13 July : Roses

Standing in the garden centre, looking at the dripping roses, trying to get an idea of their fragrance on a warm summer day I am aware that the lady nearby is humming. Humming in public places irritates me. Especially when I am trying to think. I look at her and see that she has dressed up to come to the garden centre on this wet day, pearls are much in evidence. "Isn't it absolutely glorious!" she says, waving her arms to embrace the aisle of David Austin's finest creations. I cannot see past the sogginess but I want to make this lady happy and so I tell her that I went to Mottisfont when the roses were at their peak. "Ah...how fortunate you are...you will always have that...when times are bad you can remember the roses at Mottisfont in June" she says and smiles at me. I watch her walk away, humming, and wonder at the kindness of strangers.

11 July : Plans

I lie on the wicker sofa under the cherry tree and make plans. I will move the peonies and repot the fuschia. The holly tree will be reshaped. There will be white tulips in the front garden in the spring and perhaps a window box of wallflowers. I visualise the pale pink climbing rose here, and then there, but prefer here. I ponder a small terrace in front of the summer house with a little table and chairs for drinks in the last sun of the day. The ungainly white rose comes briefly under scrutiny and as a result will be pruned heavily in the autumn to improve its shape. And then, after expending so much mental effort, I pause to watch the cirrus clouds in the blue sky through the gap between the apple trees.

10 July : Agapanthus

The non-flowering Agapanthus and I have had a little chat. I have pointed out their current advantages: premium position in the garden, regular water supply, Osmocote on demand, attractive glazed blue pot. We have recalled the excellent performance last year but agreed that this year other plants such as the noble Hosta deserve promotion to the attractive glazed blue pot. I have outlined the options which include demotion to a plain terracotta pot or removal to a less prominent place in the garden and the ultimate sanction which is to be chopped into smaller pieces and distributed among several pots. The idle Agapanthus has been warned.

8 July : Clare College

The herbaceous borders in the Fellows' Garden at Clare College, Cambridge are a masterpiece of garden design. It was raining on Sunday when we walked around so there were very few visitors and we could study the intricate planting. It takes extraordinary skill and experience to combine plants that will complement each other in colour and form and the achievement is so fleeting, so vulnerable to weather. I wish that I had spent more time in this garden when I was studying in Cambridge, I would have learned more than I did in the libraries.

7 July : Intentions

Since we got back from France ten days ago I have been distracted by Matters Familial and there has been no time for anything except watering the garden. It all looks a bit shabby and tired but tomorrow all that will change. Weeds will be evicted. Plants which are sagging will stand to attention. There will be deadheading, trimming and raking. And the lupins will be sent to the Great Compost Heap in the Sky. Yes - sorry about that - I need the space for dahlias. I appear to be turning into a mad dahlia lady. It must be my age.

6 July : Failure

Rose 'Susan Williams-Ellis'

This rose is in prime position in the large trough outside my kitchen door but I am afraid that it will be relocated in the autumn. The blooms are charming - fragile white petals layered into chiffon balls creating an ethereal effect at night. Unfortunately the bush itself is spindly and the leaves seem to be vulnerable to caterpillars so unless it puts on a rapid growth spurt it is being retired to the end of the garden. No room for losers here.

5 July : Inspiration

I have been looking for inspiration in other people's gardens. I fell in love with these purple  borders and window boxes in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge when I was there on Saturday evening - those tall dark salvia! I must also tell you that there was a garden room in the Master's Lodge swathed in a pale blue climber. The flowers cascaded down from the ceiling beams in a magical way. I am not sure what the plant was - a small Clematis? Solanum? Ipomoea? I wish I had asked for permission to take a photo but I was on my best behaviour at the time.

4 July : Hubris

Sad news. My beloved pot grown Hydrangea Annabelle is has been squashed by the rain. The soft, sappy, cossetted, Miracle-Groed stems were not strong enough to support so many soggy heads. I am desolated but will now attend with emergency stakes and string to rescue her dignity. The less favoured hydrangea by the summer house is looking lean, un-squashed and smug. There is a lesson there.

I thought I would include a picture of real gardening. You know - black buckets and such like. It's not all fluffiness around here.

2 July : Dahlia

Introducing the Bishop of Auckland. He's deep, deep red. Which is exactly what I had hoped for. Except that he is next to a Hebe which has been inspired by the heat or the solicitous attentions of myself to burst into flower too early. Purple flower. Red and Purple are not colours I would put together. I'm telling myself that it is very Great Dixter. Deep breath.

1 July : Obsession

I know that it is wrong to love one plant more than another. There should be no favouritism especially when roses, lupins, foxgloves, geraniums and all the other hard-working and admirable plants are flowering their little socks off. But alas, I am undone...I have become obsessed with my Hydrangea 'Annabelle'. Who knew that such fabulousness could come from a small pot of dead branches. I think I might dig up the whole garden and plant hydrangeas next year. It would be spectacular.