a Simple English

The Last Word for 2011

2011-12-16T05:36:00.000-08:00

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

2011-09-30T10:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-01T10:40:00.001-07:00

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

2011-05-08T08:07:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-27T09:09:00.000-07:00

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

2011-02-02T13:25:00.000-08:00

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.

Quintessential Winter

2010-12-01T07:53:00.000-08:00

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

2010-09-01T07:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-10T07:17:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-03T11:49:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-08T10:42:00.000-08:00

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…………

A year winding down.

2009-10-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-11T11:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-17T12:13:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-08T14:16:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-06-04T07:46:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-23T02:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-26T07:57:00.000-07:00

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

2009-02-20T09:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-11T06:40:00.000-08:00

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.

Not much to see

2008-12-15T12:16:00.000-08:00

My garden does not have much to commend it at this time of year, but I compensate with plenty of birds. Goldcrests have been plentiful; tiny, tiny bodies buzzing about like feathered bees; they come more for the insects and the cover where they can hunt without danger, rather than exposed feeders where cats may lie in wait.
Immortal Sweet Peas
I’m running an experiment at the moment. The sweet peas I planted as usual in the spring from seeds raised under glass, produced about half-a-dozen blooms, certainly no more, something that hasn’t happened before. Oddly in view of the many hard frosts and, in general, the cold weather, they are still growing. I’m reluctant to hoik them out as they now provide a happy green and productive hunting ground for the wrens and bluetits that forage for sheltering and over wintering insects, and I am interested to discover just how long they last! The purists would have their destruction no doubt but they show no signs of disease; quite the opposite.
Required Reading
I am currently re-reading Christopher Lloyds Exotic Planting for Adventurous Gardeners, since I’m looking for inspiration from all available avenues and he was my ultimate ideas man and I hope one of these days to own all his books – unfortunately I don’t share his regard for Dahlias but there’s plenty more besides.
Dahlias
I got hold of a couple of freebie Dahlias in the spring and they are currently over wintering in a dark shed. I imagine they’ll survive since the things you don’t particularly favour always do. They are relatively easy to propagate and I can just imagine, a few years down the line, given my reluctance to chuck anything, a collection of unwanted Dahlias born of the two freebies of this summer. I think I’ll call them Dahlia Don’t Like and Dahlia Done With and what do y’know – here they are…..

Flash of Autumn

2008-10-28T09:12:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of Autumn I was not confident that colour would be much of a feature in my garden this year, but I was wrong. The Gleditsia still shines through the gloomiest of evenings and the Acers well, they speak for themselves.

My Sweet Peas have produced masses of foliage this year but few flowers, just the odd one or two and that is still the case. The cold weather hasn’t knocked them down so neither will I, I’ll leave them in case of a warm spell – there may be a late flush!

The Katsura, purchased a couple of years ago from Westonbirt, has been in a large pot but I’m thinking of planting it in the border, the autumn colour it has displayed this year has been quite exceptional and I think it has earned it’s place (I just hope the clay doesn’t kill it). The soil will need good preparation as it’s an acid lover, but it’s not impossible, and I can always dig it up if it sickens.

We don’t see much of Mr Bird at the moment but his former partner (an early spring brood this year) er…Mrs Bird, arrives at the kitchen door regularly. She also relishes sultanas, but in addition favours mealworms as an entrée. Tiny dried monsters, they look and smell awful. She prefers them soaked briefly in hot water, served on their own with no veg – mmm………….

Bargains
This is the time for bargains if you have sharp eyes and shallow pockets. I picked up three good-sized Acers from my local garden centre last week - £5.00 each! I’ve no room for them but there was no way I was going to walk away without them. No leaves, but the bark was spotless and the root systems clean – I have every confidence they’ll be a good investment, even if I give them away as presents.

Monkshood is a fascinating flower both for it’s shape and colour. It has an icy quality and survives and still flowers long after other blooms are no more than a memory. The bumblebees still visit if there’s a burst of sunshine. It’s a nasty poison of course, but I don’t grow it for that.

Summers over

2008-09-02T06:50:00.000-07:00

Fuchsias

Determined and voracious aphids have attacked almost all of my fuchsias this year, wiping out 70% of the flowers and I only noticed when it was too late. I’ve pruned out a lot of the worst damage, and, as is the habit of these dainty little warriors, they are regenerating and showing signs of budding. Too late? Perhaps, but in my sheltered garden flowers often survive longer than in more exposed areas, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed. I’m confident of a fabulous September! – no grounds for this you understand – call it women’s intuition combined with ‘sods’ law – the weather always improves when the kids go back to school.

