A last word on the lowly nasturtium. These stalwarts have flowered all summer without faltering and they still are. I deadhead them almost every day for fear of a plague next year, and I’m afraid the inevitable “aroma” still persists, but the bumble bees are still rummaging through them so I’ll keep them going for as long as I can, I may even grow them next year into the small sorbus that I keep clipped. It could do with brightening up.
Once again I am attempting to overwinter two cannas I purchased early in the year, they have grown beautifully, but I lost my nerve through the recent cold snap and have brought them into the conservatory. One burst its buds and flowered in the warmth within a couple of days, but the other one was a little more circumspect and resisted my blandishments of shelter and just a little warmth, but has now succumbed. The next test will be finding a way to keep them over the winter and coax them into growth. This is something I haven’t managed before. They come through the winter intact, but then rot when regrowth begins. I need to do some more research. Perhaps I kill them with kindness. I don’t plant them into the ground as I’m convinced the clay would claim them and I would lose them anyway, but other folks seem to manage it - ‘specially the ones on the internet, so why not me!
Morning Glory has been very tardy this year. The seed germinated well and the plants made good growth, both in pots and in their final ground spot, but they’ve been very reluctant to flower and the approaching chill will, I fear, do for them.
Michaelmas Daisies (big Asters) have also been slow to flower but are getting their act together in this late autumn heat-wave. They grow so big, 4 feet plus, drawn up, I imagine by the trees, but I Chelsea chopped them last year and they hardly flowered at all, so, biting the bullet, I have resolved to dig them out. We are always told that plants in a small garden must earn their keep and I’m sorry to say that these don’t, much as I love them when they eventually do arrive, and its no use saying “grow the small ones” because they’re just not the same, not to me anyway. I aim to find something to replace them that works harder and for longer - hey ho...
This impossibly pink Hebe is more than delighted to be in the ground as I kept it marooned in a pot last year, along with three others just as decorative, but sadly not as durable. Last year they went some way towards assuaging the unrelieved awfulness of the building work (however welcome the result) and I have rewarded the survivor with a place in my border. The bees love Hebe and I am minded to grow more as it lasts well in flower and is tolerably neat out of it.
My fondness for big blowsy fuchsias has faded having suffered three years worth of fearsome aphids which destroy soft new buds and prevent flowering; but at the same time I have been hopeful of raising fuchsia Hawkeshead from rooted cuttings - a simple task you might imagine - not so! for when I ordered half a dozen from the most well-known company on the planet, they sent the wrong fuchsia and, understandably, I didn’t find out until the plants grew on and developed fat buds! (when they should ha
ve developed tiny ones). I complained and they promised to send me replacement Hawkeshead the next year as it was by then, too late to send more. Surprise surprise, the next year 6 rooted cuttings arrived, I grew them on, until they too developed big FAT buds. I gave up - didn’t even complain, but I swore I’d never order anything from that very well 
known company again. Instead I contacted a fuchsia nursery in early spring this year and lo - fuchsias were delivered and I have, finally, grown Hawkeshead. One might well say Hawkeshead?? - its all over the place, well, not in my experience, I’ve seen it in other peoples gardens, admired it, coveted it, but not on sale in a garden centre or plant nursery. As well as Hawkeshead, I grew White Knights Pearl this year and it too is exquisite, here’s hoping I get them through the winter.
On a similar note, I noticed this tiny, but surprisingly vigorous, and slightly scented Clematis in a favourite plant nursery - The Walled Garden, on the road between Wootton Bassett and Malmesbury - Clematis x triternata Rubromarginata - bit of a mouthful but well worth growing in a small space. The delicate little blooms invite close scrutiny, and it has made plenty of growth and brought forth dozens of flowers and all in its first year. That’s what I call a “good buy”. (As with all Clematis in their first year, it has needed a goodly amount of water, but that said, it is close to a wall so doesn’t benefit hugely from anything other than very heavy rain).
The approach of August brings me no pleasure, I don’t look forward to it because for me it is the most difficult of months. My clay soil has dried out even with the heavy rain we have had at times, and although my mixed border is more colourful this year, as I intended and hoped it would be, all the soil improvement and feeding I’ve done is still not enough - don’t you just hate clay soil. 
I came across some free Nasturtium seeds some weeks ago and decided to give them a go just to fill gaps I knew would appear. I just pushed them into the soil and watered them, and frankly, forgot about them until they began to come up. More luck than judgement, but they are currently illuminating a tree heath, which doesn’t really do anything at this time of year, being a spring flowerer, and lighting up an uninteresting corner of my plant wall left bare by the disappearing spring bulbs. It is very necessary to deadhead them pretty diligently given their propensity for setting seed and having done so, cease flowering, but I have to grit my teeth a bit as they smell appalling and doing the job without gloves causes smelly hands. That said, they make such a splash of colour and the bees love them, so giving them garden room is a bit of a no-brainer. 
