Another day of domesticity yesterday. I cleaned the flat, took the sheets to the laundry, archived my photos and took a walk to the cemetery in the afternoon. The ornamental plum tree outside the chapel is blooming away, as is the one in our garden.
I wanted to go see the daffodils at Fortune Green. It was an annual ritual for Olga to visit the daffodils and meander through them willy-nilly. To my eye, they look a bit forlorn and lonely without Olga trampling them.
The wild primroses are blooming in the cemetery, as they always do. I learned something new the other day when I referred to the Primulas in our garden as primroses and Gwynneth corrected me. Apparently wild-type Primulas are primroses, but cultivated hybrids are properly called Primulas. Thus, all primroses are Primulas, but not all Primulas are primroses. Have I got that right, Gwynneth?
Speaking of cultivated Primulas, I passed a trash bin in the cemetery that had about eight of these battered plants in it. Someone had obviously swapped out the annuals on a grave, but these plants didn't look quite done to me. They have so many flower buds still coming! So I grabbed the three healthiest-looking ones (and one sad fourth one) and brought them home and put them in a planter.
After deadheading, here's what they look like. Steve's Pant Rescue Service strikes again! If they survive their trauma they should keep blooming through the next month or so, at least. They may even survive to bloom again next year. And they were free, except for the cost of the Miracle Gro potting compost I put them in.
And speaking of plant rescuing, here are the teasel seedlings I plucked from that seed head a couple of weeks ago. As you can see, four of the six have survived and have little secondary leaves, so we may get some viable teasel plants.
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