Front Gardens of Note No.1

"Autumn is Near..."

"... Autumn is here. Sing shed sing."
Listen here to this seasonal song. (You might have to put up with an ad first)

In The Castle Keep

... I assemble my stores; everything over and above my daily wants that I capture inside the burrow, and everything I bring back with me from my hunting expeditions outside, I pile up here. The place is so spacious that food for half a year scarce fills it. Consequently I can divide up my stores, walk about among them, play with them, enjoy their plenty and their various smells, and reckon up exactly how much they represent. That done, I can always arrange accordingly, and make my calculations and hunting plans for the future, taking into account the season of the year. There are times when I am so well provided for that in my indifference to food I never even touch the smaller fry that scuttle about the burrow, which, however, is probably imprudent of me... I find a certain comfort in having all the passages and rooms free, in seeing my stores growing in the Castle Keep and emitting their variegated and mingled smells, each of which delights me in its own fashion, and every one of which I can distinguish even at a distance, as far as the remotest passages. Then I usually enjoy periods of particular tranquility, in which I change my sleeping place by stages, always working in toward the centre of the burrow, always steeping myself more profoundly in the mingled smells, until at last I can no longer restrain myself and one night rush into the Castle Keep, mightily fling myself upon my stores, and glut myself with the best that I can seize until I am completely gorged.

The Burrow Kafka

Closure

According to the Met it was the dullest August since 1929 with only 105 hours of recorded sunshine - 67% of the average. That's about 3 1/2 hours a day. It must have been before I got up. Anyway, now we can move on and talk about what an uncommonly mild autumn it is.

Hothouse

"How do you like your brandy, sir?"
"Any way at all,"I said.
The butler went away among the abominable plants. The General spoke again, slowly, using his strength as carefully as an out-of-work showgirl uses her last good pair of stockings.
"I used to like mine with champagne. The champagne as cold as Valley Forge and about a third of a glass of brandy beneath it. You may take your coat off, sir. It's too hot in here for a man with blood in his veins."
... I stared at him with my mouth open. The soft wet heat was like a pall around us. The old man nodded, as if his neck was afraid of the weight of his head. Then the butler came pushing back through the jungle with a tea-wagon, mixed me a brandy and soda, swathed the copper ice bucket with a damp napkin, and went softly away among the orchids. A door opened and shut behind the jungle.
I sipped the drink. The old man licked his lips watching me, over and over again, drawing one lip slowly across the other with a funereal absorption, like an undertaker dry-washing his hands.

Working in the greenhouse at the weekend, glowing, as girls do, I was reminded of that scene in The Big Sleep where Marlowe first meets General Sternwood. I've no idea what sort of heat the tomatoes enjoy/tolerate but I wilt very quickly. Fast forward summer. I'm already looking forward to the cold winter mornings when I can steam up the windows with my tea and porridge.

Lumps of Putty

"Sealing (now the customary method) is usually completed with glazing putty produced from linseed-oil varnish (linseed oil boiled with red lead or lead oxide) that is kneaded with finely crushed chalk in a mortar until, after a short while, it reaches a certain measure of hardness. The finished putty should be moulded into lumps and stored in a cool place tightly wrapped in a wet ox bladder."
Technological Encyclopedia of Johann Josef Prechtl 1836
We have spent the last month of Sundays (and Saturdays) puttying in 104 little panels of glass. I now have an understanding of putty, the putty and I have bonded. I'm not sure about the glass. Erecting this greenhouse has been about as much work as I might have envisioned building it from scratch. So finally this past weekend I moved all of my seedlings in and potted up the tomatoes. The beans are ready to go into the garden next weekend along with the 'Black Aztec' corn, now about 8 to 10 inches high.
Pictured below are some of the beans and tomatoes soaking up the rays. Notice my grimy fingerprints still visible on the glass.