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 ...

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

 It's called 'Bowl of Beauty.' It's a peony and I had to have it. This is my mother living on in me. Her small garden was so crammed with plants that there wasn't a patch of soil to be seen. But there was always some other plant she had to have. My Dad lives on in me too, because I'm just as interested in the things that live in and around the plants. Last year, I was given a bee hotel. That's what the sellers call it anyway. I'm puzzled that, according to the sales catalogue, bees get a hotel, but ladybirds are housed in a barn, like back-packing hostellers. The little toe-rag caught in the act: Photo: Bernhard Plank   But, that aside... Since it was a gift, I dutifully opened the bee-hotel for custom but, being a pessimistic sort, didn't expect much from it. So I was surprised and delighted when several of the holes were filled by leaf-cutter bees, so called because they block their nesting-holes with the neat circles of leaf they cut from nearby ...

      Not many people get beyond this gate. But go on, you can come in.   Have a seat by the pond. There is water down there, somewhere, below the poppies. The birds and insects find it.    This fox-glove (below) self-seeded and started off quite modestly. Then it grew and grew and kept on growing, into a mighty tower of flower. It must like its position, on the shady side of the potted plum tree, because it's now two and half metres tall (eight feet).      It has been a great amusement to stand and watch the bumblebees work their way up this tower. They arrive in twos and threes and go from one flower to another. They vanish inside, but if you stoop and peer into the flower yourself, you see them working their way right to the back, with little scrambling legs. After a second or two, they reverse out and jump up, or sideways, to the next flower and repeat. Then away on their wings. Trouble is, they often head into our home-made greenho...