Parched

Oh my poor plants.   This drought is showing no signs of abating.   I came back after just six days away to find everything in a state of wilt.

Well, not the runner beans or tomatoes of course. I strongly suspect it will take a nuclear attack to stop the runner beans from producing. I feel like we have been picking them for years.   Mind you I can’t be too mean. I’ve just had them for dinner, thinly sliced, with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Not bad at all. But tedious.

I did a quick pick, and then unwound the hose and watered as much as I could reach.   Things will probably revive.   I can’t tell yet whether I’ve lost my little cuttings from all the shrubs. I’ll have a good inspect tomorrow.   But the table in the calabert is not a bad place for them for a week. I even have some eragrostis germinating which is always a treat.

Artur you will not be surprised to learn was absent. Utterly. Until about six o’clock when he snuck up on me and appeared in front of me. And then pointedly ignored me. For about an hour.   I was stalked, shadowed and generally punished for abandoning him.   I suspect I will be forgiven around lunchtime Tuesday.

But enough feline histrionics. Things to do. Unpack, sort and plan for the morrow. It’s going to be a busy one.