Battles, a bodge up and a baby

Gardening can sometimes seem like a never ending battle, as some of the wildlife seems hell-bent on destroying everything us gardeners strive to achieve. I know this is not the way to think really – all wildlife has a purpose – it’s all part of the circle of life, isn’t it?

Around this time last year, I wrote about a pair of amorous wood pigeons, attempting to nest in our wisteria – you can recap here and learn a bit about pigeon procreation if you wish. Anyway they’ve returned – almost a year to the day. Well, I’m assuming it was the same pair, having another go at securing a nesting place above my back door. I really don’t have anything against wood pigeons frequenting my garden, but they do produce large quantities of poo, which I’d rather not step into when Lily and I go out first thing. I first realised they were starting to build a nest on a very windy day. Their precariously balanced twigs had blown down onto the ground.

Not deterred, they continued to swoop in with new nesting materials. This was war! I bought a long roll of netting and fixed it along the length of the wisteria – no mean feat I can tell you! I think you’ll agree this is much more discrete than last year’s fortifications!

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for them later in the day when they tried, but failed, to access the wisteria and appeared to find it difficult to comprehend. They’re now nesting in our acer in the front garden – that’s fine by me – we don’t sit under that!

So far I’ve managed to protect this year’s broccoli from caterpillar annihilation – look at the devastation they caused a couple of years ago. However, I wasn’t quick enough to spot the box moth caterpillars munching their way through my box balls or the rose sawfly larvae which had already rendered Captain Tom leafless and moved on to the Lady of Shalott. They were swiftly lobbed over our back fence with a few rose leaves to munch on.

In my view the adult rose sawfly isn’t particularly attractive – it looks like a cross between a wasp and a beetle. However the adult box moth is rather beautiful – here’s one I found lurking on a day lily, very close to my box balls – no doubt looking for a mate in order to continue the devastation.

I think I fought and won the battle of the lily beetles this year and enjoyed a wonderfully colourful display. Having despatched a few of the little red bugs and their yet to develop young, I was worried when I saw that some of the stems of the lilies were covered in white fluff. I wondered if this was connected to the beetles, although I do know that they conceal their babies in their poo, and stick it to the leaves and stems. I consulted the RHS advice service and they reassured me that the fluff is a normal occurrence and nothing to be concerned about – so if you see this don’t worry!

Last week I mentioned to GR that my little hand held hedge trimmer was no match for thicker branches. Like magic its big brother appeared on the doorstep – it looks like something from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I was nervous of it at first but I think you’ll agree I’ve made an aesthetically pleasing job of sculpting our holly bush.

Buoyed up by my success, my next task was going to be the viburnum hedge in the front garden. However, when I got there I couldn’t help but notice the job had already been tackled. Victoria and I stood and looked, aghast. Had the Council been and cut it on account of it overhanging the pavement? But no, there were far worse examples still intact on our street. On questioning, GR proudly responded that he had undertaken the task. I am going to find a hiding place for the new hedge trimmer batteries!

Finally, I know you’ll be wanting an update on little Bud – he’s a month old now. I’ve been making sure he spends plenty of time in my garden, although he hasn’t taken a great deal of interest as yet. The patio table has proved a useful nappy changing surface and he’s done some reading of his little cloth books, while reclining in his cradle on the terrace. Do you think it might be a tad early to buy him a mini watering can and trowel?

A place to think, a bit of a stink and a wonderful excuse for a drink!

I think I might have jinxed our weather! When the sun shines in the summer (I know, a rare occurrence so far this year), it gets unbearably hot in the seating areas at the bottom of our garden. Consequently I’ve had a project in mind for some time, and I’m pleased to announce I’ve finally completed it. I’ve converted a shadier corner of our garden into my own relaxing space, where I can read, write or simply sit and think (oh, and store the lawn mower). Don’t look too closely – there are some design flaws, but I’m rather chuffed to be able to say it’s all my own work.

Last year I sowed some oxeye daisy seeds, and though I say so myself, they have been an outstanding success. The plants have grown to gargantuan proportions – I’ve never been the proud owner of so many daisies.

How wonderful for cut flowers I thought. I decorated my parents’ grave with them on Fathers’ Day and I proudly presented bunches to my lovely creative writing group tutor Jackie and to Victoria. In hindsight, I had noticed an unpleasant smell emanating from my bottom border, but I thought perhaps the neighbourhood cats had been making use of it. As I carried a posy round to Victoria’s, I did notice a similar smell coming from the daisies. She smelt it too but it didn’t seem too pongy. Anyway, when I next popped round, she gently advised me that they had been banished to the patio table as the smell had become overpowering. They do look very pretty out there!

