My parents' allotment I have mentioned before; it is by car less than half an hour away (always depending on traffic, of course) and their pride & joy. They are both retired and spend a lot of time there; if possible (i.e. weather permitting), all sorts of minor and major celebrations are held there, from Easter to barbecues to mum's birthday to gathering around a bowl of punch with their friends on a winter night.
Yesterday, my dad went to the garden straight after breakfast by car. Just after 12, my mum rang my door bell and we walked to the train station together, taking the train to one of the smaller towns dotted around our slightly larger town. From there, we walked across fields and between other people's gardens and orchards to the allotment.
It was a beautiful walk, with only buzzards for company most of the time. Again, hearing their cry and seeing them circling high up in the air, making use of the last few days and weeks with favourable thermal conditions, plucked my heart strings, just like I have described in this post earlier this year.
At a very leisurely pace, it took us about two hours. We paused every now and then, mainly for my mum to catch her breath after an uphill stretch of path, or for a photo opportunity.
Once we arrived at the garden, my dad had already put the kettle on, and so it was merely a matter of minutes until we were sat comfortably around the table on the sunny patio, enjoying home-made apple cake (the apples of course being from the garden) and coffee.
Afterwards, I went to inspect how all the flowers, fruit and vegetables are thriving under my parents' care. And then I decided to brag about it on here and show you some pictures:
These are called summer anemona (or something like that).
My dad planted this flower bed as a birthday present for my mum; it has many of her favourite flowers, such as snapdragons, calendula, lobelia, zinnia and aster. To the left, a flask pumpkin is trying hard.
A bit further down, beans cover the ground and climb up their stalks.
Mangold and brambles, and a fig tree which reaches about hip-high for me. I don't think the figs will manage to ripen this year, it is getting too cold now.
The roses are actually past their season now, but there are still some left.
Me not being any more of a gardener than I am a prima ballerina, I do like to be in the garden, and I regularly benefit from my parents' efforts. Right now, I have tomatos and brambles in my fridge and apples in the fruit bowl on my kitchen table (just as mentioned here) ; I finished the plums on Saturday.
As usual, I offered to do the washing-up; household tasks are something I don't mind at all, and even less so when the surroundings are as homely and picturesque as the inside of the garden hut:
While it was still nice, before any of us would feel too chilly, we went back to town in my dad's car. It had been a beautiful September Sunday, and I hope some more will follow.