Six on Saturday – Disintegrating

I was resigned to a no-SoS week. It was my first week back to work after the Dreaded and a rest was in order, the car was having some work done in the garage and the rain was falling. A day of Murder She Wrote, catching up with friends and reading last weekend’s papers was in order. During a digital conflab with the wonderful Torrington Tina she said “I’m looking forward to your Six on Saturday”. Darn it. Or perhaps “Thank you for the kick up the posterior”. And here we are. A slightly blurry insight into a rapidly disintegrating garden. Sometimes we need a little encouragement and I thank you TT, that’s what friends are for. Shall we get on?

I am slightly ashamed that I have only come to the zinnia party in the last couple of years. Now I won’t hear a bad word about them. At present they are fighting their corner like good ‘uns, battling for space and definitely holding their own. They could almost oust cosmos from No. 1 position in Gilly’s Top Ten of Annuals.

Fuchsia ‘Lady Boothby’ was a rescue from my sponsor. The plant looked doomed after last winter’s onslaught, but once we started digging it up it seemed all was not lost. We had already removed one piece. “Don’t chuck that bit of root, I’ll have it!”. The happy end to the story was that my piece has thrived and so has the remaining plant. Phew!

Plectranthus zuluensis (probably) has eventually found a space to poke its head out into the world. I must treat this plant better, today (probably) it will be dug up and prepared for a life of luxury in the greenhouse until spring.

Seed collecting has finished, anything left is too soggy to worry about. Now I have to post it off to those I’m promised. You know who you are.

Pelargonium echinatum ‘Album’ was moved to the greenhouse before we went away. It has rewarded me by flowering again.

Finally, Geranium ‘Ann Folkard’, creeping through the delicious foliage of Hydrangea aspera ‘Hot Chocolate’. Doubly good.

That is your lot, another six, another Saturday. Now, what was I not doing ……?

Six on Saturday – Peace

The inevitable happened and I have succumbed to the evil Covid. A day or two of feeling rotten and now just boredom and positive tests. In the scheme of things, in the scheme of this misguided world, it is inconsequential. Pop over to Himself to find out what the other SoSers are up to. Let’s get on.

First we have Begonia ‘Claret Jug’ which is neither claret or jug-like. To be fair to this lovely specimen, the underside of the leaves are a deep deep red but I forgot to take a shot for you. Perhaps next week.

I tried to take a photo to illustrate just how tall the Jack and the Beanstalk tithonia is. With just one flower at the very top, it is most peculiar, although others are threatening at the auxiliaries. I asked OH how tall he thought it was after “is that thing in the corner actually going to do anything useful?”. He guessed 10ft.

Rudbeckia ‘Irish Eyes’ is a favourite of mine. It is one of those “short lived perennial, often grown as annual” kinda guy. Easy from seed though, I must remember to save some.

We went on holiday. Our backs were turned. The molluscs tucked in. Farewell pak choi.

I grew this Canna indica from seed earlier in the year. I didn’t expect a flower just yet. Happy days.

Finally, Rosa ‘Peace’ and don’t we need her at the moment. My heart weeps for those suffering from the horrors of war, this and every week. To paraphrase the late, great Edwin Starr, “Peace, what is it good for? Absolutely everything.”

That is all, you have your six. Stay safe.

Fortitude

Enforced leisure has given me the perfect opportunity to undertake the many tasks that have been waiting patiently for the promised “when I can fit you in”. Have I done any of these tasks? Of course not. I probably had no intention of ever doing them when they were added to the virtual list. Still, when you are not feeling tip top, and subsequently descend into the mire of boredom, it is difficult to rouse even a smidgeon of oomph. I am oomphless. Not an oomph to be found.

One of the “pending” items was to write something. It is not as if I haven’t tried, or made an attempt even. Sitting down at my computer earlier in the week, I somehow found myself diverted to deleting emails from 2013 for an undisclosed and rather embarrassing length of time. Exhausted by this mind-numbing exercise, I then flopped in front of the TV and watched pap. This will not do. I gave myself a stern talking to and for once I listened. “Just get on and do it” I said. “OK” I replied. It wasn’t a long conversation, it was patently clear what I was getting at.

