Terrace bank flowers
Here is somewhere you rarely see.
And that was as far as I got while waiting for our dreadful Referendum result. I voted and I was on the losing side. I rarely let the ‘real world’ intrude on this blog: it’s a distraction after all. But it’s a shocking day.
I have a choice this morning: I can sit around the radio and fret and take in the enormity of this decision (while doing the ironing). Or I can go out and fire up some noisy heavy machines and cut some grass and weeds.
I think I will return to this story in a few hours.
***
Marvellous. Nothing like thwacking into a bank of brambles to take your mind off history. 
I’ve done a few rant emails, I’ve watered the brassica patch, the bank is strimmed and I’ve cut all the grasses on the edge of the top road.
And I’ve filled the water barrel in the potting shed, watered all the plants in there, given Artur lots of attention. Had a fry up (nothing beats eggs and chanterelle mushrooms for lunch. And now I’m ready to resume.
This is my work in progress bank.
My aim is to have these banks crammed with foliage and flowers. And we are getting there. The self seeded valerian does a great job. And the bright yellow lysimachia lifts the eye.
I’m delighted with the phlomis which have flowered for the very first time. It has lurked for three years without much more than interesting paddle shaped foliage. But this past winter I lifted and divided it; and boy has it romped away.
I am stunned it survives my cold winter (well, it was a mild one – the slugs can attest to that) and I’ve planted out lots of new sown from seeds phlomis in the hope I can get some more colours rather than the yellow. 
It makes a brilliant dried flower if you don’t cut the stalk. And really, it’s a bit rubbish in a vase as the flower heads are so chunky. You can see them here. So I’ll let these flowers just fade and die and then whip them into the my dried flower arrangements for the autumn.
Oh no, we are back to full sized shots again. Oh well. This is probably the day for distracting oneself with vases of flowers. Here is my rather Constance Spry-esque combination of roses with bolting swiss chard plants from the potager. I’ll sign off and go and rake that road.
