Peaceful it is not. I had hoped that a bit of time spent in this curious bowl of a garden in between the potting shed and the top hedge would afford me some lovely solitude.
Ulysse and Cybele are playing up. They have been put on the top terrace to try and get some of the grass down to a height that doesn’t swallow you whole when you walk up to check the water tank (it’s full, thank you for asking. Lovely free mountain spring water gushing all over the place).
But once they realised that the fencing is not electric first Ulysse did a runner. (A leap and then a runner up into the forest and over the other side of the mountain) And then there was a rather tedious half hour of Cybele shrieking and wondering where her partner in crime had gone.
Back and forth, leaping and yelling and causing so much distress to herself and the other humans around that I even went and tried to soothe her with apples.
Should have saved them for a real emergency. She leapt over the fence after the miscreant and they haven’t been seen since.
Actually they were captured a few hours later as they are creatures of habit and only have a few hiding places. They went to visit their mates at the riding school a few kilometres up the road.
The consequence was I didn’t commune with nature. But I did snap yet more phlomis shots for those of you who are a bit niche.
Like soldiers standing sentry over the mess of vetch that runs amok through the plants on this bank.
I don’t have the heart to pull them out like I did the cleavers last week. These vetch are fetch(ing). Blue and tendril-esque in all the right places.
It’s a short-lived delight. So the first signs of fading and going crispy I shall pull them out and add them to the growing compost heap.
But for now…