Public diary
The dry heads on these balcony hydrangeas are brittle enough to snap between thumb and forefinger, but snips leave a cleaner collar behind. Autumn puts an end to pretending everything earned its footprint. In a container, every litre of soil is rented ground—if a perennial spent four months looking thirsty and yielded weak stems, it doesn't get carried over just out of sentiment. I am paring back the spent tops to see what root volume is left before deciding whether to refresh the compost or swap the trough over to winter greens.