I tried. I really did.
But when you are in a land of drought, then the sight of so many gorgeous blooms in the potager just can’t be missed.
This is late season bliss. Summer over, autumn not begun. They should call it Dahlia season.
Because it’s all go in there. A flower the size of my head. How ridiculous is that? The plant did absolutely nothing for three months and then this appeared. So I can take out the ‘mystery’ label I had placed at the base of the pot as it was doing nowt. There’s a pattern there. Slow growers.
Reminds me of the toms just behind the flowers. You can also name this tomato season when the bulk of my crop finally remember that they are supposed to be fruiting.
I never get them to fruit until late August and September. And if we don’t get a frost I expect we will be picking and picking and picking.
I have to miss the next three Thursday markets so I thought I might go out with a bang.
Buckets and buckets and buckets of blooms.
A bit endless.
And here’s a rare one.
Me working at the giant oak table under the vines.
Well, it’s hardly work. It’s fun. Buckets of fun.