So the place to be this weekend, I know, was Glastonbury. Not for me. I spent it mostly in the courtyard garden, transfixed by a rose trémiere. When I started my blog, I was determined to avoid the ground that has already been covered elsewhere: elusive artisans, run-ins with French bureaucracy, keeping chickens and watching the vegetables grow etc But I have to make an exception for my holly hock, which I am convinced is breaking some kind of record as it pushes ever skywards [it is almost as tall as the house].
On Saturday morning, I looked out through the kitchen window and saw that it had finally bloomed: five, utterly thrilling, delicate little pink flowers. I am beginning to understand how people become so impassioned about gardening. In total, one hibiscus, two jasmine plants and half a hydrangea have survived from last summer – all in terracotta pots and with a minimum of care. Clearly these are the plants to focus on for those of us challenged in the gardening department.