Another series of thunderstorms and even hail this time.
The gutters are overflowing.
The drive has a riverbed down the middle of it.
Even before it all started, the overflow from the blue pig water tank was splashing merrily onto the top tile of its cascade.
The rosa variabilis has grown into a huge healthy bush but unfortunately it’s encroaching on the gap past the corner of the elephant house (block enclosure round the blue elephant water tank).
I refuse to cut back those beautiful blooms and buds just yet.
The rainstorm today brought forth water everywhere: seeping in a lake under the front door, cascading from the blocked gutters, creeping in through the one little window we had open …
When it finally stopped and I thought I would do a tour of inspection, I had only to put an ear out the door to hear, three hundred yards away, the thunder of water pouring from the pipe under the road into the little rocky stream that normally has virtually nothing in it. The ravine at the foot of our land was loud with waterfalls as well.
The water tank into which our spring is channelled was overflowing, but instead of the water going down the roof tiles I’ve put there for it, it had invented its own course and was flowing in a merry torrent all the way down the bank. So I moved the top tiles to collect the start of the stream, connected them on to the original channel, then cleaned out the dead leaves in the rest of the run. It was one of those instances when something works and you go away quickly so as not to see when it stops.
I love predictable, controlled sounds of water. Also very small amounts of water – like the drops in the photo.
On holiday in Sri Lanka many years ago, Clive and I visited a moonstone mine. There was plenty of moonstone jewellery for sale, but I was struck by a ring set with a brilliant blue topaz.
It cost rather more than moonstone, but then it had many more times the depth of colour … and Clive indulged me.
When it sits on the rim of the indoor pool, it looks almost as if a drop of the bright turquoise water has jumped into the setting.
I can imagine I’m inside the cut stone when I’m in the pool, and in the pool when I look into the depths of the stone.
The colour match gives me the same glee as when some morning glories opened out exactly the same shade of blue as the water tank (the ‘blue pig’) they were growing over. I even showed the Garden Centre man when he made a delivery, but he just looked at me as if I was a bit touched!
Yellow chamomile is a very cheerful plant: tiny, perfect suns on straight stems, and aromatic leaves.
Posting the flower today is a bit ironic because our hot weather has been interrupted by thunder storms.
The ground smells gorgeous, though.
Plus I don’t have to water anything and the water tank gets a top-up!
This part of the garden is my very favourite but it came together by accident.
I planted the wisteria half way up the steps in the picture imagining it would grow both upwards and downwards.
Naturally it only grew up, so to channel its ebullience when it reached the top, I made an arch for it to twine over.
The white balustrade, rather than a romantic feature, was conceived originally as a safety barrier round the roof of a water tank which should have been buried underground.
It all happened as if an artist had taken charge and was turning our mistakes to advantage.
But with the green hills and blue mountains beyond we couldn’t have gone very far wrong – everything we created made a frame for them.