In the Green Mid Winter

Posted on December 23, 2025 by midlifegardener

The Winter Solstice.

Winter Table Decorations for the Local Farmshop Cafe

Eight and a half thousand people gathered to see the sun rise behind the Heel Stone and send its first rays into the heart of Stonehenge on the shortest day of the year.We assume the Ancients celebrated the Solstice because from now daylight hours will start to increase. In the middle of winter, we can just begin to feel a little hopeful, with spring just over the horizon.

Like an ancient pagan, I invest more hope in the solstice with each passing year. I will be looking at the garden for those green shoots which might be groping for the lengthening days. Goodness in the dark days of winter. For me, those green shoots would normally be garlic and onions, but in a change of tack in the Midlife Garden, we have not planted garlic this year.

The other day I saw tiny little bulbs sprouting on the top of three of the Allium Ping Pong I planted last year. In 2025 they only partially flowered, because of the dry summer. Instead, they have produced a plethora of baby bulbs. So, I have stuffed them into pots – and, with any luck, I hope to plant them out in the early spring, when they could provide some colour and, perhaps, some income.

Elsewhere in the garden, I am hopeful the five hundred tulips have settled in and are not rotting under the heavy autumnal rain. Whenever I see Monty Don planting tulips, he bangs on about the need for ‘free draining soil,’ as he shovels grit into his pots. No grit in my tulip bed, but I remain positive.

Free drainage is not a great feature of our clay soil, which was one reason I did follow Monty’s advice with my Dahlias. I lifted them before the frost, even washing the soil off them, as per MD’s advice, and left them in the greenhouse to dry off. Whereupon the hard frost bit them, panicking me into wrapping them up and storing them in the garage. But, as they were still a bit damp, I only succeeded in creating the perfect conditions for many of them to rot. Maybe next time I’ll follow local advice and leave them in the ground, well-mulched. Where, I guess, the rain can rot them instead.

It would be easy to get disheartened when stuff wilts, rots, or dies in the garden, but gardening, by definition, is a pragmatic and uplifting activity, even in the depths of winter. In the greenhouse, there are plenty of seedlings doing well, with sweet peas just coming up and antirrhinums standing strong in their pots, ready for the new season. They might not be flowering by the first wedding of the year on 2nd April (fingers crossed for the tulips on that one) but they will be going strong for a bride’s bouquet in July.

And that is what gardening does: it encourages us to look forward, with patience and positivity, and in the meantime, it keeps us stimulated and busy.

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Training Day

Posted on October 11, 2025 by midlifegardener
Autumn Grass & Cosmos

The summer has been a steady learning curve as we have developed our cut flower production systems of growing, cutting, arranging and marketing.  So, always looking for knowledge to help us on our way, Mrs B and took the opportunity to attend the horticultural equivalent of a Ted Talk.  Otherwise known as the monthly meeting of the local gardening association at the village hall, October’s guest speaker was a cut flower farmer from a neighbouring county who promised to share the secrets of her success. 

As non-members we paid our £2 per head for entry, a cost that would be covered by the Garden Gate Flowers training budget.  There were over forty keen gardeners in attendance.  The presence of Mr B and me reduced the average age by about ten years while my own attendance doubled the number of men

We were encouraged to buy raffle tickets, hoping for one of several exciting prizes.  On the Table of Wonders I could see a hand-painted greetings card and a large bar of Toblerone, but for me the top prize was the large ball of Nutscene natural jute twine.  You know when you have a reached a tipping point in your life, when a ball of string beats a bar of Swiss chocolate.

On another table, the members had brought in one ‘stem’ from their garden for the monthly competition, voted on by all present.  Someone told me there was a time when the category of ‘something from the garden’ had a wider brief, resulting in countless jars of produce.  Apparently the (now sadly deceased) previous Chair became so fed-up with repetitious entries of pickles, jams and jellies, she momentarily lost her patience and muttered an expletive under her breath.  Overheard by another member, she is now privately known as “Mrs Fuck-Chutney”.

I think Mrs F-C would have been more accommodating of the entries this month which consisted of a range of roses, dahlias and a fine deep purple aster.  But before we could vote, the lecture began.  The speaker was a seasoned performer, winning over the audience with some well-placed flattery.  Like Bono from U2 telling every gig audience they’re the ‘best ever’, our speaker knew how to work her particular crowd, complimenting them on the large turnout; noting their ‘stunning’ fashion sense; and then, rather bizarrely, telling everyone what wonderful toilets their hall has.  She bracketed them alongside Gloucester Services in her top ten of public toilets.  High praise indeed. 

