Wolf whistle

Usually our weddings have an ingredient list as long as you arm.  Not this one. Just two flowers. Roses and Ranunculus.  And for the florists reading.  Yes there is a touch of lilac Veronica.  I had to wing it.  It should have been flowering mint.  There was none.  So needs must.  It works though.

The roses, after sampling various peach numbers, came up with the following combination.Prima Donna, Peach Avalanche, Musette, Freedom,  and I’ve forgotten the name of the last one.

And mixed with the vintage glassware.  Gorgeous.  And for the ladies in the room at the moment I dropped one of the arraangements.  I apologise for the language used.

The wolf whistle?  A gent dropping off his young lady for a day at the fancy hotel.  The response?  Completely ignored.  Must be love.

 

Country Wedding

More from yesterday.  Now that’s some serious chalk work on the table plan.  And I adore the lampshade.  Another beauty from here.   There was camping too. And a hog roast.  I averted my gaze.  

The landscape, beautiful isn’t it.  And yet it’s spoilt by the dot on the lens. Or maybe that’s just because I know it’s there.

News from the plot aka Weed City.  Not in a marajuana way you understand.  More a sticky weed, dandelion, dock way.  The battle has commenced.  But you know there may very well be apples, and plums, and broad beans.  It’s looking good.  Although if I was aiming for the Good Life/self sufficiency thing, survival on a diet of rhubarb, chives, sage and a single asparagus may not cut it.  Who am I kidding I’d be dead by now.

Oh and Eurovision. Didn’t we do well. Working on the principle that we gain roughly ten points extra each year, we could very well win this by 2032. And one word ‘Romania’. That is all.

 

 

Flower Recipe

From today’s beauty of a wedding.  En route I passed castles, waterfalls and lots of sheep. Yes it was in Wales.

Recipe for success

Solomon’s Seal

Rosemary

Campanula

Lilac

Ocean Song Rose

Panicum Fountain

Meyers

Stocks

Astrantia

Ammi

Muscari

Bouvardia

Ranunculus

Wheat

Trailing ornamental blackberry

It’s a delicate list, no?  Am I disclosing all my secrets?  Ha.  I don’t have any.  Knock yourself out.  More to follow soon.  When I’ve slept.  And after tomorrow’s wedding.

 

Manchester Bluebells

Hello everyone.  Do you like the headline.  It’s often used, especially in the media.  Honestly.  OK, there are many headlines that start with the word ‘Manchester’ and usually followed with something catchy and really upbeat like…united, city…gangs.

Anyway, my point is we have bluebells too.  Having played at the office all day with flowers, I nipped over to the plot.  And played with flowers some more.   I don’t grow a great deal (wondering whether to add the word ‘yet’) ?  But what I do grow is so pretty.  The tulips? From recollection there was definitely an Angelique and possibly a Black Hero, and a mixed bag of super cheap numbers.

And then dinner. Tofu. The word doesn’t really do it for me.  It has connotations of hippy, tasteless mush.  But this was organic smoked tofu, fried with garlic, ginger and chilli. With English asparagus, broccoli, spring onions, cashews, rice noodles, soy, shaohsing and sesame oil. Oh my word it is the best thing I’ve eaten since… Saturday when I ate here.  Eat well, be happy.  Enjoy your week.

P.S  Montenegro to win Eurovision.

This much I know

There was an ‘incident’ at a pawnbrokers.  It called for flowers to make sure everyone ‘kept smiling’.

A call from Sydney was drowned out by the ambulance siren. It made the caller feel home sick, because the only siren’s she heard were shark.

Do you remember when railings where this dangerous?  There was a boy called Gary. In 1978. He wore very big flares. He gingerly climbed over, caught the hem and was speared through the foot.  Ah memories of childhood.  All rose tinted, no?  I kindly gifted him a box of Malteasers.  He took the piss for years.  I never understood that.

Much like the old lady who doesn’t like my flowers.  But still orders them.  Strange, but true. And yes, it’s too early for sunflowers.  But not for scilla.  I’m a soft touch.

 

 

 

Nicked

Did you see the stolen blossom?  Two little girls in the quirky cafe. Clutching their booty. Florists of the future?  Who knows.

Today was one of those days when someone suggests ‘lets go for a walk’. Five hours later you return with blisters and achy muscles.  But that little bit happier.  It’s good for the soul to wander and discover.  Though there are often moments of ‘oohhh look at that ornamental blackberry trail’ growing in the wild.

Discovered this new cafe. Well it’s only new to me because it’s never open when I want to visit.  But you’ve got to love a place that sells beetroot and ginger juices, and I’m a sucker for any salad that combines blueberries, pine nuts and mackrel.

There are no photos of the Mr Whippy, because that would just spoil the whole healthy fabulous image you have.  Or indeed the dog pooh sprayed with neon paint. Not sure I understand that thought process?  Pick it up? or ignore it?  Either way spraying it just looks kinda crazy?  This is how Harvey Milk’s career got started you know.  Thought’s of becoming a councillor and the rise to MP. Maybe I’ll just stick to the flowers.

 

Zou Bisou Bisou

A perfect morning.  Rhubarb, greek yoghurt and toasted almonds and pumpkin seeds.  Delicious. Give it a go if you’re overrun with the pink stuff.

Blue skies.  Breakfast in the garden.  A pant carousel (technical term). And THE most evil weed ever to grace the planet.  I go into overdrive when these are spotted at home.  Their roots can go as deep as five metres.  So you’re always on a loser once they’ve taken hold.

Wasn’t it such a perfect day?  Did you manage a moment?  A moment to sit and contemplate? To turn your face to the sky and breathe deeply.

And this.