Let’s be honest, hands up, who wanted to do a Six on Saturday today? Not me. But as I live in fear of a) being called a wimp and ridiculed even more than usual by Mr K and b) the wrath of Our Commandant Mr P, here I am. Expect a lot of white.
There are many tender plants in my garden. They are what I like to grow. I’ve not got a proper greenhouse. This is not grumble, after all I’ve got other things that people with lovely warm greenhouses don’t have, like gold platform boots and good strong calves. Frosts are here rare, snow is as common as hen’s teeth. Well Henny Penny bit me on the bum this week. Days of heavy frosts followed by a layer of snow and freezing winds. The whole point of pushing limits in the garden is the hint of danger, not necessarily for me, but for the plants. It remains to be seen what has survived and what has not, and this could take months to materialise. You pays your money you takes your choice.
The thaw has begun and today this little primula has been exposed from beneath its blanket of snow. Looking a little squashed but not unduly bothered. The Tracy of my garden.
Next we have tulips, pushing their noses out of the snow. I have no doubt that soon these will be jollying up the front of my house. That might well be the kiss of death.
Next the hellebore of previous weeks’ SoS, face harshly pushed into the frozen ground, crushed. Like my heart.
Look closely and you will see a crimson shoot of Paeonia mlokosewitschii reaching like a hand from an icy grave. Takes more than a little snow to stop Molly the Witch.
This dreadful weather has brought wild birds closer to our homes, looking for shelter and food. It is a moral dilemma for us as we have many cats in the neighbourhood and we don’t want to set up a feline snack bar. The teasels however have been attracting goldfinches, lovely to see pulling seeds from the spiky heads. For those of you unsure, this is an artist’s impression, spookily accurate don’t you agree?!
Thanks again Mr P, hope you all have a good week!