Not sure why, but I do seem to do a lot of cooking on the hottest days. It’s 31C in the shade and I have just done four more pots of apricot and almond jam. Barking, positively barking. But we went to the market today and I just couldn’t resist the apricots at M. Bois’s stall. They are slightly underripe, so perfect for jam. And apricot is my firm favourite.

And then I thought, while I’m in the kitchen I might as well do another half dozen pots of tomatoes. So they are still in the oven, caramelising pleasingly.

Any garden achievements? Well, I took some cuttings from the Lavender Hidcote I have in the herb garden. Sowed some seeds of Sweet Rocket. Watered my coriander and spinach which are just about ready to be potted on. And tried to finish pruning the monster box we have at the entrance to the house.

It is large. It is ungainly. And it smells of box. But we have so few tall green plants around the property I am loathe to do anything radical. The only fun there is in pruning it is imagining one will actually get around to making cuttings from the left overs for a decade in the distant future. And giving the top a bit of a miss so it looks a bit like a pineapple.

But I’m a chicken. It will be a sensible shape once I go out there and climb up the ladder and level it off. Just need to check the tomatoes, label the jam, read more of the delightful book on Valerie Finnis lent to me by Andrew, and defrost the fridge.

Oh bounty oh glut. Don’t you just love a crop that overwhelms? There I was pootling about the bean poles; tying errant climbing beans into the posts and generally weeding and making good my list of things to do today. When I looked over and spied a positive plethora of tomatoes hiding in the lower reaches of the plants. Down went the tools and out came the basket and here is the result.

The beefsteak looks suspiciously green, but it is ripe underneath. That strange pale pink colour that denotes juiciness but is actually the colour of surgical stockings. And I do love the long skinny tomatoes. Great for novelty value. I shall be saving those seeds for next year.

This was my diabolical plan. Whenever I order a packet of tomato seeds I always sow way too many. They germinate like mad, and then you can’t bring yourself to throw any away. And then you end up with seas and seas of Gardener’s Delight or other such worthy creatures. When what you really want are ten or so of every interesting type to make the salad bowl sing.

So if I save a few from each, mix them in an envelope, label them as 2010 tomatoes, then I shall have fun sowing, germinating them, and then planting them out. A mystery bag of plants which I know are tasty and do well in the Ardeche.

While I was down in the potager and doing good deeds, I thought it best to get on with dead heading the cosmos as well. They flower so abundantly and give such cheer, it seems a shame not to tend to them as lovingly as I do the cutting garden flowers up behind the potting shed.

I went up and down the rows. And you can see from this picture that I really have a swathe of them. The white ones were up first and are the most floriferous. (That’s a word I’ve never used before.) But it is the vermillion pink ones I admire best. Part of the cosmos tall mix packet. Can one save seeds from these? I imagine I can. And I will definitely be sowing more next year. Along with even more flowers in this part of the garden. Why waste space on dead sensible leeks when you can have flowers to gaze at?

I had wanted to show one more picture from my morning’s dead heading. There was the most amazing bee working its way down the cosmos as I was working up. A huge black creature that was about twice the size of a bumble bee. Couldn’t resist trying to snap it as it collected pollen. But wouldn’t you know it? It was very excited about finding a very tall blue flower with long sleeves and floppy hat so close by. It kept coming at me as I tried to get my camera out. Lots of wild shots as I batted it gently away and then I just bid a swift retreat. No wildlife pics today.

But I do have a picture of the fig tree in the strawberry bed. It is coming along nicely. Lots of new growth. And who knows? In a few years time I may join the ranks of the late Christopher Lloyd and become a fig pig. Bring it on.

But enough of the woes. Here are the crops. We are eating tomatoes every day: tomatoes with mozzarella and basil. Tomatoes with feta; tomatoes with couscous, cucumber and mint. And we haven’t tired of the wonderful veg yet.

The basil is going mad, and as soon as I have finished this post, I shall zip out and get parsley to add to the big bowl of baba ghanoush I will make for lunch. The aubergines are plentiful but a touch small. So they roast well, but barbecue even better.

