Quintessential Winter

October and November have gone by almost without notice and since I have had something of a bellicose invasion of builders and workmen into my small space in Wiltshire I have had little to write about save a messy building site and even less to photograph, hopefully now that all the disturbance is over, at least for the time being, I can plan my new planting and improve on existing structure. I have a brand new patio to work with and a large pergola to plant up, but due to the constant freezing weather at the moment things remain at the planning stage – frustrating, but, I can dream.

There’s a feeling of quiet now that the workmen have gone. The birds are more relaxed and instead of avoiding strangers all day, they are settling back into foraging and feeding. Not that this is an easy task at the moment with granite hard ground and migrating birds swelling the resident population. It’s time to damn the expense and increase the food ration by a few extra handfuls of seed and dried fruit, not forgetting to replace frozen water with fresh every day for drinking and bathing.

But this is a good time, even with the hard weather. The sun streams through occasionally, not warming but welcome for all that, and it’s the only time in the year when I can wrap up warm under several layers, with a silly woollen hat pulled down over my ears and not care what it looks like, what’s more the incessant drone and groan of lawnmowers and the acrid fumes of bar-b-q’s and burnt food can be forgotten until next year – now that IS something to celebrate.

A Changeable Summer

I’ve discovered my fondness for Campanula has its limits. Around September last year I purchased Campanula Octopus – one of the strangest flowers in the garden. The bees ignored it, at least when I was around, perhaps because of the “flytrap” stickiness of the flowers. It had a long flowering period and a tall upright habit but little more to recommend it, but as ever, I have been unwilling to do away with it even though I don’t like it very much – once a plant rewards you with survival and vigour, there’s an element of betrayal if you simply hoik it out because it’s a bit of a stranger; it’s an English thing.

Always hard pressed to find colour at this time of year, at least, colour that doesn’t cost a lot, there is ever the temptation to resort to bedding, which frankly, takes a lot of trouble and watering and with holidays, away-days and do-nothing days, watering, on a substantial scale takes time and elicits a certain amount of guilt during dry periods. In these days of water saving and recycling chucking gallons of tap-water at tender plants isn’t necessarily what we should be doing and seeking out hardened performers has become something of mission for me. The only bedding I regularly use now is lobelia. It grows anywhere, tolerates a bit of neglect and produces shades of blue that show up well in my garden. It even seeds itself around like this one at the driest base of the house wall. It’s pretty where it needs to be and doesn’t invade where it isn’t wanted – so let’s hear it for Lobelia!

I’m one of the few people I know who is not entirely anti-wasp. They have their place in the environment as a predator and to an extent, a pollinator. Earlier in the Spring I noticed a tiny nest hanging, almost hidden, in a firethorn (Pyracantha) which usually only accommodates a couple of nesting pigeons and is rarely visited other than by blackbirds for the berries in autumn. We discussed it, as at that time it could easily have been removed, but decided against as it was out of the way and unlikely to be disturbed. It is now a good deal bigger but is still well concealed and providing we leave them alone, they leave us alone. This month I felt the need to trim a few wayward twigs from this sizeable shrub/tree and was careful to do it a) in a relaxed way and b) carefully avoiding the vicinity of the nest itself (I was also mindful not to wear perfume, as experience reminds me - wasps dislike it). One or two came to check me out but beyond that they left me alone. We had a sudden shower of rain and within seconds the entrance to the nest was crammed with wasps desperate to find shelter – clearly, they don’t like getting wet. So buoyed by this timely info. I began to work a lot quicker and even though I caused more disturbance, they stayed inside and out of the rain and I completed my task unscathed.

Living with this nest has prompted me to do a bit of research and I understand that wasps are territorial and will not encroach upon one another, neither will they return to an old nest, so leaving this one insitu after the season ends is likely to discourage further occupation close by – suits me.