Blackbirds

This is our Mr Blackbird, recognisable by his distinctive white markings and also by the fact that he is extremely partial to sultanas, only Waitrose sultanas mind you, he’ll have no truck with the cheap sticky ones!

Clematis

The clematis always do well here, no matter how wet it is. I’ve continued to deadhead them as I’m fairly convinced this aids longevity of flowering.

Butterflies

These valiant little creatures sally forth at the briefest ray of sunshine, like dazzling floppy handkerchiefs drunk on buddleia and anemone. We’ve had mainly peacocks and red admirals but had a visit from this little gatekeeper a few weeks ago – there were two of them, rushing together then spiralling away, they only stayed for an afternoon. No tortoiseshells yet this year, no fritillaries and only the occasional small blue (to fast for a photo).

Couldn’t you just eat roses when the rain has just touched them!

Space Invaders

2008-07-25T04:28:00.000-07:00

Some plants should be sold with a health warning, and I don’t just mean the poisonous ones. Euphorbia or Spurge, with so many variations used to be a favourite of mine – no longer! I planted Euphorbia cyparissias half a dozen years ago and I’m still pulling it up (with gloves I hasten to add as it owns a milky substance along with all Euphorbias that you wouldn’t necessarily want to come into contact with your skin). It even invaded an area beneath my pond liner, and has proved the devil of a job to remove. Had it been Alchemilla mollis (Lady’s mantle) then it would have been altogether a different story as I have never been able to persuade it to survive in my garden even though it grows rampant in gardens that suit it.
Anemone Pamina has taken quite a few seasons to acclimatise to my garden but now it has, my one true mixed “border” is absolutely full of it and when it has finished flowering, which probably won’t be until the end of September, from experience, I will sadly have to dig a lot of it out and replant for more interest. I hate to dig anything out but my small garden simply cannot accommodate large swathes of anything, even a plant as pretty as Anemone.

Reluctant Heroes.
This Rosa Zephirine Drouhin (thornless rose) has taken years to flower anything more than half-heartedly, but I persevered with it, more out of bloody-mindedness than anything else. Clearly it didn’t like where it was but I didn’t have anywhere else to put it. For some reason, this year, bless it’s heart it’s flowering quite beautifully – presumably I have proved to be the more bloody-minded of the two of us.

Bumming around.
Don’t you just love buff-tailed bumble bees – fewer this year than in the past sadly. This one couldn’t quite keep away from the hardy geraniums (Cranesbill).

Let the birds eat your pests

2008-06-27T10:11:00.000-07:00

Sparrows, few that there are, are doing me a big favour feeding with epicurean delight upon the greenfly in residence on the Félicite-Perpétue weeping standard in my front garden. These days they enjoy hanging from the long stems and flowers, having practiced the technique on the fat-balls in the back garden.
I dug up my Daphne Odora (18th Feb 2008) today. It’s succumbed to the wet, which frequently turns my thick clay soil into a killer and once two thirds of the fresh leaves had dropped I decided to call it a day; couldn’t bear to watch it struggle any longer. It was in a difficult spot, often wet and close to bigger shrubs – I’ll take time to look around for another – the scent in early spring is too good to miss.
I love roses but moss roses are special. This Old Rose Louis Gimard (Dark Moss) has lots of moss and a delicious scent and is happily trouble free, at least in my garden – though it doesn’t like the rain, but who does!
The Rambling Rector, at home on an old shed, flowers reliably every year and with its honey scent and simple flowers, the bees love it.
Unfortunately a number of roses in my garden have managed to lose their name-tags over the years, it shows a lack of care on my part – doesn’t stop them flowering though! My end of year report will probably say “could do better”.

We need the Bees, more than they need us!

