Hydrangea

When I got up I found that I'd strained a muscle slightly - Mr H tells me it's probably my sartorius which I thought sounded fashionable but turns out to be to do with tailors (sitting cross-legged). No idea how, although probably a bus-related injury - between the road surface of Leith Walk being worse than the surface of Mars and some of the bus drivers evidently being pensioned-off EWS drivers, the jolting can reach damaging proportions.

So I gingerly got a series of buses to the allotment but didn't manage much apart from planting a bit more garlic and digging up a few volunteer Jerusalem artichokes. Mr H, on the other hand, has given the hebe by the shed a right seeing-to and has now started in on the cotoneaster in the back border.

Hydrangeas seem to me to be rather dull until they start to get nipped by the frost, then a huge variety of vivid colours replace the bland pink or blue that they've been all summer. This one was by the bus stop.