Not my garden but at the garden centre. First the bad news.
Drought. We’ve had hardly a drop of rain for weeks and weeks.
Deer. They’ve eaten all my phlox and sedums. Now I know why there weren’t any in the garden when I moved in.
Crocosmias. Crocosmias! I’ve already paid a man to spend most of a morning digging out the ginormous clump of ginormous crocosmias I hated so much. The damn things are like dragon’s teeth, though: they keep coming up again. Some of the corms are the size of a large baking potato. Grr.
Age. I was out in the garden at 8.15 this morning and when I came back indoors I felt twenty years older.
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