Making hay while the moon shines

Well, not exactly, as the moon was extremely new and very small and barely shining enough to provide light, but a few days ago, on a couple of occassions,  the local farmer was cutting the hay in the early hours of the morning.  With all available windows open, due to the heat, I not only heard the activity but could also smell the newly cut hay, carried in the warm air. In the early evenings  the roses under my front window and the petunias in the window box fill the room with their perfume and, not so long ago, it was the hesperis (or sweet rocket) doing the same at the back of the house.  I've lived here for 35 years now and it wasn't long after moving in that the hesperis made an appearance, and has been seeding itself around ever since.  Now it's all white although, at first, there was also the pale mauve and sometimes a darker mauve.  I make sure that I'm not too eager to cut it down after flowering to enssure it continues to drop its seeds, and to fill my garden with its wonderful perfume for many more years.

I've been enjoying this long awaited summer, but it's been hard work keeping up with the garden and plot, what with all the pruning back and weeding and, of course, the watering.  Yesterday I made an early start on the front garden, which I had neglected, followed by a long housework session, a visit to the shops carrying far too much back and, finally (so I thought) tackling a load of ironing.  Last night I was down at the plot just before 9pm, surprising Rhubarb Brian who asked "What are you doing here at this time?"  It had been a very busy day and despite the fact I'd had a bit of a zzzzzzzz after my evening meal, I suddenly decided to cram in yet another 'to do' item on my list.  The theory was, instead of putting off the watering until early today (before the heat got up again), I could then look forward to a relatively job-free day, for relaxing, reading or making jewellery.  It wasn't a good idea though, as I was far too tired and hardly slept a wink.  Every joint in my body ached and I had a bad case of restless legs.  So, as I write this, I have already been up since 5am.


I've been on two good walks over the past couple of weeks, the first around the Wetton Mill area in Derbyshire.  The meadows are magnificent at the moment, especially the buttercups.  My favourite - the cranesbills - were just coming into flower.  I've got quite a few different varieties in the garden although not as many as I used to have.  Can anyone tell me the name of this plant which was growing in garden wall, in one of the villages?  Very pretty.
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Last Tuesday afriend took me to Upton House (NT) . After strolling around the gardens, lunch was taken sitting in the sunshine, then a look around the house, made all the more enjoyable by a gentleman playing the saxaphone, followed by tea and cakes. I just couldn't resist yet another photo of a walled garden, with rows of perfectly formed lettuces.  We drove home with the windows down and Joe Cocker at full blast.  Perfect.

The next day Mollie, Frank and I did our own thing, instead of joining the rest of the walking club.  It was Frank's walk, and an excellent one it turned out to be.  Although it was a rather overcast and humid day, it was probably better for walking than if the sun had been blazing down on us.  We started out from Eyam in Derbyshire, up over the moors,  and towards Bretton Clough.  The moor was purpling up with heather, and swathes of white cotton grass.  Back over the moors again and down into Eyam where we sat outside enjoying local ice creams before visiting the church.  A lady was busy flower arranging in preparation for a relative's wedding, using David Austin roses from her garden.  I recently planted 'Summer Song', bought from the David Austin stand at the NEC Gardeners' World show.  My cousin had sent me some money for a rose in remembrance of Michael.  After a lot of thought, and help from my d-in-l to be, we decided to go for a bright colour (orange) and the more upbeat name, rather than something such as 'Compassion'.  Mike enjoyed singing and had a lovely voice, and as the anniversary of his death is fast approaching, this rose seemed just right.  It certainly represents this hot and sunny summer weather and, of course, it smells good too.

 It had been some time since I last visited Eyam.  I used to live in Sheffield, and after Mike and I married, we moved into Derbyshire.  I could hop on a bus with the kids, and a few stops later we were in the Peak Park.  I remember a visit to Eyam with the 'Latin Club' from my grammar school.  The walks had nothing whatsoever to do with Latin, but were led by the Latin teacher.   The Latin teacher and the history teacher were having an affair of sorts, and whilst they met up together during our lessons, we were occasionally told to get on with drawing plans of Roman villas.  I was very good at drawing plans of Roman villas.  I was hopeless at Latin.  Strange, isn't it, that I use botanical Latin with a certain degree of ease, which I put down to a passion for plants.  I suppose those Latin classes have also had some bearing on my interest in etymology.  Now, if I'm not mistaken, etymology is derived from Greek!

Like my fellow blogger, Hazel, I have been enjoying the new season's veg from the plot, including broad beans and courgettes, and the first few tayberries.  I've picked all the redcurrants, and at the same time pruned back the bushes.  The  first batch of redcurrant jelly is made, and there are more currants in the freezer for the next session.  Last year I had just one or two gooseberries on my new bush, but I've just picked enough this time to make a decent crumble.  I'm looking forward to my first peas which wont be long before they are ready to pick. 

By now, ' the streets are aired' as my Mother used to say, so it's time I made a start on my day of relaxation.