Tuesday, September 17, 2019
Just a Tuesday
The days are drawing in, getting darker and darker. The garden is well past its peak -- one buddleia is still blooming purple among its dead seed heads, one last red-hot poker is slowly fading, the inulas are done, the cardoon is entirely brown and listing to one side. Yesterday I picked a last handful of blackberries for my cereal.
When I mowed the lawn on Sunday I did some trimming and neatening, but I don't want to be too neat. Apparently it's good for bugs and critters to leave some dead and dying plants as winter hideaways. I haven't touched the wildflower area at all -- it's a tangled mess but I'm just going to leave it alone, so all the plants can go to seed and the insects can hunker down.
A few nights ago, while Dave was Skyping with his parents, I went out and sat in the garden in the dark. (I usually join in their Skype calls, but sometimes I like to give them space to catch up on family business more candidly without me there.) I never sit outside at night, for some reason, but it was really nice. The apartment blocks behind us were all lit up, and the sky was a dusky blue. I could even see stars -- not a lot, because it's London and light pollution drowns out everything celestial, but a few.
I've repotted our foxglove seedlings and lined them up atop the old mantelpiece on the patio. The squirrels can't easily get to them there. I'm not sure they're getting enough sun -- that spot is entirely shady -- but I don't know where else to put them so the squirrels can't rough them up.
Dave and I have been watching "Mindhunter" on Netflix. We really like it! I'm trying the second season of "Top of the Lake," too, but I don't like it as much -- it's changed settings from New Zealand to Australia, and now there is no lake, and the main character seems almost like an entirely different person. Where she was firm and certain in the first season, she is shaky and hesitant now. It's very strange. I'll probably stick it out, because I usually do, but I'm waiting for the magic to reoccur.
Oh, and Dave said a bird got into the house yesterday! We leave a living room window cracked open, and apparently a little tit flew in and couldn't get out again. Dave came out of the shower and found it flapping against the glass. Olga, lying on the couch, was completely confused. He opened one of the windows and it flew away unharmed. I've seen birds sit on that window frame before, looking for spiders and other insects that nest there, so I'm not surprised one took a wrong turn and flew inside. This is what happens when there are no window screens!