We buy a plant called Gaura lindheimeri. Four, unequal, narrow white petals, eight stamens bending backwards. Pollen sticking together in strings. The Botanical Garden, from which I take that description also says that it is found on prairies and in dry, rocky places and deserts. Tunbridge Wells offers none of those habitats so I hope it survives in its new home. This is a flower bed by the front door, once shaded by a bay tree, which we cut down a couple of months ago because it took away light from the windows of the house and the garden.
I stand in Grove and ponder the grey sky. Where has the sun gone? A cold wind comes up. The only consolation is the sound of the wind at the top of the trees. It is wild a and restless and doesn't give a damn.