With the crowd eating out of her hand, she was able to flip through the rest of her Powerpoint, giving us pictures of her various pets, skipping the slide on accounts (“boring” she said) and getting to the nitty gritty of what to grow, how to grow it and what lessons she has learnt over the years.

It turns out, she has been doing this for six years but, after flogging herself every weekend going to farmers’ markets and stalls, she has decided to rein it back in and just do occasional bouquets for local delivery (as well as Ted Talks to gardening clubs).  It was reassuring to know that GGF is doing the same things that she does.  It appears there is no great mystery to it, although she did take great delight in sharing the “secret” way to wrap flowers.  It turns out that this is how we wrap ours too, so maybe not that big a secret. 

The talk ended with a discussion of seed suppliers (General consensus: Higgledy Garden, Good.  Sarah Raven, Bad).

The talk was running twenty minutes over the hour, and we all felt we needed to get back home for hot chocolate and digestives, so it was left for the current chair to thank the speaker and make the draw.  We did not win the ball of string, but we did depart with some stems of hollyhock which another member had brought it.  No one seemed that interested in the hollyhocks until they heard the colour of the flowers was ‘blood red’ at which there was a noticeable stirring in the audience.  Gardeners love a freebie – especially if it is a good claret.

We left having learnt a little but reassured that what we are doing a lot right.  And we might have even have some hot red hollyhocks next summer.

Latest Wedding Flowers
Flowers for bouquets
Work bench
Wrappers’ Delight
Autumn Bridal Bouquets
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Migrant Hostile

Posted on August 23, 2025 by midlifegardener
Snootler

It seems every garden needs a dog these days.  It is a trend led by Monty Don, who took it to another level this year by creating a garden for the Chelsea Flower Show that was designed for, and by, his dog Nell.  Badger, our own canine horticultural expert, watches Monty Don on Gardener’s World and barks angrily whenever he sees Nell.  I suspect Badger shares our view that basing your garden design on the random wanderings of your dog is taking the whole thing a little far.   

The Midlife Garden has not been designed by a dog, but Badger’s influence on it is clear.  He spends long hours patrolling the beds and borders, on the lookout for frogs, rodents and, on one particularly disturbing evening, Elephant Hawk Moth caterpillars.  Thankfully he rarely, if ever, catches anything but his regular rootling through shrubs has created well-worn paths under the Peonies and Persicaria.  So, in some sense, I have designed my planting around his habits.  In our own scaled down version of Elephant Walk, I realise that planting anything on his path is ill-advised, as evidenced by the crushed Nicotiana and broken Bells of Ireland.

The hunt continues

But Badger doesn’t confine himself to the dense jungles of the borders.  He roams the lawns and paths in his efforts to evict other interlopers, of which the worst offenders are pigeons.  Mrs B wonders if Badger picks up on her own annoyance at the half-arsed efforts of pigeons building nests in the pyracanthas or apple tree.  They lay three twigs on top of one another and call it home, but they make such a flapping fuss about it.  If Badger really does feed off Mrs B’s anger, he takes that anger, distils it, pressurises it and vents in a concentrated stream of apoplectic rage every time a pigeon lands anywhere near the garden, let alone actually in it.  To Badger, pigeons are unwanted migrants, treating our trees like hotels, and like a Tory councillor, he wants them out of our Back Yard.

He does not spend ALL his time barking and getting angry.  He is generally a calm dog, but not everyone would share this view. Certainly not the middle-aged woman we met the other day with her long-legged terrier cross.  Badger and I were nearing the end of a relaxing walk when we came upon them.  Badger was off the lead, and for a moment I thought he would maintain his relaxed demeanour with the other dog which was being tightly restrained by its tense owner.

Badger did his now customary nose to nose meet and greet, swiftly followed by a mouthful of snarled invective as he leapt at the larger dog.  The owner pulled it away and I grabbed the now simmering Badger.   She questioned why my dog was not on a lead, which was a fair point, and I apologised, sounding like a woolly-headed liberal parent making excuses for his “boisterous” child (for which you can read “spoilt”).  But she was not in a mood for apologies or placations.

