A SITE FOR SORE EYES

Floods in Cork, Ireland, power cuts in Ohio, USA, and all we long for, here in Blighty, is a little bit of sunshine flung our way. It comes and goes in patches... I watch the shadows play with my good right eye, feeling slightly nauseous when I use the left, and think of the Day of the Blue Bayou...

So named by a very chatty gentleman at the charity open gardens I recently visited with my mother, the Blue Bayou is a rose to spin dreams with. The gentleman in question (who was quite enamoured with my beautiful mother), suddenly whisked himself off, and the next thing we knew, music floated over to the gazebo...

How romantic, to weave into the roof, the name of your beloved... his wife has nothing to fear from my mother... look...

We tore ourselves away from the gazebo long enough to whizz past other magical gardens, strewn with sculptures

and fallen urns

and even a snarky pixie popping his head out to warn us off

but the Blue Bayou by the Blue Gazebo held both our hearts... When the skies darken (or is it my eyes) I bite into the memory of that strawberry scone and smile across at my utterly scrumptious mother..