Brain insufficiently engaged to think of anything interesting to write, I have decided to fill what would otherwise be a blank space with some photos from my island garden. Still mourning the loss of my White Garden, which was a challenge (it was even plagued by obligingly white weeds, in the form of rampant greater bindweed) but (when all was going well) a source of great delight, I seem to be 'moving on' via a pinky-purple sort of phase - mainly in pots, it has to be said, since this is not to be a permanent abode.
'Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram;
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
And with him rises weeping.'
Shakespeare, Winter's Tale IV.iii
'I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.' Robert Bridges, Testament of Beauty
'It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves.' Robert Louis Stevenson
'O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies in herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities.' Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, II.iii
'Land of the hill and heather; Land of the awful weather; Land where the midges gather - Scotland the brave.' (The three white ceramic objects behind the lump of driftwood, to the right of the rope, are from a dismantled telegraph pole on the Isle of Mull, 'rescued' from the side of a loch, one chilly springtime eleven years ago. This is the first time a 'use' has been found for them - and even now their utility is somewhat debatable - but I hope they will feel at home near the lovely spiky heather.)
'It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves.' Robert Louis Stevenson
'O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies in herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities.' Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, II.iii
'Land of the hill and heather; Land of the awful weather; Land where the midges gather - Scotland the brave.' (The three white ceramic objects behind the lump of driftwood, to the right of the rope, are from a dismantled telegraph pole on the Isle of Mull, 'rescued' from the side of a loch, one chilly springtime eleven years ago. This is the first time a 'use' has been found for them - and even now their utility is somewhat debatable - but I hope they will feel at home near the lovely spiky heather.)
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