2008-05-22T03:52:00.000-07:00

Bees, Bees, Bees
I was pretty cheerful about “my” bees last year because they were so noticeably about early and often – I’m talking Bumblebees here. I knew of at least one nest in my woody area and the possibility of another in the middle of an unsightly clump of weed grass beneath a particularly large pot (which buzzed angrily when grasped). This year both Bumblebees and Hive bees are few and far between even though I have plenty of early and mid-spring flowering plants grown specifically for them and while I can’t claim to be organic, I don’t use pesticide; my garden is small enough for the “squash and stamp” method; makes your fingers a bit green at times but it washes off. What’s more, having encouraged birds into my garden for 10 years plus, by and large the birds do the job for me. I give them plenty of cover and most importantly water and they reward me by saving me money! I know there are plenty of people who never go into the garden without a Bug Gun and I can understand that it’s an easy and efficient way of killing the creatures you don’t want, but it is also indiscriminate and kills beneficial creatures too. If you kill the “goodies”, when the “baddies” come back, as they undoubtedly will, you’ll have no natural predators and you’ll end up buying more poison thus dropping your hard-earned cash into the pockets of the multinational chemical companies. Think of it as saving yourself some money if you prefer to. Let the birds and bees back in – you’ll be glad you did, and so will they.
Apple Blossom
My apple trees have bloomed and borne up against blustery wind and a battering from heavy rain. The Ballerina was a pillar of dainty pink, the Bramley burst a little later and the little Cox in the front garden did its very best. At the moment there looks to be a fair amount of possibility as far as crop goes, but as all apple growers know, a late frost followed by the June “drop” can reduce it or even wipe it out. The Egremont Russet and the little James Grieve, both on dwarfing stock and in pots, are also promising and the great thing about those is you don’t need a ladder to get to them!
Currently, I’m spending time tying-in Clematis that I had neglected to supply with enough support; the Clems don’t seem to mind, happy to latch on to anything, as long as it’s on the way up.
It’s difficult to keep up with the progress of my plants in general this is such a “fast” time for growth and the garden is getting fatter and fatter. A small garden fuelled by sun and rain can get out of hand if you don’t keep things under control – but it’s a great time to loose control and still enjoy it!

The Hawthorn

2008-04-15T08:37:00.001-07:00

It’s been touch and go with the fairly extreme temperature changes, but the Hawthorn on one of my borders has finally committed itself and flowered. The bees must be pretty pleased, but they are so few and far between you’d be forgiven for thinking they haven’t even ventured out yet. The butterflies are more determined though, those brave souls who hibernate in my garage. When I arrived home yesterday there was a Peacock butterfly gently tapping on the garage window so I duly let it out. Do look out for them, check they’re not shut in on warm days – you’ll be glad you did.

The Yellow Garden
In Spring my garden is yellow, not so much in “tooth and claw” but certainly flower and foliage. There’s nothing more attractive than the yellow-green essence of new foliage alongside the promise of fragrant early daffodils and the subtle emergence of a secretive Mahonia that gradually illuminates a shady hollow.

A word about Cats
I am not a cat lover, needless to say not an owner either, but nevertheless I am compelled to cope with the stinking mess they leave behind in my garden. I no longer garden without gloves and spend £s every month on repellent, which inevitably needs re-applying after rain. If owners provide the animals with adequate toilet facilities they will not feel the need to defecate elsewhere, since cats tend to be creatures of habit and like their comforts, but it seems that we must all pay for irresponsible and selfish owners. On a lighter note, I have never understood the attraction of an animal who sits in the middle of the sitting room floor and licks it’s genitals then wipes it’s face all over it’s owner. Cat lovers will find my words offensive – I find cat-poo offensive…….oh, and our Mr. Blackbird doesn’t hold cats in too high a regard either.

Growing Apples

2008-03-12T07:25:00.000-07:00

Sounds like this year we’re being exhorted to plant fruit trees (Gardener’s World Magazine March ’08) – easier said than done. It’s simple to imagine when you possess a sweeping vista empty and just crying out for a spot of mellow fruitfulness, but what about the rest of us, those who only possess plots of 50ft x 50ft (in old money) or even less, which is more often the case. Currently, newly built homes, even the bigger ones, laughingly referred to as “family houses”, are given no more than a scrap of land, much of which is taken up by the garage and the parking. Returning to the fruit trees…I have two espaliers, bought at approximately three years, one Charles Ross and one Bramley (I bought three but one died). It was only a few years later, when the Bramley didn’t blossom, that I discovered that it should not have been trained as an espalier, but should have remained a free standing tree – Bramleys are tip bearers not spur – so I was, literally, pruning away the fruit – you live and learn. Notwithstanding, I kept it, but allowed it its freedom, or as much as I could give it given the position by the boundary, and, better late than never, it does produce a few good sized apples on a regular basis.

