The Last Word for 2011

I’ve gathered in all of my delicate pots and consigned them to the greenhouse, although further covering will be necessary as freezing temperatures continue.  Winter is either a “holding “ operation at best or an unashamed rescue mission for me, with horticultural fleece, layers of newspaper and the like, always on hand in emergencies.  A good surprise has been the Fatsia, blooming brilliantly in the cold sunshine and instead of bees, was covered in large flies enthusiastically digging into the unaccustomed bounty.

Cotoneaster berries are plentiful again this year, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we don’t play host to a flock of fieldfares as we did a couple of years ago during which time they stripped every berry in the garden, leaving the local birds bereft and helpless in the onslaught.

The Winter Jasmine is providing a bit of a conundrum in that the specimen in the front garden has flowered and finished, yet the buds in the back garden have only just burst.  Though looking on the bright side, at least the few remaining hardy bumblebees  benefitted from the untimely blooms.

The “impossibly pink Hebe” (10th August 2011) is still flowering, even under the influence of several degrees of frost, but with no bees to benefit it is seen only by me, when I venture out coated, scarfed and gloved to feed the birds and to slip about on the already sodden lawn.

I’ve been reading about overwintering chilli plants and decided to give it a go.  My use of chillies in cooking is rare but I do like to grow them, for their colour.  This one has survived first in the greenhouse, then the conservatory and now on the kitchen windowsill.  With luck I’ll be able to hang on to it next year - watch this space.

A post-script

This group of cyclamen reside beneath the front house wall, amongst gravel over black weed-suppressing membrane, they can receive little in sustenance and light but the odd one began to grow a few years ago and they have indeed prospered, although no flowers at this time of year, they do possess delicately patterned foliage.

The sigh of relief that is autumn

When the garden has worked hard for me all summer, as it has this year, and as autumn arrives albeit with mighty gusts, there’s an almost audible sigh of “oh well that’s that then” from a tiny plot satisfied with a year of moderate progress.  Even though my garden is surrounded by large trees and suffused with green shrubs and one or two smaller trees, its cool appearance belies a desperate struggle for moisture amongst the flowering plants.  At the beginning of the year my hope was, that I would have flowers right through until the first frosts and I’ve achieved that - so far.  We’ve survived the twin horrors of too hot days and too little rain with feeding, mulching and a resort to the watering can and tap water, which never quite hits the spot, but holds the line until the heavens open.

Runner Beans

The runner beans have done marginally better than last year.  In a large pot on the patio, they’ve been cosseted and cooled and cared for by us all.  They are still full of flowers, and there are many young beans to come but I fear they will soon perish from the noticeably cooler nights and early morning chill (in spite of the “Indian Summer” we are experiencing for the remainder of this week).

Nasturtiums
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.

Cannas

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
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
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...

Awful August

Last years Hebe
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.

Reluctant Fuchsias
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 have 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.

Clever Clematis
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).

Plain Hard Work
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.

More welcome freebies
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.

Memories of Chelsea

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.

Spring Clean

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.

Wisteria

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.

Another Freebie

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.

Garden Birdies

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.

A Stitch in Time

The pond is up and running but looking dreadful since I “dosed” it with blanket weed treatment – the milky water should disappear in a couple of days, but at the moment it looks a bit of a mess.

The New Border

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.

Enter the Freebies

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.

And the Survivors

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.

P.S.

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.

The Fight Back

On a beautifully sunny morning like this morning I can almost forget the losses caused by this harsh winter – an Acer, a hardy Hibiscus, a very pretty Coleonema, and as time goes on there will be more no doubt. But on the plus side, it may be that fewer nuisance bugs have made it through, at least that is what I am firmly, if not foolishly, hoping.

On a lighter note, the snowdrops I thought the builders had “done for” have actually survived, bless their tiny hearts and have struggled up through the compacted soil that surrounds the new patio. Every year I plant snowdrops “in the green” or at this time of year from purchased pots, but they have never succeeded in naturalising. My ex-neighbour of some years ago had great clumps of them (destroyed by the current incumbents unfortunately) and I cannot understand why mine don’t go forth and multiply. Is my soil so different? – too cold, too poor; there’s no evidence of squirrels. We do get the odd one, but they don’t stick around for long – not if I have anything to do with it, so I can’t blame them – I need to do more research.

My faithful winter jasmine is blooming and has been for some time alongside fabulous yellow mahonia, the winter heathers are staging a defiant come-back and the sweet box, though unspectacularly adorned, smells amazing – oh, and I found a solitary Vinca flower hunkered down beneath the protecting herringbone branches of Cotoneaster Horizontalis, also a worthy survivor.

The delicate petals of winter pansies, though buried for a couple of weeks beneath the snow, pelted with rain, frozen solid, thawed, then frozen solid again, and again, and again, have survived intact and confound even the most optimistic of gardeners.

The snow-melt and torrential rain have confirmed my annual mud patches and once more I’m slipping and sliding along what is left of the lawn. Not being a lawn person, the state of it most benefits the starlings and I am happy enough with that, since it only provides for me, a path around the bottom of the garden and the pond.

I visit the garden most days, not to work, it’s far too cold and inclement, but to watch and to wait, and to do what every gardener has done for centuries – look forward.