The fallen and the flourishing

There is sad news to convey:

Our vibrant and fiery orange nemesia plant has died. I had to pluck its withered stems and roots out of the pot and throw it on the lawn waste heap. Part of the club moss, and the coral bells are rather peaked, and I think I know why: three days ago, I saw Four 'helpfully' watering the containers by the front door. From a 2L watering can! It was more water than a camel needs after the rain we'd just had. That explains why the soil in those pots always feels moist to the touch!

The garden thyme is also struggling, though it is beginning to show signs of revival - probably because J moved it to the sunny side of the front steps (and I make sure the watering can is always empty.) The Thai basil is also looking shocky (to borrow a term from the emergency room) but it seems to be clinging to life. Hooray for basil! We definitely need a second rosemary plant, and yet more Italian leaf basil. And why not? We've still got room for more pots on the steps... we'll just use the back door from now on.

Our big tomato plant, one I picked out specifically because it already had flowers on it, has lost its flowers and isn't exactly thriving, though its doing fine. I don't know if its determinate or indeterminate but I figure it will give up fruit when its good and ready to. The little patio tomato is showing great promise for a bountiful harvest, with its seven or so flowers and numerous other fuzzy spots. Yay! The sweet million tomato is growing like crazy. Each day I check it, it's at least an inch taller. That is very exciting, and rather reassuring too, that I don't kill absolutely everything I stick in the dirt.

Green stems and leaves are shooting out of the potato bin. We will soon have to mound them up further. Out of five wrinkled old spuds from our kitchen cupboard, we have 14 plants!

Three varieties of lettuce are doing well. I sowed a second batch last week, and they have already poked their heads above the soil. (lettuce... heads... get it?) The first batch needs to be thinned, but I'm nervous to do so. How can I make that decision? "You, stay. You however, sorry, this is your end. Mwah ha ha ha!"

Three stems of garlic, which share the lettuce pot, are standing tall and vigorous. Sadly, I'd planted four, so one of them didn't take. Still and all, three whole ears of garlic from four little cloves we had sitting in the fridge anyway... not a bad return.