Just kidding; it was an early morning strim. Had to be out and into the harness at 730am this morning to beat the heat. And strimming is a warm activity. Especially as the setting on the handle is set to a taller person. And naturally I didn’t stop to readjust the angle, just strimmed regardless. I’ll pay for it later.

First up was to actually find the clothes line. The weeds (sorry, wildflowers) up near the potting shed were getting waist high. So with a few deft circuits it was back to looking manageable. I even tried to tentatively strim between my first terraces. But I was too worried about lopping off some carefully planted grasses and flowers, so it will have to get the hand weeding treatment later.

I paused long enough to admire the gladiolus that have opened up in the shade garden opposite, and the lilies which are opening too. Can’t wait to actually have time to weed properly in there, and rearrange the bed in spring.

Then up to the top of the property to try and make a path up to the forest. The brambles are creeping out of their hiding places and making it a bit difficult to wander up there. And one tends to create a wonky path as you spy a verbascum trying to put on rapid growth and shoot up. It’s the wildflower equivalent of killing slugs. We have to get the verbascums as they turn into strimmer defying thick stalks. Only the thick blade will despatch them once fully grown, and I only have the plastic line threaded on to the machine right now. And if they do get away their furry sneeze-inducing pollen gets everywhere. Is it pollen? More like triffid spores. A very successful weed indeed.

Once I had mastered the path to the forest, plus a small detour up to the source, it was way, way down to the lower terraces. Boy do they need taming. The grass is high, but a lovely soft almost deschampsia flexuousa like consistency. And easily strimmed. But I will need to go by with a lawnmower later to pick up the bits. Beats raking.

I had no hope of getting into the vineyard this morning. Already that heat was seeping over the mountain and warming me nicely (doesn’t do to say that the sweat drips off one’s nose as one strims). But I decided that the first terrace above the vineyard could be achieved. It’s the sort of viewing platform for the vineyard. The place where people stand and say ‘oh my’. But not in that gasp of appreciation of a beautifully tended piece of ground. Oh no, this is the ‘and you want to get grapes out of that thicket?’ kind of place. Don’t believe me? Here’s proof.

Oh my. But at least I could pull out bracken and pile it up for some purpose I will think of later. And then get the level down to grass. It’s such a lovely sensation when you tame a wilderness. But it was getting hot and I had run out of petrol, so up I went to the house to the only place I could think of to cool off. The pool.

Bliss. But no rest for the idle. Time to get those leeks planted. There are 61 in total, and they were actually a doddle to plant. I just had to put them in the weedproof fabric holes I had made for the beetroot. Which were ripped out by the deer. They had left the full sized onions alone so I don’t think they have a taste for onion breath and planted the crop without a cloche. There are two more cloches for Bernard to build this week. I want to protect the swiss chard and sow more beetroot, but they have to be secure.

And being so close to the onion bed for the first time in weeks I decided they could be harvested. This heat is predicted to last a week, so they can dry out nicely in the sun.

Jan worked heroically on the path above the onions and just below the strawberries. And would you believe there is grass under those weeds. So the potager looks almost orderly.

I had planned on retreating from the heat for the afternoon. But made the mistake of ‘just collecting a few jostaberries for a tart’. And hours later I had almost four kilos. It’s so hard to stop. The fruit is black and ripe and if I leave it another day it will rot. Or shrivel, or something. So on I went. Luckily it was a bit cool if you sat underneath the monster fruit bushes. So didn’t get too burnt.

And it was peaceful standing at the sink picking over the fruit, dividing it into 500g quantities, bagging it up in my lovely hefty bags (thank you Sarah!) and placing them carefully in the freezer. The deep freeze is doing its job: it is piled high with white currants, jostaberries, raspberries, frozen peas, frozen broad beans and loaves of bread. And milk.

The jostaberries were destined for the year’s first fruit tarts. I was wonderfully distracted by a visit from Bernard and Pierre who walked up to say hello. Mad, it’s too hot for walking uphill if you ask me. But here is the result. Had to make two as the oven is so large that it’s a shame to waste the heat.

