To my eye Narcissus 'Thalia' is the most graceful of all the daffodil cultivars. Spring flowering of course but I recently bought a couple of dozen bulbs to add to the ones I planted a number of years ago hence the photo.
 'Thalia' is related to Narcissus triandus which grows wild in Portugal, Spain and France. It is generally described as a hybrid but I can't find any reference to what N. triandus was crossed with or by whom to create 'Thalia'. Perhaps it was a form selected from the wild? Similarly there are varying accounts of when it appeared. Some sources say 1916 in Holland, others describe it as a favourite of Victorian gardeners, one source dates it to 1610.
 Narcissus 'Thalia' is an old, possibly ancient variety whose origins are lost in the mists of time.

 Nasturtiums (Tropaeolum majus) have run rampant this year on the allotment. I sowed a couple of dozen under the bean canes last year as a form of companion planting. They self-seeded resulting in a dense mass of foliage extending beyond the bed itself.
 I lifted the carpet of them at one end and they have even shaded out the couch grass. It will make a comeback I'm sure when the Nasturtiums are killed off by the first frosts but T. majus makes a good groundcover when conditions suit. I was under the impression that they have been very leafy but short on flowers. In fact there is a lot of seed on the ground beneath the foliage so the flowering must have been more prolific than I thought.

 Echium pininana is naturalising in warmer parts of the UK, including London. This exotic arrival from the Canary Islands is often referred to as Giant Echium or Tree Echium, both names are apt.
 There is a colony of them in St. James' Park in the heart of central London. The photo above demonstrates the triennial lifespan of E. pininana. The bright green leaves at the front are the first year's growth when the seedling puts on a rosette of leaves. The darker green leaves behind are plants in their second year with a thick stem that grows to about a metre tall. In their third year a tall spike forms covered in thousands of blue flowers in early summer. The plant then withers and dies shedding masses of seed as it does so. The shriveling stalks are what remains by this point in the year.
 The photo below shows the same locale when the Echiums are in flower, it's quite a sight:

 I have wondered whether the ones in St. James' Park are a chance arrival that has spread or an introduction. Walking in the park yesterday I spotted one of the park gardeners doing some watering. I asked him this question and in fact it was he who first planted them! He started with half a dozen and they have self-seeded to the point where there are many. Well done that man!

 There is an enormous fig tree in the back garden at my father's house in Hertfordshire. By the end of summer it is laden with figs which have always been too green and hard to eat. Until now.
 This year it has produced a crop that's ripe and ready to be plucked. Actually birds are doing most of the plucking but that's no bad thing. For example, a gaggle of five or six Thrushes regularly descends on the tree to peck furiously at the fleshiest figs they can find.
 Thrushes were one of the commonest birds in this garden when I was a child but they seem to have been few and far between in recent times. Happy to seem them tucking in. 

 Autumn is the season of seeds as well as "mellow fruitfulness" (see last entry). Keats was picturing vines and apple trees. In the botanical sense the term 'fruit' refers to the organ of a flowering plant that contains seeds be it edible or not.
 The photograph above shows the fluffy seed heads of a once prickly thistle. There is an old saying that "One year's seeds is seven year's weeds". True enough I suppose but here is another saying which I have just made up: "One year's seeds is seven year's wildflowers".  

 We are entering the "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" as Keats called it in his poem To Autumn. Some lovely watery sunshine in recent days though quite a lot of actual water in the form of rain. Keats doesn't mention the rain.

 Here is something I like. Firstly it's a healthy specimen of the Stinking Hellebore (Hellebore foetidus). Secondly it's in a biodegradable coir pot- you plant it pot and all- as grown by The Hairy Pot Company who have developed a good range of perennials in recent years. Thirdly I bought it at the Nunhead Gardener which is a short walk from where I live. Some enterprising folk took on what the Americans would call a "vacant lot" and started a garden centre.
 It's not huge but it's well stocked so now I can buy decent plants close to home. What's not to like?