Ramblers, climbers and vines

The New Dawn is still blooming. It did not have its best year. That would have been two Junes ago, when they lived in the mist for the month of June. Now, with falling petals,  I vacuum the terrace. Really. The Iceberg has the worst blackspot of its life. Not for nothing is blackspot part my blog's 'manifesto'. Right now the rose is three quarters bald. It may work for Frenchmen but it doesn't work for roses. The truth is, this happens every year. But I forget.

I have been deadheading it scrupulously, giving it a chance to bring on a second flush, for you know who (I'm not supposed to talk about it anymore)...I am having rash thoughts.

I am very happy with Etoile de Violette. I find large-flowered clematis stunning, but these simple, wilder, older flowers appealed to me a bit more, as did the longer season of bloom - after its peak it will rebloom into September.

And on the roof the cucumbers have taken off, at last. The melons show some promise, too: At least four of the 'Sugar Babies' and three of the charentais grown from seed seem to be hanging in there, though the last are still small. I think hot weather will cure that. Frank's tomatoes are thriving, my seed-grown ones are catching up - and I will be inventing a lot of tomato-based drinks, sorbets, soup and salads, come...late July? August? And then we will be sick of them. But for now...we have forgotten, and need reminding.