was an accident a couple of years ago- well, I had
dug up plants before the frost to keep alive inside over winter. Only
trouble was, it took so long to warm up outside next year that plants were
already flowering, and I had runner beans some 2 months earlier than ever
before!

The cool, wet summer this year has been bad for vegetables, but I
had beans inside in July.

Pollination can be a problem - beans need Bumblebees; I leave one door open
every day, next to which is a bee-plant like comfrey or Viper’s Bugloss.

I did not mean to grow a potato. At least, not this potato.

I meant to compost this potato, which, when last we met, was a small and skanky object rolling about in the back corner of the veg drawer. It, obviously, had other plans for its future. Aspirations. Dreams, even. And who am I to stand in the way of potatoesque self-expression?

Especially when it means I can have my compost and eat it too, in the form of bonus potatoes.

Which makes compost better than cake.

Though not, of course, in all respects.

We tend to rumble along happily without too many tantrums or scandals. It probably comes from working with plants - as well as our even temperaments and rugged good looks.

However, it has to be admitted that we have a slightly two faced relationship with rain. We complain bitterly when there is too much and equally so when there is not enough.

The problem is twofold - firstly that we have absolutely no control over either frequency or quantity and secondly that, as with many things in life, there is no such thing as perfect rain.

To go and stand underneath an oak tree.

Speaking as someone who has a tendency towards queasiness I would always prefer to be in a garden than sloshing around in a boat. An unfortunate admission from somebody whose ancestors include a very distinguished First World War Admiral.

However, there is a place where the two collide namely in coastal gardens. These have their own individual problems in that they are often windswept and hot. They still need plants though and Natalie Ashbee (who is Cornish and therefore salty) has the answers here.

This is a Veronicastrum that has fasciated, which is why we now have something that looks like a dog’s tongue.

Fasciation is caused by a hormonal imbalance which is far too complicated (thank goodness) to explain in a one hundred word Twig. Could be bacterial, fungal or some sort of genetic mutation. Other plants affected include Delphiniums, Foxgloves, Primula and even cacti.

It is not fatal nor damaging to the plant so the best thing is to either ignore it or remove the offending shoot.

Some people like it, but they are just weirdos.

then the simple sweet pea would come out close to the top. Pretty simple to grow, abundantly flowering and a scent evocative of summer dresses and the clink of ice in long glasses.

I am talking, of course, of the annual sweet pea. There is also a perennial variety that scrambles through the more fortunate hedgerows. Keeps coming back, flowers beautifully, no trouble at all to grow.

As with all good things, however, there is a drawback.

No scent.

See it as a lesson in life - you cannot always have everything.

Geum Roses and Peonies were abundant, all looking magnificent. I could have happily moved into several of the gardens. The Olive grove in the L’OCITANNE garden readily springs to my mind.

I am now on the hunt for Geums and boulders. I think I might have more luck with the former.

Mrs Bradshaw may well be taking a sharp exit from several of the gardens in my care. I am thinking more of Geum Totally Tangerine.

And finally, Tom Hare a name that we should all google and remember, his willow sculpture was breathtakingly beautiful.