I know, the photo isn’t centred and the picture looks odd. But they are big tarts and I can’t stand back far enough without exposing messy house behind. One will go to Andrew’s tomorrow and the other we can have when Glenn and Agnes visit Thursday. I made two small ones with the leftover pastry so we have had a sample. Deliciously tart but sweet and the short crust pasty (home made this time, no more store bought stuff) was as rich as shortbread. Had to work very very fast with the butter in this heat.

Right, time to shoo yet another butterfly out of the room and get down to having a rest. Dinner of fresh broad beans, just harvested onions and garlic, rice, mint and lots of parsley. Light and refreshing.

We are in butterfly heaven this season. I have never seen so many. And if you start to think that there are way too many zooming into open doors and windows and having to be shepherded out, at least you can console yourself with the thought that Alfred Hitchcock couldn’t turn these lovely creatures into a Birds-like horror flick.

Eating dinner in the blazing sunshine on the terrace last night I couldn’t at first work out why my arms were stinging. And then with a bit of reverse plotting the answer was revealed. Raspberry scratches. It’s quite a thicket up there. But we managed another pot of soft ripe juicy fruit.

Fruit was definitely the theme of the morning. I made five pots each of wild cherry jam and another five of seedless black currant jam. Seedless? Tediously seedless black currant jam. Squishing the blighters through a sieve for minutes on end. But the results are fab. And I am mad enough to want to collect another few kilos of currants and start the whole process again. But not tomorrow. My arms need a rest.

Jan was busy weeding the courtyard and collecting wildflowers for the arrangement at the front hall. The hollyhocks didn’t survive: too floppy and wan. But this is fetching. And with the addition of calamagrostis flower spikes it’s even symmetrical.

There are plenty of wild flowers to choose from. Even the ones above the swimming pool are busting out. At long, long last. And they are even managing to compete with the standard local weeds. Wish the ones in the mini meadow would do the same; but sadly no.

My task for the day was to uproot the dying peas and clear away the mess in the potager. I even planted two new rows of peas for the summer season. And then spent ages battling with the netting. First off there was a wasp happily and blithely trying to build a nest on one of the supporting posts. That had to be despatched. Sorry, but the proscribed list of creatures that must not thrive has just been increased. Slugs of course. We have so few, but I don’t want any colonies to grow. And the wasps are just in the wrong place. Too many of our friends are allergic; and even I have a healthy wariness when it comes to wasps. Last year I was bitten on the mouth which was beyond distressing. So away went the nascent nest and I called on yet more help for untangling the net.

It’s up at last and with the peas more widely spaced I may even be able to pick them. They suffered mightily from erratic watering earlier this season. So here’s hoping I can keep a better eye on them from now on.

When Bernard has some free time I need one more cloche. The swiss chard need protecting if we are to enjoy the colours and flavours over the long growing season. I have recycled the big net (giant fish net stockings anyone?) from the broad beans and hope to have one long line of protection against the marauders.  I’m not optimistic, but at least they will need a good push to get at them.

And where did I magic that cloche from? Why the aubergines of course. They have grown way beyond the protective net (had to be prised free from the netting constraints in fact) and so far nothing seems to eat them. Too prickly perhaps? So I am risking leaving them bare. It will help the bees to pollinate the flowers too. I may regret this, but for now they are staked and tall and promising.

And to finish here are two pleasing pictures: the strawberry bed weeded by Jan. Back to looking perfect. And we potted up most of the runners so in a few weeks time I can add to the strawberry bed down at the thinner end.

And here is work in progress. Nicolas has returned to work. Hurrah. First the peach tree stumps, and now the next terraces beside the potting shed. Four and five. How poetically named is that. Of course I don’t have a single plant to put in them. Nor enough bark or wood chips to cover them; but I’m so pleased that in a week or so I will have five great little terraces for flowers. Beats the wilderness that was there.