I went up to the potting shed to see how the coriander is coming along. Nicely, thank you. But too small to make a crop out of. Which is a shame because I yearn for that lovely Thai dish of cucumbers, chillis, coriander and a dressing of vinegar and sugar. Divine flavours. I am making it with parsley each week, but tis not the same.

While I was there I decided to do a bit of propagating. Gaura is going to be the way to go on a lot of our terraces. I found a small pot at Gamm Vert for just over two euros, so it went into the shopping basket (along with wasp killer, pots for jam, bottled water and the usual stuff of the trolley from the neighbourhood garden centre).

And out of the pocket came a packet of Angelica Vicar’s Mead seeds. And some verbena bonariensis seeds. They had a dry summer and didn’t thrive in the hedge next to the potager as much as I had hoped. But more seeds and more sowing and more pricking out and things ought to be better next year.

And tasks in the kitchen this afternoon (along with the baba ghanoush) will be to make a blackberry tart. I love the succession of the soft fruits in our little orchard. It will be blackberries all the way for then next few weeks. And they are plump and best served in tart form. A bit on the dry side with the lack of rain.

Now I must away. But not before showing off my latest vase of flowers for the house. A present from our neighbour Lynn who has a stonking lavender bush next to her steps. I must take cuttings from her this summer so I can grow this beautiful plant too. My lavender Hidcotes were over way too early.

Let’s start with the good news: we are hauling in about a punnet of raspberries every two days. We need this many just to keep up with the demands of the raspberry cordial crowd. And they do taste so delicious with the fromage blanc in the morning. Mind you, I have been cheating by drizzling over a slosh of raspberry cordial as well. Gets the dose of sugar just right.

But the news in the potager is not all rosy. Munchies a few days ago. And now I have to accept that the pumpkin I have so lovingly watered and watch grow is now more. There is a mole run just underneath the roots. And they have succumbed.

For a week or so I thought it was just heat distress. But no. Death throes instead.

And then this week I had another one close to death. And twas all my own fault. I was thinking what to do with the quadrant that was the potato patch. A very earthy and dull looking space indeed. So I thought a few pumpkins would trail prettily all over this space. And duly grew two seeds and raised them from pups.

Out it went and I was rather pleased with the results. But so too did Daisy. I had obviously planted it too close to her munching route. And she does like a bit of well raked earth. (I have planted three rows of carrots nearby).

In one evening she has shorn off the juicy bits. Rats. I should be relieved that she has left me two leaves which can regenerate.

So straight after lunch I made the most embarrassingly ugly netting to keep her out.

Dare I show it? Here it is.

But if it works I will keep it on for a few weeks until the pumpkin is well and truly underway. And then the mole can do its work and I will be back to square one. Contented gardeners? They don’t exist.

Well you didn’t think I was going to open with a picture of bare earth and sticks did you? That’s just the sort of stunt one would expect. And sowing rows of carrots was my major chore this morning. But when I stepped back and admired my handiwork, I thought, yep. This is going to be one hell of an ugly picture.

Oh go on then. Here it is.

And don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This has been a strange week for the gardening news. It has been more of a harvsting news really. Lots of salads, tomatoes, beans and a few potatoes each day. The basil is cropping wildly, and hard to keep up with. As soon as I have finished this mighty cup of tea I shall go out and snap the vegetable garden.

But one good thing; having help this week has meant that Gillie has kindly planted the new beetroot seedlings. And secured them well under the cloche and nets. (She has chooks, she understands these things.)

And we had a team effort of sowing yesterday in the potting shed. Flowers for next year:

Sweet Rocket
Alba Honesty
Nigella Moody Blues
Salvia Blue Clary
Knautia Macedonia
Echinops Ruthenicus
Hollyhock Chaters Double Icicle
Cornflower blue diadem
Nigella African Bride

I really ought to photograph the cute pictures on the front of the seed packets. But instead you get one of these:

Madly photogenic once again.

So much for the carrot crop. Someone beat me to it. Here I was swanning along, large wicker basket in hand plucking out things for dinner. In went the swiss chard, some green beans, yellow cherry tomatoes, lettuce. All going well. And then I thought; hmm, let’s see how those lovely carrots are doing. I could see the tops poking out above the soil a teensy bit and they looked mighty inviting.

