What do you mean it is December already?

It seems like it was only a blink of an eye ago that I was telling you that Veronica had organised me into posting something onto the blog, every single day for November.

And you, my dear and faithful readers saw how well that went.

Giant patches of silence are good for the soul apparently.

So are flowers.

Flowers are good for my soul, the smellier the better. I swoon over a heady old fashioned Rose and Jasmine is delightful, but Daphne, oh Daphne how sweet you are.

Ever the garden optimist, I bought a Daphne in a small pot and to my surprise, it is going great guns. I had heard that Daphne was a tricky little plant to grow but it likes where I plonked it down, thinking I will find a better spot later.  I was rewarded for my accidental finding of the best spot ever, by a cluster of the tiniest smelliest white flowers and I was immediately transported to smellyplant heaven. So yay, I am successfully growing Daphne. The gardeners amongst you will be high fiving the air in front of their computers with me, BECAUSE DAPHNE.

The mid winter devastation in my kitchen garden wreaked by a hungry wallaby, has been repaired with a riotous rush of spring growth and colour. An ornamental fence, that I knew was little more than a psychological barrier, as well as a zappy hot wire has helped to keep the voracious wallabies at bay. Plus the grass in the yard is growing faster than the wallabies can eat it so a plentiful food supply temporarily keeps them away from my flowers.

I favour the Potager style of garden and so I have red poppies in with tomatoes, in with sage and oriental lilies squeezed in with Japanese iris, rocket, kale and pansies. The basil is in a pot next to the pink lavender and the mountain strawberries are inching towards the silver foliage of a small curry plant. Feverfew and lemon thyme, purple sage and a creeping prostrate rosemary are happily cohabiting and the garden is a riotous wash of jumbled up colour that pleases me greatly.

I generally let all my plants go to seed and then watch as they pop up in the strangest of spots, the following year. This year I am particularly taken with the structure and design of the rocket’s flowers. The patterning on the petals remind me of dragonfly wings and it is these small things that make me happy.

And the native bees seem to find the rocket flowers particularly appealing. I must remember to research what colour flowers the native bees like best and plant more of those.

 It has been a late season with a very slow wakening into spring, the honey bees are finally out and about, though their numbers seem to be lower than normal. I should be seeing fruit on the raspberry canes by now and eagerly anticipating Christmas raspberries but I think the raspberries wont ripen until mid to late January. So fingers crossed we don’t get searing heat that burns them all to buggery.

 I have been walking, sporadically and I managed to clock up ten kilometres of dedicated walking in November. The camera in my phone is playing up and so the photos were a bit ordinary and are languishing in a folder until I decide to delete them or edit them.

Harry as ever is my shadow and when he isn’t asleep with his head on my foot, or underneath the table in the studio I can find him snoozing in the sunshine.

Life trundles on, the garden is growing, there are pots to fire and plans to make. David is getting better, the grandchildren are getting cranky as the anticipation of Christmas heightens their natural exuberance. The Spouse continues to be all Spousey and I am the same as I always am, EASILY DISTRACTED.