A year winding down.

My garden isn’t big enough to grow edibles on a large scale, although I do get a decent crop of apples most years. Unfortunately this year I was away at the crucial time and many apples fell before they could be picked but the birds enjoyed them and no doubt mousy and ratty had their fair share too. It is a solitary pleasure I enjoy every year to wander round the garden munching a freshly picked apple or a few blackberries, a crisp runner bean straight from the vine or, for me at least, the pure pleasure of a drippingly ripe fig that is so ready to be picked it drops from the tree into your hand. You have to be a bit circumspect regarding figs though, and keep a very weather eye on the number you consume! Failure to observe this simple rule can have significant consequences.
Big ideas in small gardens.
Having grown the Katsura tree (cercidiphyllum japonicum) in a pot for a couple of years I made room for it in the border this spring and it has seized the initiative and grown a foot or so, even with a canary creeper strangling its outer reaches. It possesses an ethereal manner and a pleasing habit and in the autumn the real payoff comes with fabulous leaf colour and the strange but unmistakable scent of burnt sugar as the leaves fall. That said – I am bound to mention the discrepancy between the plant label when I purchased it from Westonbirt where I’d seen it growing, and my later research i.e. the gospel according to the RHS Encyclopaedia of Garden Plants. The label pronounced it a “medium shrub” – RHS tells me a minimum of 20 feet (in old money), and it if grows as rapidly in future years as it has this year, bearing in mind the shock of being moved out of the large pot and the settling in process, I doubt if it will take very long to reach its potential. As I have watched progress this year my inner voice has nagged on the odd occasion “you saw it growing at Westonbirt National Arboretum, a large area in anyone’s book, that should have nudged an alarm bell somewhere in the back of your mind” – true, but have you ever visited an enormous furniture warehouse and chosen a comfortable new sofa for the sitting room – it doesn’t look that big in the enormous warehouse – but then you get it home…..
The scent of late summer.
This scented begonia (Aromantics) having started quite late is still flowering, so a satisfactory reward for patience. I’ve been expecting it to flop in the recent cold weather but it has survived beneath a scrap of horticultural fleece at night so I’ll leave it outside for as long as I dare. The scent is difficult to reach given the weight of the flowers and their drooping habit but is worth the effort.
Brilliant.
Such a favourite in autumn, no matter how dull the day, cotoneaster horizontalis will always brighten a corner, at least until the local blackbirds decide to do lunch!

Hold onto your Hats

Autumn is screaming through this garden at an alarming pace; leaves are falling, flowering plants fading and shutting down, even the fish are slowing dramatically in the cool morning, the Koi particularly (all two of them) are losing interest in food. Last year they were still feeding into October.

Swings and Roundabouts

There have been some failures in the garden this year, but successes too – sounds like politics doesn’t it. The sweet peas have flowered wonderfully unlike last year when they produced only foliage. The Delphiniums, New Zealand doubles, (which I chose to grow in large pots this year due to the disruption of moving the pond) have bloomed well, but developed some mildew on the leaves, due, I imagine, to poor air circulation since I grew them close on a sunny house wall. The herbs (tarragon, parsley, chives, garlic chives, thyme, sage, coriander, chillies) have been a huge success. I grow them in large pots on a low wall by my kitchen where the airflow is good to draughty and the sun is south/west. Coriander is particularly easy to grow but tends to run to seed quickly, however by seeding it regularly e.g. as one lot germinates just sow another and another and so on, to keep it coming, a good supply can be maintained.

Some exquisite successes

Gillenia Trifoliata which I first saw growing at the Botanical Garden of Wales, and managed to locate in a nursery near Frome flowered for the first time this year – presumably because I finally found a place in the garden where it was happy – having failed for the last two years – I think it prefers the ground to a pot.

Acidanthera (aka Gladiolus Callianthus) is another all time favourite of mine, but I’ve managed to lose it through forgetting to lift in the autumn. This year I’ve grown it in pots and it’s been reasonably happy. Next year I hope to grow it in water pots and sink them into the ground – by hoisting a flag above each one I may even remember to lift them for storage. These have a strong scent which reminds me of bathroom freshener; unfortunate I suppose – still – admire the beauty of the flowers, try to ignore the pong!

My all time favourite “Angels Fishing Rod” (Dierama Igneum) flowered this year for the first time. I saw this at Great Dixter some years ago growing by the pond and it looked wonderful with its arching wiry stems nodding at the waters edge. Mine grows in the impoverished soil of an ornamental wall in dappled sun and seems happy, so I’ll leave it there. It has the ability to self-seed apparently, I hope it does – there’s nothing I like more than the odd ‘freebie’.

