The resilience of some plants never ceases to amaze. Many weeks ago I accidentally snapped the delicate stem of a young squash plant. Just a little of the stalk was still connected, with the plant folded in half at the break. With no more seeds left I left it in the pot just in case. Today, with the break still clearly visible, I planted the now thriving specimen out into one of the beds.

It’s clearly established enough cells at the break point to still be able to send water and nutrients to the rest of the plant. The yellow flowers promise well and I look forward to a crop later in the year. The variety is Jaune et Vert (yellow and green) and the squashes are of the small patty-pan type, great for chopping into a few large pieces and roasting.

Nearby I’m keeping a close eye on the row of Germidour garlic. With just a couple of months before they’ll be ready to lift, the stalks look strong and healthy, except in recent weeks the leaf tips have noticeably yellowed and dried.

There’s no sign of rust, which is quite easy to identify by the spotty blemishes it begins with. So I’m assuming it’s down to wind. There have been some very strong and cold winds here of late. One gust this afternoon blew my mug of tea over, which is harder than it sounds!

Round the corner, the strawberries are developing nicely. They’re getting bigger and one of the plants has thrown out its first runner, trying to get a hold in any nearby ground. I may let that happen later in the year. Meanwhile, I’m not the only one who likes strawberries; they have feathered fans too, so once the fruits start to turn pink I’ll put a net cage round them to keep the birds off.

Back indoors there are now several bunches of sage hanging up to dry in the garage. It became necessary to do this because the sage bush outside had grown so vigorously that it was taking over the herb bed. Herbs growing that well is always a nice problem to have of course.  Once the leaves are fully dry and crisp, they’ll get scrunched up and be at hand in a small jar in the kitchen.