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.
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.
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.
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.
There has been much excitement on Planet Heavens. The Cloggies have been in town. I am privileged to have a family that forego soap opera dramas and instead tend to embrace love and laughter. We genuinely enjoy each others’ company. Strange but true. All of this is unfortunate as some of us live in The Netherlands, or conversely, some of us live in Wales. Whichever, we are apart and we have been reunited, hence the excitement. The Cloggies have arrived. Or should I say “De Nederlanders zijn gearriveerd”. Three cheers for Google Translate! But let us not forget this is all about Six on Saturday and really there is a link. My younger brother is a talented photographer. “When you visit you can take photos for my Six on Saturday and I can show everyone how wonderful you are” says I. “Good plan” says he. Time passes. When he and his lovely family arrive at chez nous I greet him “Come in, dear brother, eat food, drink tea and be merry”. “I forgot my camera” he says. I suddenly remember how annoying a younger brother he is, I sigh, I sigh again. “I’ll take pictures on my phone” he says, obviously, and quite sensibly, scared of his elder, champion of the dead-leg, sister. And here they are. Six of them. If you don’t count the header, which makes seven. Someone told me, I’m not telling you who but I hope they are blushing, that this is a good way to get an extra picture in. Pop over to Jim’s and you might be able to work out who the rebel is. Shall we get on and not mention the Lamium ‘Silver Beacon’ in the header?
First we have the rear view of a seed-grown dark-leaved dahlia. This is the one that didn’t get transported to the greenhouse ark last autumn and survived to spite us all. I am very pleased.
In the past I have dismissed the flowers of Hydrangea aspera ‘Hot Chocolate’ as wishy-washy at best. I have been proved wrong.
I am flora-centric, which I am not necessarily proud of. This shot of Dahlia merckii reminded me of how narrow minded I can be. Mind you, I am quite proud that I recognised which foliage it is. Half a point?
Pelargonium x lawrencenum is one of the replacements I bought after my abysmal over-wintering strategy. I am going to try my hardest not to repeat the process.
Last year was the first year I grew zinnia. Seriously, what was I waiting for? A life wasted.
Finally, gazania, in your face, subtle as a brick, wonderful.
I am trying not to be miffed that my brother’s phone photos are better than the pictures I take on my posh camera. I am trying very hard. Perhaps it is his job to irritate his big sister. I think it must be that. Still, I thank him for these lovely shots and I miss him always.
My garden is sighing with relief. Although the rain has often been relentless, the intermittent spells of sun have been enough for steady growth and blossom. The persistent wind has caused only minor damage, although this might be tempting fate bearing in mind Storm Anthony’s arrival today. Perhaps the harsh spring ensured that any early growth was slow and sturdy, perhaps there is so much crammed in they are all holding each other up. A strong community. Talking of community, our Six on Saturday community can be found over at Councillor Jim’s. Shall we shake a leg?
First, raised from the Hardy Plant Society seed, is Malva trimestris ‘Ruby Regis’. I’m not sure how far it fell from the tree, but I rather like it. Another annual, so seed collecting later in the summer, assuming there will be a dry couple of days for harvest, is on the cards.
My seed grown dahlia have been a little disappointing so far, as they have been very close in colour and form to the parent plants. This one has just flowered for the first time and I am very happy. I haven’t quite captured the true colour but you can be assured it is vibrant and joyful.
Hydrangea aspera ‘Hot Chocolate’ is flowering. Last year I wasn’t a fan. This year I am. Fickle.
Onto a crazy dahlia. This, another gift from Welsh John, is Dahlia ‘Labyrinth’. Although it is not one I would have chosen for myself, I absolutely adore it. Bonkers and all the better for being that way.
A couple of weeks ago my virtual friend Chloris SoSed about two of her monarda and their pollination by hummingbirds in their native lands. I mentioned that I had seen bees shimmy under the top petal of the flower to extract their pollen and nectar rewards. Ever since I have held a vigil in front of my Monarda ‘Beauty of Cobham’ to prove I am not delusional, not about that anyway. These flowers have become a little ramshackle and definitely need a dead head, but I could not leave my post for mere maintenance. Ten minutes later I got fed up so you will have to make do with this blurry and non conclusive shot.
Anyone who might have recently lost their Aesclepias tuberosa to the demon molluscs should look away now. Too late? Sorry about that.
