Ta Da. A new look potting shed. Took hours, but it was so fun to be neat and creative at last in a little shed which occupies so much of my time and dreams. I came in for toast and Nutella and a large cup of tea. No idea what time it was and found to my delight that its only 5pm. Feels later, is that because I have done my watering already?. Trying to get ahead of the overflow up in the water troughs. And it is fizzing out of the pipes, so I feel no guilt about drenching the garden with lovely free spring water.

So, distracted, I’m typing on half the screen and watching the Olympics on the other half. But it’s odd, I have found a French website that streams the Olympics live. But without any commentary. So right now I am watching the final of the dressage. An exquisitely beautiful discipline. But baffling indeed.

Earlier I had been just as baffled trying to work out where my rows of Swiss chard ought to go. These had been sown last month and were bursting out of their pots at the potting shed and needed to find space in the garden. Curse being too cute and clever with my designs. Next season I am going to be dull and conventional and plant in straight rows. Hopefully under the security of my many cloches. Once I build more. Or beg Bernard to build more. Neither of us have much time. Me to try and work out how the drill goes, and Bernard because so many other people have claims on his hours.

Where was I? Nutella hasn’t kicked in yet. Harvested more blackberries which I will have to freeze for future fruity tarts. Pulled more climbing French beans off the tepees. Lovely fresh and crispy things. And as soon as I have the energy I will head out to harvest lettuce and sort out the netting. Weeds are growing under the weed proof fabric (have to have a stern word with them about their role) and some of the lettuce have submerged underneath.

In sorting out the shed (joyous place to be now) I found some grass seeds that Lynn and Jeff gave me earlier in the year. So I have cast them thickly over the edge of the blackberry bushed and soft fruit in the hope that I will have more lawn than weeds later this year. Lawn seems to be the only thing that keeps out the monster growth of Ardèche prairie which threatens to overwhelm.

Yesterday I had bought two Nepeta plants (six hills giants no less) from the garden centre. Reduced to three euros each as they were so overgrown and potbound. But here was a chance to practice the propagating arts. I spent ages doing it, but it may produce plenty of new plants later in the year.

Back from town and a visit to good neighbours and finally built the new very temporary and rickety compost bins.

At long last I have decided to move out the slightly aromatic pallets that make up the floor of my potting shed (a bit chicken manure-ish when it gets hot) And replaced them with brand new ones I have been hoarding for months just waiting for a good few days of intensive garden work to put the plan into practice. I’m a wooden pallet scavenger – grab them whenever I see them. And even took one from Lynn and Jeff’s garden which someone must have abandoned.

It’s still a rustic floor. I wish I had the way to make proper floorboards. But that is one expense too far. But at least it looks better. And of course I noticed that I had only half painted it last winter. So back to the house for pots of white paint and I had a happy evening slopping the white stuff all over the old walls.

Bad light stopped play. It was after nine when I finally finished. Well, the paint finished. So leaving behind a complete tip of old pots, plastic bin bags spilling with containers, random cloches and wires and poles. Plus endless propagating grasses and seedlings outside for the night. I came in for a slight supper and planned an assault at first light.

I cut the brambles by the roadside while waiting for the plumber. Driving down the road is a scratchy business as the bramble strimming has been a bit neglected. Some had some fruit on the tips, but not enough to marvel at their tremendous arching growth.

Chipped lots of wood which is satisfying now that I have worked out the diameter of stick that has to be fed in.

Have been putting it off, but finally went down to the vineyard to observe the grapes. In two words, not good. Can’t even see many bunches of grapes on the vines. I’m cheating with this picture; it’s the only good one of the whole vineyard. Is it me? Is it the grapes? I felt saddened that I had put in so many hours of work this year into this patch of land. But it probably won’t produce many results. So that’s agriculture. I’ve been beguiled by the success of the vegetable beds.

Then more stick chipping later in the afternoon, oh mindless task, but easier on a cooler day.

Finished the day by weeding under my lovely giant cloches. Lots of juicy Swiss chard under there.