A word on the Wildlife

It’s been a good year for butterflies; I photographed a comma butterfly yesterday, a rare visitor to this garden – it stayed all afternoon to feast on the second flush of buddleia.

We are lucky enough to be included in the foraging area of a young hedgehog, which has visited through the summer and now the autumn. It arrives at roughly the same time each evening to feed on any blackbird mix and sultanas left by the birds and we have been supplementing this with a few extra morsels to help build weight for the winter hibernation. It dislikes noise and sudden movement, even a camera shutter will drive it off, but careful observation and above all, quiet, has been rewarded – oh for a quiet garden!

Mid Summer Mumbles

Though torrential rain has battered my tiny patch for the last several weeks, as it has the rest of Wiltshire, my more resilient plants have raised their heads regardless, and it’s done wonders for my runner beans, which need a regular shower to help the flowers to set. The trees are fat with rain and looking lush and happy, all except the little Acer Drummondii which dislikes the battering and shows its disapproval by developing muddy brown patches on the leaves and looking very sorry indeed. However, from experience, it will produce a few new leaves as the summer progresses and come next Spring, all will be well. I look forward to the yellow and green splash even though the onset of heavy summer rain will knock its roof in again.

I have two Clematis “Polish Spirit” (viticella) and both have given sterling service over a number of years. They are not the most spectacular of their species but they survive heavy rain and flower through beyond September. Insects love them and they provide much needed shelter for butterflies and bumble bees. The one on the Pergola (aka the Gantry) is bigger this year than ever before and much of it is yet to flower. It gets a feed if I remember to do it, but it receives very little hands-on care (other than the usual chop in February) and is largely left to itself. Every year I gaze longingly at the fabulous new Clematis available in the garden centre and this year I’ve promised myself something new for next summer but I won’t be getting rid of “Polish Spirit” any time soon.

When the pond was moved in the Spring I was left with a blank circle, or, more correctly, an ellipse of clay where the spoil of the new pond had been dumped. I distributed the decent topsoil around the remainder of the garden and left only a shallow covering over the space. Not wishing to live with a fallow area for the whole summer I decided to scatter some saved seed from earlier years, poppies, cornflowers, love-in-a-mist, borage, together with a packet of wildflower seeds. To make the space appear more full and mature I crammed in some spare lobelia, pots of Acidanthera; Gypsophila, Leucanthemum, Osteospermum, and Heliotrope which last well if deadheaded and lastly a couple of Cannas in pots. Six spare square stones provide a temporary walk-way for watering (which has not been very necessary just recently) and when I decide on a more permanent use for the space, all of it can come out as quickly as it went in – the Gurus call it instant gardening apparently.

Buddleia grows where it pleases in my garden as it serves our summer visitors so well. At the moment, and whenever the sun decides to show itself, my garden is filled with dozens of butterflies and bumblebees, I even spotted a Red Admiral this morning – they’ve been very few and far between around here. Buddleia is easy to grow and such a magnet for butterflies there really is no excuse not to have one. They’re not all enormous, you can accommodate a small one in a pot; they flower all summer long and possess a delicious blackberry scent. Mind you, they are also particularly good when used for summer privacy in the garden as they can be cut back after flowering or left to waft around in the gales, then clipped around February/March time for rapid growth to a good height. There’s nothing worse than being gawped at, so if you’re looking to discourage nosy neighbours there’s no better plant than a blooming great Buddleia!

Wake up and Smell the Roses

Rosa Rambling Rector is a thug but a benign one. Mine is about over now but bloomed abundantly and although a brief spectacle, I would not be without it. I was forced to hack it back very late last year, but clearly, it bears me no ill will. Too big for a small garden?? – undoubtedly, but catch it before it runs riot and you can keep it within bounds, go away for a couple of weeks and you’re lost! The honey scent is a daily treat during flowering and delighted bees tumble drunkenly from one tiny bloom to another. It has been almost completely clear of pests and I attribute this bonus to the sparrows that infest it in the cool early morning and the hard winter we experienced. A few vigorous and unforgiving trees surround it and it has been known to suffer badly from greenfly, but not this year.

