I know that this plant is often regarded as a weed, but I love it – I let it roam around my garden as a self-seeding biennial. But in fact this is a wild one: CH spotted it in a hedgerow when we were walking the dogs, and I was arrested by the colour of the flowers, which is much pinker than the ones I have.
My only problem with it is its name, which always arrives at my brain sounding like this. It was never a favourite song of mine, even before an ex-boyfriend played it at volume 11 down the phone at me; at the time I took it pretty squarely on the chin, because to be fair I had lied (it wasn’t about me, and he had done something wrong – not that I can remember what, more than 35 years later, but I suspect that just breathing was probably enough) – but by now I feel as though I’ve done my time for that offence, and I’d quite like Mr Joel to go away and leave me alone. Oh by the way, just to add insult to injury it was my album, and I had to ask several times before I got it back; and when I received it, it had apparently been used as a dinner plate.
I should probably place my thanks on record here to CH for not being the kind of person who feels the need to express his opinion of my behaviour through the medium of AOR. This has undoubtedly contributed to the longevity of our relationship, and quite possibly saved him from being hit around the head with a spade.
Because I’m still up to my ears in photos of Budapest I deliberately only took a couple today; the other was a rather wobbly shot of one of my ferns (Dryopteris wallichiana) doing a rather spooky, science-fictiony thing with its new fronds.