We have reached an officially measured total of 21.2kg/46.6 pounds of harvested plums. This is the all-time record haul since it started bearing fruit about fourteen years ago (we forget exactly). I think the insects can have their fill now, I’m feeling plummed out.
How unexpected, I thought, as I saw this rose poking up, alone, from the undergrowth at the edge of the Memorial Garden. Then I saw it was not a rose. Plastic bag? A couple of bright red serviettes from one of the local eateries? To be honest I didn’t check. I took a photograph of it though.
After yesterday’s smorgasbord of photo opportunities, today was the first photowhack for a while — that is, this was the only picture I took today. But it is representative; the plum tree is needing some serious attention at the moment. Current rates of production are over a kilogram, or 2.5 pounds, every day. If you want some plums, take them off our hands, please.
The insect was after the nectar. The flower wants its pollen moving on. I wanted the blackberries, the seeds of which will in turn be distributed. We all get something out of the transaction.
A bit more sunlight today — hardly high summer though. Heatwaves are just something other people are having. The buddleia seem happy, however, and there were plenty of butterflies around in the garden this afternoon.
Our nine days in Scotland come to an end. A fine trip, although a lot of driving — all by me — including today’s six-hour stint from Dundee back to West Yorkshire. Over the last two years this has become a familiar journey, and we know where to stop for tea, lunch, the toilet, etc: and also photo opportunities, as I can’t shoot whilst driving. Broughton, a little village nestling in the Scottish Borders, has become one of those spots. There’s a great little tea room just to the left of this shot. This house has a pleasing look to it but yes, the straight line on the left (coming off a telegraph pole I presume) does bother me.
More plants, but there are a lot of them around at this time of year, particularly after the healthy mixture of sun and rain which has characterised the last three weeks or so. You were getting something from house or garden today in any case, as I never left the vicinity. But work is nearly done.
Third post in a week to be taken in the garden, but it’s still sunny and there’s not much else going on that offers a change of scene. This tennis ball has been sat pretty much in the same position for weeks now, and both Clare and I have acknowledged that neither of us have the slightest idea where it came from. It offers an opportunity for a still life, nevertheless.
Hmmm, a Saturday with no football (yes, OK, I’m aware that there was something going on in London along those lines, but you know what I mean). And the sun was shining. And there was work to do in the garden. All these things made a relaxing afternoon picnic, with wine, just the right thing to do. (Those are my feet, yes. Clare is unseen to the left — I didn’t drink the whole bottle myself, you know.)
Another one of those recurrent, annual subjects. Our plum tree definitely has years off — and 2022 was one — but this year there’s going to be a decent crop. Previously I have referred to these as plumlets but for some reason ‘plumlings’ came to mind this time round, which I feel is definitive.
Being 42 