Despite all the wet weather we have had, I managed to find a flower of almost every colour of the rainbow.
The solitary tomato. I bring to tomato growing what Buckingham Palace brings to small garden sheds.
Every year I try and every year it is the same - one pathetically small tomato.
Oh they get fed, pampered, brushed with fake rabbit tails, everything.
The Farmer spied the tomato and said that he knew the secret. He even tapped his nose.
"Sheepie purlies in a sock"
I may covertly venture out to the field with a shovel, so desperate am I to grow a second tomato but it will be one of The Farmer's socks. I can never find mine.
Solitary, sulky courgette. It may get the sheep poo treatment with the other sock.
The fawn coloured squish round the greens are where our son 'helpfully' fed them with layers pellets for the hens.
The sun is half thinking about coming out today and I have fanciful notions of wafting with a trug whilst wearing a Panama hat. Alas, I own neither so will just have to waft.
A dung filled shed is staring me squarely in the eye as I write but I will ignore. Today's quest is for an infinitely finer class of poo.