Flowers I used to take for granted I now can't get enough of. This Fuchsia magellanica* and its delicate pendant drops of hot pink and purple grows in three spots in the garden, and I visited them again and again, snaring more slender branches for some blowsy flower arrangements. My mother had already filled two enameled tin jugs for the lunch table, and I interfered by pushing more fuchsia and honeysuckle into them and adding flowers to every surface I could find. Convinced it would continue raining I thought we'd have to dress up the carport, with its wood pile, bags of compost and antique, gleaming jaguar (car, not cat). But the rain held off, big clouds billowing high above us and the green plane tree.
This fuchsia is apparently hardy in the States down to zones 7-6. Loses all leaves in winter but emerges again. I think I may start rooting some cuttings.
A bit of Johan, Marlene, my dad...
Peter, and more of Johan. These two lovely men brought with them from their garden plot in Koringberg: a pot of their own bees' honey, four jars of olives, and several bottles of wine. In fact everyone brought wonderful goodies - better than a birthday. Late in the evening - and everyone only left well after 6pm, to my delight - I had some poached eggs on toast for an unnecessary supper, sprinkled with Lily's gift of hot red pepper, fresh from Istanbul.
The fennel was tossed with raw sliced lemon as well as salt-preserved lemon rind.
Red pepper mousse.
Herby chickens cooked in verjus.
My first crumble!
And at the end of it all, a cork, a gift, the flowers on the patio table.