On our way down to Burgundy we visited Giverny – Monet’s house and garden.
The Boy sorted it all out, and it was a magical experience.
One of my joys at this time of year, is to potter round the garden clad in only my dressing gown (and yes, Auntie Lorna, sensible footwear).
When I look at my hostas (note evil slug free), I always think of Bren and Mick’s garden – as they have some lovely ones. In fact, their whole garden is lovely. Someone once asked Mick what the secret was to having such a fantastic garden – “carefully cultivating it for 40 years” was the reply.
Mick thinks this is why folks tend to come to gardening as they grow older. The appreciation that things that are important tend to take time, need to be nurtured and there’s always next year. And that the price of slug free hostas is eternal vigilance!
The Boy has companion planted some marigolds in amongst the cavolo nero. On the right, you can see the marigold that turned up on my doorstep as a present a few weeks ago. I’d love to know the sweet, kind person responsible.
I love the contrast between the purple and red – the red plant is from my parent’s garden (another joy of gardening – the bits and pieces you have from family and friends), whereas the purple one was very sad and sorry for itself in a sale bin a couple of years ago.
When we moved in to no 29, we found out that the previous owner, Colin Broad, was a professional gardener, so we had lots of interesting plants and shrubs. This beautiful wild rose is one of his legacies.
I went up to the Technogarret to check my email, and was taken by the fresh beauty after the rain. I couldn’t resist taking some snaps with my ‘phone. I love Elsie and Freida’s gardens – they are redolent of time when a garden was about growing produce. I guess, the circle turns, and we’re all going back to it now.
This is the view from the back of the house.