This set me wondering about the smell they were giving off, so I sought a view from the excellent RHS My Advice service. I received a speedy reply from Adrian who offered the following thoughts:

Smell is often subjective and it does seem that some people find the smell unpleasant. I must admit that having just gone out and smelt the plants in my own garden I can’t pick that up, but then perhaps my nose isn’t as good as others! It’s interesting to see that flies are attracted to the plants, and this may be due to something in the scent. Your question has started a little discussion within the department, and there is a view that the plant has the common name ‘dog daisy’ because it has the unpleasant smell of dog urine! I haven’t been able to verify that yet, but the scent certainly does seem to divide opinion.

Well I can absolutely confirm that mine do not smell like dog wee, but they do smell like dog poo to Victoria and me. I hope that to my mum & dad and Jackie they are sweet smelling – I suspect not – so please accept my apologies!

And now to the most important happening of 2024! In the early hours of 4 July, Rosie and Daisy’s baby was born! We are all besotted with baby Bud and I feel sure he is already a genius. He FaceTimed us when he was only a couple of hours old and watched a Wimbledon match with me and GR, while Rosie and Daisy caught up on some sleep (his eyes were closed, but I expect he was focussing on the commentary). What better way to welcome little Bud into world than with a fizzy drink!

Ramblings from a small island

We’ve recently enjoyed a family holiday in Northumberland – me, GR, Rosie, Daisy and Lily. One of our excursions was to Holy Island. As we drove across the causeway, we were treated to a magnificent sea of pink.

Once on the island I was able to get close up to the flowers that made up the rose tinted spectacle. A quick PlantNet investigation revealed we were looking at what is commonly known as sea thrift or sea pink. Its latin name is armeria maritima. This figures, seeing as the plant grows very happily by the sea, and in this location spends a good deal of the day and night underneath it, each time Holy Island is cut off from the mainland by the tide.

Now, I bet you didn’t know this fascinating fact. Threepenny bits issued between 1937 and 1952 featured thrift on their rears! The theory behind this is thought to be that someone who is thrifty buys all they need with very little money, and threepence wasn’t worth very much. Now on our visit, someone who thought he had been thrifty on my behalf, was GR. You may recall we bought our tit box from Holy Island. There’s a man who makes them and sells them at the bottom of his garden to raise money for the church. So we paid his garden another visit and decided on a nest box for robins. GR duly placed £10 in the honesty box, visibly smug in the knowledge that this was a pretty thrifty buy, as well as being a charitable donation. After a lovely day taking in the scenery we made our way to the car park. Rosie and Daisy decided to take a detour to the public amenities. Rosie handed me Lily’s lead. I handed GR the bird box. Daisy had the car key so at the car park we waited for them in a wooden shelter. Later that evening, snug in our holiday cottage, I asked if the bird box was still in Daisy’s car. No-one remembered it being in the boot when we emptied the car, and sure enough, on checking, it wasn’t. Yes, you guessed it, it was either still on the bench in the shelter, or wending its way to a garden near you. Oh well, St Mary’s church has benefited, and in time hopefully so will a family of robins.

Thrift is just one of many wild flowers growing on the island so there were many to admire, along with the beautiful scenery. Lily loved her day out too!

I do count myself very lucky that I can go away safe in the knowledge that my garden will survive. Victoria is my garden angel. This time she diligently looked after hundreds of seedlings in my plastic greenhouses as well as my numerous plants in pots – thank you Victoria. She even sent me photos to put my mind at rest – here’s one taken in the early evening sun!

The bees are back in town!

If you’ve been reading my ramblings for a while, you may remember that last year I wrote about the bees that were mining in my back garden. If you’re new to me, or you want a reminder, you can read about them here. To cut a long story short, I didn’t think they would ever choose my garden again, after I unwittingly attempted to fill their home with gravel, not realising they were the cause of the hole that had appeared in one of my borders. Well I was wrong, they’re back! They’ve opted for an earlier check-in this year – by a fortnight I’d say. Once again I am having to reassure GR that they won’t sting him to death and that they’ll be gone soon, but he’s not happy.

Now, I’m perfectly at ease with the bees visiting my garden. I’m not so impressed by two other visitors though. I wondered why some of my strawberry plants were looking so sickly. On investigation I discovered vine weevils had moved in and munched their way through the roots – don’t they look disgusting – no wonder they’re so plump.

