In the garden

We have awarded ourselves the afternoon off after another hectic week with scarce time to draw breath, and having spent the first hour after breakfast out in the paddock, cutting up the ash tree we felled last month, and moving the logs and brash.  Early action was needed as rain was due and has come on in a desultory way since 10 o'clock. The bank where we dropped the tree is slick underfoot with Celendine leaves, and what with that and the brash, getting a footing was precarious sometimes.  Anyway, we made good progress, but my OH's wrist is even more painful now.  He has done something to the ligament which doesn't seem to settle down despite resting and icing it, and as we HAVE to get this tree out of the way to reach another, it's a case of biting the bullet.

The garden is starting to look colourful.  I have lots of Cowslips about the place.

Some have x-pollinated and gone a pale pink.

Above and below: my lovely Auriculas, which haven't made it to any sort of Theatre!

Some more hybrid colouring as I had these marked down as Goldfinch - the pure yellow.

I've uncovered the veg plot and have started digging it over and weeding it.  It will be a hands and knees and a trowel job around the Autumn fruiting raspberries to the left.  As you can see, the uncovered bit has a huge pile of woodash waiting for redistribution, and a grassy corner. . .  The usual state of play each spring here!

These tulips are so pretty - you can see why I fell  for them.

A few more photos.

Beautiful Amber-cat, who hasn't been very well recently.  She stopped eating for about 4 days and I thought we were going to be saying goodbye to her, as she must be 16 plus (not sure her exact age as she came to us when Next Door's mother went to live with her daughter, and all the cats were just abandoned.  Of course they all came here - Amber, Snowy 1 and Timmy.  The two latter are sadly no longer with us.  Anyway, Amber has perked up again and has been soaking up the sunshine in the garden.

This is Ghengis, aka Moonface (which was his first name) although now he could easily be called Fatty Arbuckle as he lives high on the hog and is an absolute P.I.G.  He has his breakfast and then goes round finishing up what everyone else has left!    He loves me very much and follows me wherever I go, but he is still a bit of a bully especially towards Lucy and Amber, who are Old Girls now.  Fluff, also an Old Girl, won't stand any nonsense from him.

This was the beautiful Lace-cap Viburnum that A's daughter bought me yesterday.  Isn't it gorgeous?

Yestgerday evening's job, after we got back from Hay-on-Wye.  Clear all the glass and slates, and remove ALL Nettles, plus rehoming the babiest of the Autumn-fruiting Raspberries.  I am loath to move the well-established Raspberries as they fruit so well in this spot.

Looking along the former soft fruit bed (all the goosegogs gone now, as they were nearly 30 years old and diseased).  The Sweet Peas are going to be planted here, but not sure what to put in the densely-Celendined area beyong the telegraph pole cable.  It's shaded, so suggestions on a postcard please.

Poldark and prose

Top photo not from my garden, but to remind me that it is nearly Aquilegia time!

I sat in the garden this afternoon, with "Demelza" by Winston Graham, as I had been chatting elsewhere about the remake of the Poldark series for tv, and thinking about who I would choose to play Ross Poldark.  I think . . . and I haven't thought very long or hard about it yet - I think, it might be Toby Stephens, who played Mr Rochester in the 2006 miniseries of Jane Eyre. He seems,to me, to have that slight cynicism and edginess to him, along with charm and wit, and I can see him playing Ross. . .  What do you think?  And who would you choose for Demelza?

Anyway, as I was sitting in the garden, I relaxed and was aware of the apple-blossom buds looking just like pink lipstick, fading to pink-blush and white as they opened, and humming gently with bees.  There were sparrows squeaking, a Blackbird whistling in the paddock, and a Robin was hovering over a discarded cat bowl, like a stout and very dowdy humming-bird.

In the nearby flower bed, the deepest purple of the Cranesbill "Widow's Weeds" are  perfect for the the Bowles Mauve Erysimum, and beside it were the iridescence of the pink flowers on the Scnted-leaf Geranium.  My untidy borders have Cowslips rubbing shoulders with Lady's Smock, as the Celendines fade and wither for another year.

 

Beside the pond, the green and yellow striped blades of Iris stand straight like a battalion of swordsmen, and the breeze tousled the snowberry leaves and blew through the Mossy Saxifrage so their flowers trembled.  The sun sunk down behind the house and the Speedwells began to think of hiding their faces for the night.  Spring bliss . . .