dyfi sunbathing

The sunny spell did not materialise; we returned to continual rain. The grass in the front harden grew longer and longer and a friend gave me a load of horse manure which is still sitting [half of it] on the lawn. Phill valiently worked in the rain to move the other half to back garden beds. Then for two Wednesdays it was far too wet for gardening. But this week we have sun and the lawn got cut. And I even have the umberella over the table. Until now there was no sun to shelter from.

Yesterday friends came to lunch and we actually sat outside in the sun for quite some time.

This year I bought some chrisanthemum plants as now that the green house is up [courtesy of Oli and Julian and family] I can put them in there if the autumn suddenly goes wet — which has always happened to previous chrisanthemums just as they flowered. This year the flowered in spite of the rain and now I hope the sun will encourage them to flower again. I’ve picked the first lot to stand in my hall as I love the smell of them — the real garden ones, not those in pots that are sold in the supermarket and have no scent.

I took some photos at this point and was about to upload them when my electricity failed. It’s back now but I can’t find the camera. When I do, I’ll post some more pictures.

Silver

The other day when I went to feed the ducks I heard a peeping and saw two babies but no mother paying any attention. I put them in my pocket and then into the greenhouse with a nest of hay and an infra red lamp. Yesterday there was a third but this time in a house where mother was sitting but she had got off for tea. So I tested the remaining eggs, decided two were OK [they bobbed about in warm water] so threw away the rest and replaced the two and left baby. Today she is still sitting on the two eggs and the baby was outside so i put him with his siblings. It is the first time I have had a mother duck not care for her young but I know now the answer. The eggs are not hers. They belong to a mallard [tame] who must have been popping in to lay an egg a day while the duck was sitting already. Don’t know what became of her eggs. Anyway they are obviously hatching one by one and thus she has a dilemma.

I spent today manning a plant stall for the dog rescue place that I got Silver from. I wondered whether to take Silver as I reckoned there would be lots of peple [men included - her biggest bugbear] and she might need to take shelter all day in the car. But I hadn’t the heart to leave her when the others were so excited and she was joining in.
In the event she had a great day, they all three did. I made £44 on the plant stall and name-the-bear. And Silver got a red rosette as the prettiest bitch and suirprised everyone how much she’s progressed in a month.
And I sold a couple of my books.

Last week when Phil came to do his two hours I diverted him to the back garden. This was my original adventurous attempt 24 years ago to create a garden. As there is no top soli here, just basic mountain, I made raised beds with rich compost from mucking out the goat and ducks. Between these beds I put slate paths and for several years i was very pleased with the results and kept it in reasonable condition — rather like my father’s garden used to be, weedy and wild but full of flowers and birds. There was continual warfare between me and Daisy May the goat; she liked nothing better than jumping in to eat my plants. And I gradually annexed more of her field for lawn and flower beds. As she grew to middle aged to jump the fence, her kids took over and they were positively airborne.
Daisy May is no more and I’m getting a bit too arthritic for serious gardening so the lawn has been returned to her successors, three woolly lawnmowers and I am turning the garden into the most labour free garden I can dream up. No need to cart lawnmower through from the front. Flowerbeds are now fruit, rhodos and azaleas or big clumps of things that like to take over. It is work in progress [which reminds me I must get out there with weedkiller for the slate paths before the jungle takes over again] but ot is coming along nicely.
Also I am cat-less. All my beautiful young cats disappeared and I decided not to risk having more. I still had Bluebell who I inherited 6 years ago via RSPCA because her owners moved and she, having no brains, couldn’t understand about the new home and kept migrating back to the old house across the railway line and screaming on the windowsill of the old house at 2am. Her owners remained devoted to her and came every Christmas with a plant for me and goodies for the cats. This Christmas we arranged that she could go home as she is now too elderly to jump out of the walled garden. She is as happy as a sandboy being thouroughly spoilt and I have the greenhouse door outside my kitchen permanently open the first time in years [it was can feeding station]. It’s lovely to see the garden and encourages me to pop out and do a bit there more often.

Today is sunny and we are promised a dry spell. Phil is coming for 2 hours of doing what I can’t so we should have things looking good.
I shall then get back to bookbinding.

What I didn’t mention below was that during my overnight stay in London with a friend I managed to pick up a virulent bug and was out of action for several weeks. It was rather frightening but now I’m back to normal – ie. arthritic and with a somewhat idiosyncratic heart beat. The problem now is catching up on everything in the office that I neglected while I was ill. I can now at least see the surface of my desk.

At last I seem to be getting better although energy is still in short supply. This morning i managed to put up some posts and wire for my clematis. Last Thursday Phil came and repotted the agapanthus. It was terribly pot bound. An expert at Chelsea flower show showed some roots that looked like mine but in smaller pots. He said they like to be pot bound but I think there are limits. Mine were so tight they would not come out at all and when Phil hit the tub with the axe, it exploded. i didn’t have any replacement tubs so everything was on hold and the poor plants looked about as sick as me. i got some new tubs last week and now all are in their new homes and I’ve left them in full sun to mimic south africa and encourage them to regrow. Don’t know if I can rasonably expect my usual lovely show of sky blue flowers all the summer. Good thing there isn’t a society for prevention of cruelty to plants.

When I went down after my London trip, into the bog that is the home for the ducks at night time, I had a nice surprise. Six little babies. It will be interesting to see how they turn out as I suspect their father is the very posh black Indian runner drake. Last year everyone who sat on home laid eggs finished with rotten ones. I suspect that Sir Francis is firing blanks. The Indian runner gentleman resulted from some substitute eggs given to me by a friend.

The black runner duck with her babies.

I didn’t like the old screen as the words in sidebars were hard to see. Changed it to this and then had to spend ages trying to find where my picture of Bodyfuddau had gone. I think I’m satisfied now but tomorrow I shall have forgotten what I learned as I am on day 2 of a migraine so the blackboard will get cleaned.

Daffni

Welcome to my new blog. I have thought for some time that it should be interactive so I hope that is what I have done.