IN PRAISE OF SUMMER EVENINGS..

In an unashamedly fit of self indulgence, ladies and gentlemen I give you this image of a bit of my back garden.    (Please click on it for a better picture.)

Now as well as being something of a horticultural wonderland, it is also a haven of refuge.  I enjoy gardening - it`s very therapeutic and you can see the results of your labours.  Just out of sight there are loads of tomatoes coming along nicely and in the greenhouse I`m developing the art of taking cuttings from things like geraniums.  So there`s always something that needs doing and it keeps me out of mischief.

But the real pleasure is to be there on balmy summer evenings.  Right now it`s high summer here in deepest Kent and now and again we get an evening free of wind, rain and all the other stuff that the elements throw at us in a typical English summer.  I sat there last evening for a short while - and when some nearby mowing had finally stopped - there was just the gentle breeze, the birdsong and the sun meandering its way towards sundown in the west.  

And, of course, it`s away from all the nonsense that`s going on in the world outside - in that respect it mirrors the comforting enclosure of Canterbury`s St. Lawrence cricket ground; once you`re there, anything that`s going on outside really doesn`t matter that much.  So it`s good to have a little time for yourself and to be away from all the political idiocy, the Boris thing, Batley and Spen (which sounds like a firm of estate agents,) Covid and it`s variations on a theme, climate change (what`s happened to Greta, I wonder?) Wimbledon and the most boring game imaginable (bonk-bonk 15-love, bonk-bonk 15-all, the `Come on Andy,` the strawberries and cream and the elitist culture that lurks beneath the purple and green) and a whole lot more raining in from the outside world that seems determined to enrol me into the path of mental health issues.

So the older and more cynical and disillusioned I become, the more I`m content to sit in my Kentish enclave on balmy summer evenings and let the rest of the world get on with it.  Just to add to the self indulgence, for which I hope you will forgive me, here`s another photo of a bit more of my lovesome plot, God wot ......

WE`ll GATHER....

We`ll gather lilacs in the Spring again

And walk together down an English lane....

So Ivor Novello`s song goes.  Well, this is a photo I took just over a week ago and it shows what I suspect is the essence of an English lane - or in this case a Cornish one.   What always astonishes me is the profusion of Valerian growing in hedgerows, out of stone walls and anywhere where the soil is poor and alkaline.

There wasn`t much sign of lilac down this English lane but various shades of Valerian - deep red, purple, white - and I wonder why the plant isn`t more popular than it is.   Maybe because it grows almost anywhere and has a habit of seeding very freely so that you see Valerian springing up all over the place - sometimes aggressively taking over from and displacing other plants and flowers.

It goes by several names as well as Centranthus Ruber - Red Valerian, Spur Valerian, Kiss-me-quick, fox`s brush, Jupiter`s beard, etc. and apparently can be eaten with salad.  Not sure I want to try that but I confess to having gathered a few bits and relocated them into my Kent garden where, surprise, surprise they seem to be aggressively taking over from and displacing other plants and flowers.   May be a good excuse to take them back to this quiet, hidden English lane.......please click on the picture for a much better image.

I NEED CHEERING UP....

The last couple of posts have perhaps gone against my new found philosophy of being nice all the time but things happen to put happiness on temporary hold for a while.   In a desperate effort to cheer myself up a bit, I`ve found solace and comfort in my garden - my lovesome plot, Got wot.   It`s looking OK at the moment - here`s a photo of some of my stuff coming into bloom.   It`ll be fine unless the travellers take a shine to it.   Or a Portsmuff fan.  In the meantime, my computer needs another detox, so I`ll be keeping my head down for a wee while.   Back soon, I hope.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT..

The last visit we made to Trebah Gardens in Cornwall coincided with the flowering of the Paperhandkerchief Tree (Davidia involucrata.)   It`s a remarkable tree, named for Father Armand David (1826-1900) a French missionary who lived in China.  The tree was introduced into Europe and North America in 1904 and is a popular ornamental tree in many parks and formal gardens.   It`s at its best in late May, when I was able to take this photo showing the white bracts against the backdrop of the nearby Acer.......

THAT TIME OF THE YEAR...

......when the trees lose their leaves and the colours of Autumn are at their best, like this Acer in my garden, caught in the afternoon sunlight.......

THE SOUND of SPRINGTIME..

A couple of nice, warm sunny days and you sit down and relax after months of seemingly endless cold and gloom.   You begin to breathe in the fresher air, the birds are squawking in the trees, green shoots are appearing and you think life is OK after all.

And then it starts.   Some bloke over the road always starts it off, gets his mower out and shatters the calm.   And as he has now mown his grass, next door thinks they should do the same, so off they go.   And then next door to them.   And it spreads over the road and before long you yourself get caught up in what rapidly descends into choreographed formation mowing.   The only difference being the varying intensity of the decibels produced by the assortment of mowers brought coughing and wheezing from overwintering  in their sheds.

Well, I`ve done mine this morning and joined in the ritual dance and the older I get the more my mind wanders almost wistfully towards green coloured concrete or even Astroturf.