Still warm. When will this weather turn? I did a quick watering of the garden and a minor weeding of the mini meadow before zipping up to Vernoux for market day. It’s always festive in summer, but there weren’t as many stalls as I had thought. But a friend later explained that this is prime time for the market people to take their hols before the slog of July and August. Luckily the one person I needed was there. The farmer who sells leek seedlings. I bought a bundle of 50. I have been in denial about the work involved in the leek planting. But there they were, 50 plants for three euros fifty. What could I do? Luckily I eschewed the bundle of 100 for 6 euros. That would be a killer. But hours later I am still in denial about planting them.  I have plonked them in a bucket of soil and water and left it in the potting shed.  It’s too hot to subject the seedlings to life in the ground.

I also bought twenty small lettuce plugs too. If you are a pessimist you could say it’s like buying another bit more variety for the deer’s diet. Luckily the investment is very small – mere coins. But I will need to secure the cloche properly. Do I have more enviromesh? Not sure. I could try and attach the netting that secured the broad beans. But if Daisy is going to head butt the net and get to her favourite veg  then I don’t want her caught up in ten metres of net.

Meanwhile back at the ranch I am merely trying to keep up with the cherry harvesting: Jan is going like a train. Kilos and kilos are now in sacks in the kitchen awaiting jam factory production. Too warm (27C) to sit in the sun, so the factory has moved under the shade of the grapes in the courtyard to get pitted.

And I went indoors to make the first kilo of jam.  They look so much paler than the black cherries. A subtler look and I think they will have to sit a bit before tasting. It’s funny, I never taste these jams. They just go into jars, get labelled and stacked.

After enjoying the cool of the house for too long I shot out to do outdoor tasks (pool opening, vacuuming) and pulling up all the spent broad beans in the lower potager. It’s a bit of a blank canvas now. Well, that’s showing off, it’s a rather hot dead black fly sticky blank canvas. More peas? Perhaps. More rows of carrots. I will weed and ponder.

I had to creep into the shade and pull weeds out of the gravel under the mulberry tree in the courtyard. But then couldn’t put it off any longer. The pool bank of pennisetums had a crop of weeds that needed yanking.  (I don’t have an ‘after’ shot as I haven’t quite finished the job.) And the growth on the steps leading to the pool wasn’t just grass that had germinated. Oh no, it’s more weed than seed. But if I can keep the thatch down, it may look good from a distance.

I kept going to the thermometer to see if the temp was dropping as I had to get the lettuce into the ground. But even though there were storms over near Aubenas none were coming our way. Eventually at six I just decided to go down and get the job done.

This is the after shot of the cropping of the lettuce from the local wildlife. So at least I have an almost blank canvas. Cleared it and planted up the twenty little plugs.  And then it was time to build the cloche. Double protection (hah!) with a net and then the last of the enviromesh which I have stapled to the frame. It is a sickly green colour (not sure that comes out well in the pic) but will provide a bit of shade for the growing plants. Lots of water and that was it. Down tools and watch the storms from the comfort of the terrace.

I know there are train spotters, and birders, and bus spotters, and plane spotters. Happy minority groups of people who are passionate about collecting pictures of objects most of us ignore.  But are there compost bin spotters? Fanatic gardeners who go about the countries photographing fetching pictures of other people’s compost heaps and bins?

If there aren’t yet, I suspect I have become one. Why else would I even bother to snap a picture of my bin this morning?  It’s a box. It’s empty. There isn’t even any compost in it. But that’s the point. It is clear and ready to take all the detritus of the vegetable bed.

My day actually started with a bit of pruning of the vines in the courtyard. Long tendrils were snaking their way in the wrong directions. Some even blocking the way down the steps to the pool. So some were pruned, others tied up and everything looking rather neat and tidy. And they are serving a good purpose. It’s hot today. We are going to enjoy this shade.

And one of the discoveries of the pruning was finding a whole crop of triffids, sorry, hollyhocks hiding behind the vines on the wall. Out they came and into a vase they went. Weeds for the house, fancy that.

I put off getting the mower out by having some fun with the climbing beans.  Now that we are installed for ten days there is no point having protective nets over everything. Especially as they can easily be breached by a determined deer. So I lifted off the net and found that some of the beans have grown through them in just two weeks. Clever creatures, they will attach themselves to anything. So now all the beans are climbing the right way.