Whiteflies have decimated many of my beautiful pansies – frankly, they’ve left them looking ‘scabby’. Some are still stunning – but for how long? The ones below are fighting back.

My seed growing seems to be slightly more successful second time round. The broccoli seedlings are small but look healthy enough – I don’t want a repeat of the caterpillar massacre of 2022 – remember this?! I’ve given up on mangetout this year, but I have managed to grow three fairly robust dwarf runner bean plants. Apparently slugs, snails, blackfly and greenfly love them, but if they fail in their mission to annihilate them, there are a multitude of fungal and viral diseases that will happily do the job. Courgettes continue to challenge me this year. I’ve managed to keep just one alive from my first sowing, and only one has germinated from the second. My pepper and tomato seedlings are still miniscule. I think my vision of filling one of those wooden trug baskets (beloved by the TV gardeners) with a variety of veg and salad for our tea, is a pipe dream.

Talking of my flights of fancy, I started out this month resolved to embrace No Mow May. This resolution lasted way longer than semi-dry January, but after a week I binned the idea. I set out with the notion that I would mow a heart shape in my lawn. My plan was that the rest of the grass would grow longer and longer, leaving the beautiful shorn heart shaped path for Lily and me to stroll, wee and poo on (to be clear, I was only going to do the strolling bit). Things didn’t work out the way I’d imagined. Our lawn is comprised of many different types of grass, weeds and moss, so in a matter of days the heart shape disappeared. I lost patience and mowed the whole lot, but you can get the general gist of what might have been from the photo below. I have consoled myself with the thought that mowing after a whole month would have been a hell of a job, and after all, I do No Mow October to February.

It’s been an expensive few months on the garden front – a new fence and the steps to the front door were budgeted for. What we hadn’t bargained for was the collapse of the rendering from the ten meter long wall below our terrace. It’s been replaced now, but it’s a good job GR has started working for a living again after all his skiing jaunts!

Not everything has gone wrong in the garden. Just look at my ceanothus! Despite all the traumas over the winter, it has put on a magnificent display and looks stunning against the hawthorn blossom. The wisteria has survived the new fence and is making a valiant attempt to camouflage the drainpipes – it’s scent is intoxicating. My little lilac tree is also giving out a delicious aroma and my new clematis plants are putting in a good effort, although they are a bit vertically challenged at the moment – they need to get climbing!

Ups & Downs

Well it’s all been happening since my last post! First a blocked loo. Due to the ridiculous way our drains are configured, not helped by someone in the past (not us), building a conservatory over one of the drain covers, it took the wonderful Homeserve team over a week to clear the blockage – a week that felt both stressful and undignified. At each return visit they brought more and more equipment to aid their drain explorations, including two different types of camera and a probe that could navigate pipes by itself!

Then the lovely new fence crew arrived. The first day they dismantled the fence at the bottom of the garden, behind my herbaceous border. It rained all day. They valiantly ploughed on. Their large steel-capped boots reduced my border and the lawn to a pulp. A large area of forget-me-nots was buried under thick clay and my admittedly rotten log roll edging, disappeared into the quagmire. By some miracle my sedums and most of the alliums lived to tell the tale. By the end of Day 1 most of the bottom fence had been replaced and I could already envisage how good it was going to look compared to the old one.

Thankfully the sun came out on Day 2. They removed the side fence and began the complicated task of building a new one up a steep slope. Day 3 included the tricky operation to cut the fence to fit round the thick trunk of our wisteria, which protrudes into next door’s garden. They did an amazing job and some fairies were so impressed they’ve moved in.

No sooner had the fence job been completed than the next one commenced. We’re having some steps built to ease navigation of our black-run drive. Talking of which GR is now on his final ski-ing jaunt of the year.

While he’s been away I’ve been trying to return the back garden to some semblance of order. I’ve planted 72 perennials in the bottom border, replaced the rotten log roll and put trellis up ready for some climbers. My seed growing thus far this year has been a dead loss. You may recall that since smartening up our conservatory, I had taken over the corner of a shelf in our utility room, to grow my seeds. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough light, so growth was tall and spindly, and most of the seedlings withered away. I normally have great success with my courgettes but look at these pathetic specimens! Anyway I’ve chucked the whole lot out and started again. I’ve rearranged the utility room and moved the propagators nearer the windows, so fingers crossed.

