1. The joy of a job finally finished – the last of our veg beds dug over and ready for seedlings. Years of ambivalence left them compacted and weed clogged so it’s been a chore to clear them out but I know that from here on in – next year and the years after that – it’ll be easier.
(1b. There are a couple of plants in the bed and the remnants of daffodils. I transplant what I can but one of the plants falls apart on the way. I salvage its blood red blooms.)
2. John explains that the wild food walk last weekend has changed how he looks at grassland – he no longer sees “just green” but the huge variety of different plants growing in a small area. We look around and spot sorrel, lady’s smock & purple thistles amongst the grass, clover & buttercups at our feet. Across the beck, the bank is full of flowering ramsons & chickweed, a cloud of white flowers giving way to late bluebell wilting up the hill. Definitely not “just green”.
3. I blow bubbles from the balcony. The wind catches them and they float up and out over the gardens.
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