I realise I have never shared this beautiful passion flower making its way up an external staircase.
No particular reason to share it today. It has been a very rainy day and it is exactly a month since I took this photograph. In that month our weather has downgraded considerably. Passion flower plants are clinging on for dear life in the wind and the rain. A month ago this passion flower was at risk of being scorched on a hot metal staircase.
My own passion flower who was an early bloomer avoided the really hot weather of our summer by appearing and fading in June. Yesterday I unfurled its tiny, curling, climbing tendrils and put it on a path of my choosing rather than the harum scarum route it had decided to take on my washing line.
Actually all the climbing plants were redirected to my aesthetic desires rather than their own urges yesterday. Roses were pruned. Growth and direction for 2026 was the name of my yardening passion in a couple of rare dry hours this week.
Gardening however has taken a real back seat this week. Gardening is done at a tennis club not far from home . But Weeding Wednesday was redesignated No Weed Wednesday to allow the gardeners to celebrate a significant birthday, 60 times around the sun of our gardening guru. 20 people gathered for crisps, cake and conversation. The weeds can grow for another week or maybe longer if this wet weather persists. No Weed Wednesday could become an Autumn/ Winter passion
The Naked Gardener. When we bought this house 4 years ago it had been done up to sell. The bathroom was an homage to greyness and masculinity and definitely frolicking. The shower is a huge glass box and the bath is a light flashing jacuzzi that takes an hour to fill. We always knew we needed to soften the whole thing. We need not have worried, all our house plants pretended to be light starved, over watered and generally unhappy in most other rooms. The bathroom was an obvious plant convalescent room. Some still failed but others thrived.
For most of the summer, it has been obvious that thriving was certainly going on at the cost of light levels in the room. Plans were made, while showering, for a September day of houseplant care. Two hours of leaf culling and some reorganisation went to plan.
This morning it is hard to believe how much perkier everyone is.
Without us being fully aware this plant has had a baby. The baby is actually an adolescent. And so a bigger job of moving the adolescent out of the shared pot is required.
More plant planning while showering. Which is about as frolicksome as this bathroom gets. Unless there are three people under 6 in the bath which is actually very frolicksome.
Mid-century stereo cabinet reinvented as a bathroom storage unit.
Yesterday was a day of peaks. Fitting a lot of local tourism into a day and achievements of different sorts all slotted into the day like pieces of a jigsaw.
I would like to say we peaked early in the day calmly by taking down the marquee at the Tennis Club. Our family of tall and fit individuals were invaluable.
But just before that, I had hit a peak of stupidity and miscalculated who was where and had house keys. Neatly managing to lock the house with no keys on the outside. Luckily I had managed to only lock the front of the house. Just a twelve foot stone wall to clamber.
Luck was with me, as it was for the whole day. I had also locked out a former Welsh Guard who did a very athletic vertical wall climb to save the very early part of the day.
Dilly Dallying firmly behind me , the marquee was taken down and we visited our Canadian Cohorts Airbnb to see very familiar sights from a different perspective.
Their accommodation was over our favourite coffee shop.
Then with peak efficiency we hit our Family Gathering Brunch exactly on schedule.
Entertained vividly by the RNLI we posed by an old crane.
Then straight off to Tinside for a swim.
Although that particular peak experience was to swim in the sea so we were a little to the left of this picture.
Then up to the Hoe for some posing and musing about the Beatle Buttock print sculpture nearby.
And just like that the last schedule of the day was on the horizon. Dinner at Nora”s with Norah.
But while we were busy being peak performing tourists something funny was happening. This blog started reaching a record number of views. Peak viewing.
The wonderful thing about hosting out-of-town family is that we fill the day with lovely things. So much so that locking everyone out of the house is just a minor inconvenience.
Texture and Context. Wandering around a favourite local tourist attraction, with small people, alters the context of my adult engagement with the place. On this occasion, Heligan Gardens near Mevagissy in Cornwall. Small people linger longer in places that I give less time to. But they also give me less time to gather information because their needs, interests and safety are less predictable than mine. I would love to be able to tell you which rare breed of donkey owns this beautiful fluffy ear. We visited her many times practiced the word donkey and moved on.