But no. Hah. Was it the mole? The mole runs are quite extensive under this part of the garden. Was it a vole that has moved in if the mole moved out? Is it a voracious slurry of slugs working away at the roots? I just don’t know. But what I do know is dinner tonight does not contain any trace of the crunchy carrot.

I did find the first crop of blackberries ready and waiting. They will go into a tart when I get round to making them. But there are guests to entertain, potatoes to dig, lots of tending and attending. And even the novelty of reading a Swedish crime novel on the lounger beside the pool. Fancy. Actual leisure. What next?

Well thank goodness I have actually done what I promised to do. A pristine garden at last. And it only took the whole afternoon.

Here is the east garden in all its bald glory: the best of the wildflowers were over, and only the cow parsley remained. I managed to save quite a few of the tallest willowy plants to put into a vase, but otherwise it was out with the engine and on with the destructo-strimming.

Well, I did start with a warm up strim of the bank beside the road. Such a volume of dry crackly plant material. It came off in lumps. And so pleasing to have this much future mulch. I have stored some above Andrew’s honesty field, and added more to the top compost bin up near the edge of the forest.

Something wonky with my pictures in this post I’m afraid. But I shall push on regardless. I realise that I didn’t take a photograph of the finished Mirabelle bed with all the grasses and the euphorbias. And all the mulch. You can’t see the euphorbias, but they are in there somewhere, believe me.

Thunder, lightning and 4mm of rain overnight. Well at least it’s something so no need to water the vegetable gardens this morning.

I owe so many days of news and photos, I thought it best to just launch in and work backwards.

We have had a bit more than we bargained for in that hot wind yesterday. A forest fire down on the winding road about 5kms from the house. Luckily in no time there were two Canadair planes dumping fire suppressing whatever, and lots of pompiers working from the road. Reassuring to think that they can attack the fire with such speed. But salutory in knowing that more strimming is needed if we are to be safe from a fire that starts from a careless cigarette chucked out on the road.

And it does mean I have work to do today now that it is almost cool. They are promising the temperature will not rise above 24C.  All those terraces below, apart from the first one below the house, are a bit long with neglected vegetation. Not jungle, but definitely in need of a strim. What a shame. I have an aching back from lifting something awkward two days ago, and don’t relish climbing into the strimming harness. But this is a vital lesson. We have never had a forest fire in this valley before.

And now, hours later, here is the result of my good intentioned plan. Zilch. I have done some landscaping instead. The new mirabelle bed. It is just an extension of the shade garden. But I have realised that I need to get the anemanthele lessonia (stipa arundinacea to you) into the ground. And I have long been thinking that this would be a good place for them.

With the shower of mirabelles almost over, it felt like a good time to clear the patch of land, remove all the suckers and stones and chestnut burrs and do something creative.

It was actually less work than I feared. Very dry and crisp. And only three barrow loads of stones. I have been on hands and knees and nursing the back, so I made lots of little and often trips to the edge of the property to lob the stones and stack the sticks and mess. I pruned back a few of the branches, but the mirabelle forest is just that. Gaggly and straggly but boy do they produce crops of fruit. A few plonked on my head as I worked, but otherwise I think the main crop is down.

Into the bed will go the grasses and the euphorbia polychroma majors which I have finally tracked down at the St Vincent nursery on Tuesday.

It has been a mantra at each nursery I have visited the last few months. They look as straggly as the mirabelles, but I just need to remember how great they looked in Beth Chatto and Christopher Lloyd’s garden in early spring. And I will fill with plenty of Nigella and Aquilegias in between. Don’t you just love confident plans?

There are five grasses left over to add to the large shade garden. But everything needs a good soak in a bucket before I dare to plant. And I would rather come in for a reviving salad of tomatoes, basil and mozarella instead.

Oh yes, and first up I planted about sixty radish plants. They were lingering in the potting shed and not doing any good. They are under the new cloche. And which ever way I turned this image it still turned out odd. Sorry about that. Bad for the vertigo.