Hot Lips, Nicole and Ginger

Here's our Salvia "Hot Lips," which blooms almost all year in our garden. I don't often take pictures of it but it's a stalwart, providing these omnipresent airborne clusters of little red and white (and sometimes solid red or white) flowers. They hover in the background off the patio like moths.

Let's check in with a few other garden plants, shall we?

Nicole the Nicotiana has bounced back dramatically since her bout with bad drainage and overwatering earlier this year. I thought she was dead but some little sprouts appeared at her base, and soon enough we had two new bushy stalks. It looks like we may get flowers again before autumn.

I discovered why she got waterlogged -- in addition to her pot's drainage holes becoming gradually blocked over time, the Russians' automatic plant-watering system (which keeps their terrace plants hydrated) leaks and sprayed a jet of water right down onto Nicole every evening.

"Those people drive me crazy even after they've moved out," I told Dave.

I swapped Nicole's position on the patio with our tomato (at left), which can always stand a little more water. Hopefully now she's in a drier location, in addition to having better drainage.

Incidentally, we have several green tomatoes on the tomato plant but still no ripe ones. This is always our struggle growing tomatoes here in the UK. It's not hot enough for long enough. But we're hopeful we'll get some before autumn encroaches.

Here's the ginger I grew from a sprouting root. It is not a thing of beauty and joy forever. It has a few new sprouts but they're all doing that weird rolled-leaf thing. I'm just letting it sit out there for now but its future is not guaranteed if it doesn't start looking better.

Our avocado tree, on the other hand, is looking lush and healthy. It loves summers on the patio.

And finally, here's the "magenta spreen lambsquart" I transplanted from crack in the sidewalk in front of the house. It's not very big -- certainly not the promised five feet tall -- but it's surviving and I love that little blush of purple in the middle. That yellow leaf belongs to the honesty plant at right, which hopefully will be big enough to bloom next year. This pot has a lot of weird stuff in it -- there are also the brook thistles, which have died back to the ground entirely, and several tulip bulbs. And some weeds, because I am not a perfectionist.

We got a beautiful card from former blogger Vivian Swift, who painted Olga's portrait several years ago. She expressed condolences for Olga's death and said "your internet community feels your loss," which I thought was very touching. "The impact she had on people she didn't even know is a kind of magic," Vivian wrote. "Closer to home, I am sure that your girl knew how much she was loved as the heart of your household, just as she knew that her sweet soul will always be cherished."

I think she really did know that.

I still miss Olga, but the pain of her absence has softened to something much more manageable. I'm not outwardly weeping or feeling that physical gut-punch, that almost-panicked gasping, like I was at the beginning. It still seems unbelievable that she is gone forever -- I half expect her to walk in from the garden or to hear the shake of her collar at the front door as she returns with the dog-walker. But I am coming around to the fact that she is truly gone in the physical sense, if not from our hearts.

I mentioned yesterday that I organized a quick trip for early next week, since Dave will be away and I don't really want to hang around the house by myself. Well, wouldn't you know, I am going to be traveling during a named storm -- Storm Floris, which is supposed to bring wind and heavy rain to most of the northern British isles on Monday. This doesn't thrill me, as I'm headed in that direction. Oh well. This should be interesting!