Having eulogised the plums and blackberries already this year — and for good reason — let us also add the glorious amount, and richness, of 2018’s apples as well — not to mention a second good crop of rhubarb. In this aspect, no one can complain about the year.
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.
I had another picture all lined up today, one of the continued construction Apocalypse in Manchester. But then in the allotment this evening this robin fluttered over, posed itself attractively and virtually demanded that I did its close-ups and become the second robin in a fortnight to feature on here. He’s certainly a plumper specimen than the ragged one in Morecambe. But how frustrated it might be if it could see the results. That crucial feather out of place…. like the open fly on the wedding photo? Well, maybe not quite so dramatic.
With no running water on our allotment we depend for irrigation there either on rain or on lugging up liquid from the house. The buckets are waiting… but the rain has not come. So the bottles go up the hill, again and again.
Our exertions of yesterday finished late enough to make crashing at the in-laws’ desirable. Morecambe was still a fine, sunny place this morning however. These flowers may, or may not, be columbines — the identification is hesitant. I like the one in the centre, though, just opening up, stretching its tentacles like a little octopus. Or pentopus maybe.
I’ve been moving around a lot in the last couple of months — Norway twice, Slovenia, Croatia last week — but apart from a couple of trips to London there will be no more of this until into August. So expect plenty of HB, Manchester and, when the local train service allows, the Lakes. It will give me a chance to show the progress of the summer, anyway. The arrival of the first mint crop in the garden is always a welcome one, as that means it’s also home-made mojito season.
With the extinction of pollinating insects being one of the more plausible end-of-the-world scenarios doing the rounds, it’s gratifying that this one has survived the cold snap and sees in our winter-flowering heather some pleasant sustenance. I like how it looks as if its little eyes are closed, though of course that’s not how insect eyes work. Gives it a look of contentment though.
Strimming the long grass on the allotment today I think I inadvertently took out this spider’s web: the remnants of it are visible to the left. It then had to put up with me sticking my camera in its personal space immediately afterward. I’m sure it’ll get over the difficulties; spiders have been on this planet a lot longer than us, and I’m sure will outlive us, too.
Another one of these time-of-year things, annual photographic events — you’ve seen this flower (wood cranesbill) before, not to mention insects plunging themselves within, to extract the bounty.
The garden is a riot of vegetation; only most of it is growing in places it shouldn’t, the consequence of a month of neglect. A weekend of agricultural labour looms. Attractive as it is this unidentified plant will be categorised as weed; its days are numbered.
