I have spent most of today in my garden. It is mild outside; the birds are singing and the air is soft and fragrant with damp earth and rotting apples. And the fragrance of roses..
The jasmine is taking over all available space; I don’t want to cut her back, but I think I should.
The figs keep on growing, but I don’t think many more will ripen this year. I’ll leave them on the tree a little bit longer, just in case they feel like giving me a surprise.
Lungworth, primula and strawberries are already in bloom. It is December, but I don’t think they care.
Meanwhile, the Arum Lily is dreaming of large white flower spikes.
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