We've been away for an awful lot of this year, and the garden has been left mostly to it's own devices.
But, even with such benign neglect I am rewarded with a harvest for the grey, wet months that will come. I sit picking black currants, which are hidden among the borage and late forget-me-nots, and contemplate the marjoram that is romping about the vegetable beds, and the emergent rosebay willowherb and feel happy because I can hear so many bees working the flowers.
I know that nothing will be cleared as today I'm off again, this time to go camping near Symonds Yat and I can't wait as I love that part of the country.
I can allow myself these jaunts because plants will get on with it whether I'm around to weed and water or not . . . being away for part of April and May I thought I had a bit of a disaster on my hands, in as much as I hadn't planted the spuds until 6th June, by the 25th June they looked promising . . .
and now in early July they look much as I would have expected had I planted them in mid April. The power of plants eh!