and anyone in the Tory Party, SNP, DUP, etc - far too many TLAs (three letter abbreviations in use.)
It will be a relief to get back to little stuff - like global warming and the end of the world as we know it.
Let's end with a poem that has nothing to do with anything but the underlying essence of the universe -
mystery of the
magic Fibonacci numbers.
Can they be thought of as originating from God
or are they something fundamental underpinning the structure of the universe?
a world in
a grain of sand and
a heaven in a wild flower,
where the whorls of sepals, petals in the perianth
all perpetuate the series, so begin - one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one . . .
on and on -
symmetry symbolising what?
Thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine - get the series?
We did adding-up like this at the end of my junior school education - sums.
summon the thought that
somewhere there’s a fundamental
truth in Fibon