And then it was on to the machine. (Gad this list of achievements sounds dull today. Perhaps spending too much time under the ear muffs in this heat has addled my brain.)

The main lawn, the approach to the house and the track leading up to the pool were transformed into a picture of neatness in no time. Well, an hour or so, but who’s counting? The best bit is now the track below the pool. It was knee high in weeds. And not the fetching pretend they are wildflower varieties. So under the blades they went. And you can now actually stroll up the path without having to spend ages picking bits out of your clothes.

And the area we call the piano is now tamed too. It’s just the extended bit of lawn behind the pool. But if you stand up on a higher terrace and look down, it is the exact shape of a grand piano. Now that sort of comment means you will immediately look for an illustrated example. But no, you get a gloomy shady vague shape of something that could be a bit of lawn.

Sorry, too hot to trudge back out and snap a pic.

And here’s another disappointing shot. The wildflower seeds sown in April in this bit of the terrace below all the pennisetums has finally flowered. I must try harder to show the cornflowers and poppies and other pretties. But this will have to do for now.

Jan and I spent a happy hour snipping berries from the soft fruit garden. My task was to make my first ever batch of currant jelly. We have no red currants which I believe is the traditional fruit for the jelly. But I do have my body weight of black and white currants. Well, hell, if it works for doctored rose wine, then it will have to do for jam.

So in went half a kilo of black, half a kilo of white (actually pink) and here is the result. Dark jelly. But it looks gorgeous in its jar. And we didn’t have to do the tedious work of destalking the berries first. That’s my kind of jam making.

And later this afternoon (after a trip to Vernoux to buy ten kilos of sugar and yet more jars) Nicolas came over to do the mighty deed of removing the peach tree stumps.

Oh joy unbounded, we now have a blank canvas where we can ponder what to plant next. I suspect three olive trees might go well here. It will keep the lonely and very unstaked olive company. And I would much prefer to be able to harvest more olives in ten years time. Rather than eat mealy peaches that get peach leaf curl every year and break my heart when they don’t respond to the nasty chemical treatment.

Now what do I do? I was happily mowing the first terrace in the gloaming last night, getting exercise pushing a mower along the 150 metre strips of grass when I ran slap bang into a cherry branch. I wasn’t expecting it to be there as it never was before. And the reason? It was groaning with fruit and hence hanging lower than my head. The mower gave a titter and I ruined the ruler straight path and I suddenly realised that there was a crop of cherries within reach and just needing to be picked.

Mower stopped, wheel barrow pushed into service as a makeshift bowl and later as a ladder and that was it. I am in cherry glut. I had to stop as it was getting dark and I couldn’t distinguish between perfect and just going over fruit. I dare not go back down there tomorrow and get more. The fridge won’t hold the fruit. And if I am going into jam production, then I need more sugar and more jars. Oh happy dilemma. I’m off to bed.

A cool and cloudy day. Perfect for sowing grass seeds. We have had 5mm of rain since late afternoon and the ground is deliciously moist. For now. There are bald bits on Alice’s path, so I have scattered the last of my big grass seed pack. Reserving a few for the steps on the path down to the pool.

And then to give the seeds room, it was down on hands and knees and doing a perfect imitation of someone who has lost their contact lenses. Every single weed has been plucked out of that path and on the bank around the ornamental grasses as well. And it looks like we are going to have  a great crop of mirabelles again this year. I picked up dozens from the path that were rejected during their june drop season. The tree is groaning with fruit and hopefully will be within easy reach come August.

You can’t tell from the picture that I have weeded.  In fact you can easily see hundreds more. But I have cleared enough around each plant to hopefully give them growing room. And the rest I shall leave as a colourful (well, green) erosion control against heavy rains. This bank is only held up by weeds, so they are staying in place until the grasses get thick and sturdy.

And speaking of thick and sturdy; here is the molinea in the courtyard. It is doing what grasses do best – showing lush and healthy growth. It is a joy to see when I am dashing in the drizzle or surprising heavy downpour to the potting shed.

