Gold fishing and other things…

Gold fishing and other things…

The lovely stars of borage droop down beneath the frost

It looks as if pure gold is raining down on the potting shed, thanks to the autumnal colour of this Acer. I love the way that the peach leaves are just peeping over the wall of the walled garden, hinting at what lies inside. In this picture the scattering of moss looks rather romantic, appealing even. Not so in the glasshouse. Martin and I were holding up Fort Moss today, painstakingly scraping the moss from between the glass panes. Too much pressure and the glass cracks (as I found out today) too little and the moss stays stubbornly resolute, forcing apart the glass and letting water pour in.

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Thought I would share my view from the top of the ladder with moss dripping from every broken seal. It was only when the step ladder began to wobble and shake that I remembered my fear of heights. I visualised the moss as spongy grass on terra firma and ploughed on.

Martin, it has to be said, has a greater endurance for one task than I. While I flitted between pressure washing, clearing another polytunnel, making endless to do lists and weeding, he stuck with the moss. This glasshouse will have no choice but to sparkle.

At the end of the day we peered into the water butts, but couldn’t see the fish. Apparently every water butt has one. A Head Gardener many moons ago thought that a fish in each tank would control pests by eating eggs laid on the water’s surface. A novel idea, but what about the lonely goldfish? According to Adrian, in the summer months when the water was low there were difficult decisions to make between watering or fish comfort. I know which I would choose (but don’t tell the fish!) I propose releasing them in the lake and giving them a new lease of life before I have to face any plant/fish dilemmas. The moss must have really gone to my head because I’m imaging the Walled Garden Fish Gang finally meeting up like a family reunion and the accounts department in Mayfair scrutinising the receipt marked ‘child’s fishing net.’

Only at Brent Eleigh.

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Light glances across these four chairs in the chapel, as if they were gathered in prayer.

Have a lovely weekend. Sending peace to you from the garden x

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