Yes, it’s official, the blue tits are exceedingly busy getting their nest ready in the bird box. There’s frenzied tapping coming from inside as they hammer all their little bits of foliage and fluff into a cosy bed ready for their babies. They carry huge amounts of moss in their tiny beaks and then try to stuff it through the small hole in the nest box. Most of it falls down onto our storage box below, but they do gather it up again.

By the way those 4 pots are lavender. It looks like only 2 will survive (do you remember I potted up loads of seedlings from the front drive) – still, two free plants are better than none!

And finally, do you remember my blog about all the palaver involved in getting your poinsettia to produce red bracts in time for Christmas. I was too late to trial the advice, but mine has done it all by itself. Yes, I know, wrong time of year, but who knows, Easter might be the new Christmas where poinsettias are concerned.

Fateful Flight & Feathered Fables

I’ve had a traumatic experience this week. I was already becoming despondent because I hadn’t witnessed any blue tits visiting my nesting box for a while. Then one morning while I was doing my ablutions in our en-suite, I heard a thud and realised a bird must have flown into our bedroom window. Now we did have a problem in years gone by with wood pigeons flying into it. Luckily they seemed to survive with no evident ill effects (although they probably felt like hell). We did put plenty of those stick on things on the window to try to avoid this happening, and it seems to have worked well. However I was horrified to see, on looking down from my window, that on this occasion it was a blue tit that had collided with the glass. I raced downstairs and on opening the back door was greeted with the sorry sight of a tiny bird splayed out like Bambi on ice on our glass topped patio table. I was beside myself. On a closer look I could see it was stunned but alive. I rushed inside to get a saucer of water – it was all I could think to do – pathetic really! Anyway, by the time I got back outside it had gone. The immediate sense of relief was followed by panic that it had maybe managed to flutter a short distance, before giving up the ghost – or even worse – maybe a magpie had it for breakfast. I quickly reassured myself that there hadn’t been time for that to happen and spent the next half hour scouring the garden, relieved to find nothing. Poor thing must have had a humdinger of a headache.

The trauma led me to Google, to see if there was anything else I could do to prevent future occurrences. The first search threw up the spiritual meaning of a bird flying into your window – there are many and they all scared me. Then I came across an online forum on the subject of birds colliding with windows – it had gone a bit off track, as these things tend to do. I became quite distracted by one entry:

We had a magpie come in through the dog flap a few years ago. Apparently they will watch rabbits going into burrows & go in to take the babies. They must have seen the cats coming in & out & thought there were rich pickings. The mess it made in the kitchen was awful. The noise made me think we had intruders as I was upstairs at the time & all 3 cats & dog were cowering in the hall.

Can you imagine walking into your kitchen and finding a magpie waiting for you?! This started me on another bird preoccupation – spotting the right number of magpies to avoid bad luck – ie anything but one. You’d be really unlikely to get more than one coming through a cat flap, so surely that means it would be bad luck? We have lots of magpies visiting our garden, and I confess that I do try to ward off evil when I see just one, but my Google revealed that I’ve been doing it all wrong. My usual tack is to give the bird a nod and say ‘Good morning Mr Magpie‘, but it turns out that’s simply not enough. I should at least be continuing with ‘… how’s your lady wife today?’, or ‘how are Mrs Magpie and all the other little magpies?‘. Otherwise I would need to address him much more formally – ‘Good morning general or captain‘ and/or salute him (I’d probably do both just as extra insurance). Alternatively I could say ‘Hello Jack, how’s your brother?’ This all set me thinking – how would I know if I was looking at Mr Magpie or Mrs Magpie and why would his name be Jack? Apparently the only difference is that males are up to 10% bigger than females – but if there’s only one, then there’s nothing to compare it to? There are some other alternatives I could try – doff my hat (I rarely wear one), spit three times over my shoulder (a filthy habit), go cross-eyed to fool myself into thinking I’ve seen two (but that’s cheating isn’t it?) or flap my arms and squawk to mimic the magpie’s mate (I think if Victoria was watching she might be concerned for my sanity and have a quiet word with GR). There are regional variations too, so maybe I should adopt the Yorkshire one and make the sign of a cross. I’m not best pleased with one of my magpie visitors – it has been stealing the lining of my wall basket – presumably for nesting material. Here is the culprit along with the evidence!

Anyway, enough of magpies. On the blue tit front, after all this upset, I did spy one checking out the nest box yesterday and carrying in some bright orange fluffy material it had found somewhere, so all may not be lost – I’ll keep you posted.

Is a tree like a cat?

