Deep Blue Sea

salvia

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!

Heat

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What a day!  I had forgotten what it was like.  Rain; torrential and unremitting.  It rippled down the roads carrying detritus, blocking drains, finding its way into gaps and grooves.   We squelched our way home, dripping a trail into the house, leaving sopping clothing along the way.  We had forgotten the joys of a North Devon autumn.

This photo of Dahlia “Mystic Spirit” warmed me up.  Can you feel the heat?

Defiant

Malope trifida "Vulcan"
Malope trifida “Vulcan”

This is Malope trifida “Vulcan”.   A great favourite of mine.

There are many things I  love about this ornamental mallow.  The pleated pink petals, sugar plum fairy to deep dark furrows.  The etched out centre, revealing limy green beneath,  a verdant silhouette.  The candied peel stamen, irresistibly delicious and I’m not even a bee.  But more than anything I love the fact that I had no idea of its existence.

Months ago at The Farm we sowed a random selection of seed, dregs from my seed box, in an attempt to clothe a difficult corner.  This was one of my least successful plans.  The corner proved more difficult than expected.  Nothing happened.  At all.

Weeks pass and one plant is defiant.  Tucked into a neglected corner, like the star it so obviously is, showing true class.