grass, monkeys, training

 Grass on a dune near Calais could be a head of hair.

The firm of scaffolders who spent yesterday and the day before erecting scaffolding round the house of our next door neighbour is called Tube Monkeys. Their name on the large advertisement which ornaments the scaffolding is illustrated by a large, monkey with an evil grin. No specific objection to this, but when we object to the monkey's image just above our garden and staring wickedly through the window next to Heidi's desk, the merry scaffolders, with good grace, move their emblem to the far end of the structure. We breathe again.

For some years there has been a climbing rose (red) on one side of the bay window of our sitting room, and  a white one on the other side. Recently I have trained these so that they follow a path beneath the window where they meet. Today I haul down and bend the new still flexible shoots, and tie them into  their new position. Though there are still flowers on the old wood, the new shoots will not flower until next summer. Training plants like training animals is a satisfying process, an exercise of power I suppose, but in the most gentle manner.