Is it? I’m really hoping my ceanothus tree has nine lives, because she’s already used at least four of hers! Three years ago she broke free from her support in a high wind and was bent double. Then she was attacked by Jack Frost and all her leaves went brown and crusty – but she lived to tell the tale and has flowered beautifully each year since then. Then storms Isha and Jocelyn hit us last month and Ceanothus became a victim once more – she really must be feeling picked on. I dread to think what state her roots are in after this – she’s incredibly flexible though, don’t you think? I’m amazed her trunk didn’t snap.

I couldn’t right her by myself (she’s quite hefty) and I figured she was safest lying low until Jocelyn had calmed down a bit. GR was nowhere to be seen – he was away on one of his numerous ski excursions in some far flung land. So I had to call upon my lovely young neighbour to help me. It wasn’t easy but between us we managed to get her upright and tie her to a boundary post, which I agree sounds terribly undignified. We could have done with Victoria’s assistance when it came to our knot tying capabilities. She was a Cub Leader and would have been horrified at our pathetic efforts! When GR finally returned, he made a few tweaks to our handiwork, and all appeared as hopeful as could be expected in the circumstances.

But then, while he was absent yet again, disaster struck! It snowed heavily for hours. I kept shaking the snow off poor Ceanothus, but the time came when I needed to get some sleep. The next morning she was bent double with the weight of the snow and she didn’t spring back when I removed it. It was some days before GR returned and I was able to put him to work to restore her dignity once more.

Now I know what you’re thinking – it’s not a pretty sight, and she’s quite tall. Maybe reducing her height might solve the problem? Well, with regard to the former, the situation will look better come the spring, when the honeysuckle to her left climbs the rope and the clematis to her right covers the entire wall and fence. Regarding her height – I’ve consulted the oracle, aka the wonderful advice service available to RHS members. It was bad news – ceanothus don’t like being pruned hard, so she would probably die. The suggestion was that I might be better disposing of her and starting again. But I just can’t bring myself to do that – I have to give her another chance – keep everything crossed for her, please!

Looking ahead and a bit of nostalgia

Is it too late to say Happy New Year? Well I’m saying it anyway – Happy New Year to you! I hope you had a good time over Christmas. My presents didn’t include a bird box camera, despite the heavy hint, but it’s probably just as well because there are a number of blue tits checking out the box already. I fear if I tamper with it now, I might put them off. There’s always my birthday in July, which would give plenty of time to get a camera installed before 2025. My sister, who works in a school, took the old nest to the children’s Wildlife Club last week – apparently it’s still doing the rounds at the school. The children have been fascinated by how small the eggs are and wanted to know what’s inside them and how big the bird box hole is. I wasn’t brave enough to crack any of the eggs open, but I was able to let them know the hole has a diameter of about 3 cm. So, I didn’t get a bird box camera for Christmas, but GR did give me a very handsome bug hotel, which will be declared open once our new fence is installed in March.

Last week I went to a talk on growing winter salads. Sounds riveting doesn’t it, but actually it was really inspiring. It was delivered by Tony Chalcraft & Jane Thurlow from The Nursery, Acomb, York. They grow mainly fruit and veg and they’re doing some open days in July. As well as providing great advice on what to grow and when, including some more unusual salad varieties, they also highlighted the carbon footprint involved in the production of items like supermarket mixed salad bags. It’s significant when you take into account what goes into the growing stage (which almost certainly includes spraying with pesticides), packaging, transportation across the globe and potential for waste. GR is really into his salads so I’m resolved to improve on my spring and summer salad and veg growing performance this year and extend my efforts into the winter. I now know there are salads I can grow successfully under cover of my unheated plastic greenhouses, right into the New Year. I’ll have to be organised to get the seedlings started over the autumn and not miss the boat like I did with my poinsettia.

I’ve been in a clearing-out frenzy since Christmas. This has included attacking my vast collection of seed packets. Now I’m pretty relaxed about ‘best before’ dates where food is concerned (depending on what it is of course), but some of my opened seed packets were marked sow before 2020, which might be pushing it a bit. Some of the packets were empty – I suspect I kept them because I thought it would remind me to buy more. Anyway I’m super organised now, with the remaining (still numerous) packets stored in envelopes marked up with the months to be sown and whether that should be indoors or outdoors. Do you think I need to get out more?!

