The rain is whispering on the other side of the sash windows. At last the green is returning to the garden. We need a day or two of this. It is perfect. Gentle, unceasing. Yesterday I sobbed inwardly at the state of the hydrangeas. They need a lot of watering and the contents of the water butts are being used to bring succor to the more delicate plants. The rest of the garden is left to fend for itself.
Yesterday hedges were trimmed and we allowed summer light to fall onto the copse floor for the first time in many years. The boundary trees remain untouched but canopy openings are being created. We will soon clear some of the debris. Leaving brush piles, rotting trunks and logs for the wildlife.
Yesterday the garden was echoing with the cries and screeches of the young woodpeckers. They were back to the nest hole again. Perhaps they have designs on it for next year. Who will prevail? Today a Wood Pigeon sits forlornly on the orangery roof. Bedraggled. Feathers darkened by heavy drizzle. Eyes blinking away the droplets. An adult rabbit lopes around in the copse. This year’s Robins are now sporting their hunting pink waistcoats. They wait patiently as I inspect the moth traps, waiting for easy pickings.
We have two wasps nests to deal with. One is next to the bathroom window. There must be a gap in the mortar. The wasps fly close, hover briefly then dive in. Their stream of comings and goings is constant. We leave the window open but they never come in. Too busy. Too preoccupied. The other is above a bedroom. They fly up under the soffit boards. There must be an up draft as they fly directly at me at eye level, and then at the last moment they veer sharply upwards. The flight path is always the same. They also pose no threat. However the house is to be decorated and repaired outside and the decorators will not venture into the territory of the wasps. Yesterday I found another Hornet. Very dozy. I learned also that males don’t sting. I must learn how to tell the sexes apart so I can ‘handle with care’ and impress my friends. The hornet whisperer. He never gets stung.
I suffer from teleophobia. Self-diagnosed. The older I get the worse it becomes. I would far rather watch the rain fall and the leaves rustle than set myself to a task. My intentions are always good but the execution is inevitably put off to another day. My only goal this weekend is to visit another National Trust property. Hinton Ampner is nearby and I shall try to persuade Mrs. Ha to come along.
I apologize for my absence on many of your blogs. Is anybody else struggling to get the WP Reader to work? I have sent endless crash reports but to no avail. It launches and then promptly closes again. I can read on the web but that is more difficult on a mobile device and any time I spend on the laptop is usually to do with photography. Then I am called away again.
Not many moths this week as the wasps are eating them all. I did rescue this one though, True Lover’s Knot it is called and I leave you with that to enjoy. Apparently it frequents heather. As far as I know I am without heather in the garden so it must be just passing through.