Similarly the Bronze Turkey.
We made animal noises in English and Polish. They are not the same.
And stare in wonder at a tiny fairy ring growing in a border.
But a small person version of a favourite place is not all hustle and bustle. I was left for ten minutes in the potting shed and again in the head gardeners office while playing hide and seek. Wonderful silent places where the illusion of stepping back a century or so is tranquil and authentic.
And where my pursuers are glimpsed through dusty old windows.
My fascination with bees is tempered by worrying if small fingers may try to touch a bee bottom. For once, a good enough photograph is the perfect balance of being a competent and trusted nana.
No bottoms touched.
The other thing busy days with small people affects is enough moments to summon up a blog. My apologies for yesterday, maybe I can crack out two today. Maybe not. But there are plenty more pictures to share…
Sunday sunshine and a bit of tennis. Oh the sun is glorious this weekend. We were up early to enjoy as much of the day as possible.
The tennis club gardens were looking gorgeous in the bright morning sunshine.
Hybrid Peony Bartzilla brought an acidic kick to the border near the tennis court.
The tennis also brought a kick of its own as back muscles complained about the early morning work out. June has arrived and so far she really is flaming. Tonight high tide is at 7 pm and the bobbers are planning a plunge. It will be fab.
The after-glow of a successful Open Garden event greeted me yesterday evening. Whilst on holiday in Thailand and Hong Kong I still ran the Social Media posts for a National Garden Scheme, Open Gardens event in Stonehouse. Trusty photographers sent me photos of the plants, visitors, cakes and musicians taking part in the two day event. My Social Media posting was both one step removed and half a world away. On my return last night I took a few minutes,and a cup of mint tea, to enjoy the calm of the space in post-party mood. The space was also gearing up to host a social evening of croquet and nattering in the evening sun.
The events of the weekend were a success and there has been praise and thanks to everyone who contributed their time and skills to making the event a success.
This gardener did not get an email or Whatsapp message of thanks, but they were confidently enjoying the warm afterglow of success on the tarmac path.
This rose, that clambers near the public toilet block, was full of perfume for everyone to enjoy. While the Arum lily enjoyed some evening shade.
Part of the charm of these gardens and Tennis Club is the amazing location.
Even the wild flowers put out a good effort over the weekend and yesterday evening.
As did the daisies in the club itself. Skilful mowing had allowed islands of daisies to play a part in the weekend of horticultural show-offery.
An English garden on a May evening is hard to beat. I wish I could look this good after a weekend of partying.
I am a lover of the absolute serendipity of daisies. Daisies are free -spirited, establish themselves wherever they choose and turn their heads to the sun. If only life could be this simple. These daisies are growing at a Lawn Tennis Club that is soon to open the gates to the public to raise money for local charities. Just beyond this photograph there are men and machines spiking and prepping a lawn to look the very best for the ‘Big’ weekend. These daisies are almost certainly gone for now, but men and machines are no long term match for diligent daisies. They will be back.
This blog is 3 years late and could have been another year in the Procrastination Pile. I had arranged to attend a Daffodil Festival with a friend in 2020. The festival was cancelled in the early weeks of Covid Restrictions and this is the first time it has been held since. The extra year of procrastination could easily have been added to, by my poor choice of clothes yesterday.
As you can see from the header picture things were a bit wet! I had had a perfectly tolerable dog walk without a coat and in Birkenstocks while at home in the morning. The further I drove into the Tamar Valley the wetter it got.
The lanes were running with brown rainwater pouring off the fields. I phoned my friend and suggested a different outing. A snug pub with warm food and no drips.
Her response was to bring me warm socks and wellies and feed me a scone and a cup of coffee.
And with that we were off! Some daffodil varieties were being shown indoors. Definitely an easier environment to appreciate them, were it not for steamed up glasses and rivulets of cold water tracking down my neck.
