I meant to get to the plot in the morning, but it is 3pm by the time I make my way through the gates. The place is still and empty, cocooned in a damp low cloud that is still heavy with moisture. It has poured rain all morning. The path squelches underfoot causing plump wood pigeons to struggle into the air and back to the safety of the perimeter trees. In the growing dark I find it is difficult not to feel gloomy. Our plot looks a bit forlorn. It is hard to imagine the insuppressible green of a few months ago could be stopped so readily in its tracks. The seedlings netted from the pigeons still look decimated. Whether they are still too weak to recover or the pigeons are putting their considerable bulk on top of the nets and managing to continue their feast I’m not sure. Perhaps it isn’t pigeons at all?
Elsewhere, the mizuna triumphs and the chicories deepen in colour (which gives me great pleasure).
There is still some flower about, though it is more laconic than joyful at this time of year. Geoffrey’s patch of dahlias throws out the last splutterings of it’s roman candle show. Our small wild Italian calendula showers tiny yellow blooms around the dark mustard leaves. The borage is remarkable. Since spring, it has produced wave after wave of electric blue flowers and looks as fresh today as it did in April.
I end up photographing rather than doing any work, I somehow don’t feel in the mood for much else.
04 11 2012