It is fast becoming a habit, the migration of Percival Parents to warmer climes as the Dordogne winter hovers. I say ‘hovers’ deliberately, for this year the Indian summer lasted practically till the end of October. We left before it did.
The grapes dried on the vine before I could pick them. (Alexandre won’t let me use the step ladder anymore; we are both too wobbly, the ladder and self). And, as a result of the lingering warmth, some plants got quite confused. Rose bushes tentatively offered buds, which I quickly picked. The olive tree – presented to the aged PP’s this summer – settled happily into its new quarters at the bottom end of the garden. The theory behind its location is that it would get direct sunlight from about 11 a.m. until practically sundown. So far, so good.
Here’s a happy little olive tree
It was also decided to plant out, i.e. take out of its pot and put in the earth, the latest oleander which should produce wonderful, dark red blooms. And it started to do so – having sulked all official summer time. Lack of sunlight, Audrey pronounced, Michelle (the giver) thought so too – then Arnold and Alexandre supported Audrey’s thesis. So could not argue. Since Jeremie was coming with his small digger to clean out the sheep shed anyway, we decided to ask him also to dig planting holes. Both jobs well done.
But the oddest plant reaction of all, was that of the gourd which is draping itself all over the wrought iron gate to the vegetable garden. A&A planted the gourd next the gate because they found the latter rather ‘stark’. I keep forgetting to tell them that the curved archway, with its simple gate, was designed and lovingly wrought by the wrought iron specialist of Riberac, a certain Monsieur Beau.
A late gourd flower, behind it – the result of a previous flowering…
Anyway, the gourd suddenly decided to flower again. Fragile white flowers came, showed, but lasted only a day.
There is no understanding plants.