Daffodils and Pewter in the Great Hall.
I started recording the names of the Daffodils but honestly I think I am going to get into a pickle with that, so these beauties are enigmatically anonymous.
Outside nothing had improved despite making the absolute most of sitting with a scone and coffee. We hadn’t even managed to put the world right.
The outside locations were not overrun with visitors, the cafe on the other hand was heaving with wet humans. There is a point in every adventure when enough is enough, even for a woman in borrowed, vivid, socks and wellies. I love these socks!
Below is an experiment, I don’t know if this QR code will work,but if you can,give it a try.
Readers, it works! The audio clip Seagulls and Sunrise is lovely and tells the history of Daffodils and the Tamar Valley.
Pull up a chair for a classic meandering ponder. Yesterday there was a plan and neither fate nor serendipity stepped in to change it. Today we need to pull up a chair because our leg muscles in particular know that we achieved our set target of the day.
Before we get to ‘the plan’ there were the side tasks. Luck in the shape of an unknown sailor gave me this pretty image to start the blog.
A red rowing boat exactly in line with a red delivery van on the other side of the Hamoaze was a lucky moment during the dog walk. Our morning was spent doing unblogworthy tasks but we had a lunchtime date to visit friends at their allotment.
I must admit to having a preconception about allotments. Dusty rectangles of land in unlovely locations requiring hard work and a lot of heavy lifting. We were due to be met at the gate by a friend. These particular allotments are quite secure. My fanciful head has images of Narnia , my real life head thought high fences and clanging metal gates. It turns out that Fanciful and I(n) R(eal) L(ife) had met and produced a love child that is Peverell Paradise or Aspirational Allotment World. The gate turned out to be a portal into another world.
We stepped into an area of wooden buildings just off a main road, the ground was carpeted with dense and aromatic woodchip. There was a composting toilet, a small sales area and other sheds that no doubt held magical creatures brewing acorn gin and baking nettle pastries. The whole area was under a canopy of trees that created the sort of dappled shade beloved of film makers with a soundscape of birdsong. Just as in an adventure we were led on an undulating path to the actual allotment of our destination. But not before we passed the allotment of an ‘Influencer’. An Influencer!! We did not expect that.
Our minds were blown, which just shows how unimaginative, or closeted, minds can be when thinking about allotments. Warning to anyone checking out his Insta account, there is some male nudity… I know, there is another preconception about allotment life, blown out of the water , or maybe more appropriately, plot lost completely.
Our lunchtime date was completed with the purchase of freshly laid eggs. There is a little bit of colour serendipity in the next shot.
Eggs live in a heart shaped basket in our kitchen. In the bottom of the basket is a really old Polaroid photograph of my dad, so old that it has been faded to that odd shade of fading that over exposure to UV often causes. The polaroid is adorned with a star of the same colour that was sent to us by our thousands of miles away grandaughter. Getting to the bottom of our egg store always gives a little frisson of pleasure when I see the two people connected in a way they will never be in real life. A sort of egg basket Magic Realism I suppose. Imagine how thrilled my inner colour nerd was to find a turquoise egg in our egg box!
Now here is the thing, real time blogging failure. I had written a lovely paragraph about the actual planned task, which in truth we are only half way through. My fingers deleted it and no amount of digging around in my WordPress history can locate it. In the interest of actually publishing a blog today I am going to abandon writing about the actual planned task and give it a blog of its own when we finish it later today. Until tomorrow…
A busy day crowded with different stimuli, but brought to a standstill by a few lovely flowers. Just twenty minutes spent quietly in a garden easily resets a busy mind ready for the next challenge. I’ve never really been a fan of Primroses but today this ethereal specimen stopped me in my tracks, hiding by a tractor shed.
Building up the colour temperature of this blog is an exploding yellow crocus.
Then after all the innocence and quietude of pale whites, creams and yellows this beautiful purple crocus shouts out for attention.
Its insides swirling like a sensual dancer lost in music.
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