Thistle do...

This evening I noticed that my ornamental thistle looked particularly ornamental. It was rescued from 'sickly plant sale' at a local garden centre a few years ago and has rewarded me with a pretty show every year since. It fulfils all the requirements for life in the Grant garden. It thrives in poor soil; it thrives on neglect and it has its own weapons system.

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Today my children have mostly been demonstrating that they have both inherited my clumsy gene. In the space of a day H has stubbed his toe; grazed his knee; fallen off his bike (he was standing on the saddle so perhaps this isn't so surprising); banged his head and torn a finger nail. Noah has dived head first down the stairs and trapped his fingers in a cupboard door. Fortunately none of these little accidents has resulted in a trip to casualty but I may need to restock the plasters and arnica cream this week.