My salad days

When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
To say as I said then! But, come, away;
Get me ink and paper:
He shall have every day a several greeting,
Or I'll unpeople Egypt.

Cleopatra by Shakespeare

My garden is so very green, only the lavatera flowers, and as soon as it does I am out there with my  chopping it down for the kitchen table. I seem to have gone so terribly wrong in my planting scheme.
Of course the reality is that my garden is full of roses and cosmos the last of the foxgloves, hydrangea and the like, but I have to snip at everything. I can't help myself. At least you can eat greenery, with a roast chicken stuffed to the gunnels with lemon, garlic and rosemary. A light dusting of salt and pepper and a gentle massage with a bit of olive oil. The crisp crunch of the skin, offset by endless kale smoothies.

Also on the table, dead flowers, they dry in the heat, even in water. People always ask me about drying flowers, i don't know the scientific methods, which involve silica powder, those little bags tucked in bags of beef jerky and new shoes. Save them.

Or just leave the flowers in a vase in a warm room, and let them drink the water and dry slowly. Results  may vary.

and it wasn't until after i had emailed the bride that i realised the grey candles are wrong, it needs to be white, but taller.

These things matter, but to such a very small minority.

Which is easy to forget at times.