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It was raining very hard on Saturday and in the early hours I pictured a scene of devastation.
This year seems to have been the most disastrous that I can remember as far as gathering crops is concerned.
A parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string arrived in the post last week.
A man is coming today at the behest of my neighbour to take down the fence along the length of the garden.
Plants in the garden often trigger a memory and this week one flowering climber is reminding me of holidays in Italy.
Twice in recent weeks there has been reason to ponder on the problem of the job you have to do before the one you want to do.
This is the time of year to get down to the garden centre and buy a few bags of bulbs.
A riverside park in Caversham will be teeming with mädchens with fists full of steins as Reading is treated to a taste of German beer.
September is a good time to look back over the gardening season and assess successes and failures.
They come as Michaelmas daisies and rudbeckias in all shapes and sizes and they are jolly and cheerful but, dare I say it, not elegant.