The baby chard happily grows, waiting inside until things warm up — which going by the weather in the last few days, might be a while yet. I, on the other hand, just wait inside, not feeling like I grew much today, in any sense.
Not much to do other than look at plants again, and to save having a second ‘autumn colours in the mist’ shot in a row (though the woods looked good once more), let me instead document the reason why one of our gutters was overflowing onto the front step below. A garden cane with a fork taped to the end provided a solution. I bet you’re excited now… There went weekend no. 1 of House Arrest 2.0.
Ragwort, or Jacobaea vulgaris, is one of those plants that demonstrate environmental priorities. Its bitter leaves are full of alkaloids and poisonous to horses and cattle, so farmers are supposed to keep it under control and there are acts of Parliament that declare it, by law, a ‘noxious weed’. But apparently horses don’t eat it anyway, as it tastes vile. Meanwhile, it is highly beneficial to pollinating insects: indeed, for some, its their only source of food. So let that ragwort grow, I say. This large clump of it currently flourishes in a field above Hurst Road.
The second day in a row with an explicitly circular theme. The scene appeared during my first use of C’s treatment room as a work venue for a few weeks, in which time some changes have indiscernibly happened among the decorations and words to ponder.
A dull day in every sense. Also the last day of life for this chilli plant, which as you can see has put all of its efforts into this single great fruit, and spent itself like the one-hit-wonder pop group. The chilli went today into a very nice curry; and the plant, with our thanks, was put out of its misery.
This squash plant is growing on the window sill of our room. Now I’m no expert on botany, and it is true that one rarely gets the chance to observe flowers in such controlled conditions. But I have never seen a plant that blooms in such an ephemeral way. This flower had not opened at all last night: here is what it looked like at 8.30am. But it was already withering. By 11am it was visibly drooping and by not later than 4pm it had shrivelled away to the state of the one visible behind it — which had done all this two days ago.
I hope it got what it wanted out of its few hours of glory, anyway. You have to hope that evolution still knows how to build things that are fit for purpose.
The media narrative is that however safely we behave, we are not to be allowed outdoors. Like this new sprig of kale we are condemned to watch spring unfold outside, from behind glass. On the other hand this plant is probably more likely than us to get out before May: assuming we are permitted to take it up to the garden and transplant it, anyway.
I’m trying on here not to sound too bitter, but it’s not easy. These are bad times. If anyone in the future feels like looking back on this last month (and the month, at least, which is surely to come) with any kind of nostalgia or wistfulness then they will deserve all the contempt they receive.
Very little happened today — nor will happen for the next couple of days, so let’s see what can be done with the creative juices. This shot comes from my playing with the zoom lens in the garden. Would it be better without the second plant in the background? I like the juxtaposition of the two.
A day spent working at home whilst a series of bands of rain hurled themselves past outside — although the sun is briefly shining on this shot, illuminating the coming year’s seed potatoes as they start to wake up. We were all cosy in the warmth inside, not looking forward much to going out, if truth be told.
I try when I can to make these photos somehow epitomise the day, but this is an exception. I spent almost the whole day in a room interviewing job applicants. This is just a shot grabbed out of my office window, in one of the few bursts of light on this otherwise grey November Monday. But I like these natural feather dusters, Cortaderia selloana or pampas grass. Very 1970s. Then again so’s the building I work in.