A View of Chelsea

I made my first ever visit to Chelsea Flower Show this year. After the initial frisking of hand-baggage the first sense of the scale of the thing was a river of humanity stretching as far as the eye could see or the neck could crane. It feels very much part of what has become the gardening “scene” in the UK – whatever that is – and I have no doubt this has much to do with the ubiquitous, well-dressed, well-fed and even better paid, and probably very insistent BBC, but let’s not go there. I greatly enjoyed the day for all its aspects and experiences, its laughs and gob-smacked incredulity. Chelsea has, however, very much a “them and us” feel, which wasn’t lost on the others in my party, all of whom were there for the first time. The great and the good closeted and cosseted well away from us plebs played their regal parts and gazed from their restaurants, special areas and, from a distance, the rear of their gardens. To be fair there were some who braved the hoi polloi and I heartily congratulate them for that, particularly Patricia Thirion who could no more understand receiving only a bronze medal for Christian before Dior, than we could. It was my favourite of all the gardens from seeing it on the television and seeing it in the flesh and we all agreed that its charm and particularity lay in the fact that it was, indeed, a garden, in every sense.

Andy Sturgeon’s effort put me in mind of an old steam railway siding and I christened it The Road to Nowhere. I couldn’t see the reason for all the lyrical prose from Alan Titchmarsh and the rest, and I was put in mind of the little boy who hadn’t heard about the Emperor’s New Clothes. Clearly I hadn’t seen the thoughtful implication and artistry, only the dull, unimaginative planting, the slabs and the metal.

The M & G garden (Roger Platts) and the Hesco Garden with the representation of a canal lock were interesting, beautiful and good to look at, but I didn’t get much from the Foreign & Colonial Garden other than my youngest son christened it “The Bummery” which said it all really.

The Great Pavilion was worth every penny with fabulous Delphiniums, wonderful Bonsai and the most amazing vegetables and so much more. But it was the show gardens, which, even with all the Titchmarshesque flummery, disappointed somewhat. They clearly represented a huge amount of work, not to mention a huge amount of money but in back-garden parlance, they could have done with a bit of a “lift” and were in turns too dull, perhaps too muted, too green and yellow, too much stone and metal. That said we all agreed we would go again if only for the First Class rail travel and the taxi through London...

New Blooms

Chionodoxa, Puschkinia, Crocus, swathes of forget-me-nots and of course, beautiful tulips have all shown their faces in the last few weeks. Kojo-no-mai, a waterfall of white, then as it fades to pink, an elegant contrast appears with the emergence of light green leaves. This “no trouble” prunus takes up so little room with its neat dwarf habit then performs again in the autumn with good autumn colour for little more than an occasional watering and a feed just after flowering. I found another on the “reduced” table at the local Blooms yesterday and grabbed it. All the flowers had gone but it had a good shape. I now have three, all in pots (all different sizes) in different parts of the garden so when flowering time comes again they will be on hand to lift the spirits.

The tree heath (Erica Arboria) has put on a show. It never misses and a second plant in the back garden has topped a six-foot trellis this year. The fruit trees are in good heart, but of course piles of blossom do not necessarily mean piles of apples in the autumn. I don’t spray my trees, I let the birds do most of the work, so naturally I have to accept some pest damage along the way (and “peck” damage too, but they were here before I was). There have been days when the air has been so still that the apple blossom scent, even in my small garden, has been quite heady, if you close your eyes you can imagine you are in an orchard in Evesham (I wish) although you do have to ignore the incessant rumble of the M4, but hey, nothings perfect!

Though I have lost a few plants over the winter, I think I can count myself reasonably fortunate that so many of my favourites have survived. I am a little concerned about the Gleditsia as it shows no sign of shooting yet, but it is always the last tree to come to life so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. If it has “gone home” then I must accept that, and I have a small Yew close by which to an extent can take its place but I’m not sure I want to do without that fabulous splash of yellow early in the year – we’ll see.
I’m trying to forget about voting this week, dear oh dear, what a melee – with austerity staring us in the face, I guess I’ll have to dust off my seed-saving and propagating skills again. Is it time to “dig for Britain” I wonder?? Well maybe with a bit of a twist; we gardeners could carry on digging until we reached Australia, as long as we dragged a fair sized hose-pipe behind us; we could at least make a cup of tea when we got there.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Slow-hand winter
January and February have taken an unconscionable time to pass, and I am heartily glad to see them go. Little is moving in the garden except the birds and I am reluctant to cut back my clematis and buddleia because they are still making use of them for shelter and for foraging. So often, in our desire, as gardeners, to get started on the New Year with some “tidying” we miss the glaringly obvious. By cutting back and clearing we deprive wildlife of shelter and sustenance too early in the year. Ignore the gardening gurus (I do) for another week or two, or three if you can manage, it will not make any difference – I leave things late regularly, and apart from what could only be termed, inconvenience, my clematis, solanum, buddleia, winter jasmine et al, will do just as well and the wildlife will do even better.

