At Ease

I found a tick between my toes in the bath the other day. How it got there is a mystery because I never go for a walk without wearing socks and shoes, wellies if it's wet. Admittedly one of my favourite walking shoes has a big gap where the upper has come away from the sole, and that sock frequently gets wet. But really. I pulled it away and it came intact, a tiny dot of a thing but recognisably malevolent. Now I'll just wait to see if I have Lyme disease.

My weekend guests have gone and left behind an air of joyfulness that permeates every nook and niche of the house. We've had such a lovely time, relaxed and easy, and the weather was in our favour. On Saturday we had lunch in the near-deserted garden at the Westleton Crown, followed by a prolonged spell on Dunwich beach. The plan was to swim, but the waves were just too choppy, the slope of the shingle under the water too unknown and potentially dangerous. So we lounged on rugs and towels in the sun, Hugo draped with unfeigned elegance across whichever body took his fancy. Dinner was cooked for me, and was delightful in its simplicity and unaffected gourmetness. We talked colourfully and at length, moving into the sitting room eventually so that Hugo could sit at our level and be one of us. In the heat of the day while the sun beat down on the stones and pebbles he mastered the art of drinking from a cup, no easy feat for a dog with a long muzzle. After that he eschewed every doggie bowl we came across regardless of how thirsty he was.

On Sunday we had planned to visit the gardens at Helmingham Hall, figuring they would be looking at close to their best. But they were hosting a plant and craft fair, and none of us could bear the thought of crowds, and noise. So instead we took ourselves off to Wenhaston Grange, a beautiful old house just outside Walpole whose gardens are open once a year as members of the NGS. It was a good move, made all the more daring by not having a Dogs Welcome sign on its entry. We thought we might be able to persuade the owners to let the boy in, but in the event he was given the thumbs up at the gate. As the only dog there, and with a bandage on his leg to boot having swerved across the gravelly lane earlier in the day, he was made much of. The gardens were lovely, and I came away with plenty of inspiration. The owners three beautiful young sons, floppy fair hair and beautiful manners, served us tea and cake. Hugo was given a glass of iced orange-flavoured water, and he drank with importance and dignity.

My guests left behind two huge trays of potted plants, the overspill from the giant annual order delivered to Queen's College which gets distributed amongst the dons. White lobelia and osteospurmum which will decorate the edge of the pond, and infill spaces in the beds. I was promised cosmos too but they all got used up apparently. Sniff. But a generous gift, and just what is needed. And they took with them a bouquet of flowers from my garden, delphiniums, lupins, roses, gladilus byzantium, stocks. In fact almost identical to the flower arrangement on my kitchen table which inspired awe when they first walked in. Huh! Thought I was a flower philistine eh? See below.

Lounging in the sun

From my garden

Clear pond, lilies taking off

Beach bum

Fields of barley