Ballerina – I have one of these apples too, it makes a pretty pillar of apple blossom, requires no pruning and fruits well most years, but is occasionally subject to frost and, I think, a lack of bees at the vital time, but that’s just anecdotal, not scientific. The apples don’t keep, so they’re great for kids who always want everything right away.

Cox’s Orange Pippin – I have this on a dwarf stock in my front garden and it struggles but produces intermittently. In addition there are two tiny trees (dwarf stock) in large pots – a young Russet and a slightly older James Grieve, an all time favourite…an Orchard it ain’t, but I do my best.

Spiraea x Bumalda “Gold Flame”
In spring this little shrub always reminds me of autumn. It is worth its weight in gold, at least to me. All I do is trim it lightly when it becomes untidy and cut out the blank green when it tries to revert, which isn’t often. There are those who disapprove of the flowers, considering pink inappropriate amongst the foliage but I love the fluffy pink heads and the bees, who aren’t so fussy, well, make a beeline for it.

Frogspawn.
The frogspawn cometh – a bit late this year, first noticed on 9th March ’08 to be precise, but the frogs have been thinking about it for a while now, and talking about it too, especially at night! One of them stayed behind to guard it all apparently – bless!

The Prunus Kojo No Mai is now in bloom – wonderful!

Starting Block

2008-02-18T06:26:00.000-08:00

We can always buy our way to a new season if we really don’t want to wait, maybe with a rose, grown thousands of miles away. It’s beauty is not in doubt, but it’s cost is questionable and you can stick your nose into it until you’re blue in the face but you won’t detect any scent – always a bit of a disappointment that.
It’s a stop/start time at the moment. Beautiful sunny days, freezing nights, my pond has been completely frozen for the first time in years. Every gardener you speak to expresses the hope that the infestations left behind by mild winters will be killed off and if we have a prolonged spell of cold maybe they will, but I doubt it. Gone is the teeth-numbing bitter cold of 25 plus years ago and it won’t be coming back any time soon.

That being the case, anything that looks a bit sad after a chilly night will soon perk up in the watery gleam of an early morning and at least the lawn left mushy and sodden after weeks of torrential rain, (though thankfully no flooding since this area is on a hill) was comfortably frozen solid so quite firm enough to walk on enabling a visit to the further reaches of my particular “postage stamp” size plot.
The Clematis armandii is brave enough to venture forth, two blooms only though, the remainder is still too timid to brave the icy blast.
Daphne odora is still reluctant, though the pretty deep pink buds show well in the sunshine and it won’t be long before that heady scent can be enjoyed.
But the star of my particular little show is Viburnam burkwoodii my absolute winter favourite with it’s brave little stars and a scent that blows you away!

New Season

2008-01-30T08:47:00.000-08:00

New season’s shoots.
Things are starting to move with an inevitability that invites over-optimism and leads the unwary to purchase plants for the garden that simply will not reliably survive before April, so don’t be tempted to be part of the “double bubble” so beloved of Garden Centres, when gardeners buy early, lose all, then buy again when the weather finally really does warm up. Be patient and save money – after all, the way the economy is going saving money, what there is of it around, is going to occupy all our minds this year, next year, and maybe longer into the future. Any sensible gardener knows plenty of ways to save money: save seed, take cuttings, share both with other gardeners and be pleased if they share with you – oh, and grow a few veg if you can fit them in.

Winter flowerers
The doughty winter flowering heathers are doing well and provide ongoing colour and interest. I always look forward to my Erica Arboria that glows with new foliage in the winter and early spring and then sends forth subtly scented, minute flowers. It’s a bit on the big side of you let it; this one has a hair cut after flowering, which keeps it honest.
Spotty Shade
Acuba, the spotted laurel, has never really been a favourite, but it has it’s place there’s no doubt, as this one has, lending a splash of much needed colour in a shady spot. The berries are just between green and red but will soon turn. The birds leave them alone and that may please some, but not me, I like my berries to be eaten by the birds, to be made the most of.

Everlasting Pots
The permanent pots are beginning to fulfil their annual promise. This pretty blue iris comes up reliably every year, even in it’s tiny pot, and the primulas the same, although they usually fall prey to the busy beaks of the local sparrows, bless their little hearts, though I’ve never quite discovered what the attraction is.

