Pretty Face

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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 ……..

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Umbrella

Papaver atlanticum Flore Pleno

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.

Deep Blue Sea

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For the past few weeks I have had a problem with my camera.  My work camera that is, not my posh posing one.  This is the work horse that accompanies me to every job and the one I reach for a million times each day.  It is a high risk occupation, fraught with dangerous mud, hard surfaces and deep compost bins.  If I were a camera purchased by me I would be very worried. Some of you might remember the incident with the pond when Lord Mantle dived in and attempted CPR on my last victim.  And then there was the occasion of the camera lost in the nettle patch.  Well another one has mysteriously come to grief. Somehow, no idea how, it has acquired a big chip out of the lens.  This means that my pictures have had a rather obvious blurry bit.  Just left of centre actually, a very inopportune place.  My attempts to disguise this mar in the middle have had limited success.  Each evening I am disappointed by my efforts.  Inevitably I will have to buy another camera.  I am resisting it.  However, the cost of getting this one repaired would be greater than buying an updated version of the old trouper.  I despair of our throw-away culture.

I am not sure what this saliva is called.  If I had to name it, it would be called Deep Blue Sea.

Interloper

Nerine, hesperantha

I tip toed through the grass border (with only the odd oops!) to take a photo of the splendid sugar pink nerines.  On closer inspection I was bemused/outraged/impressed to find that an errant hesperantha had seeded itself in the midst of the naked ladies.  The cheek!  With chameleon like powers of disguise, it had me fooled, a least for a minute.

Not that I was surprised.  This was Lavinia’s garden after all.  Another of her disreputable mates. She feigns regret and sorrow at my continual removal of these bullies, but all along I feel is secretly pleased that they test my patience.   She is impressed by their rebellious nature and fortitude.  I suppose I am too, but please don’t tell Lav I said that.

Monster

oxalis

Some of you will look at this delicate oxalis flower and smile.  Some of you will put your head in your hands and rock gently whilst quietly moaning.  I am of the latter persuasion.  Today I have spent a fair proportion of my time digging this little monster up.  It grows rampant in the shadier back of border, as befits a wood sorrel.  Do not be fooled by its fine features.  Spreading by way of fine rhizomes just below the surface, it punches with a velvet glove.  The slim white threads are brittle and it is nigh on impossible to remove them all.  Those who believe they can will be sorely disappointed.  Naturally it will return, but hopefully a little chastened.  And when I’ve had a chance to recover.

Caution

Hosta

It is all about getting your timing right.  As gardeners we walk the dangerous spit between the first damaging frosts and the desire to admire the swansong of our tender plants.  Lord and Lady Mantle’s estate is protected from wind but prone to cold and in my wisdom I have introduced some delicates to their merry band of players.  These were not purchased to be canon fodder, we want them to survive the winter war to shine another day.  But still they flower, innocent of the enemy that lurks just around the corner.  What to do?  Dare we wait?  No.  Today we erred on the side of caution and, whilst the warm sun stripped our backs of jumper and fleece, we potted up gazanias, tuberous begonias, osteospermums and zantedeschia.  The new greenhouse will be fully glazed by the end of the week and its new tenants are forming an orderly queue outside.  Perfect timing.

This hosta’s albino leaves indicate it is sensibly preparing itself for autumn.  If you peep below these corrugated parchments you will find fresh green shoots.  It is not quite ready to slumber yet. Impetuous fool!