That is your lot, see you next time, in the meantime stay dry/wet/cool/warm/upright*
It took me a while to appreciate the wonders of a wall. Possibly about the same time that it dawned on Oasis. My initial foray into walldom consisted of building a blockwork monstrosity at college, which I am hoping did not stand the test of time. At Cliffe I was introduced to the master craft of dry stone walling. When I say “introduced” I mean I watched while artisans plied their trades, asked pertinent questions and begged that whilst they constructed their works of art they didn’t stand on my plants.
Dry stone walling is a diverse and complex discipline. Styles and techniques differ from county to county, town to town, individual to individual. Like all works of art they are created and cast out into the world. It is here that they further develop their personalities, that they become a living thing, host to newt or snail or moss or lichen. Until they tumble, as all eventually do, often after many decades, and new blood comes along, with a nuance, a diversion from the traditional, and builds it up again. There is room in this world for both tradition and innovation. All good reasons to love a wall. I’m not sure this is what the Gallagher brothers had in mind.
We are in the “spoilt for choice” phase of SoS. I’m wishing I could store a few up for the lean times. I doubt I would get away with it. The garden has benefited from a fine sprinkling of rain and some intermittent sunshine. That is all we can ask for. The weather/plants, plants/the weather, is there no end to my conversational skills? For more of this fine rhetoric pop over to Jim’s site and you will not be disappointed. Now is time to put our minds to the task in hand: Six on Saturday. Here are six and I believe that it is Saturday.
Let’s start with a bang. Helenium “Short and Sassy’. No misnomers there and I love it.
Long ago I was in Woolworths in Bedminster, Bristol, possibly looking for Pick ‘n’ Mix, the latest 45rpm or some grout. A woman rushed in waving her arms in panic. “Don’t leave the shop, the streets are full of swarming locust” she cried. I told who wanted to hear “They are only ants, looking for a new home, nothing to be worried about”. Did they listen? Locust make a much better story.
The locust that live in the greenhouse are just thinking about finding pastures new. Good luck with that.
Now a pretty in pink watsonia. Not the colour I would normally choose, but often with watsonia grown from seed we get what we get. No complaints here.
Onto a rather blurry Red Admiral supping on the scabious. Warms the cockles.
When it comes to self-seeders there are none more dramatic than a sunflower. I have planted several multi-headed red ones about the garden but others have magically appeared. A casting vote from a busy bee won this by-election.
Finally, a match made in monochrome heaven. A white agapanthus from Welsh John alongside Dahlia ‘Veronne’s Obsidian’. A happy accident.
That is your lot for this week. See you next time.
I was beginning to worry that the insects weren’t going to find us. I remember feeling the same last year, but as our little garden has become even more isolated in the land of plastic and apathy, there seemed even more reason to be concerned. As a child, did you ever move house and wonder how Father Christmas would find you? All your precious pressies would inadvertently be given to some totally undeserving child and you would be left bereft and tearful on the fateful morning. That is what I have been thinking about the insects. All except the ants and the blackfly. Just like last year they have been doing very nicely. I even considered buying some ladybird larvae, but was swayed by thoughts of natural equilibrium and worried if the late comers turned up to find some interlopers they would be miffed.
Yesterday, on my tour of the grounds, I spotted two red admirals and one small tortoiseshell enjoying the scabious. Almost as exciting, if not more, was not one, not two, but three ladybirds. I fist pumped, à la Wimbledon, and rushed in to tell OH. Carried away with emotion, he nearly looked up from the paper and grunted, which I interpreted as “hip hip horray”.
Today I watched as one of these valiant ladybirds did battle with the fiendish ants protecting their prime milkers, cheering on the good guys and even intervening at one point. But wait. “Good guys?”, “fiendish?”, this is not a Saturday morning B movie. All these creatures have an equal right to fill their place in the complex and threatened world we live in, vilifying one and glorify another helps nothing or no-one. Any imbalance is due to human weakness. Fiendish, almost certainly.
Surely I wouldn’t have been so careless as to omit an important caveat in my official request for rain. There definitely would have been a “night time only” clause. This was an amateur error. Perhaps in my desperation I forgot.
Today, at Milo’s Garden, it rained almost non-stop, the only variance being the severity of the downpour. Like a brave little gardener, I struggled on with jobs that would not be detrimental. Eventually, about an hour after my waterproofs succumbed, I admitted defeat. Still, a consolation was that the water butts at home would be filling up. When I got home, less than 10 miles away, it appears that there had only been a couple of showers. Some days it doesn’t work out the way you had hoped.
This photo was not taken today. Any self-respecting bee would have been sheltering somewhere warm and dry. As should any sensible gardener.
Off The Edge Gardening 