Long Mizzle Garden

Hello m' sunnies! Please bring tea and sunglasses.... The dry stone hedgerows bob with happy yellow heads. The roadside fields are brazen. Sometimes a distant golden patch shimmers like a mirage, appears to move around and is impossible to locate. The flower picker trucks, with their 'pickers wanted' signs, hold you up your way to and from Rosudgeon carboot sale, grrrrr.  We're talking daffodils.  These particular rows are not for picking - oh no - these bulbs are busy multiplying. Please, let them concentrate...   Scamp's daffodil field, Falmouth, Cornwall     All the pictures on today's post were taken one glorious sunny Sunday morning (27th March): a trip to Scamp's 14 acre daffodil field on the outskirts of Falmouth. Many thanks to the super helpful Adrian  (Scamp Junior) for welcoming us, and the fab Mylor Garden Club for organising.     In Britain, we can apparently thank the Romans for bringing the daffodil over. (Monty Python: What ...

 Hello m' perky porpoises, What did the sea know of the land?  Through every crevice, every vein of man it had ran.  Stored in his bone marrow, out through his bowels,  down to the sewers and treatment plants. Who was listening, when the core was changing? Were the whales singing? L.B   It is around this time of year that I start to get excited about piles of seaweed. It has been a long Cornish tradition to barrel it up from the beach, following a favouring gale. Who knows what other useful items can be found for the garden: driftwood, unusual pebbles, shells, a random welly, netting, interesting rusty pots, fisherman floats if one is especially lucky. The seaweed I collect from above the shore line and spread it flat across my garden beds. I used to rinse it in rainwater first, but now I just leave it to the winter weather. By spring, it has shriveled up to almost nothing, and can be satisfyingly crunched up in the hand. I am a believer in feeding the soil...