October figs

Figs, apples, tomatoes and beans. I am back indoors after a first lope around the property. The weather is calm and mild. Changes a-coming (just when houseguests are due to arrive) but right now it’s lovely. Still pulling raspberries off the bushes. I really need to sort out the supports this winter; the bushes are growing tall and wide and will need better wiring and wood.

Already I have a nascent list for the morrow; vacuum the pool (of course) then collect the molehills for the future seed sowing. And sticks. One of the dozens of moles on this property has run amok in the flower and grasses bed. So I need to secure the bed against spring time weeds. Everything is rather churned up.

Some of the grass seeds have germinated on the mini path up to the potager. Do I call it the mole track? The verbena path? Will water it and sow a few more seeds tomorrow.

And speaking of churned up. Why don’t the wild boar or deer eat all the windfall apples? There are three trees worth of apples. No four if you count the one near the barn. And plenty of good fruit. I suppose the forests are full of other goodies right now. But if I were a wild boar I would find it a plentiful feast.

Verbascums are looking sick. I feel bad about the poison, but needs must just this once. Hopefully we can mow the blighters to death in the future.

Nicolas is coming to strim I think, which is great. The steepest of the slopes are hard work with a strimmer. You have to keep your arms aloft, wield a machine, try not to trip or slide, and clear the weeds. I pulled two of the big cherry branches down that had been lurking in the top terrace weeds all year. I suspect they came off when the turf truck delivered the goods in May and sheered off something. Right now they are in the lower woods. (That area where we never go.) I’ll let nature take its course – the branches are too thick for the strimmer.

Bulbs in the courtyard are putting up an argument for staying. And the mint is dying for a drink. I just can’t find where I put the watering can. Buried in the potager I suspect.

And the stipa are still alive in the potting shed. But not in the garden. It’s too early to expose them to the elements – well, in a dry season. But the ones on the bank are surviving. If I give them a good soaking tonight.

And then it is to slow roast the tomatoes I collected, bake potatoes and stew the windfall apples. Some of them are rather tasty.