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Summer is now rapidly fading and in a few weeks time will be but a memory. For the best part it is has been quite a wet season here. When it hasn't rained we have endured dull cloudy days, but thankfully with warm temperatures. One of the results of the damp conditions has been prodigious plant growth and lots of very happy slugs and snails. At least watering hasn't been much of problem for me, even with many pots and tubs.
In fact, many plants normally left untouched by these predators have fallen victim this summer. Among the wounded have been ferns, hardy geraniums and even hellebores. My hostas are looking somewhat worse for wear, despite regular and more than adequate protection. A daphne odora in a pot has almost disappeared from view and is looking a very forlorn stick at the moment. But is still alive, so hope springs eternal. Many gardens in late summer have a blousy, tired look about them. Long gone is the fresh green of spring, when excitement and anticipation is at its height. But colour and texture abounds even in the dying days of summer.
The light at this time of year is mellow with a special quality not found at any other season. Whilst the end of summer is tinged with sadness, this is a time of year I always enjoy if only to see flowers and foliage bathed in this unique light. Those of us with smaller gardens suffer many frustrations in our attempt to grow all we would like to. Space is certainly at a premium and has to be made good use of at all times. Smaller gardens, however, do have one great advantage over larger, more spacious gardens. Gardeners of smaller plots can more easily achieve all year round colour and interest. My own tiny plot is certainly what I would term 'in your face'! Cheek by jowl everything certainly is, but I would have it no other way. It is also quite labour intensive, but no easy maintenance garden that I have ever seen has looked half as interesting. There are no hard and straight lines here, but rather a tangled cottage garden continually threatening to become a tropical jungle.
My garden if left to its own devices for only a few days can prove to be quite a shock to the system. A two-week holiday is almost unheard of and is a tempting treat that I wouldn't really enjoy. It would be a test of nerves and one I wouldn't win. So I am my garden's slave in all but name and the thought of entrusting its care to a friend or neighbour is just too unnerving to contemplate.
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