Black spots

Every garden has its black spots, and this is one of mine. It's been deteriorating for some time now, a bed of violets that has been infiltrated by twitch grass. For some reason, I haven't been able to "see" this until the last few days, so stealthy has the takeover been, but today I got into it and removed most of the weeds and violets. It is only a small patch of garden, and I have to leave the overgrown part to the right, where the lambs' ears are, because the bees love the lambs' ears flowers and I'm loath to remove the plant when it's being utilised by them. The soil is quite hard and threaded through with violet roots and the fibrous roots of the fern on the right. I don't know what I'll put here; it is quite a difficult place as it gets no sun until the late afternoon, when it bakes. Perhaps a bush cucumber or coriander? It's right outside the kitchen door - perhaps parsley, although I have a lot of that growing all over the garden.

First strawberries today, with a few raspberries thrown in. Yum!

Lots of garden pics

Nice hot day at last, so I washed out some of my vintage stuff. I'm still undecided about whether I want to sell them; I can't wear them anymore as I am too portly now, but I do like them, and I have a horror of selling them only to find out that I really should have kept them. I've done lots of gardening, transplanting the vege plants that I still have in punnets, and sowing a bit more. The tomatoes are planted out, except for the Purple Calabashes, which are just sitting doing nothing. I think our climate here is too changeable for them, they need a steady heat and a mild night-time temperature. Oh well, I know not to grow them again. Our summers are not long, about 4 months, so things need to be up and growing by about mid-December or there is no time to get a crop. The dragonfly is a first; I have never seen one in the garden before, I think the very boisterous wind we had today must have blown him from the river (not too far away, at the end of the next street). Off now to water the potatoes, which will be parched.

Roses, roses

Crown Princess Margareta

Buff Beauty

Haven't posted for ages! probably because very little is going on right now, except for the flowering of the roses. They've been delayed by our mad weather, which has been quite cold and windy, but today has been hot, so now they are coming out quickly. The vegetable garden is several weeks behind, one minute I'm worried about frost, the next watering like mad because it's drying up. Anyone who says that climate change is a lie is a fool, in my opinion. The weather now is so completely unlike that of my childhood that it is like living in a different country. I'm sure our weather was more stable and less changeable than now; we used to have  whole weeks of hot weather in summer, now we just get a day here and there. We used to have hot nights all night too; now the temperature always goes down overnight, so by four o'clock in the morning I'm looking for the duvet to cover up to get warm. Of course, this is all "anecdotal" as the pundits like to say, it's not proof.

Of course, terrible things are going on in the world. As always. There is always conflict somewhere. The Vietnam war played on TV every night when I was a child, and sadly, nothing much has changed. Some philosopher once said that the world would be a better place if everyone just stayed quietly at home. I stay quietly at home, growing my vegetables and admiring my roses; I feel that this is the only way I can contribute to world peace, just not being a violent pain-in-the-arse to everyone else.

Bits and pieces

                                         Jiro using the washing as a hammock.

Not much going on at the moment (not that there ever is, and I can be quite thankful for that; I'd rather have peaceful nothingness than drama and crisis). The cats are being delightful at the moment, they like the better weather and longer days that summer brings. Jiro's latest game is to meow outside the kitchen door, then run away when I open it, just like a kid doing the door-knocking game. Thomas is being very snuggly and affectionate; he's finally realised that even though there's another cat, there's still enough love for him. Not that he likes Jiro any better, but is a bit more relaxed and friendly towards me.
     It's still quite cold here though; tonight the temperature is down to 5 degrees (Celsius) so it's not exactly warm. I was looking at my posts for this time last year and see the same comments, the weather is hot and dry and I'm watering the garden, the next day it's cold and wet. We've had Halloween, I even went to a party, but didn't dress up for it; I'm scary enough as my real self. Now Guy Fawke's night is coming up tomorrow, so I'll brace myself for the noises. No doubt it will go on all through the weekend as well. Not my favourite celebration.
      The spring-cleaning continues sporadically. I start with a hiss and a roar and bags of enthusiasm, then rapidly lose interest. The problem is that the house doesn't stay clean, so it's a labour of Sisyphus or Hercules. At least it's only my own mess to clean up, not some dodgy husband or flat-mate. The cats aren't too bad either; they are both young and don't throw up too often in the house! But why do cats always have to up-chuck on the carpet, not the vinyl flooring? One of those mysteries that will never be solved.

