Off The Edge Gardening

When it is flower not just a flower?

When it is also the promise of strawberries to come!

I weeded.  Lavinia brushed the pond with a broom.  Lionel painted the apple blossom.

Help.

Today it rained, proper rain that inhibited all hope of productive gardening, especially on a grassy hillside.  This rain was most welcome and extremely irritating in equal measures.  The ground is bone dry and the energetic new growth is desperate for some extra moisture, however I had ordered only night-time rain for the unforeseeable future.  The memo must have been mislaid.   I am sure I could hear weeds sniggering at our impotence.   Anyway, did we let this scupper our day?  I think not!  Myself and Max’s Dad headed off to Marwood Hill Gardens for inspiration, chocolate brownies and shopping. I am pleased to report all our tasks were satisfactorily completed.   As MD’s Silver Shadow was in the garage we had to use my Reliant Robin, an experience for all concerned, especially later when packing in purchases.  Under some strange pretext MD offered to drive on the way home, I wondered what all that screaming had been about on the journey out!

Just as we were leaving the Plant Sales area, that we had unfortunately stumbled upon, I noticed this Jovellana violacea climbing the wall.  The teacup flower is a Chilean charmer, delicate in form and nature.  Inside these bashful blooms is a yellow spotted throat, the hidden wild side.

These totem poles of blue and grey sum up my day.  Murky start, then the eager sun broke through revealing blue skies.  I love a flower parody.

ps  For the curious, these are ajuga flowers.

Chocolate and orange, an unbeatable combination.

On Friday I dusted off my second best cat suit and headed to the big metropolis to meet Dorchester Doris.  As a couple of glasses are sweet sherry were due to be consumed, I sensibly caught the train, a quaint branch line with things like “request stops” and “no toilets”.   I was not only looking forward to seeing my old friend again, but also to the hour of enforced stillness that the journey would involve.  Until I discovered that I had forgotten my glasses.  This meant that I couldn’t read or write or even play patience on my phone except by pulling my face into startling contortions.  Not only did this method frighten the children, it really hurt my fizzog.  So instead I looked out the window.  This is what I saw:

A flock of sheep chase after a man on a quad bike*.  A meadow dotted with indiscernible yellow flowers, were they cowslips?  A shattered aged oak, the sight of which made me wince.  Clear rivers and ponds thick with weed, geese, old orchards and new plantations. Tree houses, wide fields in fertile river valleys.  Back gardens and washing lines.  Furious drivers at level crossings.   Bluebells, primroses and clumps of flowering reed.  Leats and water channels dividing rough pasture. Trees both statuesque and scrubby.  Misunderstood crows.  Fences in retaining wood and excluding metal.  Grassy banks, hedges and dry stone walls.  Red soil, white May blossom.  Swings and ladders and more primroses.  Silver birches dappled with moss.  Wood pigeons feasting in a freshly sown field, just showing a hint of green.  Gorse and goat willow.  Pesky ponticum and unruly box draped with old man’s beard.   Pastoral perfection as lambs cavorted in a wooded riverside glade.  Countryside catastrophe with fly tipped plastic barrels, carrier bags waving in innocent branches and abandoned rusting cars dumped behind hedges.  Brambles beginning their march and solid holly.  Red campion, flag iris and bird cherry blossom.  Hedges laid by man or storm.  Deep cut streams with ruddy banks, dens in the wood, sticky weed, dog walkers and still more primroses.

As I sat I contemplated what I saw.  Who lives in the house on the station? How old is the tree that supports an arboreal mansion? Does that lady have seven dogs or is she borrowing some?  What do sheep think of cows?  I may have forgotten my glasses, but I hope you will agree that I saw an awful lot more without them.

* I deduced these were probably the famously carnivorous local breed, the Long Toothed Devon’s.

 

 

 

This creamy California poppy was a surprise sighting today, poking its head through some spent hyacinth flowers, enjoying today’s outrageous sunshine.  Is this a portent?  Is it heralding spring moving into summer, the victor in the battle between the seasonal neighbours?  But just a moment, hold your horses!  It is only the beginning of May, we shouldn’t be talking of such things yet.  This was spring in disguise, getting a little above it’s station.  Today, the first day of true warmth, the natural world was in hyper drive.  Unfortunately I seemed to be trapped in slow motion, the speed of change disconcerting after months of cruising gear.  Soon enough I was back into my stride, planting and weeding and planning and smiling.  As often happens at this time of year, I stood for just a moment, looked about me and thought “what a lucky maid I am”.

We also ate the first radishes of the year, five imperfect jewels were harvested from the raised bed.  They were sweet and peppery and as fresh as a summer shower.  They were reserved for lunch time when they were savoured like none will be again.  Until next year.

I returned home having been reconnected with the sensation of sun warmed limbs, weary but fortified.

Exochorda, the pearlbush, shining in the spring sunshine.

And although I cannot truthfully say that you are my only sunshine, you did brighten my day.