A wasps' nest in an old mole gallery at the bottom of the garden which we have been leaving alone has been getting to be a worry. I phoned around and found the cheapest professional to do it in Loudeac. He was well equipped, and trudged down the garden in an all-over green body suit with matching face covering, powder gun and pickaxe, and came back with a large soggy papery mess in a bin bag, which he took away with him. Killing anything is not beautiful, but the relief that it is done and we can sit out in the evening without being harassed, and that that our Charmless Bulb-growing Neighbour's small children can pick up their windfall apples in the autumn without being stung to bits, is a good feeling.
A Hercules transport plane, which I could hear before I saw it, flew so low over the garden that is seemed scarcely higher than the treetops, and the reflective glass in the cockpit windows was so clearly visible that I waved at it, even though I'd no way of knowing if anyone on it saw me. Near as it was, the deep thrum of its engines was astonishingly gentle and soft, and it had the ponderous, grey dignity of an unexpected large mammal moving through a landscape.
The prospect of reading the last section of David Lodge's Therapy before bed. It's the first Lodge novel I've read, and I'm enjoying it very much. Not least because I think of one or two people I've known who are great enthusiasts for him, and the new insight it seems to give me into their characters. These include a shy but very quietly clever French woman of my acquaintance, whose eyes twinkle a little when she mentions him, and who reads the novels in translation. I wonder how on earth some of it can successfully be translated, as his writing seems so very British, but I'm glad they are appreciated. Comic novelists seem to inspire a particular kind of affection and sense of ownership, it seems to me.
Photo: garden collage,
Tom was bemoaning the scruffiness of the poppy seed heads, and they do look somewhat sere and dingy, but I do like the form of them, and the fact that some of the poppies are still only just coming into flower. The sedum are just beginning to flush red with flowers, and already the bees are trying to feed from them. I know it's ridiculously late to have tomatoes just flowering, but these are self-seeded things, which are rompsing away all over the place in the beds; they are so lush and lusty I've not had the heart to get rid of them, and who knows, we may get a few late fruit from them yet.
Failed to post yesterday, owing to busy-ness, no excuse really as busier folk than me manage it, but not to worry. An extra one for today anyway. Not sure how long to go on with this, a bit longer perhaps.