Grandson and I walked past the Bank of Scotland headquarters today (well, technically I was doing the walking; he just sat) and saw this chap picking up fallen leaves with one of those metal grabber things. One by one. There aren't very many at the moment but in a week or two I think he'll have to devise a different system ... .
I like fuchsias. Yes, Rachel, I know you don't. But I really enjoy their ridiculous frilliness at this time of year, when some other things in the garden are beginning to look a bit sad.
Phlox - we had phlox in the garden when I was a little girl. I just need to smell its perfume and I'm eight again. These have lasted well - they were in flower when Thimbleanna was here, weeks ago now. (Could be the absence of blazing sunshine that's kept them fresh.)
I seem to have a lot of pink at the moment. I prefer it to scarlet.
Pink pelargoniums and begonia semperflorens.
This is a really lovely dark fuchsia.
And another, a bit less dark. This one is frost-hardy; some of the ones in pots aren't, so I take cuttings in the autumn and just keep these in a jar of water till the spring. They produce lots of roots but don't seem to mind just hanging on, sitting in water on the kitchen windowsill. I do bring some of the pots in as well, but overwintering plants aren't really an ornament to a spare bedroom. Oh, for a heated greenhouse (that someone else would pay for and clean and defumigate and so on).
Grandson still has a cold. We've had to postpone a photo session with our local photographer because the baby's tiny nose is a bit pink. Alan, the photographer, emailed today: "I hope the wee man gets rid of his cold or I may have to use the anti-snot button in Photoshop." I could have done with one of those buttons today. Grandson is not keen on nose-wiping. But he's so cheery!