Another area I’ve attacked, non garden related really, has been several boxes marked up ‘Slides & Cines‘. These we inherited from GR’s dad, who was a keen amateur photographer. They’ve been on a top shelf in our unheated garage for over 10 years and I very much expected they would have disintegrated. But no – although some are quite dusty, they look pretty good when fed through an old slide viewer. Over the past fortnight I have viewed thousands, most of which were views, but there are some good ones of GR, right from babyhood, through to his awkward teenage years and beyond. Now GR insists he has absolutely no interest in gardening – his mum clearly tried to encourage him to develop green fingers, but failed miserably. I’ll leave you with this slide I scanned – it’s GR aged 3, so it’s survived since 1962!

Whatever the Weather

Winter is upon us, but some days you wouldn’t think so. Yesterday, for example, GR and I were out doing jobs in the garden without coats on. Mind you, I had been sweeping up mounds of wisteria leaves, for what seemed like hours, so I had worked up a sweat. I love the wisteria when it’s flowering – looking stunning and wafting its delicious perfume about. When its numerous leaves are attached to the branches they add interest to a red brick wall and do a pretty good job of camouflaging ugly pipes and cables. I do curse it though, when it sheds those leaves. It’s at it for several weeks – I sweep our terrace and the next time I venture out, it’s time to start again. I think we’re virtually there now, but I’ve filled an entire garden wheelie bin and collections don’t start again until March.

Now what was GR doing while all this was going on, you may ask? Well, he’d been given ladder jobs. The first was to cut back some of the high up, whippy growth the wisteria likes to produce. It’s not really the right time to be doing this, according to gardening experts, but it’s so much easier to see what you’re doing when the leaves aren’t in the way. I point and GR hacks. His second assignment was to climb the ladder once more, to dismantle the nesting box ready for cleaning. This year’s nest was much more substantial than last year’s. I find it utterly amazing that two tiny creatures can construct such an impressive home to raise a family in. There were three eggs left in the nest – maybe Mr & Mrs BT decided their family was big enough. I’m hoping that next year I will see the babies fledge – maybe I’ll get a bird box camera for Christmas?

We do seem to yoyo between warmer winter days and brass monkey weather. We’ve had some snow already – I can’t remember it coming this early for years. I do love looking at Jack Frost’s work – he’d definitely been out the other morning with his icing sugar duster and a pot of glitter.

Happy Christmas everyone!

Bracts, Bugs and Blooms

I’ve mentioned before how amazed I am that I’ve managed to keep a poinsettia alive for over a year – it lost the last of its red bracts recently but the leaves are looking exceedingly healthy. In a moment of feeling less bah humbug than usual, I decided to look up how to encourage more red bracts to grow, so it would look festive for Christmas. It seems I’ve done it all wrong. I should have pruned it hard in February and then put it in a mild, shady spot and deprived it of water until May. Then I should have started to water it and repotted it (oh dear, I did that in October), at the same time keeping it as warm and humid as possible. At the end of September I should have plunged it into darkness for 14 hours a day for 8 weeks, before bringing it back into the light and watering it. Crikey, I feel exhausted – I think I need to set up a Gantt chart for next year – I might just buy a new plant!

I’ve been tidying in the garden again, trying to make best use of the last two garden rubbish collections of the year. I’ve mown the lawn for what I hope is the last time this year and pulled out faded annuals from my numerous pots. We’re having a new fence in our back garden in spring so I thought I’d also move pots away from it. This meant making many woodlice temporarily homeless as they scurried away when each pot was lifted. I was reading about woodlice this week. I didn’t know they are crustaceans, related to shrimps and crabs. I suppose when you think about their armour-like bodies, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’m rather partial to seafood but woodlice look decidedly unappetising! Apparently if you have an abundance of them in your garden it means it’s in good health, so I must be doing something right. I’m not keen on their fondness for my downstairs bathroom though. They find their way up the outside wall, through the extractor fan vent and then traverse the ceiling before dropping into the light fitting, where they inconveniently give up the ghost. It’s a 2 person job to get that light fitting off and back on again – GR does the ladder bit and I deal with the deceased.

I missed storm Debi when it hit Yorkshire – I was having a few days in ‘the smoke’. I hope you didn’t suffer any damage. Victoria lost some fence panels but, while I was out of the county, she was able to reassure me that my plastic greenhouses were still standing. I was worried because I’d left the flaps partially open to allow some ventilation. Unbeknown to me GR zipped them up before we left home – he does have his uses! 

Oh, and I can’t finish without imparting the exciting news that my Café au Lait dahlia has beaten Jack Frost and burst into flamboyant bloom!