Another hospital, another car park. Another dog if I’m honest, this only being Nell’s third day walking…

This is the tipping point of the year in the garden. In the lead-up to the solstice this hardly comes as a surprise…

The storm came in the night, rain in torrents, thunder, lightning – the full schamozzle…

That distinctly-remembered excitement of rosebuds on an evening walk along the garden path can surely be no more distant than a week ago?

If any colours could be said to ZING in the garden in June, it’s neon pink and chartreuse green…

Some creative folk experience the phenomenon of synaesthesia, where the experience of one particular sense becomes linked to those of one or more of the others…

The advantage of the paeonies being late is that garden time has been concertinaed and, this year at least, there’s a crossover with the roses…

Another season when the lack of rain is saving us from manky forget-me-not syndrome…

Most of my paeonies were sulking last year. A couple of reluctant, albeit fabulous blooms from Sarah Bernhardt, and a load of no shows…

I should be looking at the rosebuds. We’ve waited for them long enough and now here they are…

This is how it begins. The swaying and the sparkling of late June – golden oat grass (Stipa gigantea) catching the sun…

A kind friend sent me some snips this week. And not just any snips, fancy schmancy, Japanese if you please snips, from the awfully nice people at Niwaki…

The sky, wary of spoiling us with a surfeit of sunshine, decided to dump a few week’s worth of rain on us yesterday…