Diwali

This week I had the fun of creating a Diwali display for the library I work for. Here is Mona, our mannequin, in my sari, draped with the aid of several youTube tutorials. I've pinned the sari up in critical spots, unlike real sari-draping professionals who just tuck the sari in, but I think she looks nice. She looks better than I do, because I am somewhat stout and look more like a bolster in the sari than a graceful woman. The sari was bought in India, in a loft warehouse presided over by a rather greasy-looking dude with permed hair. There were hundreds of sarees there, all second hand but still beautiful. This one I particularly liked as it has a heavy, silky fall that drapes very nicely, unlike cotton or chiffon that tend to bunch a bit if you don't get them right.

Diwali is the Indian festival of lights, celebrating the victory of good over evil, light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance. There are several legends about the origin of the Diwali festival. Probably the best known is that it celebrates the return of Rama, Sita and Lakshman to their home city after a long period of exile. To welcome them, every house was lit with burning lamps, hence the close association of the festival with the symbol of the lighted lamp. 

Like many festivals around the world, Diwali is a time for cleaning and renewal, buying new clothing and redecorating and cleaning the house. I've been doing a lot of spring-cleaning too, dusting, polishing, turning out cupboards and drawers, and sending things to the Sallies and the numerous fairs we have at this time of year. I find it hard to throw things out; I was raised by a mother who had been through the Depression and the London Blitz, and she liked to keep things "just in case we need them sometime in the future". I understand this thinking all too well, and always worry that I will find a use for something just after I've got rid of it. I did once throw out a milk jug that Mum subsequently decided she needed; happily, we were able to buy it back from the church white elephant stall a few days later. I still have it, now it probably will stay with me forever!

Artichokes

This is my artichoke plant this year. Last year I had two small chokes but this year two big ones and five little ones. They take some time to process for cooking, but I will try them when I know I'm not going out anywhere the next day. The first and only time I had them (in Italy) they created a mighty wind overnight! The plant has become something of a villain, a big aggressive thing that overshadows everything else in this bed, so I'll have to cut it back after harvesting if the dahlias underneath it are to have any chance of surviving. I love the colours of the chokes; green and purple are very attractive. It's interesting how beautiful vegetables are. Think of carrots, aubergines and tomatoes, even the humble onion is a work of art. The tomato seeds I planted have germinated, but the heritage "Purple Calabash" is incredibly slow-growing, I hope to see some fruit from it by the end of the summer.

We've had terrible gale-force winds from every part of the compass over the last fortnight. My garden is very sheltered, but even here some of the climbing roses have been torn off the wall and lily-stems broken off. I had to go next door and fix the fence I share with my neighbour, as the pieces of corrugated iron were coming loose and banging like the devil. He wasn't home, so I made the repairs anyway. Having a hammer in my hand makes me feel very powerful and Rosie-the-Riveterish. Woman can, woman do!

More tulips and a rant

Gorgeous tulips in the front garden at the moment. I really like the bright orange with the bright green of the hellebores. These tulips are "Temple's Favourite". This is the best bit of this bed, the other end is a bit bare and weedy, waiting to be infilled with foliage of dahlias and roses and assorted underplantings.
   We've had terrible winds here the last few days which have played havoc with power lines and trees. Just sitting here a half and hour ago and a huge gust blew my aging and warped front door open. The door has warped so much from dry rot and many hot summers that the lock was only barely engaging. Now it doesn't engage at all, so I've wedged it closed with bits of wood. Fortunately, there is another door into the house inside this one (it's really the front porch door) which is much more secure. So - more expense.
    What really pisses me off is that yesterday when I was out the Jehovah's Witnesses dropped by and pushed a pamphlet through the crack at the side of the door. I'll bet they hammered on the door too, probably causing it to lose its last connection with the lock. Everybody who comes here to beg for money or my conversion seems to hammer on the front door; there is a bell there, but few people seem to have the wit to see it. One guy hammered so hard on it I thought he was the police. Coming at  night this was quite frightening and I told him so in no uncertain terms. 
    Why do they have to come at all? It's ALWAYS some kind of something that I want nothing to do with - donating to charity, signing up for some silly broadband or TV scheme or religious nutters. I notice that no one comes round to give me money, or anything, for that matter, unless you count the religious nutters who want to give me salvation and the life everlasting. Do I go round to their houses with my nutty religious ideas? No, I wouldn't have the affrontery. They are so certain that they, and only they, are right. So far I have resisted getting one of those notices that says, in effect, bog off, deeming it unfriendly, but really I think I'll have to.
       Funny thing about the Jehovah tribe too, is that they only go door to door on fine, sunny days. I find this strange; I would have thought it more of a test of faith to go out on miserable wet and cold and windy days. 
        My ex-husband used to call them Jehovah's Witless. I'm sure if I wanted to become one I would have the wit to find out where my local church is and go along. 
       They really don't have to come to my place and break my bloody door down.