One of the advantages of my job is “seasonality”. Impressed by my philosophical approach? Not for long, I promise. What I mean is that all summer long you can gaze upon the garden and say “come autumn I will completely revamp that border” or “that incredibly spiky thing needs moving, I will definitely do that by the time winter arrives” or “that bed of Osteospermum “Killerton Pink” is impregnated with ferns, oxalis and other ne’er-do-wells, I will certainly sort that out before the cold weather sets in” and then return to skipping, reading romantic poetry and eating candyfloss. Then, often as a substantial shock to myself, the summer ends and the time has come to do all those jobs that were just a vague calendar entry in the imaginary yearly planner of Cliffe. So today I tackled the sprawling tangle of African Daisy, still popping out the odd bloom, in an attempt to oust the uninvited guests. The only solution was to dig the whole lot up, separate the goodies from the baddies and replant. Then mulch; always finish with a good mulch.