Progress
I’ve just cleared the remaining leaves of last year’s Kaffir Lily bulbs and found the Camassias that I’d briefly forgotten about, gaily growing beneath, they’re about 4 or 5 inches high and doing well.

Early Beginnings

2008-01-07T08:31:00.000-08:00

Sparrow Perches
Climbers rarely look good at this time of year especially if they’re early spring flowerers and mine are no exception, however, sparrows seem attracted to the Clematis Alpina that clambers all over a variegated summer jasmine that adorns my garage wall. It may be Clematis Alpina “Pamela Jackman” but as it’s been in situ some years I can’t be sure, suffice it to say at this time of year it looks less like a Clematis more like a bad hair day. One thing I’m sure of is that it flowers reliably first in Spring, with a second flush in later summer. I only cut it to tidy, so it fades to hundreds of fluffy seed heads in autumn which hang on through winter and also seeds around freely, to the extent that I’m frequently pulling it out like a weed. Where the Sparrows come in is, at this time of year, they sit and shelter in it and sun themselves if the opportunity presents itself, but most significantly they peck away at the seed heads. I like to think they’re feeding, though I’d be surprised to find much nutrition in such tiny seeds. Perhaps they just enjoy tearing the heads to pieces in a relatively comfortable environment, like they do with primulas in the spring, especially the red ones.

The Hellebores look promising, or at least the foetidus, they’re almost out; the more picturesque are not quite so forward. They may not be as spectacular as some spring beginnings, but at least they are beginnings.

Feathered Visitors & Poor Beginings

2007-12-11T07:29:00.000-08:00

These two wood pigeons have taken to my leafless Gleditsia. They sit here no matter what the weather throws at them, preferring it to their normal countryside location – why they don’t seek better shelter during the day, I don’t know. At sundown they disappear, but are back almost at first light next day. I don’t feed them and they do no damage, they just sit together – they chat occasionally, but more often they just sit.

If you see a bunch of bargains in your local nursery or, more often, your local garden centre, give them a good look over and if you can’t see anything much wrong, grab them – I do. I bought a misshapen little Acer “no-name” some seven years ago and gradually discovered an Osakazuki. I now have a beautiful tree that performs every year. The same happened with a camellia – little more than a single stem, but what there was was healthy and for just a couple of pounds I now have a Camellia that flowers reliably every year in early spring. I’m not sure what its name is but I don’t mind that – it’s beautiful and I love it – the only essential with it is to water through the summer, don’t, whatever you do let them dry out or the buds will fall in the spring and you’ll have to wait another year. I always feed mine in spring, when it’s flowered, and replenish the ericaceous compost. Cheapies and freebies may start out in poverty, but with a little training and TLC they do very well indeed.

2007-11-30T07:30:00.000-08:00

Native Ivy
It’s good to see Monty Don (Daily Mail Weekend Mag) extolling the virtues of native ivy. The bees adore it as do the butterflies and unsurprisingly the wasps, but at least they’re not around for quite so long. With the hawthorn/native hedge always comes native ivy and whilst it’s tempting to try to get rid of it, in a native hedge it accounts for a degree of thickening to promote privacy at eye level while fulfilling it’s role as friendly to wildlife and essential to insects. The trick is to gently keep it tidy and never ever “slash and burn” because if you do you’ll probably do it at the wrong time of year, and frankly that’s almost any time of year. All it needs is a regular gentle and careful tidy so that you’re not cutting off the flowers or the berries – easier said than done? absolutely, but entirely possible if you just take care.

Pests
If there’s one pest I’ve tried doggedly to deal with over the last three to four years it’s the Red Lilly Beetle (Lilioceris lilii). I can usually live and let live (maybe with the exception of the Vine Weevil grub) but these creatures hardly possess a redeeming feature, except perhaps their colour, and how adept they are at avoiding capture – they simply plummet into the greenery and are gone! So in the new year I’m accepting defeat, up to a point, mainly to protect my snakeshead fritillaries, which have survived up to now. I’ve removed most of my lilies from the ground except a clump of very pretty pink and yellow day-lilies and I’ve potted my favourite blousy Casa Blanca (the one that smells like a tarts boudoir) and popped it in the greenhouse where I’ll attempt to protect it until it’s time to put it outside again. Maybe with fewer specimens to attack, the beetles that escaped a crushing this year, will clear off and plague my neighbours instead.