Our trip to Chelsea this year was not so much memorable for the flora as for the rain! We managed to choose the day the heavens opened, but being of stalwart English stock we shrugged our shoulders and muttered something on the lines of "sods law".The great and the good were not quite so ubiquitous as last year, they were, undoubtedly, ensconced in some holy of holies, sheltering from the unforgiving deluge clutching some welcome pre-prandial plonk! But we were made of sterner stuff and dressed in all manner of Gortex - impervious to the rain - we trudged and slid about the place and stood and steamed in the "Great Pavillion" alongside the rest of the unwashed.
But it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, for, sheltering brings inevitable contact with others and we gladly rubbed shoulders with numbers of folks from many different corners of the UK. It's remarkable how the smell and taste of chips brings comfort in adversity and we were not immune to it either... how much more cheerful a tray of chips and an awning to shelter under makes you feel, not to mention all the jokers in the crowd never short of a quip to bring a ripple of laughter... we wouldn't have missed it!
And my favourite garden - no contest really... Cleve West, Cleve West, oh and Cleve West.
There’s this rush to flower in my garden in Spring which lulls me into a false sense of security because instead of sitting back to enjoy it all, the real work starts here. 
If I miss the beginning I’m playing catch-up all summer and that is what I am determined to avoid – with as few blank spaces as possible. I’ve begun to pull out self-seeded forget-me-not, which is a lifesaver, especially for early bees, and this either allows existing plants through or makes space for something new.
I’ve been mightily fortunate that the Wisteria I purchased last October from a bargain bucket at Blooms (forgive the alliteration there) has flowered, and for the size of the plant, spectacularly; I need to do a bit of research regarding the alchemy of pruning or I will ruin it for the next year.
This pretty Clematis, which resembles a Montana Rubens, though not quite pink enough, and the blooms rather larger, has migrated into my garden on the shady side, over the last few years, first with a single stray shoot, and now a vigorous determination. An unremarkable white flowered Ceanothus plays host to it and blooms at a similar time. 
While the clematis flowers, it throws out vigorous shoots in its Montana image, which I cut off to restrict its habit and to better reveal the pretty flowers. The Ceanothus does its own unspectacular thing, and when they’re both done, I cut them both back quite hard, the clematis receiving two haircuts instead of one and they both set off again towards the goal of a similar show next spring. As well as being an import, this little clematis possesses one other quirk – a single bloom with six petals, all the rest having just four.
The blackbirds, blue-tits, dunnocks, starlings and not forgetting nesting collared doves are exceptionally active now and you’d be hard pressed to find an insect pest or invertebrate in my garden without a good dig around which presumably is why my fleshy Hostas survive without chemicals, and is why I will continue in my attempt to achieve a chemical free garden. I can’t claim to be organic but I rarely use chemicals. 
If I do, it is only on a plant in a pot, for example when my potted Camellia was infested with Vine Weevil. I isolated it and it stayed isolated until all danger to wildlife had passed – I never use chemicals directly in my soil. I got rid of lily beetle by getting rid of my lilies, with the exception of one Casa Blanca which lives happily in the greenhouse and is only brought out of it when it flowers. 
Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet – let nature come back and work with it. So what if your precious bark chips get strewn around by a foraging bird – watch his ingenuity and marvel at it – he’s feeding his family in an increasingly hostile environment – let’s hope we don’t face the same problems in a few years time. 
My replanting, due to both builders and winter losses is proceeding with a degree of trepidation as, with a small border like mine, the danger is that it will look “spotty” as planting 3 or 5 of something isn’t always an option. I’m sure, with foresight and a bit of care, I can achieve a degree of ‘succession planting’ (in the way of Christopher Lloyd), so that there is always colour and interest going on, but this will require ‘stuffing’ either with timely pots, or removals and replacements. My main aim is, not so much a splash, more a deluge, right through to September/October – it’s not that I’m greedy – I just like a lot! And now that I can spend a bit more time on the garden, there’s no excuse.
Hellebores are obliging souls; they self-seed, but are easy to remove, unlike stubborn violets, which abound in my garden. I planted this pink one, but the green/cream came of it’s own volition, or via a bird. It has a tall habit and flops easily, but give it a stick to lean on and it smiles.
The bulbs are always a surprise because I rarely remember exactly where they are and those in long standing pots are stored without labels and there’s an element of Christmas parcels when they unwrap themselves and reveal the surprise. 
Although subjected to inhumanly low temperatures over winter, the tulips have survived and prospered and this is a true surprise, because it hasn’t happened before. Those in pots have billowed and bloomed wonderfully; unfortunately, as I expected, those few I placed in the ground have not. But hey, you can’t win ‘em all.
Be aware of butterflies tapping at garage and shed windows. I let a butterfly out of the garage today; around a dozen or so hibernate over the winter in there and as soon as it warms up, they’re anxious to escape and get on with their brief existence so don’t stand in their way. 