Sunday, 28 June 2009

The plant that came down the river

Last year, with the river starting to rise with the start of its winter waters, I took the last walk of 2008 upon our beach. And growing within the stones was a plant which said 'Save me. Don't let me drown.' I heard its request, and transplanted it into the front garden uncertain whether it was going to survive, but at least it had a better chance than being subjected to the flood waters of our river.

I don't know where it has come from. From upriver obviously. The Pyrenees? Possibly. But from somewhere it has come. And stopped. And grown.

Springtime saw it still with us. Late Spring, and it was being eaten to pieces by caterpillars. I dispatched the caterpillars to heaven, with an apology, but with firmness. And the plant grew up and up and up, until out of the top came this flower head.

Et voila! La plante. I said I would have a go at growing its babies on, if it would be so kind enough to set seed.

I like the thought that we have saved it. I like the thought that it has travelled from somewhere else up river. I like the thought that it has made its home with us.

By the way, the field you can see in the background is our side field, getting ready to recover its energy after being host to the oil seed rape, which has now been harvested.


And the oak tree beneath which I sit on hot summer afternoons. That, too, is taking off at a good gallop now it is no longer smothered by brambles. I had to ask its permission the other day to remove some lower branches which were threatening to thwack the flower head of the plant which came down the river and decapitate it.


And swinging to the left, here are the meadow flowers which are going to be growing in profusion everywhere on Labartere. We bought a huge bag of seeds in the spring, but only managed to plant a handful.
Next year all will go in. The bees love them. So do we.

And may I present to you the photo shooter. HG no less.

New camera finally unpacked, (bought from the UK before we emigrated), batteries put in, HG takes command of its first trial run, and here he is to prove that he did just that.

The camera is a special one, which must not be carried around in one's pocket in case a photo shoot opportunity arises, but must be kept safely on one's desk for special use. These are HG's instructions.

He is right. This camera is for my work. The other is for play.

Things I have learnt today. That messing about with cameras is fun. That one should not get so involved with the funning that one forgets to watch the cake in the oven or the bread which was put to rise and is now overflowing the tin and is making a mess, which serves one right for being so inattentive. One has already learnt how to deal with cake which is singed. A reminder? Oh just scrape off the carbonised bits.
That one must really try not to get irritated when one's neighbour (actually Sara) has tomato plants with huge trusses of tomatoes on, when one's own tomato plants are still thinking about whether to grow or not. The camel poo in which they are planted might be assisting in their growth. And since there is a handy pile of camel poo now out by the veg plot, one is going to pop out back while HG is elsewhere, and resite a bucket of said poo to see if the tomato plants here might wake up and start growing. Else they will be put in the river to go live elsewhere.

Have a happy day. Au revoir.