At this time of year the garden is quietening down but that doesn’t mean there’s any less work to do. The hedges and grass aren’t growing as fast but the blustery wind over the last couple of days has ensured that there are plenty of leaves for me to sweep up. This is a place where you do outside work when it’s dry so Nora and I were kept busy for the whole morning. The compost heap is growing even if not much else is.
Despite the waning of the growing season, there is still some colour around with a blowsy old hydrangea, two fuchsias (one pale pink and one a typical ‘fuchsia’-coloured one that has recovered its health since being on its last legs a few years ago) and some nerines blooming away. Hats off again to my predecessor here who picked such well-matched plants.
I also pruned the blackthorn that seems determined to recolonise the area by the woodshed. It’s so much stronger than the hawthorn and cotoneaster which I would rather see thrive there, but which are stunted by comparison.
Another reason I’m not well-disposed towards the blackthorn – although I do love sloes, as do the birds – is because its thorns are brutal. This one went straight through the sole of my wellington boot and into my big toe. Luckily it was a youngish slightly bendy one, so I didn’t have to cut the boot off my foot to remove it. And good that it got me rather than Nora, which would have meant a big vet’s bill.