Last week I meant to write about my wriggly new friends and my first harvest.
Instead I am following a post about poo with pictorial evidence of my squalid existence.
The last week was one of pressing work deadlines, which left in its wake neglected, leggy seedlings waiting to be potted on; an overgrown border; bewildered worms thrown unceremoniously into a new home and then ignored; and an exhausted, poorly nourished, rather unclean frugilegus.
The only physical thing that I grew or made in my lost days was this pile of teabags.
Here’s a name that sounds like it should describe my existence recently- blue scabious – and a nicer picture to go with it: a welcome surprise to pop up in the garden this week.