Along with this gift of a grass, I now have five lovely gaura plants from Andrew. And decided to accept defeat on the wildflower meadow and plant them there. I can stare all I like at this supposed wildflower bed and recognise many plants. All of them common Ardèche weeds. So up comes a Verbascum and out comes brambles, and that clingy spreading weed that looks so pretty and never comes off your trouser legs or socks without care. And in goes the gaura.

I will have to think about what to do next year. And naturally the little seeds will all germinate then and ruin any design. But there is no design now, just a wilderness, so anything will look better. More molinea perhaps?

And it’s the same down on the orchard at ground level too. I spent ages last year mowing to get the grass to come back and actually be lawnlike. And this year I just mowed a swathe and left the rest to return to comely meadowness. But it’s a thicket. And I suspect the soil is just too rich. I am envious of Andrew’s meadows further south. But he has put years of work into his. And ours are just one year, or two at the most, from their wild state. It is going to take time to get the brambles out and encourage some of the better species.  When the weather warms up (and it’s warming already) the orchard really will have to be mown. If I don’t do it this week it will be so high only a strimmer with the sturdy blade will make a difference.

Actually I am delighted by the one wildflower that is up and enchanting this year. The digitalis are plentiful. Being biennial, and being strimmed to death last year meant I didn’t see many. Or maybe I wasn’t looking. Hopefully they will be complemented by the white foxgloves I have sown from seed and planted out in the shade garden for next year. I had to plant about thirty Echinacea green wizards in the gaps.

But it’s so hard to navigate. There are mole hills to avoid – no use planting there, the mole will just throw up more soil in a week’s time and bury all the efforts – and the little geraniums and foxglove seedlings. They are taking well, but not quite taking off. And there are geraniums in abundance, and lilies and gladiolus and lupins of course.

I am debating whether to let the lupins set seed. And seed everywhere. Or tidy them and try again. Undecided I have pruned the ones closest to the path, and the ones that are crowding the lilies and will ponder what to do.

Meantime, it’s time for tea, my body weight of cherries and stretching in preparation for more planting out.

Hours later and I am indoors (again) waiting for the rain to slow down so I can get back to the potting shed. This is steady soaking rain and I am delighted. But stuck until it lets up. The afternoon was spent profitably inside the shed mind you. I had a major sorting out. This seems to take place at the end of seasons. Right now all the sowing is done and the pots and containers need putting away. And then there is clearing and cleaning and generally making it a place that will be a pleasure to walk into. I was thinking of sowing some more zucchini seeds for fun. But having planted my only one out in the middle apex of the cabbage quadrant I suspect one will be enough. It’s huge already and I am bound to lose most of the little ones to marrows when I go away. So the seeds can wait until next year.

In putting away some planks of wood I strayed a bit too close to the cherry tree on the top road. And couldn’t resist climbing the branches and having a bit of a feed. A greed feed. Here is my action shot of the plump ripe berries, all of which were scoffed within reach.

So feeling slightly bilious and rather shamefaced for eating so many you can imagine how excited I am to see the twenty or so trees that line the path coming into ripeness too. Oh god, bring me another crop soon I beg you.

It will be a race between the summer fruiting raspberries and the jostaberries and the white currants. You can’t tell with the white currants when they are really ripe. They do go a rather translucent pearly pink when truly ripe. But if it’s for jams they are going in on the under ripe side. Must get my recipe books out for those, no idea what to do with them apart from adding them to tarts.

Right, sun has come out, must dash back up to the shed.

Elevenses. And never have they been so healthy. Instead of rummaging in the cupboards for a snack, it’s into the fridge for a large plate full of cherries. Scrumptious now they are chilled. But they don’t exactly taste best with tea, and you certainly can’t dunk ‘em. But they restore after a morning’s planting.

I have promised to get every single potted plant and veg into the ground by the end of the day. But it may ooze over to tomorrow. It’s a monumental task. Every time I turn around I seem to have sprouted another tray of rudbeckias or hollyhocks. And my runner beans have grown even more overnight.

