Off The Edge Gardening

The Hole Revisited

Autumn brings with it a variety of changes. Deciduous leaves begin to fall, the summer crew begin their hibernation, the weeds slow, the temperature drops, the days shorten. And the hard work begins.

This week has been physically tough. I am loathe to admit it, but I am becoming increasingly dependent on Old Age and Cunning, rather than brute force. But the old gal is a long way from hanging up her secateurs and I still relish these exertions. Nothing is better than getting to the end of the day with muscles aching, face glowing, and still in one piece.

No day was tougher than Wednesday at Max’s. In the evening I was so tired I could barely talk. That doesn’t happen very often.

Unusually for us, we had pre-planned what we were going to do. These tasks had even been divided up into morning duties and afternoon duties. It is unlikely this level of organisation will ever happen again.

Morning:

Max’s dad was to extend a border by removing some turf and relocating it to one of the bald patches. In this new extension he was going plant a Salvia microphylla. He did this with the addition of an interesting brick step affair that plummeted off into nowhere. Perhaps it is where he is planning to push me when I misbehave.

I was on pruning duty. A large and neglected weigela was to have a heavy, and most likely at this time of year flower-robbing, renovation. This mega-chop revealed a large variegated daphne, most probably Daphne odora ‘Aureomarginata’. I am sure I heard a sigh of relief from this elegant lady when she was liberated from her captor. Both of these shrubs were riddled with both ivy and brambles. A war ensued and, although victory will no doubt will be fleeting, I managed to dominate these thugs.

Then I had to transport the enormous pile of rubbish to the ‘bonfire that never burns’ at the top of the garden. And when I say top, I mean top. It all had to be pulled through a narrow gate (which had to be opened then closed, to temper Max’s bid for freedom) and dragged up slippery slate steps then up a steep grass slope with intermittent mud slides and cane chicanes. Then skid back down and start all over again. Five times in a row. Tired now.

Lunch:

Yum.

Afternoon:

Move a Lomatia ferruginea. This Chilean member of the tricky proteaceae family prefers an open sunny site, with lime free soil and moist deep soil. At the moment it is residing underneath a large Cornus ‘Porlock’, very dry and shady.

After the exhausting morning, this single task should be easy, especially as we would be working on it together.

A spot was chosen that ticked all the required criteria. More turf removal. More Frankenstein lawn patching. Then we started digging. “Nice soil” we said. “What is that?” we said. “Just some roots of an old tree, we will get them out”. More digging. Air holes opened to reveal gaping spaces. “Sink holes” we muttered. A bed spring. A metal stanchion. A tree, half burnt, half rotted. “We can dig that out”, we tried to convince each other. All thoughts of moving the lomatia had flown. Now we were on a mission. We levered, we smashed, we puffed, we cursed a little.

“I’ll get the axe” said Max’s Dad.

As myself and Max withdrew to a safe distance I wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t it be funny if it was the remains of a viking longboat, the bed spring was an amulet and the stanchion a sword, and you were smashing it to pieces with a big axe.” The axe came to a halt in mid air while we rushed for one last look “No, I don’t think so, I think we are OK”.

A piece of bark was pressed into the side of the pit. As I examined it I realised it had the distinctive look of conifer. Max’s Dad then explained there was an unusual covenant on the deeds of the house, as well as on others in the area, that pine trees should be planted in every gardens. This relic must be the remains of one that had been felled and the evidence burnt and buried along with other detritus. No one ever knew their guilty secret until now. How they explained the disappearance of their tree is anyone’s guess, Combe Martians perhaps?

Next week, top of the list, Move the Lomatia. Or perhaps create a plunge pool?

A Big Hole

Today we dug a big hole. This was not on the itinerary. But needs must and a big hole had to be dug. Now I am so tired I can’t even tell you the story. It was indeed a very big hole.

These Hesperantha coccinea have absolutely nothing to do with the hole. They are situated quite close to it though. And they are much prettier.

Perhaps tomorrow I will tell you. If I ever recover.

Betwixt and Between

The meander into autumn seems to be accelerating into a gallop. Many of the summer bloomers are fizzling out with only the true stalwarts, such as hesperantha, asters and dahlias, holding firm. In the space of a week, the gardens in these parts are shifting from full flowering attack to a half-hearted last rally. Many flowers, such as heleniums, phlox and rudbeckias, are slowing to a trickle. We are betwixt and between. This is not a complaint, it is a beautiful time of the year, especially when the sun is shining. And there is so much to do, there is little time for smelling the roses or gawping at the pretty flowers!

Serbian Gold

The quince tree at The Farm has done us proud. We gathered this basket full of luscious fruit last week. Unfortunately when myself and Slasher actually picked the fruit we didn’t have a basket, or indeed anything resembling one. We had wandered over for our weekly recce of how things were proceeding in Quinceland and an immediate Code Red was implimented. There was no time for frivolous containers, we sprung into harvesting action. With our arms chocked full to overflowing we rushed to the office where Annie Admin provided us with the attractive receptacle. Ms Admin can always be relied upon for the perfect photo opportunity.

