OPINIONS

 

Cut that tree down, trim that hedge, organise more and pop goes the wild garden (or is wild garden and excuse for doing nowt much?)

And autumn approaches - hips on the roses, some small and some more luxurious. 

Some flowers are flourishing late in the year but we are still waiting for the Michaelmas daisies.

The sedum line the paving by the house, the blue clematis released to flower by the removal of the bay tree.

But someone is right as I cannot do it all any longer, brain is fading, body shot at, and someone else is fed up doing all the weeding, seeing the ravages of slug snail, mouse, pigeon and - well you get the idea.

We have lit our first wood burner of the year end as the weather cools. Plants have arrived - tulips from Sarah Raven and some ranunculi and hollyhocks from Farmer Gracey.

They need to be planted.

Down in the veg beds are moribund redcurrants  (they only feed the birds anyway), asparagus going brown and wispy, and one cannot eat the holes in the Cavolo Nero. 

The gardener sweeps around with his strimmer but wet grass does not mow easily.

Algae is back on the pond, the Tutsan is berried up ready to seed all over the place and the ash trees behind the bottom shed have the plague (and are just next door).

So on we go, and on and on and on . . . . .