One summer, when I returned to Cornwall for a short break, someone said that I looked “pale and interesting”. What he meant was that I looked ill. Like a city person. Comparing and contrasting to those around me, it was painfully apparent that he was quite right. It wasn’t about lack of colour, it was about excess of pallor. I didn’t take it as a compliment.
One solitary Love in the Mist stood firm in the whipping wind. Faded by the weather, its fern-like collar still standing proud. Although so far we have only had minor frosts, much is beginning to cultivate a bleached out look. Pale and interesting. Still much more attractive than that city girl.
There are worthy reasons to wait until spring to cut back spent flowers. The seed heads provide both food and shelter for wildlife and the perished vegetation offers the plant a modicum of protection from the elements.
But when the sun dances across burnished flowers on a crisp winter’s day, surely that is reason enough.
The seed pods of the Shoo Fly, Nicandra physalodes, are almost as beautiful as their flowers. Notorious self seeders, some might view these purple papery lanterns with a sigh or even a scream. However I am looking forward to them spreading themselves about, they are long lasting, trouble free and floriferous. A member of the “good cop, bad cop” family Solanaceae, which contains both potato and deadly nightshade. They hale from Peru, yes just like Paddington Bear, hence another of their common names, Apple of Peru. Did you think I was going to say The Paddington Plant? I nearly did.
After the predicted stormy night, when the rain was icy ball bearings and the wind thumped like a prize fighter, I thought I’d better have a quick wander to check for any garden damage. Apart from a few misplacements there were only two casualties. Firstly a large pot of bamboo had fallen on top of a Lavandula pinnata, the fern leaved lavender. Garden Doctor’s diagnosis – squished, GD prognosis – with a little nip and tuck it should be fine. Secondly, our Salvia microphylla has been rent asunder, surely not too dramatic a description? This shrubby salvia is notoriously brittle, so this collapse came as no surprise. Luckily it is famously responsive to hard pruning which is exactly what it is going to get. Not today though. The plants might be alright, but I am still feeling a little rough around the edges.
Here in the south west of the UK we have pretty benign weather. It is for good reason that we are called Softy Southerns. The last couple of days have been a little crazy, in our opinion anyway. For others, more accustomed to such madness, it has possibly been a little dull. Hail, thunder and lightning, driving rain and strong winds. Our home faces the sea and whilst this is a generally a great asset, when the wind roars up the channel it is less charming. There is another, bigger, storm on the way, called Angus apparently. The winds will shift to the North-East and it is likely that we will have another window rattling night ahead. Today I have, perhaps a little latterly, brought in a couple of indoor plants that had been vacationing outside for the summer. The scadoxus and scented pelargonium were looking a little ruffled, outraged to have been exposed to such climes. I have no doubt they will recover from this horticultural abuse. The rest of the garden will have to fend for itself.
Stay safe everyone. Its going to be a noisy night.
Arid October has given way to soggy November. Mud skating has come back into fashion and everything is twice as tricky as it was a couple of weeks ago. Which means that tonight I am very tired. And it is only Wednesday.
I have got a new camera. Someone may have noticed. Perhaps not. This time I am going to look after it. No incidents with ponds or compost bins or tarmac. Honestly, I am going to try really hard to keep it safe. It has a brand new, pristine, case and it will live in my work bag. Admittedly these are less than Operating Theatre conditions, but marginally better than residing in my pocket alongside associated string, half eaten humbugs, tissues, labels, seeds and mud. This spotless camera will only be taken out when absolutely necessary. For example, when I want to take a photograph.
Linaria purpurea, the Purple Toadflax, shamelessly spreads itself about, popping up here, there and everywhere. In Lavinia’s Garden of Renegades it is very much at home. On Friday, a day blessed by both sun and warmth, a beautiful Red Admiral landed for perhaps his last feast before hibernation. By the time I had rummaged in my bag, found my camera amongst the cornucopia of very important stuff that lives there and returned, it had got bored of posing and flown to its next feeding station. So, I’m afraid you will have to use your imagination. Just squint up your eyes and place a hypothetical butterfly on the first flower. This may well be happening a lot.
When I arrived at The Farm on Thursday Mr G told me that his first job of the day had been to corral two of the ponies back into their field. It was no surprise to discover that the Shetlands in question were the ring leaders of The Pony Posse; none other than Wild Tiny Hickok and his protege in demonry, Pippy “The Kid”. These reprobates are famous far and wide for their high jinx performed under the cloak of extreme cuteness.
Myself and Slasher found the gap in the hedge where they had escaped into the vegetable garden. SS blocked the gap and the Houdini’s were thwarted. For a while anyway.
The “must be achieved” task of the day was to set out the new orchard or, as Admin Annie has decided it is to be called, Norchard. Along with Junior we discussed layout, distance between trees, protection and timings. We then measured out optimum planting distances and positioned posts as centres for when the bare rooted trees arrive in the next few weeks. It had been decided that one of the crab apples that had been planted by some idiot (me) in a totally inappropriate place was to be moved to join those new Devon trees. Crab apples are great pollinators in orchards, so we chose a central spot and whilst slasher made a big hole, I dug up the mis-placed tree. Junior found temporary posts and chicken wire to protect the new resident from snacking animals. It was planted, watered in, mulched, job done. The first tree of Norchard was in place. A time for jubilation.
Except, I felt a little uneasy, something was not quite right. Big adorable eyes with oh so long eyelashes were watching us, our every move was being noted. We needed to be vigilant. This was no ordinary adversary. It called for extra-ordinary action.
Myself and Slasher got into our Dexter cow disguise, Junior into his kangaroo outfit, and we began our stake out in the adjacent field. The cow outfit work very well, in fact we had to spurn the advances of Bisley the Bull on several occasions. Sorry mate, already spoken for. Not quite so sure about Kanga though.
Pippy the Kid
It didn’t take long for Pip to sidle into position. His role was obvious, chief look out and get away galloper. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, except perhaps a little bemused by the hopping cow.
When Pip had neighed the all clear, the suspect arrived on the scene.
At first Slasher’s defence held out. Then the perp got luckily, the wind blew some of the longer crab apple stems over the wire and he grabbed hold of one and pulled. Then another, then another. Sorry for the fuzzy photo, I think Bisley was trying to make friends at this point.
When he finished the wayward shoots on that side, he took a wander to see what else he could steal. Circumnavigating the enclosure he then noticed some leaves poking through the wire and nibbled these too.
At this point I could take no more of the marauding hoodlum. We emerged from our hiding, rather shocking Bisley, and showed Tiny the photographic evidence we had of his crime. This would be shown to Mr G, who would be very angry. Everyone knows just how angry Mr G can get! At this threat he just tossed his golden mane in derision. He then blew a big raspberry at us and cantered up the slope with Pip by his side, whinnying with laughter all the way.
What hope have we against such a criminal mastermind?
The summer flower garden is like a large box of soft centres, so full of delights you aren’t sure which to enjoy first.
At this time of year it is quite different. Our blooms are increasingly akin to the Quality Street toffee that you find down the back of the sofa in a moment of great need.
This archaeological discovery is just as delicious and perhaps even more appreciated*. Maybe a little tatty at the edges, but definitely as sweet a treat.
* This does not mean that if you are thinking of buying me a present you should ever consider toffee. A big box of dark chocolates, thanks all the same.
Off The Edge Gardening 