Sunshine after rain - couldn't really avoid doing some gardening.
We inherited these tall daisy plants [White Choristers?], which spread like billio, but are useful at this time of year, displaying an elegant sea of white. Very fresh.
However, once they have gone over, it is just a junk yard of dead heads towering above all else, so had to get out there with the secateurs, heaving some of them out every now and then, when the rest weren't looking.
Hidden below are other late summer plants requesting their turn for some sun, but also a carpet of the many varieties of grasses, some short, some long, all defiantly rooted and clinging on for dear life, cunningly they delve their roots under "proper" plants resulting in minor earthquake if I try and yank them up. I have the broken black nails and 3 plasters to evidence a battle well fought.
There is also creeping buttercup which i intend to spray with nasty stuff. We did have terrible Ground Elder, which has driven many to despair, but I upped the solution and frequency and for now it is subdued, it has obviously called up reinforcements.
We have a brown bin, which means once a fortnight the local council comes round and empties said bin of weeds and composts them. We have various composting arrangements in the garden involving worms in one and gentlemen peeing occasionally [at dead of night] on another, but weeds need the compost to reach a certain heat to destroy them so we assign them to the authorities to do with as they wish.
Sort of Vegetable Guantanamo.
Which leads me to our own home grown terrorists, who struck last night, presumably after the pub closed.
They ran amok down the lane destroying house signs and chucking solar night lights as they cavorted along. They ignored our doggy and the two dogs of our neighbour [fair enough as all doggies ignored them] and broke the Mercedes insignia off their elderly car. Lady down the hill lost her bird table.
The community policewoman has been informed so I expect developments.
I always fancied writing a crime novel so maybe this is the beginning.
We inherited these tall daisy plants [White Choristers?], which spread like billio, but are useful at this time of year, displaying an elegant sea of white. Very fresh.
However, once they have gone over, it is just a junk yard of dead heads towering above all else, so had to get out there with the secateurs, heaving some of them out every now and then, when the rest weren't looking.
Hidden below are other late summer plants requesting their turn for some sun, but also a carpet of the many varieties of grasses, some short, some long, all defiantly rooted and clinging on for dear life, cunningly they delve their roots under "proper" plants resulting in minor earthquake if I try and yank them up. I have the broken black nails and 3 plasters to evidence a battle well fought.
There is also creeping buttercup which i intend to spray with nasty stuff. We did have terrible Ground Elder, which has driven many to despair, but I upped the solution and frequency and for now it is subdued, it has obviously called up reinforcements.
We have a brown bin, which means once a fortnight the local council comes round and empties said bin of weeds and composts them. We have various composting arrangements in the garden involving worms in one and gentlemen peeing occasionally [at dead of night] on another, but weeds need the compost to reach a certain heat to destroy them so we assign them to the authorities to do with as they wish.
Sort of Vegetable Guantanamo.
Which leads me to our own home grown terrorists, who struck last night, presumably after the pub closed.
They ran amok down the lane destroying house signs and chucking solar night lights as they cavorted along. They ignored our doggy and the two dogs of our neighbour [fair enough as all doggies ignored them] and broke the Mercedes insignia off their elderly car. Lady down the hill lost her bird table.
The community policewoman has been informed so I expect developments.
I always fancied writing a crime novel so maybe this is the beginning.
