Wet, wet, wet.

What’s the weather like in Ireland in July?
Answer: wet.

We have moved beyond damp, towards drenched, soon to be saturated.

The garden is out there. I should go out and dead-head flowers but what’s the point?

Wet garden
Wet garden
David Austen rose, Generous Gardener, battling the elements.
David Austen rose, Generous Gardener, battling the elements.
Generous Gardener. Well-named rose.
Generous Gardener. Well-named rose.
Second plantings are thriving in the warm & wet.
Second plantings seem to be loving the wet.
Baby courgettes are holding out against the slugs.
Baby courgettes are holding out against the slugs.
David Austin rose, Falstaff, against the shed.
David Austin rose, Falstaff, against the shed.
Poor bedraggled flowers.
Poor bedraggled flowers.

Yesterday was St. Swithin’s day and the sun shone all day. So much for that one.

Life looked so different while the sun shone.

'Accidental' spuds discovered.
‘Accidental’ spuds discovered.
Garlic harvest was plaited!!
Garlic harvest was plaited!!
Borage flowers were picked.
Borage flowers were picked……
and captured in ice.
and captured in ice.
Lemon balm.
Lemon balm for frozen greenery.
Dinner was rose-tinted....
Dinner was rose-tinted….
..as was dessert.
..as was dessert.

I need to go feed the horde of ravenous children at my back. I will return to tell you all about that dessert!

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