I had a bit of a gloomy day on Wednesday.
Depression kicked in (I know I bang on about this), I was feeling peaky (I know I bang on about this too), but I thought I really had to do something other than sitting about sulking and feeling sorry for myself. So I took myself to the shop.
This may not sound like a major achievement, but when my brain and body hit the skids, it is, I can assure you of that.
It went a bit tits up, since as soon as I walked/lurched outside, it started that weird rain you get from a blue sky. The technical meteorological term for this is serrein. It’s still wet and miserable. I was still wet and miserable.
But things improved markedly on the return.
Once it stopped raining, the Sun came out again. That’s always a plus, isn’t it? Then I realised that Cambridge, being Hollyhock Central, was bursting at the seams with hollyhocks. They’re like dandelions, weeds. They’re bloody everywhere. Now I happen to like hollyhocks a lot. They’re mad, and remind me of some childhood adventures.
It’s poppies-a-gogo, too. Poppies cheer me up.
The fuchsias are jumping into action too. Hard not to like fuchsias. When they’re interplanted with French marigolds, which are some of my favourite garden flowers, and easy to grow from seed too. Plant loads. Classic ‘One to thrive, one to die, one to get eaten,’ approach. Couple of 70p packs of French marigold seeds, you could plant out Great Dunmow pretty much.
Lots of buddleia. They’re pretty much weeds round here too. But they aren’t known as ‘butterfly bushes’ for nothing. They were attracting gazillions of butterflies. Lots of the ones you sort of expect, Red Admirals, Cabbage Whites. But I have never seen so many Small Brimstones in my life. It was like a lemon-coloured snowstorm.It was worth the trip to the shop.