The Glory of the Garden

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made

By singing:--"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,

While better men than we go out and start their working lives

At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees

That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,

So when your work is finished, you can wash your hand and pray

For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!

And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!
(Kipling)

We are having an Indian Summer at the moment up here in Cumbria. The warmth is keeping the flowers blooming and the bees busy, and the lawn is demanding to be cut - again. The nursery is still selling the remnants of colourful annuals as well as perenniels for autumn planting.

This must be one of the most scenic garden-centres in the north:

A pleasant word:

fescue FES'kew
noun fine-leaved grass, valuable for pasture & fodder.
from the Latin: fescuta - a stalk, straw.