Shall we talk about holidays? That would be a pleasant diversion. Whilst in The Netherlands recently we visited Fort Sabina, built by Napoleon in 1810/11 as defense against the dastardly Brits. We love a bit of culture and love it even more if it has a good cafe with splendid cake, which it does. We were ably driven to this stronghold by my niece, who has recently passed her driving test, the journey soundtracked by a full running commentary from her father. As we approached the car park we noticed it was surprisingly almost full. On close inspection it seemed to be very full with classic cars. Our first job, of course, was to tour the site and to pick our favourite. The Maserati’s and Lamborghinis left me cold, but this Mercedes convertible sang a sweet song to me. It is the one I bagsied and we all know that bagsy is the law.

After refreshments we wandering around the moated circumference, dotted with trees and wildflowers, side-stepping oblivious grazing sheep, peering into curious artillery shelters and examining remnants of gun placements. Later we took a short walk up to the water and watched enormous container barges pass and one lone yacht, dwarfed by its commercial kin.

It was a lovely day; some learning, a gentle stroll and natter in the sunshine and the purchase of the biggest bottle of beer in the whole wide world*. The only thing missing was my nephew who unfortunately had been forced to stay up all night partying and was therefore unable to accompany us. Strangely, my invitation to this event seemed have been lost in the post. Still, next time Daan, I’ll bring my golden boots.

*to be verified by the Guinness Book of Records

Six on Saturday – Keep it in the Family

We have been away on a little jaunt. We caught the Eurostar to Rotterdam and onwards to visit my Cloggie brother and his family. It was wonderful. There were castles and forts, frantic bars and peaceful patios, culture and indulgence. One of the many things that gave me joy during our visit was exploring their lovely garden, which is why I decided to take umpteen photos and share them for this week’s six. As rule breaking goes, this is a mere petty crime. Admittedly, the pictures are not of my garden or taken today or even yesterday. An extra header shot of Psycho Pouf with ripening tomatoes is not even worth mentioning. Our leader, Jim the Beneficent, I am quite convinced, will not care a jot. Shall we shake a leg?

Let’s start with a stonker. Sunflower and bee. Never gets boring. These particular plants had fallen in a storm, when The Cloggies were visiting us earlier in the year. Clever that they are, the sunflowers had begun to grow upwards from their prone position. Now, the stem hoisted to the vertical, the blooms are bent towards the admirer and not high in the sky. Perfect.

Sempervivums can get lost in the cut and thrust of a garden. If you elevate and contain, their true beauty can be appreciated. These are looking quite happy in their metal bowl.

This pampus grass, smaller than the usual, held the light in its plumes like a flame.

This tradescantia is apparently a bit of a weed in the garden, popping up all over at its whim. I have couch grass that does the same. Surely this is not fair?

This Japanese anemone caught my eye, verging on double, the perfect blue/pink.

Finally, a dragon. This was a gift from us to them, many years ago, as the lichen clothes tell. We have a similar one in our garden, but not so well dressed as this.

A fabulous holiday. We came home with full hearts, Van Gogh postcards, salt liquorice and Covid. Just OH infected at the moment, but the inevitable looms. It’s all about balance.

Graveyard Shift

Many moons ago, when I was but a seedling, my fascination with graveyards began. My parents ran a post office and stores in a small village in East Sussex. To get to school we had to catch the local bus to the nearby, slightly larger, village of Ticehurst. I was four years old, my elder brother a mature five. Even in those ancient times, this was deemed too young to travel alone, so a “big” boy named Gavin was employed to ensure that we arrived at school safely and conversely returned home again. For this he was paid 2/6 a week. He was seven years old.

I don’t remember our guardian being particularly attendant in his security duties, in fact there are glimmers of neglect. I do remember that each day we short-cutted through the graveyard, both to and from the bus-stop. And I also remember that our minder told us that if you peered into the large crack on top of one of the tombs you could see a green slimy man inside. I didn’t risk it.

