Fit for a king

17th March 2024

While the weather deciding to turn sunny on Tuesday, and remain so for most of the rest of the week, was nice to see, it did highlight a bit of a conundrum that has been puzzling us for a good few days now. Maybe one of my readers could offer some enlightenment, if either of them has horticultural know how.

Let me explain.

We have always had a good show of daffodils in the little copse at the back of the house, as well as a few around the base of the almond tree, and never had any apparent problem with them. Last year I bought Stephen a large bag of bulbs so we could have even more of a show this year, and in coming years as they hopefully increased in number. He planted them in various places; some in one of the pots, some round the trunk of the persimmon tree and the tree on the corner of the drive, some by the barn and quite a few in the banking facing the house.

It seemed that all was well when first the flowers in the tub bloomed followed by a few round the persimmon tree, all of these being what I like to think of as the traditional large yellow variety. The problem was that something started nibbling away at the petals, leaving them ragged eared rather than gloriously hopeful heralds of spring (not quiet Wordsworth, but there you go). As for the banking, very few of the many planted to the left actually appeared, and those that did suffered the same fate.

Oddly, the second type that have recently bloomed in the tub, the smaller variety with the orange trumpet, have so far remained unnibbled which would appear to suggest that whatever is eating the larger daffodils has a particular palate. And this is where it gets even more puzzling, for the similar type that Stephen planted on the right side of the banking have been eaten while still in bud. We are perplexed and any elucidation would be gratefully received.

That’s all there is to say for the week, so what about the weekend? This started off on Friday, as it now so often seems to, with burger and beer at the pub. Yesterday, Stephen decided it was time to sort out the gutter over the steps and terrazzo at the front of the right-hand side of house. It was blocked, he said, and water was coming over the lip instead of draining away. Well, who knew?

It looked like he was only going to get a part job done; he was able to get at the length of gutter near the door as he could stand on the stepladders to reach that, but the real problem was the lump he spied at the far end at the top of the downpipe, too high for our ladders, even unfolded to their full length. All was not lost, though, as he came up with a cunning plan. By attaching a piece of plastic conduit to the end of the extendible pole for the paint roller he uses for the ceilings, he was able to poke it along the length of the gutter and prod the offending lump into the pipe. Then, it was just a matter of a few judicious thumps and bangs accompanied by the hopeful sound of matter tumbling down to the drain, and all was sorted – and just in time. A light drizzle had started as Stephen was completing the operation, and the rain that followed whilst a break in the run of fine weather was useful for making sure what had been there was safely washed away.

The rain, I’m pleased to say, stopped overnight and this morning it was back to blue skies and sunshine, just right for breakfast out and a little shopping jaunt. The Christmas poinsettia, that had looked to advantage in the dining area, was starting to flag a little, and we decided it was time to put it outside where it might perk up, as our last one did. This left a gap, so we headed to the garden centre, Pellegrini, in search of a replacement, stopping off at Pane del Re, a pasticceria just outside Cassette D’Ete, on the way. This was my first time there, but Stephen has frequented it on the odd occasion when out and about with Cecilia and in need of refreshment. We had a very fine cappuccino and cornetto each, and left with a small box of pastry fancies as a treat for later in the day.

This proved a promising start to the morning’s purchases, and we added to it, after much consideration and weighing up of options, with a dracaena marginata and a new pot from Pellegrini and, from Acqua e Sapone (how long since you read those words) two new cleaning cloths for the bathroom and a tub of hair wax (for me, Stephen has little need for such things). We are nothing if not eclectic.

Stephen continued the horticultural theme this afternoon when he gave the grass a second cut, going much shorter this time to really show it who was boss, then transplanted the fir tree that he had given me as one of my Christmas presents. This had been in its original pot on the terrazzo since then (apart from the couple of times I had to pick it up and bring it into the kitchen when it was blown over by the strong winds) and really needed to go where it could stretch its roots.

After a brief discussion during which he steered me to the right decision, he planted it in the corner between the garage and the barn where the fence recesses into what could ostensibly be a parking area but is usually, at this time of the year, where the water pools after it has run off the field and down the drive. Maybe, with any luck, it will use up some of that extra moisture so that by the time next Christmas comes around we will have a fine sapling ripe for festooning with lights. Well, that’s the plan, and I would say watch this space if it weren’t (a) too obvious and (b) too long a time to keep you in…