A weekend of rain.
Bow under the weight of water.
Green. Earth. June.
I’ve only got one gooseberry plant; it’s in a fairly small container and has been sadly neglected. Every time there’s a hint of a breeze in the wind tunnel that is my garden, it topples over. But now it’s rewarded me with some of its glowing green gems, so I know I have to repay it by finding it a new and safer home.
On the subject of the gooseberry – how to pronounce the word? One of the dictionaries I consulted tells me it’s:
‘gʊzbəri or ‘gʊzbri
but it could also be
(Apologies to experts if I’ve typed these inaccurately: it was quite difficult to find the right symbols.) I remember my grandmother using the first pronunciation, but my mum uses the last one, as do I. However you pronounce the word, they’re delicious!
Unbelievable! Brilliant blue sky and warm enough to sit out in the garden and drink raspberry lemonade.
Some long-overdue jobs tackled: more of my beloved pansies planted out (is it possible to have too many?); old plant pots tidied a little, though still quite messy; an enormous stump finally taken out of the ground (not by me!) to make way for a new hedge, of which more in a later post.
A lot of new life in the garden. I love this time of year: something different to see every day. Butterflies and bees passing through, quite high overhead; didn’t settle.
I did find a ladybird, a snail and a spider though:
…to rain and gloom.