Monday 6th July 2020, 3.25pm (day 3,238)
The scarecrow itself is long gone. But its boots remain, like a sort of imprint, or memory. I doubt they’ll scare the birds off much. But then again, nor do scarecrows, particularly.
What are we losing at the moment? There is no sport that is meaningful (meaning, played in front of spectators). I’m assuming that very little music is being performed or created; if it is, it’s not happening round me. Maybe some great novels are being born in all this crap but we won’t be seeing them for a while. There is only this endless banality, and if my blog is itself banal under lockdown, that’s the way of it. But the hedge on the allotment still needed strimming, and that’s Joe’s job.
The plum tree in the garden is warming up for one of its summers of abundance. It has hundreds of these little plumlets happily soaking up the sunshine. If you want fresh plums, come see us in August. Hell, you might even be able to travel by then.
One thing to be thankful for at the moment is that we have a garden, and now, the fact that it is a few minutes’ walk from the house is a boon rather than a burden. The plum tree has blossomed well: maybe this will be one of its glut years.
The Greatest Media Panic of All Time does not change the turn of the seasons, at least, not yet. it was time for the little potato people to get into the ground today, where (if past experience is any guide) they will stay in a kind of stasis until this time next year, when we will hopefully dig up about the same number and volume of potatoes to eat. If we get to the other side of this rupture, anyway. Here, Clare and Joe do the work, while I laze in the sun and document it.
Plums. We are drowning in them. Possibly not as many as the all-time Bumper Plum Year that was 2015, but after a final harvest this morning, the now-empty tree has given up at least 30 lbs this year (14 kg). Want plums? We have them.
Clare proves she is the person around the house to ask when anything resembling manual labour is required. Cooking? That’s usually me.
Quite like the focus and depth of field on this shot, better than usual but achieved by doing nothing more than having a camera with a better lens, as of Tuesday morning. This is the first shot where there is a noticeable difference.
The plants in the allotment are starved for water (as we will all be, if this weather pattern carries on a great deal longer), but this doesn’t seem to have affected the loganberry plant that went in last year and has fruited merrily this summer for the first time. This shot was taken with a long zoom into the heart of the plant, lit by the evening sun. Not quite sure what is going on with the strangely-shaped fruit in the centre but it might have been where one was not picked very well. Either way I like the effect.