First up in the planting stakes was the wisteria bed. Right now it has just a nasturtium milkmaid plant which will take off eventually, and lots of cut down and mulched bulbs. Something a bit more permanent is what it needs and I haven’t decided what. I would love a daphne. But as I have managed to kill one expensive little plant already (is our soil too acidic?) I am going for perennials instead.

Not a white garden as I had first envisaged and to follow the theme of the previous owners. But green. Well, hey, it’s safe but fun. So in went the kniphofia green jade (and that is the final spelling after all my attempts in recent weeks). And Rudbeckia green wizard which I grew from seed.

Next up was to planted eight runner beans. Three with the rest of the beans in the bean poles, and seven in among the corn. I suspect they will take over the corn instead of scrambling up them, but it’s an experiment. And if all else fails I can always put up a pole.

Next up I planted out a dozen basil seedlings along the path and a few in the gaps in the salad. And in the middle of all this there were those ‘oh look’ moments when I launched into weeding the onions and the corn as I couldn’t get to the spot where I need the beans to be.

And I also had a go at the edges of the potager. It’s the bit the lawn mower does not dare to reach in case I shear off three months of growth in the bean bed. This morning I couldn’t see where to plant the runner beans for the lush grass creeping over the edge. Sorry this sounds a bit like a list of achievements, but I was racing to get things in.

What I didn’t mention was the fabulous planting weather. Rain. Well, showers. Grey sky and intermittent bits of dampness that meant the waterproof jacket went on, came off, and then was ignored as I raced from chore to chore.

In went the mint that has been sitting in pots. And most especially I did my Beth Chatto bit. I copied some of her designs from her scree garden. I planted the pulsatilla, the libertia and the irises (raspberry flavour) in front of the stipa gigantia and other grasses in the courtyard. The libertia is a cruel experiment. I am not sure if it is hardy, so I am trying one to see if it makes it through an Ardeche winter. I hate the idea of killing plants wantonly, but they are such stunning plants, and would look so good alongside the anemanthele lessonias up in the shade garden. Good uprights and good colour. And it should detract from the rose.

It’s a none too sneaky method of trying to hide the big rose back there. A rose that has more thorns than any in existence and doesn’t have stems that do anything but flop in a vase. You can only use them cut right down and floating in a bowl. And even then you look and say, hmm, sort of coral colour don’t you think? And go and admire the David Austin roses instead. I may be able to tut about the colour, but I couldn’t neglect what I saw. Green fly covering just about every single stem. On with the spray attachment and a happy five minutes were spent blasting them to smithereens with the hose.

Job done, time to haul all the boxes of seedlings up to the potting shed and get the cutting garden sorted. Dull, dull pictorially as they are small. And doesn’t this area just cry out for a good bark mulch?  Hideous sight. But I’m hoping that as in the vegetable garden the lush growth should hide the ugly weed proof fabric. Maybe that will be an August project when I have more time. But I did manage to put tiny stakes in each planting pole and use my nifty grape vine attacher (sorry I don’t know its technical term) to tie everything in place. The sunflowers are particularly wanton in their approach to gravity at the early stages. But once they know which way is up they do straighten out nicely.

I planted the scabiosa first up and then didn’t know where to put the cleomes. Eventually I decided they don’t need to be right on the edge of the path as they have killer spikes. But I ran out of time. I knew that the right spot was futher under the cherry tree which would involve putting down weedproof fabric and doing a bit of sorting – but I had to go to ‘town’ well our little local town to get the car serviced and mooch around the garden centre while I waited. Came out with tomato feed and an outrageously expensive packet of lettuce seeds. Not much to show for the visit, but this garden has enough plants already thank you very much.

Backfor a late afternoon session of planting yet more cleomes and agastaches and a bunch of mystery seedlings which may be hollyhocks, or a shocking mix up and are actually vegetable plants instead. Labelling; will I never learn? Actually I’m very dedicated about labelling when the plants start as seeds. One label per pot. But when it comes to pricking out I pot them on and place them into a tray with one label in one pot and all the rest have to stay nearby. But if you lose that one label… well, that’s it. And these seedlings get moved about for watering purposes. But being in rows a cutting garden and not as a decorative feature in the actual garden I should be fine.

