Thankfully in photos you can’t hear Jack weeping.
That’s not dew, it’s tears.
At least the roses seem happy.
The sun vanished a few months ago, taking it with it the Summer. I’m not sure what we’re calling this season, pre-autumn, perhaps, Meh seems fitting. The envenerating constantly dull weather seems aptly described by the diminutive word: Meh. Even in Meh the plants are doing well, they’d be better with sunshine, but thanks to the care taken with them, by Jack, dear reader, always and ever the gardener, they’re surviving and producing where applicable. I do like the splashes and spots of colour throughout the garden, even with the dull, overcast weather they still bring small joys.
Rescued roses are doing well.
Where they were has been razed.
Grown in a bottomless bucket filled with much and compost.
“Young love with with Summer fled, left, we are, sad and mouldering with Meh instead.” That is a real verse from a poem. Jack never lies, never prevaricates, he is as meritorious as he can fool you into believing him to be. I think I’ve had a year with all variations of good and bad weather and it’s only been three years so far. I’m always glad I go by the weather when planting, my cabbages were grown, harvested and free from pests thanks to an early start. They’d be long gone if they had to grow in this weather. The squash, mostly the harlequin, are just spreading all over and I might be helping them along with plenty of home-made plant feed. More vines means a better chance of fruit setting later in the year.
I think a second type of Dahlia is starting too.
There’s still a lot of colour left in the garden.
I think I’ll always grow pansies.
I’m getting close to my one post for every day of the month goal. I won’t force it, but thanks to all the squashes I’ve had plenty to create with. I suppose it’s as the old poem says: “Meh are the days and Meh is the season, but as always it stands to reason, that days will pass, however desultory and autumn will unfold in orange hued glory”. What? I’m not making that up, okay, yes I am. See? I’m so very honest.
I didn’t kill the fuchsia after all.
Clematis going strong.
My new rhubarb crown is doing well.
“Across the glade and through the glen, poor Father’s gone insane again, it tis the weather, it tis the curse, the meagre sunlight of Meh is hardly enough.” Okay, okay, I’ll stop If nothing else I keep myself entertained. I’m hoping that when this post finally publishes I’ll be over my surgery. It’s weighing on me, it’s also hit me how huge it is. They’ll be fixing my abdominal muscles and removing a large amount of excess skin. I’ve had to live with diastasis recti for nearly six years, near constant pain because of the skin and the severity of the separation. I’m hoping, dear reader, hoping so hard that it hurts. I need this to end, it’s tearing away at me. I need my new life. I’ll leave it at that and hope when I see this that I’l be finished with this wait. Take care, dear reader.
The dual coloured dahlia, the middle will be white.
There was a surprising variety of colours in the gladioli.
I like lobelia, but next year I want a change.