The bright little bodies
I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad or relieved to see the snowdrops. Such gentle little bodies, they are the most welcome sight after all the dark days. I don’t have enough of them and each year I make a mental note to purchase some more “in the green” and always forget (I’ve written a note on my hand, maybe that’ll do the trick, until I wash of course). Another welcome Spring shrub - this sheltered Mahonia too is just beginning to sparkle.

Tulip Time
Although it’s snowdrop time now, it will soon be tulip time again and when flowering is done and dusted, my annual battle to preserve the bulbs for future years will begin. There was such a fabulous range of tulips at the end of last year, so much choice! I felt like a kid in a sweetshop; but there’s always this thought in the back of my mind, that if I don’t crack this “preserving” lark, the tulips I buy will become Annuals, and jolly expensive ones at that. I think the main thing is to keep them cool while in storage to prevent desiccation, but during the summer months this becomes one of the most difficult things to do, particularly in hot weather. The alternative is leaving them in the ground and in my clay soil, in a wet summer they simply disappear, they are not dug up by squirrels or mice (thankfully I am not troubled with moles) they simply rot away to nothing. This year I will take the advice of a neighbour and store them in a mixture of soil and sharp sand in a sizeable container and place this in the shadiest part of the garden. If it works I’ll be like a dog with two tales, if it doesn’t, then it’s back to the drawing board, oh, and the tulip shop……………… My mother, bless her, always had a fine show of big, blousy, colourful tulips and never ever did anything with them. They were left year after year in the ground and always came up on time, and stood for weeks in proud regimented rows. Occasionally she would add a few from the local market with no more ceremony than being chucked into a brown paper bag – no names, no long-winded instructions and recommendations, they did their job and proved their worth. Admittedly she had far better soil than I have, and when it comes down to details, that’s probably the crux of the matter. I can’t change my soil, I can only tinker with it…but the one thing I simply will not do is to stop growing tulips, I love them too much.

The Invaders

Fieldfares
They came yesterday afternoon to take advantage of the remaining cotoneaster and pyracantha (firethorn) berries, to the chagrin of the local blackbirds and the positive hostility of the sparrows. Six of them arrived in the hawthorn hedge, now devoid of berries and stubbornly remained until dusk drove them away to more salubrious shelter in the countryside. This morning they were back, mob-handed, but not just six, the word’s got out – I counted 25 close to the house and there were far more in the neighbouring trees. Having found a good supply of berries in my garden they brought their mates in for a banquet and have today systematically stripped every berry – rather like a plague of locusts. The local birds put up a bit of a fight yesterday but were hugely outnumbered today and must have watched in some dismay as their winter supply of food was consumed in a matter of hours. To my knowledge (of around 14 years) this has not happened in my garden before, so clearly, food must be short in their usual habitat of rural fields. I don’t begrudge Fieldfares a meal – but they could have asked!

Mrs Blackcap
This little female Blackcap has decided to remain here for the winter instead of high-tailing it abroad; I imagine she must be regretting that decision right about now. Even she has her aggressive side; she spends a good deal of her time inside the birdhouse table gobbling up the seed and dried fruit that I leave there on an increasingly regular basis. She’ll tackle anything that threatens to eject her, even the odd collared dove, and she has a big appetite for one so tiny.

The Wasteland
My garden appears to be a frozen wasteland at the moment but there is still plenty going on even at minus 5 degrees, not in the way of plants, they are all tucked up and snoozing, but in the way of survival. If you’re planning any alterations or re-vamps to the garden in Spring do seriously consider a berry bearing bush or tree if you don’t already have one or two. If you have a few such plants, consider adding another for by now you must know, as I do, how rewarding they are, not only by providing flowers in early and late Spring, but spectacular autumn leaf colour and bright and beautiful berries that glisten in the watery winter sunshine (that is until the Fieldfares come and hoover them all up). And if this is not enough, imagine the satisfaction of seeing them consumed by some very appreciative feathered friends. Just think, briefly, if the situation was reversed, and WE were sitting with our youngsters, freezing, in the trees…………