The turn of the summer
We have woken to rain. I have been hoping and praying for it. It started with a drizzle but overnight, it splashed off the thatch and onto the cobbles at the front of the cottage. A sure sign that the soil is getting a much needed drink.
The flowers are slowing. Less from the time of year I think, more from the harshness of the summer conditions. Even the anticipation of rain seemed to perk them up though, and the dahlias seemed to produce more buds throughout the day. Not enough for my urn in the church though; my turn on the flower rota always falls in my peak dahlia season, but I had to raid my mother’s garden this year. She has more mature anemone plants, a shady, walled garden, and she waters more diligently than me.
But it’s an ill wind that blows no-one any good, and the flowers going over mean that it has been an absolutely bumper few days for seed saving. I have trays of echinops seed, and bowls and bowls of weld. Many of the early summer flowers have already been collected and stored, and I am running out of space in the seed fridge.
Which means what is left is all for me. I still have cosmos by the bucket load (I forgot how much I adore the scent of cosmos foliage) and I do still have high hopes for my younger dahlia bed. The Madame Alfred Carrière which grows on the estate fencing at the end of the kitchen garden, always the first of the year to flower, is book-ending the season by sending out a last flush.
One might have to look harder for the jewels at this slower time, but they are there.