“Drives me up the FACKIN’ wall”, was her response as she strutted away.

I drew two of conclusions from the interchange.  One:  she is not from round here. And two:  my dog is a foulmouthed little tyrant.

Like the master of quick wit and ready repartee that I am, I had the ideal response to the potty-mouthed newcomer. 

“If dogs are like their owners, we appear to have got our dogs mixed up”, as I offered her my foul-mouthed dachshund.   

But, like the comedian who thinks of the ultimate putdown to an annoying heckler, but only when he is on the bus on the way home, I came up with my witty rejoinder when I was back in the Midlife Garden, talking to my flowers, while Badger licked frogs and shouted at pigeons. 

Never found out what was cornered behind the herb trough

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Midlife Latin

Posted on July 6, 2025 by midlifegardener
Chrysanthemum Rainbow Hippy Lovechild

This week’s Cultural Wednesday took Mrs B and me to Barrington Court.  Our first visit to Barrington was with Josh, so it felt apt to be here on what would have been his 33rd birthday.  I remember enjoying wandering around the gardens and on another, subsequent visit, I we watched a small child staring into the ornamental pond, yelling “Oh my God!  Oh my God!” at the top of his voice, entranced by an enormous Koi Carp that lurked between the lily pads. 

This week there were no child-eating Carp in the pond, but there was an impressive range of shrubs and flowers in the well-ordered borders.  It being a school day, small children were notable by their absence, and so we could amble around the well-laid paths enjoying the warm sunshine in the company of folk against whom we ranked at the lower end of the age range.

But we are beginning to feel our age (‘midlifegardener’ is an increasingly tenuous nom de plume) and further evidence that we are becoming our parents, is provided by our increasing habit of attempting to name every plant we see.  I am surprised by our degree of success.  There was a time when I had to Google them or just describe a plant as “that pink flower with the green bits; well behaved plant or whatever”.  Now, “physostegia” just trips off the tongue. I know my Eryngium from my Echinops and Veronicastrum from Verbena Bonariensis.

This fluency in horticultural Latin feels to have happened suddenly, but it’s no coincidence that it manifested itself as we embarked on our cut flower journey.  I guess we need to know exactly what we are growing in our garden, and now we can identify them in the National Trust’s gardens too.  With knowledge comes power and confidence and the MLG side hustle is starting to turn into a pivot, evidenced by the creation of Garden Gate Flowers (BA22), with our lovely neighbor, Kate.  We have a regular Friday stall at Galhampton Village Hall, and we take orders and offer a delivery service to the village.  There are tentative enquiries about weddings, including a “DIY, Rustic Festival” style wedding, which matches our vibe perfectly.

You can even find us on Facebook and Insta so we really do exist.

Who knows where this will lead us?  Up the Garden Path, through the Garden Gate…

Veni, Vidi, Vendidi.

I came, I saw, I sold.

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Like a Hot Knife

Posted on June 22, 2025 by midlifegardener

There’s a scene in the movie Crocodile Dundee when Paul Hogan is confronted by a mugger on a New York street. As his assailant threatens him with a knife, Hogan just laughs. 

Spursy Bed clear of weeds in May

“That’s not a knife.”, he says, “THAT’S a knife”, and reveals his own impressive blade.

The line has been repeating in my head ever since I acquired my new favourite gardening tool – my Hori Hori.  Described by its manufacturer, Niwaki, as a ‘weeding trowel’ it is, to all intents and purposes, a knife.  It even has its own ‘Canvas Sheath’.  But, whatever it is, it does a brilliant job weeding and even digging, particularly when the ground is as hard as it is.

It was on one of our “Cultural” Wednesdays that Mrs B and I visited the Niwaki HQ Showroom near Shaftesbury.  A friend had forewarned me that on entering the hallowed citadel of Japanese handcrafted tempered steel, I might “lose my shit”.  The advice was timely.  More of an exhibition space than a showroom, the small unit was packed full of precision Japanese gardening ironmongery, as well as clothing, footwear and even shaving razors, laid out in cabinets and perfectly aligned shelves. It lacked only a sign telling visitors “Please do not touch the exhibits”.

