On the face of it, this is not a great moment for aesthetes in the garden. The weather is vile. Things that are actually growing, like leeks, may be greenery-yallery but are certainly not Grosvenor Gallery. The borders are shabby wrecks, deliberatelyleft untidy to give shelter to ladybirds and queen wasps and possibly, given where we live, a few SAS men. And the tasks that remain before closedown are muddy and brutal. Take, for instance, the annual pogrom against Senecio tangutica, which has spent acheerful summer trying to throttle the golden bamboo, and must now be taught a sharp lesson.
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