Don't Tell

I like it if a garden has secrets. Sometimes you see gardens where every nook and cranny is clear and tidy; the soil is level and weed-free; the low branches are trimmed. Secrets need somewhere to hide; they need untidiness and, perhaps, untimeliness. 

This is supposed to be a mini-hedge (extra), and Mrs M reminded me it is called 'Hedge Germander', but it would rather straggle across the path - which thereby becomes narrower as summer proceeds - than form a vertical boundary. Because it is shaded, it flowers late into autumn, so it never gets trimmed until this time of year, after which it looks a bit threadbare until new growth starts in the spring

So today it has given up its secrets: a clothes-peg - the washing-line crosses it; some lozenges of rather unpleasant expanded polystyrene, blown here by autumn winds from some forgotten package; and three of these, completely smothered and out of sight. They were not planted by us; I don't remember seeing them in previous years - perhaps I just chose the right moment this year. A secret surprise to cheer up a grey day