My marvellous Kent Claret vine ... I bought it from Victoriana Nursery to keep my ever-faithful calendulas company. Friend Wendy recommends the grapes for grape jelly.

Happy harvesting … my Great Auntie Bee's watercolour of farming life as it used to be, painted in 1950.

The creative mind in action … Coppicing days, Pheasants Coppice, Bishopsbourne.

History …In the garden of Serre de la Madonne, Menton. Seems I wasn’t the only admirer.

Happy birthday! ... My 50th Birthday Party 9th September 2010 at Jenny's, also with Hilda, Becca, Vittorio, Robin and Yvonne and Bianca - Caprese Michelangelo, Toscana. A very special day.

Birthday girl ... Mrs G picking flowers on the morning of her 80th Birthday, a few seconds before she realised that I had arrived.

Does anything in the household inspire more groans than lawns do at this time of year, especially in this early summer of rain, rain, and even more of it?

As Roberto's verse shows, lawns are inspiring pleasures even if they come with a rather demanding commitment. Remember Walt Whitman's observation, 'A leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.'

When you're pulling the mower from the garden shed, it's good to think of Thomas Edison reminding lofty mankind of reality. 'Until man duplicates a blade of grass, nature can laugh at his so called scientific knowledge.'

Our poet has been inspired by the neighbourhood's furiously-growing lawns.

Suburban dreaming - Cut lawns

Lawns lush and loved and lowly,
Cut to a well-grazed height,
Tells the shepherd within us,
Our flock is fed, tonight.

12 vi 2016

June grass

As once the nomad's knee did know,
The uncut grass is bowing low,
The arching seeds to drop or flow,
On next year's ways, beyond, below.

Somewheres, perhaps, where you will go.
As once the nomad's knee did know,
The uncut grass is bowing low.

06 vi 2016

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