Bells of Ireland

Normally, I’d be reluctant to start a sentence with the word “So”. It seems everyone and anyone has jumped on the bandwagon in recent years.

So, just to prove that I haven’t completely lost my horticultural touch, here’s a little thing I grew this year for the first time, don chéad uair.

It’s called Bells of Ireland, officially Moluccella, and it’s a dainty thing. I set a square foot of seeds, perhaps twenty in all, yet only a single plant made it this far. For that, I’m grateful. I’ve watched the bees flitting about it, but they usually don’t linger very long.

I had noticed the intricate veins on each bell. As the nights have become colder, the flesh has crumbled, and only the skeleton remains. I’m tempted to remove it to the compost heap, but I will wait to admire its final show.

I’ll also be able to look back at it on Instagram. You can too.

Instagram @paraigdeb58

Normally, I’d be reluctant to start a sentence with the word “So”. It seems everyone and anyone has jumped on the bandwagon in recent years. Have a listen to radio interviews and you’ll be shocked at the number of people who overuse the word. I’m screaming at my phone! STOP, in heaven’s name.

To clarify my use of the word, I have done so simply to be able to show what I mean.

P.

That Friday Feeling

That Friday feeling… Even in retirement, it’s mighty. I’ve managed to get to the end of another week!

That Friday feeling… Even in retirement, it’s mighty. I’ve managed to get to the end of another week!
Did you know? The normal lifespan is 4000 weeks. That’s a lot of wine.

P.

Oh, What a Leek!

I grew leeks from seed last year, probably around March or April. They were planted out in late spring and by January of this year they were ready to harvest. I did enjoy some of them, but for some reason unknown to me, I decided to let them go to seed.

The bees have been having a field day.

At this stage they are beginning to topple over, so I’ll clear them out to make way for something else.

P.

The July Garden

Since last Saturday, it’s been ferociously hot. I’ve been up to my tonsils watering. Yes, I’ve made a note-to-self. There will be less pots next year. What was I thinking?

Anything over 25°C is very uncomfortable for me, and I’d be inclined to think that if plants could count they agree that 25 is enough.

Regular readers of my GrowWriteRepeat blog will be able to continue reading my updates here. Of course, they don’t yet know that it’s here, so I’ve a wee bit of homework to do. As my Welsh gardener friends would way, a diddy bit of work to do.

Slán go fóill,

Páraig (aka Baldylocks & The Three Hairs)

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