The first asparagus. Not the chunkiest, but the supply was good. There have been vole depredations, so some crowns have been badly, or totally, eaten. But there was still a decent crop, and enough crowns in good enough condition to grow on for next year.
Didn’t grow these myself. Field beans, féverolles, thieved perhaps would be accurate, seeing as I’ve been filching them from a nearby field … little mini broad beans. Very tasty. The basket was a birthday present from Anne-lise, a basket maker friend.
The almost last artichokes prepared for cooking. I love having them, but have to say that I am less excited by eating them these days. The plants themselves, I still love. Beautiful, dramatic foliage and when the artichokes flower… well the bees just adore them. Any that are left now in the garden are for the pleasure of seeing bumble bees laying cushioned on the flower heads, drunk on the nectar.
Since I last wrote May turned into one of the sunniest, hottest and driest since records began. Frost seems a distant memory.
And here I am at the end of June wondering how to condense all of the wonder, beauty and opulence of the garden into a few sentences and a handful of photos… almost impossible, but here goes:
Verbascum chaixii at their peak at the moment. I’ve had to harden my heart and dig out some of these, else they would take over the garden. Asparagus fern mist behind them.
Geranium maderense flowering exuberantly. I first got this as a tiny seedling from someone st the plant exchange. I cosseted it; protected it from the frost, (the maderense part of its name tells you it’s originally from Madeira), worried about losing it… I needn’t have done. The original has gone, but it has self-seeded with abandon and has turned into a bit of a beautiful thug. It doesn’t transplant well except as a small seedling. I have left most of them where they are.
Looking back towards the house. Evening sun. The white foxglove on the right has been amazing. Kept now for seed as it was so vigorous and healthy. I’ve been uncharacteristically ruthless with the Foxgloves – previously they’ve lurched and stumbled and sprawled and I’ve said nothing… this year I’ve grabbed my secateurs at the first hint of collapse and cut them back to the base.
Alderman’ and ‘Blauschock’ peas climbing to the top of the frame. Verbena bonariensis in the foreground, yellow Verbascum behind…
Garden table with Fuchsia, House leeks, and Morning Glory.