As we pass the Solstice, there is a shift in the flowers. The nigella, early summer flowers, are slowly fading, with only the side shoots sparkling with smaller and smaller blooms. I see the very first of my wonderful perennial foxgloves starting to send up their spires which brings me great joy. The grasses are looking wonderful. 

This tipping point is tinged with grief this year. There are so many flowers that I had great hopes for that will never come to life. Maybe the dahlias that have made it through will make up for it, but I have to let go some of my expectations for the first half of this strange summer.

But, as the night and the day shift their balance, we will call it a fresh start. Here are some of the things that are thriving. 

I know, you're bored of hearing it, but it truly has been a wonderful year for roses. This is 'Jude the Obscure', a favourite that I am going to propagate for posterity, even if I go to prison for it.  (David Austin have discontinued it, but I assume they still own the rights.)

 Although the first flushes have definitely been and gone, the cool summer has meant that the flowers last and last, and the rate of repeat flowering has been slower but they just keep coming. Bliss. 

Finally. Sweet peas. This year, the year that I decided that a) I could never buy in any more sweet pea seed because of my conversion to organic, and b) I was going to specialise in sweet peas, has been utterly atrocious for sweet peas. I have nearly given up a number of times, ripped all the plants out and turned over my land to keeping pigs. However, there are signs of hope. And also, I resowed everything about three weeks ago, so we might just sneak in under the wire. 

These are Watermelon, but Piggy Sue is also doing wonderfully. 

I do not grow Philadelphus well. They were one of the first plants I put in the ground and form part of my cutting hedge of lilac and quince. However, they spend much of the year looking dead, and I am always on the verge of just accidentally pulling out the sticks. But if I look carefully, once in a while, maybe around June, there are flowers. Not many, and perches at the top of six foot of bare branch, but all the more precious for that. 

Ah, the beautiful Daucus carota. A true favourite. I don't cut much of it in flower because I adore the seed heads so much, but I made an exception for this one. I have grown 'Dara', the redder version of the native wild carrot, so there is the inevitable mixing and matching. Every so often, a plant comes up that is almost burgundy. This one, right outside my studio door, is perfect. 

One thing I realised when I drove up to Sunderland last weekend, taking in at least four different motorways, is just how many ox eye daisies there are in the world. Drifts and drifts and drifts of them, going on for miles and miles and miles. I wondered whether they were single handed holding up communities of insects, for high summer at least. 

I don't care how ubiquitous they are though, they never fail to make me smile. Now I just need to persuade my husband to stop mowing completely and then I can have meadows of them. 

This is a rather strange inclusion because it has been flowering since February but this Erysium (a perennial wallflower) is just incredible. In the dark days of early spring, it kept cheerfully going, and it is still happy as anything in the height of summer. 

Last but not least, the Briza. Both B. maxima and B. media are looking incredible although a photograph doesn't do it justice; it really does quake. A little video on the members IG if you fancy seeing it in all its glory. 

B maxima is also vying with the Aquilegia to be the first big seed harvest of the year. I can't wait to fill up the jars and start the whole wonderful seed saving process again. 

If seed saving is on your moral and economical to do list this year, a blog post here on covering the basics.