The temperature has dropped, the evenings are darkening, brisk breezes sweep the trees and knock my giraffe-like vine tomato Jeremy to the ground: it’s only just August but it feels like the best of summer is over and autumn has set in. Every day when I walk through the front garden another of our beautiful rose buds has opened and been immediately vanquished into a whimsical heap of sodden petals on the path. Still, interesting things continue to happen in the garden.
The rhubarb continues to produce, from which I have just made a delicious batch of rhubarb and ginger jam.
Jeremy is now about six-foot tall and has an abundance of admittedly small, green tomatoes. (‘You should snip the top off,’ advised Right-but-one Neighbour. I Googled whether she was right and came across a variety of opinions. The decision was made for me when the aforementioned autumnal breeze knocked Jeremy over and snapped the top off in the process.) Kate has also produced an abundance of green tomatoes.
Our beautiful, beautiful honeysuckle has transformed into a Christmassy tangle of berries and twisted wood.
The cosmos, which I grew from seed, has defied all slug attacks and continues to produce flower after flower.
The tiny salmon-pink geranium cutting that my grandmother gave me now looks like this:
And the spiky, orange-flowered Crocosmia* is flowering valiantly, although I suspect it would be happier in the ground rather than in a pot.
*There are five things that every single garden in Edinburgh, including ours, has: a rhododendron, a clematis, a crocosmia, a hydrangea (any colour), and a tall thing with yellow flowers on stalks (see below).