I really should have learned by now that the satisfaction/fun/pleasure returns from any particular job in the garden are nearly impossible to predict. I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve put off doing something – sometimes for an outrageous length of time – only to find that I’ve really enjoyed doing it when I finally faced it.
I ought to be ashamed of my cosmos. And I am.
When you know how good it can be; how tall, wide, strong – muscular, even – then you know that this is a pathetic effort, if not quite a total fail.