Artur thought twice before climbing onto my lap for a schmooze.
Yep. I reek of lavender. And it’s serious. If I breathe in the sharp taste of lavender hits the back of my throat. All my clothes smell like I have fallen into a vat of the stuff.
That will teach me for planting up hundreds of lavender shrubs.
The sun was blazing, the secateurs were sharp and there was no excuse not to wade in.
It really is a vile looking shrub when you look deep into the centre. But I have enough mass planting to make it look fetching.
And best of all I was able to just lob all the prunings onto the gravel path as I worked. I love making a mess. But at least it wasn’t a grubby mess.
We haven’t had any rain for two weeks. Well, since the last flood, so I was able to crawl about the narrow garden beds and not worry about leaving a trail of muck.
It’s such a shame that the French lavenders (stoechas) look so unsightly. I swear I have to lob off huge branches of the stuff every year. But every year they bloom so brilliantly in June.
I really ought to invest in more of the plants this autumn. I had a moment of temptation this morning when I drove up to Vernoux to buy bread and get some paint for my bannisters and steps. I told myself that if the paint at Madame Felix’s was so outrageously expensive, I would drive all the way down to Valence (a two hour round trip) to buy proper paint and maybe mooch by the big Jacquet nursery and see if I could get my lavenders and thymes.
But it was ridiculous on such a gorgeous sunny day to spend it in the car. So a small pot of paint is ready to be broached, and I had a happier outdoors day. Even if I smell like Provencal field.