Soggy morning. Hostas.

I am currently sitting on the settee in the front room looking out at the trees in the school grounds opposite, in all their autumn colours, now becoming more skeletal each day. The holly bushes are full of bright red berries.
The air is still and misty with hardly any wind stirring the leaves.
It is raining.
When I look out of the back patio window I have roses about to flower once again! My shrub roses are still going strong amazingly enough!
I have my last sunflower still standing defiantly.
I managed to plant most of the bulbs yesterday, and some of the winter flowering pansies. It took me awhile as I ran out of steam at one point but, incredibly, I could sit at the patio table in the mild 16C temperature and have a mug of tea with a biscuit to keep me going. That wouldn’t have happened last week! Too cold!
This morning I had a long chat with my cousin up in Rawtenstall, Lancashire, now in Tier 3 restrictions.
Boris is persona non grata up there and we talked about the North/South divide. As she said, all those who voted for him last time will not be doing so again!
This afternoon I am once more seeing my friend Bobbie at the Garden Centre, and her two daughters, who both live in London, have designated me as part of her Support system. Otherwise I would not be able to meet her. The staff there already know us so well, and how difficult it is for her.
Well time for some lunch.
Stephen has just made bacon and lentil soup with fresh homemade bread.
Yum. My favourite.
My photo is of the hostas on the patio. They have a beauty all of their own in decay.