weeds

Although it's often sadly neglected, I'm happy to have a back garden. It gives somewhere for the dogs to run outside whenever they like and, for the most part, weeds to prosper and grow. As I understand it, a weed is merely a plant in your garden you didn't plant yourself, so in the interests of equality, so long as they do no harm, I feel they should have their chance as much as any.

Happily, encroaching bramble aside, the weeds in the little corner of my garden pictured above are mostly fennel and lemon balm. The beat up old chair is where I occasionally perch on a sunny afternoon or evening with a guitar and a cup of tea, or occasionally something stronger; a pleasant way to while away forty minutes or so as the world slips by. I'm conscious of trying not to disturb the neighbours too much, but none of them have ever complained. Yet.

Not weeds are the six sunflowers currently in bloom. Yes, there are six; all but one are runts, two are particular runts. By random chance, I picked up a packet of seeds whilst tailing my wife around the supermarket on one of our occasional provisioning runs (used to be called the "weekly shop" but it's anything but weekly these days). I then much later remembered I had them, planted them far too late, and nurtured and watered them until the few survivors were hardy enough to put into the ground.

Of those, these are the very few that survived to maturity. Of sorts. Even the runts came into flower, so I'm counting that as a win. I'm inexplicably proud and, like my children, irrespective of their faults, quite fond of them all.

I have tomorrow evening off, I think. But then Saturday is busy, with a Laser Open meeting at South Cerney, followed by a gig at a new (for us) venue in Bristol Saturday night. Sunday morning will be an early(ish) start and a trip down the road to Brixham with Dad to spend the day with Petrella. The forecast for Sunday looks quite benign, although a little vicious either side with heavy winds forecast for Friday and then Monday and through the week that follows, but whether or not we take advantage of the lull and get her off her berth, out into the bay and actually, heavens forbid, manage to sail, or merely spend the day pottering about, working on the many little jobs whilst she continues to rest in the Marina, remains to be seen.

I'm keen to get her out, albeit quite nervous of the idea; it feels like the last necessary step before I can really consider her to be mine. But there isn't actually any need to rush. The chance will certainly come.