Mail Order
My decision to experiment with mail order plants this year has, by and large, been unsuccessful. Tempting photographs and persuasive DVDs lulled me into one of these, five of those, 2 dozen of the other and so on. I’m fond of fuchsias, but 5 Lady Boothby is a bit silly in a small plot like mine and although Gardening Which? has accepted it as the world’s only climbing fuchsia, speaking personally, the jury is very much still out. It is certainly vigorous and responds well to “pinching” but I remain to be convinced that it is a climber rather than just plain leggy. If they prove worthy, I may keep one and give the remainder away. I’ll not fall into the mail order trap again. In my case, and this is purely a personal opinion, plants were dispatched far too early and the soft growth required a heated greenhouse – an expense I am not prepared to incur. During the cold and frosty early spring this year it was a struggle to keep rooted cuttings alive and bug and mildew free, and if you dislike chemicals as much as I do, a struggle can become a near impossibility. To add insult to injury the capsid bugs have been on the munch again in my garden and the fuchsias are always the first target.

Froglets
Our tiny froglets have escaped into the garden, around 20 of them – slippery little suckers. Being in loco parentis so to speak, I wanted to hang onto them until they were a decent size but they would have none of it. They determinedly climbed the sides of their laundry box home and didn’t give up until they were out of there. Oddly, we are left with one single tadpole, no legs, no nothing. I am assured by “froglife” that it may mature later in the year or failing that, over-winter and develop next spring. For the time being it remains in splendid isolation – and I remain without a laundry box.

Canary Creeper
I’ve grown canary creeper this year for the first time and it is absolutely everywhere! The bees love it and it makes a pleasing splash of yellow when all the spring yellow is gone away. Now I know what it can do, if I grow it next year I will be a little more circumspect about where I put it and probably confine it to one part of the garden, if that’s possible – mind you, I do have a certain admiration for an annual that grows so fast and flowers so profusely in such a short time.
Mr Bird watches all and says little.









Mrs Bird watches Mr Bird.

Moving Forward (if we must)

Water
My garden is nothing if not informal and the pond occupies a fairly large slice of it but I make no apologies for that. I’m very fond of the fish, odd though that may appear to those less “fishy” than I. But, I was surprised to find myself at one with none other than Ken Livingstone (late Mayor of…London was it?) in that his pond takes up much of his London garden (BBC Chelsea coverage). Although his pond was constructed for wildlife and mine was not specifically, both ponds occupy a significant (some might say over-large) area of a comparatively small space, though I have to say his space appears somewhat larger than mine – if I was a politician could I claim for that do you think? .
Wildlife
To limit the fishy nibbling I rescued a diminishing clump of frogspawn back in February and the resultant tadpoles are still alive! No legs yet though. It is comforting to know that one of our resident frogs is fond of a convenient fold in the liner of the new pond, and retreats there whenever the need arises – wish I could get in there – should I rent it out to politicians I wonder. Regarding the fish – they have taken umbrage at their new apartments and appear determinedly predisposed to setting their feet upon the land. This isn’t working too well for them since they have no feet but they fling themselves out of the water nevertheless. I’ve taken to netting it when I’m not around in the hope that they will eventually be persuaded that the “landing” is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Clay
Clay is by its nature, like an old washing machine, ugly and difficult. A surfeit of rain and a clay garden are not happy bedfellows and given the recent heavy rain and the possibility of more to come, my ideas and decisions regarding the “finishing touches” required around the new pond are in a state of flux. Since there are large bald patches due to the earthworks, some kind of pathway has to come into being but I am determined not to make things too permanent because I know, at some point, I will want to change them so anymore hard landscaping is not to be considered. However I’ve come close to breaking my neck on the muddy patches on the way to the greenhouse. Under current consideration is a patchwork of reclaimed bricks and surviving grass – needs a leap of faith maybe, a bit like politics? (I’ve finished now).
but on a lighter note……….. took some friends to the Abbey House Garden at the weekend. We are fortunate…it’s just a few minutes drive away, but I wouldn’t want to ‘crow’. We’re regular visitors but they hadn’t seen it, and were impressed to say the very least. Abbey House appeals on so many levels both to gardener and non-gardener; tranquillity pervades even on a hot Saturday. The planting gives me ideas far beyond my station and ability and sets me dreaming. As I write, the Rose collection, which is vast, is on the cusp (so is mine but on a more minute scale) and I’ll sneak back in a couple of weeks for another ‘fix’.