Being unaccustomed to the wiles of this uncommon tree we were unsure when it would be right time to pick them. After much scientific analysis and studying of ancient tomes we were led to believe this was the right time for harvest. The fact that they had begun to leap unaided from the tree, and were destined to become badger food if we didn’t do something quickly, also helped.

The variety is Serbian Gold which is one of the apple fruited cultivars. This means the fruit are shaped like apples. No honest! It is considered to be one of the best varieties for growing in this country. It has large pink flowers in the spring and is self fertile. The fruit can get much larger than our, petite but perfectly formed, pickings this year. Apparently they can reach between 0.5kg and 1kg each. Yes each! Poor tree, it better put on a bit of muscle before next year.

These beauties have now been “processed” and are on their way to becoming quince jelly. Hope they are sharing …..

Blue

There is something extraordinary about blue flowers. This Salvia patens, the gentian sage, is very blue and very beautiful. It comes from Mexico and is therefore a little tender. There is no doubt in my mind that it is worth any amount of pampering to carry it safely through winter.

It also reminds me of my toes, blue since our boiler gave up the ghost yesterday morning. As we all know, I too am very tender. I wish I was in Mexico being pampered.

Collecting

Seed collecting day today. In some cases the bus had left already. Luckily Cosmos ‘Purity’ is still going strong. There will be plenty more chances to catch the tiny bombs of potential.

Plans

Another lovely day in horti-land. I am now fully embracing this autumn thing. Working conditions are ideal at the moment, mild and dry for the most part, and I have renewed enthusiasm for my work. Not that I wasn’t keen before. It is just that at the moment I am keener. The low sun bathes everything in a flattering light, enhancing the looks of everything, including the workers. This can only be a good thing. You never know when a Hollywood producer might be passing or maybe an artist in need of a muse. It is perhaps a little chilly first thing in the morning but nothing a few layers can’t sort out. Which is yet another incentive to get moving.

Plans are afoot at The Farm. They may be a little ambitious. We will have to see. But what am I thinking? We have Farm Force to call upon. That crowd can do just about anything.

Due to the nature of the beast these undertakings cannot be started yet. Next week is half term and the Farm will be full of families intent of making the most of the last break before Christmas. As soon as the last family drive down the lane, waving cheerily after a jolly week in this rural idyll, the chainsaws, tractors, dynamite and hard hats will be taken out of storage. Until then we must control our urges.

Today we worked mainly in the vegetable garden. Last week I purchased some young plants of spring cabbage and purple sprouting broccoli and they were more than ready to be planted out. We dug over the area and added some of last year’s spent mushroom compost which is now indecently delicious. They were planted at exactly, give or take several centimetres, 45cm centres, firmed in nice and tight and given a good water. To protect from root fly, we made collars from an old compost bag and slotted them around each plant. Organic slug pellets were then scattered to deter late mollusc attack. The first thing I saw this morning was a rabbit running across the lawn in the centre of the site. Even more protection was necessary. If you believe Beatrix Potter anyway. A net was used to cover the cossetted babies. So root fly, snails and rabbits, all sorted. What could possibly go wrong?

Cosmos atrosanguineus, Chocolate Cosmos, glistening in the soft autumn light.

Hanging On

Despite the strong winds of the last few days, the last leaf of Cercis canadensis ‘Forest Pansy’ holds on.

Pretty Face

Lady Mantle wanted a greenhouse. And what Lady Mantle wants she gets. Even if it means accosting a small child and his mother in a garden centre and demand that they give her theirs. This ‘gift’ was duly dismantled (get it dis’Mantle’d? such pun-ulicious brilliance) and transported back to the Estate. The base was laid and the construction of the glass jigsaw puzzle commenced, all without the benefit of the picture on the lid. Now the Crystal Palace is complete and very fine it is too. There may be a little more ventilation than it had at its last home, but I like to call that ‘personality’.

Lord Mantle is so much more than a pretty face. He has constructed two staging units from an old a pallet. Here the over-wintering residents will wait until spring, snug and warm. Very clever.

It didn’t taken Lady Mantle long to fill her new greenhouse.

She is now taking about an extension ……..

Umbrella

Before anyone says, “such a shame that her camera is broken, she is doing her gallant best with faulty tools”, this particular picture was taken with the posh one. Any fuzziness is due to user error. I won’t name names. (me)

One of the forebears of this Papaver atlanticum ‘Flore Pleno’ hitchhiked into the garden on another plant and it has been resident ever since. Popping up here, there and everywhere its rich orange blooms are a surprise and a pleasure where ever they might appear. This one has landed in a pot outside the back door. Of course you are not to know that it is Flore Pleno, meaning full or double flowered, as it is yet to unfurl from its constraints. On this you will have to take my word for it, as well as the fact that just one of these paper-petalled lovelies is enough to brighten even the dullest day.

The sheltering insect, perhaps a valiant aphid, doesn’t care what this flower’s name is or how many petals it has. As long as it keeps the rain off, that is sufficient.