Merely driving there, we were in such a state of arousal that we turned in at the first sign that said Niwaki, to discover that we had followed the sign for the warehouse, rather than the retail outlet.  Once in the showroom / exhibition centre, it was only the limit on my credit card that prevented me buying the whole shop.  Instead, I had to restrict myself to a Hori Hori, a pair of snippers, and some gloves.  I had to leave the golden shovel and the insanely expensive shaving razor for another month.

Back home, I now refuse to use anything other than my snippers to cut my flowers.  They are immensely pleasing to use, as are the gloves. But, I had travelled specifically to buy the Hori Hori, and it has not disappointed.  The literal translation, according to the lovely lady in the showroom, is ‘dig dig’, so perhaps it is not welcome for the “No Dig” gardens.  But I’m not so fussy.   Who knew that a knife would prove to be the best trowel around?  With this precision weeder, I have removed copious amounts of bindweed, with less collateral seedling casualties than ever before. 

And, as for harvesting garlic and onions, the Hori Hori is the trowel you need.

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Is This a Pivot I see Before Me?

Posted on May 16, 2025 by midlifegardener

The business buzz word amongst some of my self-employed friends at the moment is “pivot”, to describe a changing of direction in one’s business or lifestyle and some have suggested that we might be mid-‘pivot’ in the Midlife Garden. It is true that ever since the ‘Invitation To Leave’ from my previous employer (I see it as an ‘inflection point’ in my life), I have been searching for an income stream that could be rewarding financially as well as emotionally.  Clearly, this blog is never going to cover both those bases, so I knew I would have to be a ‘change agent’, taking a look at what I enjoy (apart from scribbling random words) and find something truly ‘transformative’ to ‘add value’ to my life (and bank balance).    

Regular readers (both of you) will know how I find enormous emotional rewards in gardening.  But after the success of the cut flowers on show at the 2024 WOTY*, I’ve joined forces with a neighbour to explore ways to monetise our blooming commodities.

First we decided to ‘segment’ this down, to ensure we had flowers for the whole summer.  We took a deep dive, drilled down and, thinking outside the MLG box, we invested in dahlias. Previously regarded as blousy, ostentatious dandies that evoked memories of dreary seventies mixed borders, these could yet prove to be a game changer, producing blooms throughout autumn.  

To move the needle for early blooms, we took a punt on tulips.  We were ‘down on all fours’ with this, looking at it from the client’s-eye view and decided on Luxury Tulips:  stems to mark us out from the ten-for-a-fiver supermarket types in dull hues of red and purple.   So, posh tulips became the ‘moat’.  We ‘swept the sheds’ to make it happen, to ‘action this solve’ and November saw us raking compost on then off, then onto the front bed to get the 500 bulbs to the perfect depth. We waited for April with crossed fingers. 

We chose a price point, to give the customers ‘snackable content’ hoping they will be back for more when spring turns to summer.  Unfortunately, the first stems were snackable to the point of stunted, but, they eventually reached their full potential, proving popular, if unprofitable.  But not all stems will have the same base costs as posh tulips, so our ‘runway’ is longer than it might appear. The tulips were a loss leader, but a striking one at that.

We will take a ‘kaizen’ approach to improve all that we do as we try to get this thing off the ground (after mulching and watering it first).

By the end of the summer, we might have an answer to the question:  is this just a side hustle or could I be pivoting from Ed Biz to Flower Biz?  Only time, ‘brand positioning’, ‘demand generation’, ‘revenue performance management’ and the power of ‘the flywheel’ will tell.

*Wedding Of The Year

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Badger’s Book at Bedtime

Posted on April 13, 2025 by midlifegardener
Trying to fit into the sun spot

It is Pablo we must thank for the fact that we own a dachshund.  When Josh slept over at his colleague’s house after a “Thursday is the New Friday” drinks session got a bit out of hand, it was Pablo who woke him, tunnelling down into Josh’s sleeping bag demonstrating a sausage dog’s obsession with warm dark spaces.  If Josh had not been the unwitting bedfellow of his colleague’s dachshund, he would not have expressed his desire to own one, neither would we have promised him one when he was ill, and nor would my work colleagues have gifted us the funds to acquire one in Josh’s memory. 

Why am I telling you this?  Perhaps to provide some context to explain how I recently found myself sitting in the kitchen at 2 a.m, reading to Mr Long because he could not – or would not – sleep in his own bed.

