I’m quite shocked at the virtual absence of masks on people we see on the rare occasions we venture out, and at the disregard of physical distance rules. Of course, it doesn’t help that government’s handling of the whole business is vague, vacillating, and increasingly cynical and downright corrupt. Have a search on YouTube some time for Dillie Keane’s Song for Cummings.
We finally got the fences sort of sorted yesterday, and are steeling ourselves for the arrival of the bill, which will take most of a month’s state pension (even before HMRC has had its share). Our neighbours’ ivy has done more damage than we thought, so I suspect we’ll have to dig deep again quite soon. We’ve also committed to the fitting of plastic gutters and adjacent surfaces some time this summer or autumn, so are rather hoping that Cunard will cancel the cruise we’d planned for September/October before the balance is due!
A few weeks ago, Annie heard a radio gardening pundit telling listeners that they only needed one tomato plant. You can evidently propagate by harvesting the side shoots that would otherwise finish up in the compost. Our sweet olive F1s are doing very well in tubs on the terrace, and we have more side shoots rooting on the kitchen window ledge than we’ll ever be able to plant. Some say stick them in pots of compost, others say to root them in water. We’re trying both, and both lots look pretty happy. Meanwhile, we’ve spent our last gardening voucher on some new stakes - plastic-coated metal by the feel of them - and the six original plants are tied back and making lots of flowers.
Meanwhile, in the raised bed - which we can just about reach through the luxuriant foliage of the potatoes growing in bags on the terrace along the low wall - the first planting of runner beans is coming into flower, and the next lot are starting to climb. I’d given up on a half-hearted sowing of ancient dwarf French beans that I’d put straight in the soil, and planted out some sitooterie-sown plants. Needless to say, the outdoor sowing is now coming through. With luck, we’ll be doing a lot of blanching and freezing in a few months’ time.
The flowering department is doing well too. The polyanthus have largely gone over, though dead-heading seems to be encouraging one or two new blooms. The rhododendrons have done very well, but have now finished. The hydrangeas are coming along well, and the roses are getting into their stride - see previous post. Some of our seedling tagetes are in flower, and the antirrhinums are starting to bud. Every other spare square inch is packed with half-hardy rudbeckias. Most are seedlings from the seed we saved last back end, but a few have overwintered at least twice. I’m busting to see what mix of colours we get this year.
It’s a good job we have signs of life in our little bubble. I can’t remember when I’ve felt worse about the world of politics either side of the pond. It looks as if a rather feeble Democratic candidate stands a chance of toppling the orange megalomaniac. Over this side, each day brings more evidence of the utter incompetence of HMG, whose handling of the pandemic is clearly motivated by the financial health of its donors rather than the health of a floundering, bewildered nation. Please excuse my habitual understatement.
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