Late Bell

Twelve hours of travelling yesterday was enough to leave me in a fairly automatic state today. Get some washing done, get the lawn mown before the rain, tick off some overdue admin, unpack and put away, restart the usual rhythms of life. Enjoy the fact that you know where everything is and where everything should be. Cherish the growth since you left, even if it means mowing the lawn - the lawn doesn't have weeds, it has wild flowers, and a little moss softens the footfalls. The ants have raised low mounds that get shaved back to horizontal by the blade, provoking much scurrying and relocation of eggs. 

The blackbirds have stripped all the cuckoo pint berries that are anywhere near ripe - as I predicted they would. The Bramleys are swelling - some of the windfalls are big enough to cook. My fear that the grapes had failed to pollinate was unfounded - they are now swelling nicely. Vines are a strange plant in am English climate: late to break bud in the spring, late to flower, only starting to grow its fruit now that the sun is weakening and the days shortening, racing time to ripen it in the damp cool days of autumn; every year a lottery

The rain came just as I put the finishing touches to the lawn edges. Oh yes, one last thing: the need for a blip photo; that would have been a good thing to do while the sun was shining! No matter; I think the bell-flowers are enhanced by the beads. We call this Canterbury bells, but I think we are wrong. It is actually Campanula persicifolia - the peach-leaved bellflower. It doesn't roll of the tongue so easily, but is still one of my favourite flowers; it somehow radiates warmth and comfort - a welcome home