Tuesday 29 September 2020

Squirrelling away

 During this spell of dry weather I've been collecting seed and harvesting any ripened produce from the veg garden. Its been a good season over all and it is a bit of a crush finding space to keep things. Most of the squash have been hardened off, but there are a few still growing outside.
























The shallots are small but plentiful, but I'm delighted with the red onions, they are the best size that I've ever managed to grow!
















There is a promising crop of oranges from the little tree that I bought in Corfu.










Everything looks a bit tired and bedraggled now. (As do I. I haven't had a haircut since last February, but this afternoon I'm going to have a couple of inches of hair snipped off and hope that I'll then look more presentable. Then I'll come back home and do some snipping in the garden.)



















































The flowers will soon all be over, there are just a few pools of colour here and there.













































































Cosmos 'Purity' is one of my favourite annuals. It is still performing wonderfully, this mass of delicate flower heads is from one tiny seed.

















I've divided the iris from the circle of planting that we refer to as 'the civic garden'. I had stuck in bits of box to form an edging, but as you can see, they didn't all take so I am going to have to fill in the gaps.





































The squirrels are being very busy stripping the walnut tree of nuts. Three of them in the tree this morning, giving not a care to me as casing and bits of shell come showering down. The lawn is full of holes where they are randomly hiding the nuts that they intend to keep for later!


13 comments:

  1. No matter the time of year, your garden is always wonderful. But late summer/early autumn is extra special, isn't it, with the abundance of colour, texture and harvesting.

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    1. Stormy weather here today and the garden is NOT the place to be!

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  2. Your conservatory looks like a greengrocer's arrangement! A bit more organised than your silly squirrels. They are rather unimaginative with their hiding places.

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    1. Those squirrels are gorging themselves on my nuts! Next spring walnut saplings will be popping up all over the place.

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  3. Hi Rosemary! :) Our squirrels here are doing the same thing. They're knocking down the acorns and pine cones from the trees. Have fun getting your hair cut! I always cut my own and then Alex comes over to even it out, I don't know why but I always cut it crooked, and always longer on the right! :)

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    1. I've been cutting my fringe but need to leave the main length to someone who knows what they're doing! I have to take my glasses off to cut the fringe and without glasses I'm as blind as a bat so you can guess at the result. I've been doing a not-too-bad job on Himself, but then there isn't much hair to mess up AND I've got my glasses on for his haircut.

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  4. What a beautiful garden - even as it's winding down. I'm a small town gal with an average sized yard. My gardening is done in pots, but still the squirrels dig in them every day - hiding the acorns our oak tree drops. I hope they have stashes in places other than the pots, because soon those are heading into the shed. ;^)

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    1. Yes, the squirrels love my pots too - as I discover each year when the small saplings appear!

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  5. I trust your hair-trim is only a token event. Nothing brutal. I believe your style is called a bob and bobs were a formative influence on the development of my personal aesthetic. Women's hairstyles play a prominent role in the 4½ novels I've written. I fear, but do not know for certain, that bobs are less popular than they used to be which would be a shame. If this is the case I would be willing to support a campaign for their re-introduction.

    I am constantly researching details of women's clothing and grooming (trousers are a particular problem) since all my central characters are women. I long since drained my poor wife dry on the subject of feminine fashion and would welcome any previously hidden nuggets you are able to disclose. Especially on the sub-divisions of nomenclature associated with women's trousers.

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    1. Third attempt to reply - at some length! I shall test this first.

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    2. Ah, today it works!
      Yes, I am no longer a raggle-taggle gypsy as now have a good couple of inches chopped off my hair into something approaching a respectable bob - of which there are many still about. Interesting that you use women's hairstyles in your writing. I think most women feel that their hairstyle defines them.
      I know diddly squat about fashion. The first pair of jeans that I owned seemed something of a novelty to people. Adults thought themselves very witty when saying, "if those are Jean's why are you wearing them?" I was brought up in a confusion of clothing (war and post-war childhood) wearing my elder brother's outgrown kilts and boy scout trousers along side smocked dresses with Peter Pan collars. I do know that wearing the right colour is mood enhancing and that trousers, of whatever shape, can feel very liberating. (I could refer you to offspring who is fashion director for the Times.)

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  6. Hair as definition. Definitely. Here's a passage from my first serious attempt to write a novel, Gorgon Times:

    Her recommended stylist, Kylie, had black hair in broken-glass spikes and was pierced with studs, one apparently penetrating the skull above her left eye. Clare said, “You come well regarded but perhaps I’m a little aged. Can you do anything for me?”

    Kylie screamed with laughter revealing a ball of chewing gum nestling on her tongue. “Don’t fancy my spikes, eh? I can style anyone. What did you have in mind?”....

    Kylie said nothing and continued to feel out the contours. Finally she said, “I could do better than that.”

    “Would it be… extreme?”

    “Nah, not that. See, you think you’ve got a thin face, don’t you? It’s really oval. Quite pretty once it’s freed up. But I need to streak a mix of colours - ” She raised a hand to forestall Clare’s quick alarm. “Nothing strong, just subtle highlights. Then I want a sideways line to take away the dull old balance. Tell you what: if you don’t like it pay me a pony and no tip. But you’ll like it.”

    Trying to remember whether a pony was twenty-five or fifty pounds Clare was persuaded by Kylie’s confidence, her topological analysis and the way she conveyed – mainly by hand movements – what she intended to do.

    And here it was, a transformation that Clare had covertly inspected many times during the past few days. Multicoloured high-lights, running from root to tip, varying subtly from light brown to dark gold, like trapped sedimentary layers in an exposed cliff. A sauce where cream and chili oil had been added and gently stirred, just once. Colours that simulated movement.

    But what really mattered was a lock of hair taken diagonally across her forehead towards her right ear, disturbing “the dull old balance”, proving her face was an ellipse not a cylinder. A line that transformed a merely adult face into an interesting secret.

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    1. Sorry, I got carried away and failed to respond to your excellent revelations. I was the oldest of three brothers and theoretically my stuff might have passed down. Except I never outgrew clothing, I always wore it out. Quite quickly.

      Trousers may be liberating, given that unkind winds must surely chill the thighs of those who wear dresses. But I found the word "trousers" inhibiting when attempting to grasp descriptions that conveyed the essence of a female character. It seemed such a male garment and thereby a male word. I looked for alternatives but was constantly brought up short by women who read my blog and my novels; no woman, I was told, had worn slacks since Katherine Hepburn in pre-war comedy movies. Jeans had their uses but not when my heroine was dishing out power in the board room (Which is, perhaps, a clue to my pro-feminist stances in fiction). And what genus did those tight-fitting Lycra tubes belong to? Leggings? A word I couldn't get on with.

      I asked many question and trawled the internet endlessly. Mostly to no avail.

      I wonder if your fashion director offspring with the Times ever brushed shoulders with the Times political editor with whom I shared a flat in swanky Gloucester Place. The age differences would make this highly unlikely.

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