Reputable opinion (i.e. the vague photographs in the Sunset Garden Book) holds this plant to be one of the 300 species of campanula, but nobody saved the tag after it came home from the nursery on Solano Avenue in Albany, California, and got put into its generous pot back in early March. After that it rapidly grew from six inches to three feet, with only an occasional feed, but diligent hand watering. Now it is putting out its weird purple calling cards, and the honey bees are numerous around these flowers.
No telling when it will stop growing. I lashed some extra bracing (rather crudely) onto its central stem today. It looks as if I am treating a broken leg in Boy Scout fashion. The old-fashioned many-petaled flat-faced pink roses sarcastically observe this loving-hands-at-home contrivance of mine.
Blackberry blossoms spill over the back fence from the deserted yard behind. The red climbing roses are grateful to be set off against this flattering background on a hot afternoon.
This is the eldest of my daughter's vintage roses bushes. I gave it a haircut today, following instructions she has given me in the past.
And this is a picture of her taste in tea towels. In these straitened times we would perhaps all do well to direct our endemic consumer lust toward humble daily-use items like this splendid tea towel.