Yes, lavender. Five different kinds of lovely lavender. It grows in the south of France. How hard can it be to keep it alive. And, unlike the petunias, they are perennials, so no need to worry about what to put in this spot next year. (“Next year” is my new mantra. Next year I will put in raised beds for veg and do the job right. Next year I will have lots of lovely daffs and tulips. Next year I’ll plant this and I’ll plant that. Next year.) Not to mention the potpourri I’ll be able to make if I ever get around to it.
As I sit down to admire my lavender, Sally drives by, stops to tell me how much she loves the bench. Not half as much as I do. It’s so comfortable. (Now, of course, Mike wants to get into the garden. Where was he when I was doing all this work?) When I look back at the lavender, there are bees all over it. Yes!
Okay, I’ve completely failed to grow any food from seed. (The lettuce and rocket haven’t actually died yet, but nor have they grown to edible size and I very much suspect they never will.) But there will be food produced.
Look!
The tomatoes are ripening.
And what’s this I see?
My first pumpkin.
The red pepper plant teases me.
Yes, it’s all very exciting, but I’ve been here before. What are the odds this pepper will actually grow and turn red before it rots? Experience teaches me the odds are slim. However, I shall hope for the best.
And, of course, there are the blackberries.
Nought to do with me, as I’ve admitted before. The blackberries were growing here long before we bought the house. Still, it’s my fruit on my property, so good for me.
Can you eat lavender, I wonder? Tempting to e-mail Rowan about this. Not, I’m sure, that she will say lavender is edible. But no doubt she will suggest lavender water, lavender oil, probably lavender beer. (God knows she seems to make wine and beer out of everything else.) Hmmm.
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