Dinner was taken on the hoof. I ate mangetout as I trekked past, watering in the basil that I planted out (found yet more of the seedlings in a cowering group in one of the trays), and some rocket which was bursting out of its pot.

And watered all the trees in the orchard. And there is fruit on all but the peach tree. Little orbs of promise on the nectarine and four of the five apple trees. If I have time tomorrow I shall wander on down to the apples on the lower terraces and have a look. No, I can’t do that. If I get within visual striking distance of the vineyard I will discover to my horror that there is work to do. If the vines in the courtyard can grow a foot in a week just think how much will be happening there.

I couldn’t decide which picture to post first: the cherries or the sweet peas. And I decided that the cherries are a much more stunning sight. So purple I actually thought they were over and inedible when I looked up into the tree. But no, they are absolutely perfect. Oozing with juice and flavour. So instead of continuing on my lap around the garden I found myself up a tree and gorging.

There will be Consequences I’m sure, but that’s what a glut is. Gluttony.

So perhaps I ought to turn to the more inedible delights of the sweet peas. In just a week I have a crop worthy of Sarah Raven. The little vase is for the office and the big one for the living room. And the honey scent pervades throughout.

It’s such a relief to come back and find that nothing has been eaten by deer. My corn is almost knee high. What is that phrase? Knee high by the fourth of July? Well I’m on my way. And I will have to sort out that almost useless netting this weekend. It is doing nothing to protect the corn and just looks like a blousy bit of torn fish net stocking cluttering the garden. Not very photogenic. But you get these pictures warts (or should I say nets) and all.

Other successes in the vegetable garden are the peas which are up and podding along, the salads which are going to be my staple for the next week judging by the growth they have put on; and the tomatoes. They are almost doing justice to those enormous stakes I put in when they were pups.

I picked a few of the purples just to see if the peas inside really are green (yes) and think it’s such a delight to actually see the crop on the plant. But I have been a munching away on mangetout all late afternoon and early evening. They are quite irrisistable. And as I had some serious sorting of the broad beans to do just behind them, I ate well.

Now these broad beans: good thing I don’t have the zoom button on. From here you can’t see the black fly. It’s a thicket. And I wonder what I am growing here, black fly platforms, or veg. I pinched out all the tops as a start. And should have done it weeks ago I think. And then it was on with the destruction. I started on the mighty squishing, but realised that the hose would do this dread deed a lot faster. And it feels so great hosing down the blighters. It reminded me of the time I went with Karen J to Warm Springs Spa in West Virginia of all places and we were put in the position of humble black flies as a hearty attendant hosed us down with the same ferocity. Refreshing for us, death for the black fly.

I hope. Actually they just seem to drop onto the black weed proof plastic below and create a rather sticky carpet of carapaces.

I made that up, no idea if they have carapaces as bodies. In fact they are soft beasts, so a carpet of cadavers would have been better. You can see I’m writing this without the advantages of a good night’s sleep. The five thirty am start for the morning train always addles one’s brain.

So as a quick finish here are the pictures of the flowers around the gardens: the verbena bonariensis plants are up and starting to do their hedge thing. Quite a nice combination with all the nepeta six hills giant in the stipa flower bed beside it.

The deutsia shrub has finally decided to grace our presence with flowers. No scent so you can admire it as much as we do. On screen or in real life, it’s a bit flat.  And a bit big. I see the loppers getting a work out when the flowering is over.

And yet more roses. This time all the New Dawn roses that I planted against the wall in the herb garden. Pretty flowers, but strangely no scent. Or is it me and my hay fever? I will monitor the perfume power. But actually it’s so lovely to see them out and blooming that I mind less their scentlessness. And you can’t exactly stick your nose into the petals anyway. You would have to climb over the thyme, sage, salvias, artichokes and random weeds just to reach them.

And speaking of new dawn: time for me to head towards bed. Lots to do this short week in the garden, and I need some sleep.