1. Raspberries. They’re just getting ripe now.
2. Lavender. The paler of the two is French.
Beat that, Santa Claus.
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1. Raspberries. They’re just getting ripe now.
2. Lavender. The paler of the two is French.
Beat that, Santa Claus.
A Bad Guide
Man, I’d like a lawn full of lavender.
Hmm, that’s not a bad idea…
The lavender by our front door smells best just after a downpour. It’s the pummelling, I suppose. For reasons that defeat me, we have lots of lavender in the strawberry patch.
Well everything gives off a whiff when you water it, Dearie. The basil and geranium in our kitchen do, anyway.
I’ve never had lavender spread, but strawberries do it all the time. Are you sure it’s not strawberries in the lavender patch?
I’ve never had lavender spread, but strawberries do it all the time.
Lovely photos, Crown. I hate to intrude with matters linguistic but I had to read the above sentence twice to parse it properly because IU initially read “spread” as a noun. I blame the fact that I was having breakfast while reading it.
Ha. Oh, God. No, I wouldn’t eat the stuff.
I was going to say something about ‘I’ve had the raspberry spread’, but it’s ‘raspberries’. Don’t know why.
In Norwegian you can talk about bringebær (= raspberry) and bringe (= raspberry bush), which is quite a useful distinction if you’re a gardener as well as an eater.
Strawberries are spread by runner, lavender by wife.
Good for her.
Stuart, I meant to say that I’ve got a really beautiful lavender book by a New Zealander, Virginia McNaughton, called Lavender: the grower’s guide. She runs a place called Lavender Downs, near Christchurch. It’s probably a mere five-hundred miles from you.
Yes 500 miles sounds about right, and a body of water. Christchurch is pretty city but I am biased it against it for its very white mindset – an instrinsically racist city and the spiritual and numerical home of NZ’s neonazi/white supremacist movement.