There has clearly been a death in our garden. Just by the bird bath, a pile of silvery grey feathers lies on the lawn - a collared dove I suspect. Who the aggressor was I've no idea. There's no sign of a body, but so many feathers must mean a death. I wonder if the peregrine falcon is back. Or is it one of the numerous cats that use our garden as lavatory & short cut through the gardens?
Some life does remain. I step outside & nearly step on a huge olive green frog - relative to the baby one I found among the potatoes I wonder? He's clearly enjoying the downpour of the morning.
Our one ray of hope is with the tomatoes. We were saying to each other they would never ripen this year. Al, our gardener, has been trying to reassure the Fox it's due to the abnormal weather pattern rather than anything the Fox may, or may not, have done. Al's own tomatoes, grown in the greenhouse, are not doing well this year. He's even had to heat the greenhouse to get anything at all hopeful. Our tomatoes are outside growing in a raised bed on the patio. It's quite amazing they're still looking healthy when you consider the gales, storms, chills, floods they've had to endure.Then yesterday I spot one that has changed to a more orangey colour. Perhaps we won't have to live on a diet of green tomato tarts after all. What we really need is a spell of sustained sunshine and warmth. From the looks of the rain coming down once more today, that is unlikely.
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