For the last three years those precious weeks have been my summer.
Because the truth is, its been three years since we in the North West had any kind of summer and I think this has been the worst of all.
It may be due to the lack of a dog, but I feel as if I have missed out on the sight of flowers growing whether in my garden or wild.
I took this picture last summer, on one of the better days walking with Willow.
A combination of shade, wind cold and wet have done for what is , at the best of times, a difficult garden. Even the nasturtiums have refused.
Its a source of great sadness to me that I can't have rows of delphiniums , a fence of sweet peas or even a lupin.
The odd rose has struggled up but they too have become leggy and spindly.
The height of the house prevents the sun reaching the narrow garden until about 11am, and the row of 60s houses behind the too-high hedge suck it down before 6pm.
This height and narrowness creates a tunnel for the wind that blows off the ridge over the road right through my garden.
If I didn't love my house so much I'd move to one with a better growing space.
All this is bearable in a good summer.
In a good summer I relish the coolness of the old North facing kitchen. The wind is a welcome cooling breeze and to be able to sit in the shade is a bonus.
But it hasn't been a good summer.
Even the slugs have kept a low profile this year.
Remember this?
Its hard to believe its over for another year.
But I don't mind the Winter, especially if its going to be like last winter.
The same wildflowers on New Years Day this year.
So different.
And this one, which I recommend you click on, is for Emma because I love this.
