It didn't start off in a very promising way.
The window boxes needed sprucing up. The lobelia was fine, the pot marigolds were looking a little weedy but nothing that a good feed, top up of soil and picking over wouldn't fix, but the little sunflowers were a disaster. After the first flowers, the following buds were stunted and sad, a snail had got in and eaten some of the leaves, and they seemed to have become home from home to a colony of small black ants.
So I went to the garden centre. But it was closed, for its annual stocktaking.
So I went to the peninsular, to visit the la Maison de la Baie and walk from there. But there were roadworks in front of it, and I couldn't get in.
So I drove on a bit. But when I got to the seashore, the green seaweed was so thick and vile I didn't want to go near it.
So we walked up on the cliffs, which were hot and dry already and Mol got quite tired and puffed out, but there were
~ marbled white butterflies, thousands of them. Which was one beautiful thing.
Then I thought I'd try the smaller farm supply, general hardware and garden shop further along, in the hopes of getting some plants. They had four very satisfactory bright red geraniums.
~ And a dwarf pot cherry tomato plant. 'Look' said the nice young man at the till 'there's one which is nearly ready to eat'
'Yes,' I said 'that was what attracted me.'
And that was another beautiful thing.
So then I drove back the slightly longer, nicer way, not least so that I could go over
~ this blue bow of a bridge over the railway line, where there used to be just a dusty old level crossing. Which I think is another beautiful thing. When I approach it, I always feel as if I am going to fly .
~~~
So that was all right in the end. And now I'm going for the infamous legwax, and then we'll drive up to Erquy, to eat by the harbour, and enjoy the cool of the evening.
5 comments:
Beauty abounds, not where we look for it, but where we find it.
Perseverance has its wonderful rewards and we can enjoy your gorgeous photos! Lovely butterflies and that tomato beat mine!
Finally a horticultural intersection between our two lives. We have lobelias too and it's a name I've always savoured because of its euphony. I believe Mrs BB planted them but since then everything has come under the nourishing spell of Brian, our Baptist deacon gardener, and all has flourished like that place in the Bible where something or other became a burden. The grasshopper?
The bridge is, I agree, beautiful but only because you have been its prophet on earth. That low level viewpoint has brought together those arcs and strangely angled buttresses into a letterbox format which makes me feel I'm sneaking up on it, finding it unaware. You have imbued it with mystery by setting it against the sky and you could be at risk from older, superstitious Bretons.
A bridge into the blue ...
This could be the beginning of a poem!
Thank you.
The bridge is probably not exceptional in design, but something about the long ascent to it makes it feel quite special...
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