Off The Edge Gardening

Entente Cordiale

We should have been full to bursting after our trip on Sunday, but we had left just enough room for pudding. Yesterday we went to see Phlomis Flo and TT and their amazing garden on the Mortehoe cliffs. The sun had exhausted itself on Sunday and in its absence the mizzle was having its day. This didn’t matter, the garden was still stunning. I have been here many times and still wonder at its beauty. The dry stone terraces are packed with plants from across the globe, all living happily together. As Flo says, they should be an example to us all.

You will be pleased to know that today I went to work.

All Horts – A very jolly Jolly

An All Horts day out at Marwood Hill Gardens, yipppeeee! Hosted by yours truly, gulp. This wonderful garden is located in the badlands of North Devon, with its fearful reputation, and I fretted that the turn out would be meagre. In an attempt to boost numbers and to give the illusion that I was popular, I paid some resting “actors” to come in disguise as my employers and friends. A fine pair of Shakespearean actors posed as Lord and Lady Mantle. In Stratford* they still talk of their sensitive interpretation of Romeo and Juliet. The role of Max’s Dads was carried off with great aplomb by a fire eating, plate spinning, Harley Davidson riding duo, filling in before the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I am certain no one would have guessed that Torrington Tina was in fact a Tina Turner tribute act, although I am sure I spotted her practising Nutbush City Limits behind the rhododendrons. The Edible Ilfracombe gals are usually to found performing the Can Can at the Windmill Theatre, Barnstaple and my other half was ably played by a famous industry** stunt man whose groin strain meant he was available for hire last weekend.

I was also concerned that some may have been put off by my promise of frolics and fun. This was a wild promise and one I regretted for fear of attracting the wrong kind of visitor. As it was they came anyway. Not the wrong sort, the right ones. The usual suspects turned up, on time and full of enthusiasm. Moo, Didcot Dave, Mr and Mrs Duck, Madame Admin, Hero, the Kernow Kid. All present and correct. Like a horticultural army we marched from car park to entrance to demand cheap entrance fee. We were unstoppable. Until approximately one minute later when we reached the tea room. Then we stopped and chatted and drank tea and peeked at the garden and fidgeted and then, we were off ………

Round lakes, up hills (I know I didn’t reveal the hill bit previously), gawping, label reading, tree hugging, note taking, more chatting, much laughter, a little sitting. There were ducklings, champion trees, candelabra primulas like fruit pastilles, a Persian carpet of astilbes, rogersia and inula, there were stewartia, pendulous cercidpyllum, wingnuts and cornus aplenty.

We meandered back up the hill (sorry it is North Devon) for a generous lunch at the wonderful tea room where we sat in the shade of a substantial Magnolia stellata. A last look around, admiring herbaceous assortments in the walled garden and alpine beds, before winding our way to the Plant Centre.

Of course the visit to the Plant Centre was inevitable and some had succumbed to temptation before the others had reached its hallowed ground. When this sweet shop of delights had had its fill, it spat us out with bags full of treasure and grins and excuses and tuts and head shakes, according to which person it belonged to.

Thank you everyone who came. It was fun and there may even been some frolicking. The sun shone and so did my heart. It is a joy to spend time with like minded people. Like minded but individual and all with something to contribute to the mix. New friendships were made. Old friendships reinforced. Here is to next time. Please make it if you can, you won’t regret it.

*East London pre Olympics
** the pasty tasting industry

My Garden

When I ventured out into my garden this afternoon, secateurs, labels and plastic bags in hand, the garden said “and who are you?”. Have I really been away that long? Possibly, bearing in mind the ubiquitous bindweed and its other dubious mates. The prime directive was to propagate some of my tender plants; the “just in case’s” the “sensitive souls”. Just as I was about to remove a prime cutting candidate of Colquhounia coccinea (say that after a couple of sweet sherries) I noticed this handsome grasshopper. I am sure it is the same one I spotted last year on the fuchsia. He didn’t recognise me. This fine furry shoot was left for another day. I don’t hold grudges.

Choice

Great choice, couldn’t have done better myself!

Frog

I had a bit of a tidy today at the Farm. Outside the greenhouse had become a mess of pots, plants, planters, redundant shelving, an old wooden table, bit and bobs. The detritus of a hectic spring and early summer. In sorting through the jumble this little chap was disturbed. I hope he had been eating some slugs. Look at that eye. Beautiful.

