The secret of growing success comes from the sky
Sunday 27 June
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We return from camping in the middle of the night. The weather was set to be horrendous and we made the call that we would pack up the truck and set off after seeing Miracle Theatre's production in the utterly glorious garden at The Old Vicarage in Gwinear near Hayle. The garden was as gorgeous as it sounds. All geums and delphiniums and wafting scent of lavender. I chose the longest queue at the bar beforehand because it meant I could peer in the windows and see if the furniture was as romantic as the planting. (It was.) And so we all arrived home, well past midnight, just in time for the black sky to open. Even in the dark, I could sense that the garden had changed. Alchemilla mollis and the sanguisorbas had flopped over the back path, touching in the middle. Rows of kohlrabi, leeks and chard planted in a mad rush before we left, gleamed in the headlights.
Monday 28 June
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I walk out into the field with sleepy dogs and a coffee. Later than usual. They are strangely reluctant to move after the exertions of the holiday and the disruption to their long days of sleeping and snoring. The field has turned into a jungle and I turn around and go back inside again. I finally concede that I need weeding and general maintenance assistance.
Tuesday 29 June
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You know what seed merchants do when they feel overwhelmed? They buy more seeds.
Also, the first dahlias. Totally Tangerine is one of the first out. I have no idea why I still have this plant in the ground; it is truly hideous. (Not improved by the photo below being awful, but I thought I would save you the trouble of looking up such a monstrosity, and it is the only picture I have.)
Wednesday 30 June
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An advance copy of the book has arrived. It is such a wonderous experience to finally hold it in my hands. Photos to follow.
Thursday & Friday
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Mine is very much a kitchen table business. It really is just me, an inkjet printer, and a teaspoon. Once a quarter, the sitting room becomes one big mound of boxes, tape, envelopes and seeds and ITV3 gets a hammering. This summer, the seasonal box for Gather member is a set of edible flowers and a collection of biennials. I bake biscuits to check which flowers work the best. (It's violas.)
Tea, Kat Goldin's wildflower cookies and endless Agatha Christies.
I never said life was hard.
Saturday 3 July
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Water streams down the lane. It has been threatening all day and I garden in fits and starts, dodging the clouds. I rescue armfuls of six foot ammi which I know will topple in the rain. I manage to cut back the japanese quince hedge just in time because when it comes, it comes with conviction. Hammering on the courtyard and off the thatch. Thunder rolling from the Quantocks to the north of us. Nothing for it but to put the kettle on again.
Sunday 4 July
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The powerful combination of warmth and moisture continues. I swear my courgette plants have doubled in size overnight. The wild strawberries have smothered a whole bed and have more scarlet fruits on then I have ever seen. There is fruitfulness in the air. The first teasels are taking shape and there are nigella seedpods ready for drying. The white corncockles are setting seed. Everywhere I look, there are poppy drumsticks, coated still in their blue-grey bloom.