It started when we agreed to look after my brother’s dog, Bruno (a Vizler/Pointer cross) for ten days.  On the first night, Badger’s ‘cousin’ opted to sleep in Badger’s small bed instead of his own, which meant he had to:

  1. Turf Badger off it
  2. Drag it out from under a low shelf and
  3. Curl up really tightly to fit on it

The first we knew of this low-level canine bullying was the whining of our little pet at the kitchen door.  Bruno wasn’t relinquishing the bed, so we took pity on Badger and allowed him to sleep in ours.  Badger was delighted and became quite accustomed to the arrangement over the following ten nights.  When Bruno departed, Badger saw no reason why he should return to his old bed in the kitchen. 

But, since we wanted our own bed for ourselves, we shut him in the kitchen anyway.  Unimpressed by the return to his old dormitory, Mr Long whined; quietly at first, but then louder and with more urgency.  And then he started to bark.  Not incessantly, just occasionally, but regularly enough to awaken us as we were tipping off to sleep.

It was not as if Badger was angry.  Just disappointed.

Eventually, I got up and tried bribing him with treats to stay in his bed.  Which he did, until I switched the lights out.  When I turned the lights back on after five seconds, to check he was still in bed, my dachshund was half way across the floor, frozen in mid-step.

I tried a couple more times, but Badger was beginning to enjoy his own version of Grandmother’s Footsteps.  So I did what any exasperated parent would do and decided to bore him to sleep, by sitting with my book and reading, albeit not out loud. I am not that deluded (yet). Miraculously, it worked.

I only had to repeat the exercise a couple of times over the next few nights before Badger accepted his own bed instead of ours.

It was reminiscent of when we had to manage the kids’ sleeping patterns and is one of many similarities between bringing up toddlers and looking after a dachshund.  It is no coincidence.  Simply cuddling Badger seems to release a dose of oxytocin as if I am holding my child.  Of course physically, Josh and Badger are at opposite ends of the scale:  one, six feet four inches tall; the other with four feet but only six inches tall.  And their respective characters are equally far apart: quiet, mild mannered and reasonable against angry, demanding and self-centred. 

But the arrival of Badger is directly linked to the loss of Josh, so, we can be forgiven for treating him like our lost boy.  Even our daughter ironically (or otherwise) refers to Badger as ‘the favourite child’ and there might be some truth in the observation. 

Not that we ever spoil him or bow to his demands.  Apart from the occasional bedtime story. 

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Spud You Like

Posted on February 26, 2025 by midlifegardener
Someone Told me to wash my silver birch...
Someone suggested cleaning my silver birch…

The February half term break feels like a significant moment in the horticultural year.  Mrs B is fed up with the cold weather, but finally it seems the days are lengthening, and March is nearly upon us, which, nominally at least, is the start of spring.  The growing season is imminent, but now I start waking in the night worrying that it is too late to sow annuals and veg seeds.

Last month Mrs B and I braved the winter chill to make the annual Potato Day pilgrimage to Caryford Hall, joining the line of fellow pilgrims earnestly shuffling past the colour-coded plastic tubs of first and second earlies or main crop chitters.  Unusually, I went with little planning or forethought on what I wanted, or perhaps it signifies how I kinda know what I want these days, without having to overthink it.  No plan was probably wise, as many of the spuds I would have grown in the past were not available, not even anything Arran based, so I randomly selected Jazzy, Pentland Javelin, and Caledonian Pearl.  All of them are earlies, as these days I tend to agree with Mrs B’s view that main crop do not justify their space in the raised beds. 

As we stood in line, I heard rumblings of discontent among the Potato Day punters. 

“They’ve got no International Kidney and no Pink Fir Apple”, muttered one middle aged lady. 

“Hmm.  It’s a pretty crap year” was her husband’s considered reply, which I thought was little harsh, as the Pennard Plants staff always offered a couple of alternatives, but that just led to more earnest debates on their relative merits.

“What do you think love, Marvel, or Sunset?”

Apart from potatoes, I bought some chilli seeds and aubergine seeds, as they need an early start, and I am pleased to say they are already germinating.  It is always exciting to see the first seedlings poking through.  I never tire of this horticultural ‘miracle of birth’ which spurs me on to sow lots of annual flowers.  The flowers seeds are germinating in the greenhouse, but I started the chillis and aubergines on the heated floor of the bathroom, which probably helped them, but created an element of jeopardy and mild peril for any nighttime trip to the toilet. 