Guest Blog – Esteemed Clients – Lord and Lady Mantle

To be honest I was determined not to work for Lord and Lady Mantle, AKA Phil and Brohna. They live a fair drive away, just on the edge of Exmoor, traditionally where the rain and wind of North Devon practice their evil ways. To get to their home you must face fledgling roads, not grown enough to be called lanes, liberally scattered with escapee sheep and farmers. I also had a full calendar and didn’t really have space in my working week. Then I met them and I was hooked. I made space.

Brohna is an artist, all wobbly lines and fantasy. Phil is an engineer, all straight lines and facts. Together they make one great big lovely whole. They are known as Lord and Lady Mantle due to Brohna’s love of, bordering on obsession with, Alchemilla mollis. This is a trait mirrored elsewhere on my rounds, yes Lavinia, you know who I am talking about! My drive across the moors is never a chore and I always come away feeling a little bit happier than when I arrived. They make me bacon butties with homemade bread. Hard working, star pupils, if only they could grasp the labelling lark ……

When I asked them to write a blog for me, I didn’t expect the following masterpiece (including the cartoon above, look carefully and you will see my knee pads and working boots).

ps In part explanation, some of my friends call me Mouse (pronounced Moose as in the Wee Mouse).

Mouse’s adventures in Wonderland and the Mantle’s Tale

They enticed her with muffins, she doused them with lice.
They retaliated with mustard and cress.
They plied her with jam and asked for advice;
Posing conundrums and making her guess, expecting an answer, more than less.

She scattered seeds, then no labels on plants Lady Mantle did tie,
Mouse was confounded, and pulled a long face.
She beat Lady Mantle who started to cry
You can whip me severely she sobbed in her tea, but pretty please agree to rescue this place.

Lord Mantle doused the plants with strong poison he found in the shed.
He blamed Lady M, she threw mud in his eye,
Said flowers fell over and by morning were dead.
Mouse looked on in despair as she munched on a fly; I am off out of here she was heard cry.

Lady Mantle cried it is this, it is this, we have had it before,
Mouse grunted indignantly and then brutally said,
You promised me labour you promised me more
You are no gardeners, you have no shame, it is this, it is that, it is this that I dread.

An argument started, t’was long overdue
You speared the slugs, trod on the snails, that’s not the rule,
Your coffee is rotten and so are you.
Back and back and forth it went on, one side then the other, each to be cruel

(It got out of hand and the dragonfly took a ringside seat in anticipation of more)

They punched they spat they sniffled and dribbled and then they made up.
They ate bacon sarnies followed by cake and other sweet fare,
They drank some good coffee out of a cup.
Mouse looked out at the garden and smiled, it’s just not true that I do not care.

But you are both absolutely barking mad!!
And with that she drove off down the lane.
Is it true, is it true this has happened before, are we mad mad? Or are we just bad?
Tis a lie we are sure, why only the other day the Hatter said we were all sane.

Gill slowly opened one eye and winced against the sunlight. She stretched her limbs and let out a yawn. A piece of grass tickled her arm. Her dream floated, then tiptoed away quietly from her side, as she lost all memory of it. I must have been tired to fall asleep like that in a client’s garden she thought to herself. I’d better get on with it before they get home and find me lying on the grass.

Optimism

Torrential rain by 10.00, they said. Undaunted I set off to Lord and Lady Mantle’s, optimism played a part, as did the fact I overslept and was on garden autopilot. A cup of their finest Costa Rician brew was beckoning me across the moor. When I was so close I could almost smell the coffee, my route was blocked by the local farmer. Holding sway over his kingdom, in tweeds and Landrover, he insisted on telling me a joke about last night’s football before he would deign to let me pass. As tolls go, it was relatively cheap. I won’t repeat the joke, you really had to be there to appreciate the fine nuances.

Fortified by my cuppa we started Operation Plant Out The Three Thousand Coreopsis tinctoria That Lady M Had Been Tending before moving on to a similar operation involving poppies. Lord H continued his battle with the weeds and roots of many seasons and looked natty in his homemade wet weather gear. I really think you could start a sideline there, Your Lordship. Better than the usual ermine.

The rain began in earnest at about noon and we struggled on gallantly for an hour before enjoying well-done (not burnt!) bacon butties and a good old chitty chat. Not a bad day for what was meant to be a wash out!