One!

Nearly there.

Don't hold your breath. I do that every time I take a pic and I’ve taken a lot, does anyone else do that?

Wanders off back to a bouquet whispering gibberish.

The studio windowsill has become its own small growing space lately. Pelargoniums shifting toward the light, foxgloves waiting in terracotta pots, and an amaryllis that still feels slightly improbable each morning.

A bit of a reset.

Some things went through cleanly. Some didn’t. A few trays thinned themselves out without asking. Rude.
Chryanths, you were very rude.

Potted them on from their small seed trays into cells.
I expected a few take a hissy wobble. They didn’t.

Bought pansy seeds.
Not for the plot really. For cutting. For weddings, bouquets and general versatility.
Never grown them like this before, so they’re on trial.

He turned up while I was digging.

Stayed most of the afternoon. In and out of wherever I was working. Tayberry. Spade handle. Straight down into the soil the second it moved.

This is my potager infrastructure. The paths aren’t an afterthought. They lead the eye, frame the beds, hold the whole thing in place. Without them it’s just planting without direction.

Some of the varieties are up, not all of them. Which is normal larkspur attitude.

The rudbeckia have come up without fuss. They usually do. Reliable little things.

Most of them came up fine. Sown in small trays, ready to be pricked out, doing what they’re supposed to do without much input.