Just another reason why Mrs B cannot wait for the warmer weather arrive.

Serried ranks of garlic
Aubergines
Chillis love a bit of heat
Tulips are coming
Love that shiny clean bark
Calendula always do well (to start)
Broad Beans
Rhubarb looking good this year
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Light Bulb Moments

Posted on February 1, 2025 by midlifegardener

It’s been a busy autumn and winter in the midlife garden.  We started by distributing two tons of revive compost around beds and borders after which started to make some strategic changes with plants.  The Christmas tree was dug from the garden and taken inside for the festive period, and replaced by a mariessii, which was otherwise likely to partially block the front path in the summer.

When we realised the Christmas tree might have survived the indoor festivities we decided to place it in the back garden: an exercise which included the removal and replanting of bamboo from the garden and a pot. All of which brings instantaneous results.

Less instantaneous, but hopefully equally pleasing results, are hoped to be gained from the bulbs that we planted in the autumn.

In the veg patch that meant garlic and onions.  The garlic is our go-to plant for mid-winter positivity, the green shoots reminding us that there is life in the midlife garden yet and I noticed this week even the onions are starting to show.

Beyond the veg patch, there is a plan for early spring flowers.  We sowed various coloured  ranunculus in pots in the greenhouse, but they have suffered repeated assaults, with some failing to germinate, some succumbing to damping off, while others fell victim to mice.  A few doughty plants remain, like survivors at Rorke’s Drift. The dachshund has busied himself trying to dig up the mice.

Out in the borders, we have sown a bunch of allium bulbs (Ping Pong and Azureum) in the Spursy bed to provide a little early blue and white colour.  But, the brightest spring moments are planned for the fruit tree bed, where, in between storms and prior to frosts, we managed to insert 600 tulips for cutting in the spring.

So, lots to look forward to, with crossed fingers.

Prepping for tulips
Prepping for tulips
Compost ready to go on the tulips
Ready to go
600 tulip bulbs?
Spreading teh tulips
Sowing
Mouse damage
Mouse damage ranunculus
Ranunculus survivors
One survivor
Remains of the mouse-hunt
Remains of the mousehunt
Garlic
Garlic
Splitting the smaller bamboo
Splitting the bamboo
Replaced bamboo…
With Christmas tree
Re-settled bamboo
Tall bamboo with the shorter stuff in the tub
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Flower Power

Posted on October 13, 2024 by midlifegardener
Autumn 1984

Mrs B bought some Russet apples last week, which brought to mind a picture I have of my mother sorting russet apples on the lawn at the old place, around 1984.  Crops of fruit were always impressive with my parents in charge and normally ended in vast quantities cooked, frozen or bottled.

I was thinking of those harvests as I sat down to review my own efforts in the garden this past summer.  Fruit was not a great success, although we got a few apples, and enough raspberries to keep us going for a while with no danger of having to deal with any surplus.

Vegetables were not great, apart from the runners and French beans and some awesome aubergines in the greenhouse.  The suggestion from Paddi and Richard to plant the aubergines in the partial shade of the tomatoes really seemed to work.   Elsewhere squashes were poor and we only harvested two courgettes in total.  An unwanted record, that one.

But there’s a good reason for the poor crop of veg, as the priority this year was flowers.  These were an undoubted success, inasmuch as we got enough to bloom on the 13th July for THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR.

But looking ahead we need to get more flowers for longer through the season.  So now comes the important planning bit, seeking out early bloomers, like tulips, ranunculus, and sweet Williams and other biennials.  And then, perhaps, something that could still be flowering into October. Which brings us to dahlias, flowers I once regarded as too blowsy and flash, but which I now realise could create an absolute bonanza of cut flowers.

It will require some investment in seeds, corms and bulbs, but the rewards should be there from April through to October.

It is the planning for a new season and new plants that keeps me going through the shortening days, and If I can apply myself to cultivating blooms like my parents produced crops of fruit, this time next year I could be looking back on a summer of flower power in the Midlife Garden.

Still picking these
Something for next year? (Saw these at Tyntesfield)
Feels like a guilty pleasure
Hardy annuals for the new season
Ranunculus planted
“And they were red and yellow and pink and….”
This is what is possible
Wouldn’t stand under that if I were you…
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