Death By Chocolate...

...is one thing, but these sleepy, slightly stoner-esque wasps are trying to do themselves in by overindulging on sticky end of season strawberries. Before I came out with the camera there were about six in there!

The berries are past their best now, so it's time to take the BBC's advice and get deadheading and runner-chopping in preparation for next year when it starts all over again.

Nature's bounty

That just never fails to be an entirely satisfactory experience: picking strawberries for immediate breakfast consumption. Throw in the waffles, yoghurt and freshly made coffee and Saturdays just don't start any better.

No pop, no style: all strictly roots

This is better. Much better. I wrote recently about my abortive strawberry runner potting up. My other half suggested I should have waited until there were roots coming out of the pot before severing the new plant's ties with the main crop.

Yesterday was that day.

Into the damp garden between downpours with the youngest who wielded an Opinel under parental supervision to slice through the - tougher than expected - runners to leave us with three new plants.

And, as it turned out, a rather nice way to tie up a wee flower bundle from her own bed in the garden...


Hey, I never claimed to be a flower arranger.

I don't even like the Beatles...

But I suppose if their Strawberry Fields looked as good as this I might forgive them. The excitement mounts in anticipation of Wimbledon, purely so we can eat the strawberries with some cream and a glass of something sparkly.

Meanwhile over by the porch, the weather's taken a turn for the worse as the Snow in Summer finally arrives with a flourish...