Old ponds, new ponds

In the interests of variety, good gardening and, to an extent I suppose, the local economy, I’m in the process of having some work done on my garden. I don’t envy the young men doing the job but I’m thankful it ain’t me! There was rain last night, and this morning they are faced with water at the bottom of the hole – the “hole” being a new pond, the old one having been emptied yesterday and filled in. The operation to transfer the fish, wildlife and, of course, Froggy, went smoothly enough although I preferred not to watch. Severe guilt has set in at my decision to destroy their long held domicile, even though a better one is in prospect. I imagine them to be at the very least unsettled, since I anthropomorphise all things “wildlife”. Perhaps I should make a speech in political vein and in the style of “jam tomorrow” or “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” I am inclined to believe such empty rhetoric would fall on deaf ears, much as it does in the human world, for I still have my home and all things familiar around me; no one has yet ‘hoiked’ me out of it, imprisoned me in a blue plastic container and bull-dozed all that I hold dear. My hope is that the old tale of fish having a short memory is true because if they do harbour a grudge then I’m really in for some stick!
But I digress – for while all this mayhem continues in the main body of the garden, the remainder labours on with the business of living. The birds dodge in and out of the way of the work and the plants accept the rain and benignly await a return to quieter times – don’t we all?

This Winter to Spring

This Winter to Spring season has re-educated me on a subject with which I’d lost touch over the last eight to ten years – the art of patience. In previous years, growth has been underway even as January began, but not so this year. My clay soil has been, by turns, rock solid in winter’s icy grip then within days so muddy and water-ridden that I would have been forgiven for imagining the stench of something rotting! It’s as if my garden has “damped off”. Plants that have survived quite happily in the soil for many winters have died, and others in permanent pots were doomed, probably as far back as December. One generous and happy exception is Dicentra, in pots and in the soil it is showing an unexpectedly firm resolve to perform in spite of (or maybe because of) the unforgiving gloom. Another welcome fillip is the remarkably good showing of miniature daffodils which have fared far better than their taller cousins, many of which have emerged “blind”, I haven’t yet completed an inventory of my plants, but when I do, I doubt if it will make happy reading.

Although the Echeveria brought back from Scilly a few years ago made a game attempt at survival after I allowed it to freeze solid in the greenhouse (an error for which I am still kicking myself) it eventually turned brilliant pink and collapsed from within. I managed to rescue five leaves and am attempting to root them. I know Echeverias are usually increased by rooting offsets, but there aren’t any and beggars can’t be choosers. If it fails, well I’ll just have to swim back to Scilly – oh I know I can go out and buy an Echeveria from any old garden shop and centre in the country, but it wouldn’t be the same – it’s a woman thing.

An Other World Experience
A programme that has been running on BBC 4 is hugely comical and a “must watch” not just for gardeners, but for anyone looking for a good laugh. Perhaps I missed it first time round if it was shown on a main channel, but it’s no less of a “hoot”. “Sissinghurst”, a programme dedicated to arguably the most famous garden in the world, looks initially like a spoof, but sadly, it’s no such thing. The two main protagonists appear to come from another planet and are keen, in their own small way, to dictate to THE NATIONAL TRUST!!! - an ambitious brief. These two, one a member of the “donor” family, the other by marriage firmly believe they can transform Sissinghurst into a going concern; funny, but I thought it already was. They both have an outstanding talent for “hubris”. (If you’re not sure what hubris is, just listen to the Prime Minister for three seconds if you can bear to) it’s an acquired taste as a form of comedy, but it leaves you gasping! I’m a long-time member of this august organisation, though not an uncritical one, but The National Trust’s involvement with Sissinghurst has secured the gardens survival. I have a sneaking suspicion that it would otherwise have disappeared under concrete, ended up as a theme park or, most likely, crumbled to dust. Don’t get me wrong – I like Sissinghurst and have visited on a number of occasions and been inspired by it, but for me it has the air of a Shrine. It feels like a garden too long dominated by a minute piece of its history, that of “writer” Vita Sackville-West (aka Mrs Harold Nicholson), controversial in her own time, but no more than many others braver and less privileged than she. One day I hope Sissinghurst will be released from this straightjacket and allowed to live and breathe in it’s own right as a garden of many ages and not just one – but that’s only my opinion and far be it from me to be controversial.

Great Dixter, on the other hand, lives and breathes in spades. I hope it never becomes a shrine to Christopher Lloyd even though he will always be associated with it (he was at least a decent writer!).