A couple of weeks ago, on a restless leg day, I went for a saunter. After nosing over a few garden hedges and chatting to a couple of dog walkers I found myself once again in the local graveyard. Since moving here we have wandered the plots many times but, although much door rattling has occurred, never once managed access to the church. Of course if we had really wanted to see inside, I hear you shouting, we could have visited on a Sunday when it would certainly be open to visitors. Perhaps at Christmas, I do love a good singsong.

However, on this particular day the porch door was irresistibly open. Pushing onto the inner door, I was thrilled that it was also open and I stepped inside. Here I met a wonderful woman called Enid, which she pointed out was pronounced the Welsh Enn-id as opposed to English Een-id. As I asked about architectural features and pressed for historical facts she smiled sweetly and told me, repeatedly, “Fred would have been able to tell you all that”. Unfortunately, Fred died earlier this year. I am hoping he passed on all his knowledge before that sad day. Still, I enjoyed my visit and chat to Enid. Not knowing relevant dates and either perpendicular or gothic is hardly going to change the course of anyone’s’ history.

Whenever we visit new places we invariably seek out churches, chapels and cathedrals. In the case of the smaller, this has become increasingly difficult, as they are often locked against criminals. Instead we investigate their cemeteries, trying to interpret tombstones, wondering at fine sculpture, interpreting symbolism, identifying local traits.

Of course, if ever I spot a tomb with a large cracked stone atop, I am tempted to have a peep. I haven’t done yet, I’m never quite brave enough. Perhaps you will have a look for me?

Six on Saturday – Underestimation

I wasn’t going to do a six this week, it has been so miserable lately I was sure there would be only misery to share. Then a diamond title popped into my head and I changed my mind. After the persistent gales and torrential rain of the last week I thought The Mighty Fallen would be a perfect moniker. Wandering around the garden taking photos I realised that, to be fair, most things have just bounced back, weeble style. Not such a great idea anymore. I should not have underestimated the power of the packed-in border. Should we get on with the task at hand? If you would like to know more about Six on Saturday and visit (virtually) gardens across the universe, then pop over to Maestro Jim’s site and all will be revealed.

First we have Heliotropium arborescens, the heliotrope, a big name for a rather pathetic specimen. This is the sole survivor of my sowing efforts. Shall we blame the bizarre year or the inept gardener? Take your pick.

Earlier in the year I bought a trio of rooted fuchsia cuttings, they were small and needy and some failed. One, a gift to The Prof, thrived. Which is a tale for another day. This is Fuchia ‘Gottingen’ which has toddled along quite nicely.

Fuchsia boliviana is winter-surviving miracle. This particular plant has never flowered but at present I am happy enough with its beautiful foliage and surprising resilience.

In the greenhouse I am growing a couple of varieties of pepper, including this curious rams horn variety. They are quite sweet and I have been pickling them. Yes, Peter Piper would be proud of my peck of pickled peppers.

Who knew quite how vigorous Salvia uliginosa is when happy? However, the ethereal blue of its lofty blooms is enough to forgive it a multitude of sins.

Peggy has done well this year, in every way. Her dahlia namesake has been similar.

There we have it, six weebles from my garden. More storms for us tomorrow, it might be quite a different story next week.

Six on Saturday – New Phone

I’ve got a new phone. Nothing special, just end of an end of contract, new version of the same. Which in theory is a good thing, but in reality has been a bother. Especially when EE’s little helper turned out to be a belligerent barely post-teenage humourless inept loser. Have I make myself clear? In celebration of managing to sort it out myself and in direct response to my brother’s previous phone photos, I have decided to test the new camera for this week’s SoS. Wow, that was a long sentence. And here we have it. Less traumatic journeys to this place of sixes, can be found with another who has recently been struggling with technology, our very own Jim at Garden Ruminations. Shall we shake a leg?

Tithonia rotundifolia ‘Torch’ has been a little scary in its vigour this year. I’m not sure if the seed was exposed to interstellar gamma rays or what, but the plants are enormous. One, yet to flower, must be well over 7ft tall, more than any of my sunflowers. And it is not just in our garden, the same goes for plants I’ve grown and passed on, where they are slightly shocking my clients.

Dahlia ‘Blue Bayou’, a gift from Welsh John. Lush.

One of my clients gave me this California poppy and it is weaving its way through the border with abandon. Tony will be happy because it is the original. And if Tony is happy, I’m happy.

Rudbeckia fulgida, common as muck, easy as peasy, lovely as loveliness gets.

The bully that is known a Diascia personnata has found its equal in the ipomoea. A match made in heaven.

Something bizarre has happened to one of the sunflowers. I am sure there is a scientific explanation, but I’m not interested, as far as I’m concerned it’s magic.

That is your lot, my lovelies. See you next time.

Six on Saturday – Pale but Interesting

It has been a challenging week to be a gardener. Mornings have been fine, a pleasure even, but by early afternoon it has been hard going. Still, I should not complain, our unseasonably warm temperatures are small beer compared to the climate crisis others are facing. There is lot more to lose than a couple of bedding plants.

Several weeks ago, a visiting friend of a client enquired about the theme of her garden. I looked askance. “The same as every garden: plants, wildlife and beauty”. No one told me about themes. Inclinations are more my thing. Generally, I am drawn to rich, spicy colours, but I have always been an advocate of a little subdued to set things off, to cleanse the palate. If you are not totally convinced by this terribly grown up attitude, you of course would be correct. It is not always by design. Often these “pale but interestings” are gifts or perhaps didn’t turn out the colour I was promised or maybe I was feeling contrary at the time of purchase. The truth is they have a valued place in my garden and perform an important role.

Let’s get on with the task in hand. Which of course, is Six on Saturday. Other, less waffling, folk can be found with our firm but fair leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations. It is probably a good idea to seek them out.

At this point in the season I can’t always remember if I have mentioned a loved one or not. Weeks when there is an abundance of riches, I hope more generous souls will hang on for another Saturday when other, more ephemeral princesses have swooned to seedpods. Then the moment has passed and the glory shot for another year. Hisbiscus trionum may have slipped under the radar. I may have rescued it from the jaws of obscurity. Too dramatic?

The flower heads of Pennisetum villosum have battled their way through the chaos to add softness and texture to the tapestry of floral ambition. I was laughing when I typed that.

When I went out into the garden, intent on taking photos for this piece, I thought “I’ll show the SoSers another view of things, something other than anarchy”. My eyes swept like a horti-lighthouse, searching for order and precision, and came away wanting. At least I tried. As my lovely friend, Torrington Tina, would say “It is what it is”. This is the Under The Tree Area (working title), AKA Bird Poop Land. I am a big fan of New Guinea Impatiens but by the time I worked out they would be perfect for this shady, dry spot, all that was left in the shop was Barbie pink. Topical but not first choice. Still they have done well and I rather like their jolly insistence. Note: What might appear to be an old baking tray in the centre of the photo is in fact Lido de Sparrow, a popular tourist destination Chez Nous.

Donated by my sponsor, the one that feeds me cake and lager, this is the first of my gladdies to flower. As pure as I would like to be.

In keeping with other roses in the garden, Rosa ‘John Ystumllyn’ is having an another crack at flowering. Have I told you the story about this rose? That I heard about the 18th century black gardener, who lived and worked in North Wales. That I heard about a rose dedicated to him. That I then found the very same rose on a pity bench for £1 and nursed it back health. I had? Oh, OK, sorry to repeat myself. It is bound to happen again.

Finally, Salvia ‘Waverly’ a rather lovely Salvia leucantha hybrid that I was introduced to by Welsh John. Today it dawned on me that I’ve forgotten to taken any cuttings. Oh dear, I may have missed the bus. Prepare to be wrenched from the ground, young plant!

All done, another six, I wonder if it will be autumn next week.

Introducing The Newton Two – Perks

I have more introductions to make. You have previously, albeit briefly, met with Flora and her garden, but in reality she is more of a subsection. There is much more to the story. The Newton Two are not-quite neighbours but undoubtedly friends, and I have gardened for them ever since they presented themselves to me as a package. One should not mention one without the other. They are quite different in both personality and taste, their plots offering discrete problems and joys. They employ me for just a couple of hours each, every couple of weeks, and over the past months we have found our way together. I enjoy my visits immensely.