Cold Autumn

2007-11-19T08:03:00.000-08:00

Even with the cold weather creeping over the garden, there are always the stalwarts, last vestiges of summer and autumn that hang on, bravely flowering to their final breath. The last rose, the last Kaffir lily (Schizostylis), even the last of the basket fuchsias, basket cases maybe, cling on gamely and reward the odd resistant bumblebee with a feed of late nectar. This one managed to rev its engine sufficiently to take off and locate a fat blousy fuchsia, which still survives, sheltered by a warm wall. But this hanging basket fuchsia, Fuchsia South-gate is lasting extremely well on the south-facing wall at the rear of the house and is still producing buds! But I wonder for how long. I move this one around because it sulks in the heat. It spends the summer shaded under the pergola, but at this time of year it is glad of the sun and scant warmth. I don’t think it’s meant to be quite so hardy, but it survives the winter in the greenhouse (6 years now) and is cut back to stubble at the first sign of shoots in the spring – it is rarely fed and intermittently watered through summer and probably survives in spite of me, than because of. Gardening is not an exact science, so don’t let the gurus tell you it is, some plants survive no matter what you do to them (within reason), others turn up their toes regardless of the amount of care and attention they receive, but if you’re a beginner the trick is never to give up, if there’s something you fancy growing give it a try, it might thank you for it.

As for bumblebees, Springwatch and others pronounced it a bad year for them, but there’s always an exception, and the ones that frequent my garden have been plentiful, in fact there were far fewer here last year than this year. That’s not to say Springwatch et al were wrong – on the contrary. “My” bumblebees start early and finish late perhaps because they’re provided with a bit of room, undisturbed, around the log pile and ivy and years worth of fallen leaves beneath the hawthorn hedge at the back of the garage – they can get quite irritated if I forget and disturb things. Maybe the secret with the old bumblebees, bless them, is to provide something for them at all times of year, whether active or inactive, otherwise, they won’t pay you the privilege of sticking around – try Erica arboria (late winter/early spring flowers) Hellebores (that never seem to die down anymore) wild violets and cowslips if you have them and, though I know a lot of folks pull them out, forget-me-nots.

Oh and if the tits (blue, great and long-tail) arrive mob-handed to help you out with over-wintering insects, don’t forget to reward them with some well-placed tasty treats on bird tables or in feeders.

Autumn Blackbirds

2007-11-06T08:24:00.000-08:00

It's a sure sign of autumn when male blackbirds retire to the shadows, perch on a half-hidden branch and practise their song for next spring. Well, maybe not practise exactly, but I like to think that's what they're doing. I only noticed about three years ago, while tending my tiny wild area behind the garage, beneath a native hawthorn hedge, (where Buddha sits in contemplation) a male blackbird was quietly whistling to himself. Working there in the half-light of a dull afternoon in November I fancied the song was coming from a distance, until he stopped, and our eyes met, so to speak, through the few remaining leaves. He was little more than four feet away and when he thought my attention was elsewhere he continued his song, so very quietly, but still recognisably, a blackbird song. It was as if he was singing for himself and I was just an accidental beneficiary. In autumn since, I've listened for these private blackbirds and I invariably find one, trying out a few new phrases perhaps, just to see if something works.

Not a big fan of summer though...

2007-11-06T07:49:00.000-08:00

I love autumn and spring; the light is so fresh and clean on a clear day and the outlines and colours so clearly defined. With just a small garden, here, in the heart of the Wiltshire traffic jam, sorry, countryside, it's difficult to find room for the plants on my wish-list, indeed, with soil that would not disgrace the clay pot industry, a good proportion of my wish-list is impossible to grow, unless I plant in pots...and trees, a priority for me, don't take so kindly to pots - added to which, the necessity of regular watering, means they are difficult to leave - I used to have a watering system, but they were banned here last year, and this year, for some reason, I didn't need it! I could put it back next year, but 'sods law' says as soon as it stops raining they'll be banned again.

It doesn't take a gardening guru to tell us that this autumn has been and still is being spectacular. My own few Acers have been a pleasure to behold and if you haven't managed to see the Acers at Westonbirt you missed a treat and if you have managed to see them you know what I mean.