Sunday Pictures

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Foxglove:

Woods:

I love these wild grasses:

Wellingtonia:

More grass:

The focus on this is all over the shop, but I rather love it. It’s one of my favourite views, looking south across the garden:

Yet more grass:

The garden gate, the old mossy wall, and a flash of the lovely red cotinus:

This year’s pot table:

I am doing cuttings for the first time:

The Portuguese laurel is six years old. It has never put out a flower before; I did not even know it could. But this morning, suddenly, without warning, it produced one, lovely bloom:

And speaking of blooming loveliness, here is Herself:

Hill, from a different angle than usual:

Bonus Post: Easily the Best Thing Currently on the Internets

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

I found this just now on The Daily Dish. It is five minutes of heavenly hilarity. I am still not certain if it is a spoof or not. If it is real, and I’m not sure anyone could manufacture that much earnest excitement, then I think I am rather in love with Betsy, the protagonist. I wouldn’t think she and I agree on a single political issue, but you’ve got to admire that much giddy enthusiasm. I hope someone does buy her her soy latte, after all that.

Best two lines: ‘No. I’m moving to Canada'.’

And: ‘I’m going to have to eat my feelings’.

See what you think:

South Carolina turns out not to love Mrs Palin. Poor Betsy.

 

Update: Hmm. The embed seems to have cut off half the video. If you want to see it properly, and it is worth it, I promise, follow the link here.

Imagine

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Imagine you are a politician. Imagine you could pass a piece of legislation which would make millions of people very, very happy. It would not just affect those directly named in the bill, but also their families, friends, neighbours, beloveds. It would vastly add to the sum total of human joy. It would right a historic wrong. It would advance equality before the law, in a land whose very founding elaborated the principle that all men are born equal. (The founders did not mention women, but I like to think they are born equal too.) It would make some people very cross, but their crossness would pass, as they moved on to find some other object of enragement. The ones to whom you bring joy, though, will have happiness to last a lifetime.

Wouldn’t you do it?

That is what Governor Andrew Cuomo managed last night, against high odds, when he signed into law a bill making same sex marriage legal in the great state of New York. I think it’s absolutely bloody marvellous. I bless him and all who sail in him.

Here is what some people looked like, when the news broke:

At the Stonewall Inn in the West Village; picture by James Keivom.

And in the New York Senate Gallery, as the votes were finally counted; picture by Cindy Schultz.

Imagine you were a politician. Imagine you could put that look on people’s faces.

It even made The Pigeon smile:

Actually, that is such a big lie. That face is because I had just thrown her stick for her. Marriage equality, sticks; we all get our joy in different ways.

 

Now for some pictures from the garden:

As I took these, the sounds of a wedding across the way drifted over. People were laughing; there were three cheers; a piper struck up. How appropriate, I thought. Not quite a big gay wedding, because here in Blighty it is still civil partnerships. Go on, Coalition, I thought: why not pass a bill that makes people look like this:

(Photograph by Jessica Rinaldi.)

I came inside to write this, and heard the oystercatchers making a wild song outside the window. I looked out, and to my amazement, I saw they had their chick with them. I have never, ever seen an oystercatcher baby before. I know one must not get too sentimental about animals, but it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen. It felt rather symbolic on this happy day. The parents were teaching it to look for food, digging away for worms and then encouraging it to copy them. As you may imagine, I got rather carried away with the camera:

See how brilliant the camouflage is against the granite:

And off they go:

Talking of sweetness, could not resist one more Pigeon:

The hill:

I hope you are having a lovely weekend, wherever you are, but special greetings to the New Yorkers, who did a wonderful thing.

What I done.

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Sometimes I feel that this blog has morphed into a kind of show and tell. It’s like a six-year-old being asked to write what kind of day she had. I should surely have something serious to say about sovereign debt and what the mad old Eurocrats are doing, and the poor Greeks. Yet my world stays small. I need it small, just now.

I did see lots of really marvellous things today. On the burn this morning, a lone mamma duck was patrolling up and down. Her young must still be too little to go out, and she was watching hard for predators. It was very touching. Out in the rough grass, a tiny deer was contemplating, his stare raking the horizon. We think he is a young buck. He is about the size of a mastiff, and bright chestnut. He let me get very close, before loping away with that wonderful jumping run that deer do. The swallows, who were practising their low flying, flew at his shoulder, like Spitfires protecting a Hurricane.

Then I went to work in my sister’s shop. She is away, because it is the Younger Niece’s eighteenth birthday, and there is a London treat. (At which point we must all pause and say HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY NIECE, in vulgar capital letters, of course.) To get to work, I drove: past my favourite hill, the one that stands quite alone, like a sugar loaf mountain, then along the river, through a forest, past a stand of silver birch, by two shining lochs, and into the shadow of the high blue mountains that stand at the end of Glen Muick. That’s just a fifteen minute drive to work. It held so much beauty that I ran out of superlatives in my head. It is at times like this that I feel so lucky I do not know what my name is. What did I do to deserve such country? What miracle chance brought me here?

I came home in the evening sun, looked with love at the salvia, took the Pigeon for a breath of air, and ate some cheese on toast. Sometimes I like fancy schmancy, sometimes all I crave in the world is cheese on toast.

I thought of my dear old Duchess. I miss her.

Now the oystercatchers are singing a crazy song outside my window. I am going to give myself the Friday night gift of doing absolutely nothing.

Here are some pictures:

Acer, nepeta and delphiniums:

Grand delphiniums on their own:

Can’t get enough of these mad violas:

Salvia:

The youngest apple tree:

More salvia:

Astrantia:

The evening light on the baby euphorbia:

And the tiny shrub rose, which I thought had been finished off by the frosts, but is about to burst into flower:

Little herb corner:

My little carnation arrangements, of which I am idiotically proud:

Festival of utter, blazing loveliness:

I took her to the shop today, because she must come with me wherever I go. She lay elegantly on her very smart Johnson’s of Elgin blanket, and made friends with the customers, who were utterly enchanted by her. One of the things I love most about this dog is her ability to make friends wherever she goes.

The hill:

 

PS. Some of you have asked about the flowers. The violas are Gold Purple Wing, and the little blue flower from the other day is a Johnson blue geranium.

PPS. The Doing Nothing Plan is slightly stymied as I have suddenly realised Andy Murray is starting his third match at Wimbledon. I’m not much for tennis, but I have a tremendous soft spot for A Murray, and so I shall be shouting Come on Scotland for the next two hours. Slightly tiring. I may have to take some iron tonic.

Have a happy Friday.

Oh, and here, in honour of the eighteenth birthday, is the Young Niece. I still think she is four. But she is all grown up: