...in chive buds and pansies that threaten to bolt.
And in roses that now hang heavily over the terrace, weighed down by wisteria.
The last few days have threatened rain but nothing much has happened, beyond the wind that tugs the roses to squeak against the gutters. The strawberries have set their first green fruit amongst economical leaves. The agastache, blue pride of summer, is reluctant in ts pot. Will it grow tall again, or is it toast?
How long shall I give it?
How long shall we give anything that does not please us with its progress?
(It was the Last Litter Mob yesterday, and I have yet to muster the will to post pictures, which look just like the first Litter Mob - hopeful and depressing in equal parts. I am suffering the hangover of Giving Up.)