With my eyes closed, the sound of seagulls brings childhood memories of day trips to Barry Island, and my mother's excitement at seeing a Fyffes Banana Boat about to dock there and flood the shops with bananas. I now realise her excitement was not just to engage a young child's imagination. It was the early 1950s and the arrival of these boats meant the seas were safe and there was peace. No more WWII. These boats were tangible evidence of something heard of but unseen.
With the scent of roses on the air, I am back taking bunches of flowers to school from my friend's garden.
But the constant drone and swish bring me to the reality of my neighbour jetwashing his extensive decking. Not a pleasant sound.
As I open my eyes, sunlight streams through beautifully arched pale green leaves, swaying gently in the breeze. Bright yellow dahlias and gaudy geraniums like jewels create an exotic corner of Sebastopol.
About six years ago we were given a gift of a banana plaintain. It was far too large to be grown in a pot to bring inside for the winter, so with great trepidation I planted it in the garden.
The first winter I made a double thickness thermal fleece cover and anchored it down with bricks. Quite an achievement as the plant was about 7ft tall. But soon the bottom edge of the cover was losing contact with the ground. Like a schoolboy's first pair of long trousers, as the plant continued briefly to grow.
Eventually the leaves died over the winter, but the following spring green shoots soon appeared, as they have done every spring since. The sun shining through the large arching leaves is quite magical, but for some reason the birds don't feel tempted to perch on them.
Although we have had a few banana blossoms with tough, leathery, petals, we have yet to harvest our first banana.
The South Wales Valleys are often portrayed as cloud covered, wet and cold, so I thought I'd share this tale which shows this is just a myth, created by locals to deter visitors from coming - for some of the time, anyway.
With the scent of roses on the air, I am back taking bunches of flowers to school from my friend's garden.
But the constant drone and swish bring me to the reality of my neighbour jetwashing his extensive decking. Not a pleasant sound.
About six years ago we were given a gift of a banana plaintain. It was far too large to be grown in a pot to bring inside for the winter, so with great trepidation I planted it in the garden.
The first winter I made a double thickness thermal fleece cover and anchored it down with bricks. Quite an achievement as the plant was about 7ft tall. But soon the bottom edge of the cover was losing contact with the ground. Like a schoolboy's first pair of long trousers, as the plant continued briefly to grow.Eventually the leaves died over the winter, but the following spring green shoots soon appeared, as they have done every spring since. The sun shining through the large arching leaves is quite magical, but for some reason the birds don't feel tempted to perch on them.
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| Ginger flower from Garden |
The South Wales Valleys are often portrayed as cloud covered, wet and cold, so I thought I'd share this tale which shows this is just a myth, created by locals to deter visitors from coming - for some of the time, anyway.
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