Back in the Spring, we sowed wildflower seeds on the lawn. M walked up and down with the box, sprinkling as many as he could amongst the grass, and treading them in. Made a game of it with Tiny, then left them to do their thing. The joy of wildflowers: you sow and you leave. A waiting game.

In the meantime, we started well with the Great Herb Garden. I repotted the parsley and I finally sowed the mustard and cress seeds which have been hanging around for several years. And then I rather ran out of steam for the whole project.

I didn’t have high hopes for either the parsley or the mustard and cress, though for different reasons. The parsley, because it had been rather pot-bound when I first replanted it, and I wasn’t sure if it was hardy enough to survive the move. It did, and, surprisingly, the fairly severe hair-cut I gave it so I could put fresh parsley in my mackerel pâté. A little over-enthusiastic, M said I was. But it has grown back, so no harm done.

The mustard and cress, though, I was concerned the seeds were too old. Like I said, they’ve been hanging around for a while, and the “best sown before” dates for both were either fast approaching or long gone. Maybe they’d grow, maybe they wouldn’t. But they did, in abundance. I used some cress in something – probably a different mackerel pâté – but the problem with them being in the garden is that it makes it difficult to remember to use them. So I haven’t very much. And now the cress has, um, drowned in all the rain we’ve had. Oops. But at least *I* didn’t over-water it. Probably could have found it a less soggy home, though. Brought it inside or something.

On the other hand, they did grow considerably better than the aforementioned wildflower-meadow-lawn M attempted. A bit lacking in flowers, is the lawn, unlike the patch of wildflowers on one of the council-run verges round our way. That was a bare patch of earth for a few weeks then it seemed to suddenly spring into life and colour. Or perhaps it was just because I had a week when I didn’t walk past and so I didn’t notice them beginning to flower. Either way, it is now a lovely colourful patch, full of cornflowers and poppies and grasses. Very pretty, and cheerful in all the grey days this summer seems to be having.

And which St Swithin’s Day last week foretells for the next forty days. Sigh. But just as well: another summer like the last few is probably not what we, the plants, or the farmers, need. As long as there are enough sunny days for the farmers to get the harvests in. There should be: St Swithin’s round our way was changeable weather. Sunshine and showers. So just not the hot, dry sunshine until the autumn that we had last year, or the year before. Or the thunderstorms, which is a pity, because I do like a good thunderstorm. But it’s also true I’d rather do without the heatwaves and sleepless nights.

But hopefully M’s wildflower-meadow lawn will suddenly burst into flower. Before he decides to give in and mow it for the first time since, um, last June…