Some people like to build snowmen; I like to build rockmen. Here is one from my black and white spotted stone phase. Eventually the moss will grow so rough and thick that these rocks will be fused together.
This week in the garden saw us picking raspberries and strawberries, of all things. I'm going to have to lay out more slug bait, though, because Snake isn't keeping up her end of things in the strawberry bed. She seems to hang out closer to the side of the garden, where the slugs are large and brown, leaving the teeny tiny black slugs to feast on my strawberries. When I was out picking them this morning I found a few that were just a shell. A shell. The entire inside had been chewed methodically away, leaving the outside intact and fresh-looking. I was annoyed. I am so not a slug fan. I see no redeeming features in them at all.
I tried to get Toffee to chew on some slugs but he's too fastidious.
He prefers to sit decoratively on the paths.
When he's not acting as a model for me. Here he is showing you how big the mullein is. It's taller than the kids. Almost as tall as me. It looks alive, it's so big and sturdy and stiff. It glows in the night. Mullein turns up in all the medieval herbals, with various names: Hag's Taper; Clown's Lungwort; Jupiter's Staff; Clot. I plan on turning the flowers into oil later on.
Toffee plans on playing with the spiders that congregate under its leaves.
Lots of purple in the garden. I'm always struck by how much purple I've planted. These are balloon flowers.
This is a mallow called Braveheart. Not after Mel, but after its rich, deep, dark brave heart.
The petunias are almost overpowering the lettuce in the window boxes. These are right outside the living room window, and I've removed the screens so anyone can open the window and pick the lettuce. Lettuce tends to bolt if it gets too hot, but I get around this by planting it on the north side of the house, where it's always quite cool.
Another David Austen rose: Evelyn. This one is named for the store Crabtree & Evelyn. They sell a perfume that supposedly smells like this rose. This rose is most peculiar: it never opens up into a typical bloom like the others. Instead it stay like this - a little bud. It smells very delicate and fruity.
This is a garlic relative: ostrakownium or something like that. I can't find the tag and I don't think that's how it's spelled but I also can't find it by googling the word, so we'll all just have to remain mystified. It smells like sweet garlic if you can imagine it. Which is, contrary to what you might think, rather pleasant.
Silly Garden Sculpture #89
My mother threw out this teapot and because it was in such good condition I took it when she wasn't looking. At the time I thought I'd use it for mosaics but it ended up in the garden. Now it has a teacup as its companion. Everyone should have a companion, right?
It's sitting in a pot of cannas, which grow well here although you can't overwinter them outside. I forget which variety this one is but it's very unusual-looking: gold striped leaves and hot orange flowers. According to my garden book its closest living relatives are the gingers and bananas. Now if only I had some gingers and bananas in my garden!