Summer garden...

on the 30th May 2013...

A grumpy gardener records the parlous state

come through the garden gate

on the right by the olive tree is the front door 

up the steps to the newly Autumn sown

Emorgate Seeds wildflower 'meadow'

can you spy the ScareCrow?

 potager left to do its thing,

cutting flowers are my plan; although 

I love the thuggery of wildflowers.

I always bow to their superior knowledge

 the work of baby blackbirds...

helping me weed!

 the pond, in my impatience

we didn't dig deep enough.
The mushroom bought at Scotney;
gnome-like I sit pond-side,
watching the tadpoles grow

 raised beds with red onions

and garlic, Romanesco and black beans

 little Tommy, the sole surviving tumbling tiger

flanked by his big butch brothers...

the Black Russians

I've got my doubts any of them will

catch up?

 'White' Wisteria bought by me

from B & Q

(that'll teach me!)

 rhubarb in a water tank,

the last raised bed waiting for its

precious cargo of

gourmet sprouts coming in June

 the oil tank, I wanted anywhere but here.

'Stop! This is where I want it!'.'

'Sorry!'

'Okay, I'll have it there ☜☟✌!'

'No can do!  I'll tell you where you can have it.'
'Here, out of the way?'

Oh how I wanted to tell him where to put it ☝!

'Health and Safety!' he suavely shrugged.
With poo-shoes look, I graciously agreed.
Lady Docker would have been proud

 more evidence of baby bird gardening

  directors chair...

from which I usually orchestrate

my potager... feet up and wine in hand

 shambolic greenhouse...

all forlorn

 the wildflower meadow, unevenly sown

 the site of the hammock,
no sign of it anytime soon

 the table, where every morning I diligently

clean the birds' water bowls

and back to the garden gate.
'Come again soon and
next time stop for tea!'