Tuesday 30th July

 It's half past eight and I've just come in from a little wander around the garden. It's that time, neither day, nor dusk, somewhere in between,

‘There is an hour just before dark, when the garden resents interference. Its work, no less than the gardener’s, is done. Do not meddle with the garden at that hour. It demands, as all living creatures demand, a time of silence...’

This is the opening line from "Gardener's Nightcap" by Muriel Stuart, a keen and knowledgeable gardener and poet, written in 1938.

A book which is a 'soothing tonic to be taken in small doses just before bed'. It's been reprinted by Persephone Books. I had a copy, but I think I eventually persuaded myself to part with it to a gardening friend.

The area under the apple tree where two friends and I had tea together this afternoon, seated in a sort of shady green bower and cooled by a very slight breeze

A lone agapanthus. I had three big pots of them; lost two in the winter and split the other which was completely pot bound. They prefer to be confined, but then always sulk for a year when they are re-potted. 

The Last Bean is still standing, with it's barrier of Sarah Raven slug deterrent pellets still seeing off all marauders.

 

None of the photographs are well lit - but that's how the garden is now; one can almost hear it sigh with relief now the sun has gone completely below the trees and woodland behind the garden and the air is cooler and the colours are becoming more muted in the fading light.