For complicated reasons, or perhaps disorganisation, I haven’t seen them for more than a month. Today was the date of return.

First I visited Flora’s garden. After obligatory fuss and cuddles, I cracked on with monster bindweed removal, which had obviously taken full advantage of my absence. I noticed the plum tree was heaving with fruit, seemingly unaffected by the severe aphid infestation earlier in the year. “I’m fed up with them and have been thrusting them upon the whole street, my zumba class and passing strangers, please take whatever you like.” said Flora’s mum. I didn’t need to be asked twice.

Loaded down with a bag of fragrant fruit, I walked two doors up the road to Teeing Tabitha’s house. Tabitha is a keen golfer, kind and funny. “I’d like you to chop back the lavenders, I’ll have some and save some for Flora, but you can have anything else.” I didn’t need asking twice. Chopping away in a style I like to call “Controlled Mania”, I was becoming ever more laid back as the Lethean fumes engulfed me, further enhanced by the sweltering the heat. Tabitha appeared at the door from the house “Flora’s mum is here, we are just popping out for a pitcher of sangria and some lunch, pull the door behind you when you leave”. Good job I was drugged.

There are many perks of my trade; my physical and mental health are greatly enhanced by my job, I enjoy the company of my clients and love interacting with their always adorable pets. And, of course, I love working outside, attempting to make the world a little more beautiful and a little more robust. Quantifying these advantages is difficult. Sometimes the benefits are easier to gauge. Like a bag of plums and a trug of lavender. Perks of the job.

OH has suggested that I sew lavender bags and make plum jam. I gave him one of my looks.

Six on Saturday – Happy Accident

September. We slip further into chaos. When I say “we” I mean “I”. I am torn between the annual optimistic expectation of an Indian Summer which is running parallel to the dread of a looming winter. I have never been one to embrace autumn. I really should try harder. September. Just a date. The garden has reached the “every plant for themselves” stage. I have reached the “get on with it and I’ll tidy later” stage. It all feel a little out of control. Welcome to my world. Six on Saturday is a chance to compare notes and console or congratulate our fellow SoSers. Pop over to Jim, King of the SoS, and all will be revealed. Shall we get on, it’s nearly Christmas!

The New Bed of Anarchy is living up to its name. Most are playing quite nicely, but there are a few bullies that will need a firm hand in the near future. You know who you are and I’m coming for you!

Surprisingly, and joyfully, this Salvia patens over-wintered outside. I have taken a couple of cuttings, which seem to have taken, so I may risk it again. Surely, it can’t be harsher than last year? Stranger things have been happening.

Hedychium ‘Tara Seedling’ is flowering well this year, after a short sabbatical. It is stuck at the back of the NBoA, sandwiched between Bidens ‘Hannay’s Lemon Drop’ and Salvia uliginosa, both aiming for border domination. With a little help from its friend who pulls at both thugs on a regular basis, it is holding its own. And very beautifully so.

Another late flowering lovely is this Helenium ‘Red Shades’, which in reality is more orange/yellow than red, but there are no complaints here.

Earlier in the year, Jim mentioned that he was questioning growing impatiens as they desperately struggled through the dry spring, which seems to have become the norm. At the time I nodded in painful agreement, possibly with tears running down my cheeks. Then the rain arrived, I moaned and winged and the impatiens thrived and bloomed and bloomed. This photo of Impatiens stenantha was taken in its beloved mizzle. It can stay.

There are two things that you shouldn’t put onto compost heaps, unless the pile is a mile high and reaches sweltering temperatures, these are: roots of perennial weeds and seed heads. This year I planted out four sunflowers, which were carefully tended and nurtured. About the garden, at least another ten are flourishing, in pot and border, in fact everywhere some garden compost has been cast. Ever the consummate professional.

That’s your lot, another six, another Saturday. If any accidents befall you, may they all be happy ones. Like the sunflowers.