Slowest Spring for Years

Gadgets
I’m experimenting with “Catwatch” at the moment and experiencing a modicum of success. So far two operate in my garden and I plan to purchase two more. They’re not cheap but nor are granules, pepper and gel and on balance I think these gadgets may hold some promise, but, inevitably, they have to be in situ for quite some time before any kind of victory can be declared. As well as relieving me of the onerous task of clearing up other peoples faeces, because that, frankly, is what it is even though it’s their cats that deposit it, I also hope to make my garden a safer place for nesting birds, and I take issue with the commonly held notion that cats only go for old or sick birds, on the contrary, they go for the easy target of helpless fledglings, torture them until there’s no more fun in it, then it’s off home to “mumsy” for a fish supper – how very 21st Century.
Gardening Gurus
Gardener’s Question Time is a programme I listen to if I’m close to a radio, it’s informative and sticks to it’s remit – most of the time, but a couple of weeks ago a redoubtable “Guru” exercised a degree of hand-wringing over “unqualified” gardeners and, as I understood it, the danger inherent in employing them to do, well, the jobs you don’t want to do, or for many and varied reasons, are not able to do. To be frank I’m not certain what an “unqualified” gardener is. I’m confident on unqualified plumbers, electricians, bricklayers or gas fitters, even the odd doctor, and haven’t we all heard of one of those? … but gardeners, well, that’s a bit of a grey area. If you’ve gardened successfully for 5, 10, 20, 30 years, are you less qualified than, say, someone who has just completed a three month course and finished up with something on paper? – should I feel qualified to answer that? Maybe not. During the current downturn a.k.a recession/depression there are thousands of people coming home from jobs they have just lost. Part of the recovery from this devastating blow will be a decision to keep busy and hopefully make some money until pure luck, or retraining produces a new start. Those who are gardeners will look no further than their favourite pastime to earn a few quid. There will be a “bulge” of jobbing gardeners offering customers the legendary “no job too small”. When things pick up, most will return to their previous occupations but a few will not turn back, because they will have found the answer to “life, the universe and everything” and for the uninitiated, that is Gardening!
Common Sense
I occasionally employ “jobbing” gardeners and one thing I never ask is “where did you go to college?” There are other ways to test knowledge, ability and plain common sense. Ask salient questions, explain thoroughly and exactly what you require and above all watch them like a hawk until you are sure they know what they’re doing, (isn’t it obvious?) oh, and be on hand with the odd cup of coffee, because they’ll need it.
Epilog
I live in hope that the majority of people, and especially gardeners, possess the sense they were born with, (notable exceptions being politicians who need no qualifications and were born with an overblown sense of their own importance and an innate conviction that they deserve huge salaries and iron-clad pensions, and bankers born with an extra portion of “greedy” gene and an inability to see further than the ends of their smug noses), and I live in hope that soon, when the weather decides it’s time to give us all a break, we’ll glimpse a few genuine green shoots.
Iris has finally shown her colours this year.

Out In The Cold

It’s been cold (in case you’ve been away)
This time last year I had Iris Reticulata flowering, the winter heathers were on the cusp and pockets of new growth were itching to just get on with it. This year the Iris has refused even to break the surface of the soil and do you know what? if my name was Iris, neither would I. We’ve lived in this part of Wiltshire for almost 15 years and my tiny sheltered greenhouse has never frozen inside until this year – I’ve even had difficulty just getting the door open.
Big Mistake
My lack of timely attention, apart from the horticultural fleece I rather carelessly scatter around, has meant that I have probably lost most of the plants over wintering in my greenhouse, including the Aeoniums and Echeverias I bought back from Scilly a few years ago. My favourite Echeveria has turned a translucent squeamish green and when I touched it, it felt very, very, solid. I’m hoping that if I increase the protection in the greenhouse the plants may defrost very slowly, rather like a well-placed Camellia in early Spring, but as so often happens in gardening, hope can turn to disappointment. I’ll just have to wait and see.
Your Birds Need You
Even though there’s no gardening to be done, the birds still need looking after. Wildlife gardening is all the rage at the moment; programmes are popping up all over the place, a bit like celebrity chefs, but more use! – but gardening to benefit wildlife (and ultimately all of us) shouldn’t just be a fad or a phase it has to be a lifetime’s commitment. The simplest thing you can do and yet so vital, especially during hard periods like now is to leave a little food in a safe place and more importantly, water, for the birds. Regular feeding saves them the energy wasted in searching and you’ll be rewarded when they return in better times to eat your pests – provided you haven’t laced them with poisons first.
Mr & Mrs Blackbird, rather than just visiting, have taken up temporary residence close to the back door. As we come and go they “eye” us from the garden fence and we dutifully fetch scraps, grubs, seed or sultanas and they fall upon it before we’ve taken our hands away. I cannot recall such tame blackbirds, but I imagine that these two must make use of other humans in the vicinity much as they make use of us. They’ve trained us very well, to the extent that we feel guilty if they run out of food, and if they’re absent for a while, we start to wonder where they are. They certainly look fit and well which is gratifying, but I think they may soon need a “run-way” just to get off the ground.