Authors Electric

    The hosta that grows in a pot near my kitchen door. The pink petals have fallen from the climbing rose above. I was told that hostas grow best in damp, shady places and don't like growing in pots. I suspect I was told wrong because this hosta is living its best life-- in a pot, in the sunniest, warmest spot in my garden.  It's starting shooting up arcs of delicate, bell-shaped, lavender coloured flowers.  Another view of my garden in all its scruffyness. Seed trays piled on the bench. A watering bucket making the place look untidy.    This peaony -- paeony -- peony is called 'Bowl of Beauty.' No argument from me. And it's a sight easier to spell than 'peony'.     The herb trough - marjoram, thyme, sage -- and a tiny olive tree poking up at far right. It is now covered in miniscule yellow flowers.  The yellow flag in the pond.  The roses, hanging in swags from their broken arch. Light through hazel leaves, and the roses... Writing? I ...

   The colour of Autumn.   Pink and blueberries, ripening   Still green, dripping with rain.   Madonna. The intense perfume drifts after you around the garden.   Raindrops on dahlias.

          'Lucifer' in the garden. Love Lies Bleeding Loosestrife... Lose Strife? Susan Price's website

Deep mid-winter... That was last month, January. And ( above ), the footprints of our resident wood-pigeons mingle with mine. They'd come down to trample the snow right outside the kitchen door because they were tired of waiting for us to put out seed. Now it's February and, like gardeners the ledth and breangth, I'm starting to think about seeds. Tomato seeds and sweet-pea seeds especially, in trays, on the kitchen windowsill. Seed potatoes in old compost bags. Leaf mould. Mulch. I think gardening takes up more of my time and energy these days than writing does. My garden is the usual grey, dreary, untidy, depressing winter mess -- but here and there are snowdrops and cyclamen. And big, fat green buds on the narcissus. A slightly nibbled Christmas rose. But then, being nibbled a bit is what this garden is about...  A wood mouse, who lives under the bonsai apple tree. Some of the nibblers come and impatiently knock at the kitchen door.  Look at the grump on that face. ...