And we weeded the terrace below the pool. Out goes the persistent weeds which aren’t pretty, kept are the grasses that naturally thrive. We broadcast seed the white grasses and this gentle rain is going to hopefully help them along. As a backup I always have the ones I have been germinating in the potting shed. One particular weed had enticing black juicy berries. Had no idea what it was. Could it be edible? Certainly looked possible. So I nibbled a tiny bit of one and reminded myself I must ask Nicolas when I see him next time what the name of the weed is.

(One week later and I had my result. Belladonna. Oh dear.)

The trough in the courtyard is boiling with bubbles. Quite a curious sight. Does that mean the water tank up the top is overflowing? Or there is a toad caught in the hose? Nup, just amazing volumes of water. I wasn’t alone up there. Plodding up to the forest I found my movements being carefully monitored by a lovely deer. The wildlife here is just so intriguing. Foxes, deer but no wild boar this year. The mulberry tree below the house hums with activity. The birds eat the white sickly sweet mulberries and knock down extra ones to the ground. The foxes come by around nine to eat the fallen ones. The deer come by in the afternoon to do the same.

How much more pruning can this mock mock orange take? I had another go at it today, and it still looks hulking, particularly for a shrub that flowers but has no scent. Still it was fun to be into the east garden at last. It was chief on my lists of tasks this August. Overgrown with ivy and brambles (I have the mighty gauntlets ready) and dying to be sorted.

And once that was done, I was able to sit back and watch Bernard make my lovely cloches. I had bought the wood, painted it with the help of Clara last week, and cut the lengths of hose pipe that make up the struts. But I didn’t have the drill bit or the precision drilling) to put them together. Perfect foils for the hungry wildlife. The old cloches which were just plastic were definitely a bit sweaty under the hot August sun.

Bliss.

And it’s a grey and dramatically windy day out there with the threat of more storms.

I’m debating what chore to do. Do I build a compost bin out of old pallets? Go up into the forest and collect sticks for chipping? Or do indoor things? I think I will surge up into the forest – so painful when it’s hot to do this sort of stuff. The mulching of the new flower bed certainly lends itself to a coherence as well as a useful weed suppressant. And I have a bit of the pumpkin patch to cover up as well. But I need more sticks. I started up the top of the forest as that was where Michel the tree surgeon did most of his chopping in the spring. But really, it would probably be easier just to mooch down the path near the vineyard and collect sticks there. At least it is cooler and a lot less brambly. But I was being idiotically single minded. Just a quick tidy of the kitchen and up I go.

Look who entertains us when we do the washing up at the moment. Broad daylight no less.

But no. The stick searching was not to be. The rain beat me back. Huge downpours. So in between squalls I only managed to weed parts of the lower potager and add one more piece (my last, alas) of weed proof fabric to the quadrant of the bed.

Twas a lost afternoon of garden work, but then suddenly at around 8pm the sun came out and we experienced an amazing sunset and I could get into the cabbage patch and do the last bit of clearing. I have to watch the caterpillars on the cabbage. I caught two yesterday and need to inspect each one more assiduously.

The rain was so heavy it brought down the bean poles.

A grey day: perfect weather for heaving compost about. I managed to mulch around the fig trees and the euphorbias, the bean and cucumber poles and tomato bushes before the rain came sheeting down. Good soaking stuff: It may revive the lawn a bit; it does have a crisp appearance.

It’s been a busy week. But not in the garden: house guests, visits further south. But we have managed plenty of crops to feed the hungry.

Being a Monday I have started with a mighty list of chores to do in the garden over the next week. This rain has slowed me down, but as soon as it lets up I want to plunge into that compost again.

Quick summary of the day’s task: mulched the crops, weeded and as an encore, and I don’t know quite why I decided to do it at the end of the day, I decided to turn over the compost bins (and did my back in at the same time). To give the shooters of sciatica a break I sowed five more large pots of that tremendous white plumed grass that self seeds about the place. Thrifty grass seed collection and sowing is going to be the order of the terraces this autumn. I’m fired up.

Cool beer, notes done: back to trying to remove the contents of the farm from under the fingernails.