After weeks of broken promises and crushed dreams, today, at long last, we have had some sensible rain. Not so hard that it runs off and ruins, not so light that it evaporates before even the most thirsty of roots can take advantage. It has been persistent heavy drizzle. Perfect.
Whether this has anything to do with the fact that yesterday OH went to the big city to buy new shorts and t-shirts, I cannot say.
Here is Lilium ‘Forever Susan’, prior to both the rain and next door’s space hopper landing in the middle of it.
It is widely believed that the biome supporting the most diverse selection of horticultural species on the planet is the Amazon Rainforest. I have made a startling discovery, this assumption is untrue. In a suburban garden on the outskirts of Bridgend, there is a border that contains more plants per square metre than any other on Earth. It is here that my new client has her garden. We shall call her Mrs Keen. Of course, “kettle and black” may well spring to your mind, I am not known for my restraint in either the shopping or the planting department. Mrs K, however, puts me to shame.
My first job has been to extend the beds, which are very narrow and full to bursting. In the small border I was working on this week there resides a magnolia, Salix ‘Flamingo’, large climbing rose, a generic conifer, a hibiscus, a pear tree and a purple leaved cherry. In the understory a peony lurks, as well as various salvia, an osteospermum, a hellebore and others waiting to be discovered once I get the machete out. Mrs K explained that they were all small when she put them in and now have, surprisingly, all grown big. Who would believe it?! This is not an unassailable problem, tricky decisions are going to have to be made, shuffling undertaken.
When I left after my last visit, Mrs K gave me a nasturtium seedling in a pot. “What sort is it?” I asked. “Oh, nothing special, just an ordinary orange one” she replied with a smile. It is the kindnesses, however small, that make life special. I think I am going to enjoy this job.
Hands up, anyone else feeling frazzled? I thought as much, most of the UK contingent. The gardens are suffering, choices are having to be made and lessons learnt. We have been promised thundery showers today but, having just checked the Met Office forecast, it appears they have changed their minds. Someone who is hoping that one of these allusive showers will make a direct hit on his garden and fill their water harvesting devices is our very own Six on Saturday compare, Jim at Garden Ruminations. Check out his site for the rules and regulations. I haven’t actually read them, but believe they are something like “six” on “Saturday” and are open to interpretation and side stepping. Let’s get this show on the road.
Astilbes and dry ground do not “go together like a horse and carriage” or indeed “love and marriage”. This moisture lover was in the garden when we arrived and had been planted in the most arid place possible. Spoiler alert: it struggled to survive. Kindly, well the intent was there, I moved it to more hospitable surroundings, a lovely shady dampish place. Unfortunately, it has had no time to get its roots down and is suffering badly. As my mum, Peggy, would probably say “I can’t do right for doing wrong!” As I feel a little guilty because of the added trauma I’ve inflicted upon it, it is one of the few in the garden that gets a regular water.
Underneath our rotary washing line we have an area of set-aside. A nigella has seeded itself there. Very pretty.
Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ is having a wonderful year, surprisingly unaffected by being totally swamped by the deliciously unruly Diascia personata. In fact, as Elvis Costello would say, it has been a good year for the roses.
The prize for the first flowering dahlia of the year goes to ….. drum roll …… annoying pause …… scrabbling around opening golden envelope ……. the most enchanting Dahlia merckii. A gift from Anna in Cumbria, it goes from strength to strength. It was dug up and stored in the greenhouse last winter. Today I noticed that I can’t have quite got the whole tuber up as it is sprouting again in its previous position. Has anyone else found that some plants that are considered tender survived the dreadful winter unprotected whilst others, supposedly more hardy, succumbed?
This is another survivor, an unnamed nemesia. As I extended this border it also needed to be moved in early spring. No complaining going on here, it doesn’t seem to have missed a step.
Finally, Eccremocarpus scaber that I grew from seed last year. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to be yellow and, ever the methodical scientist, I can’t remember whether these are collected seed or from the Hardy Plant Society. Who cares? Nice, isn’t it?
As promised, it is time to introduce you to another of my new gardens. As those of you who have followed me for a while will know, I favour my human clients full anonymity and to this end allocate each with an appropriate alias. Sometimes it takes a while for the right name to present itself, sometimes, as in this case, I am spoilt for choice. Land of the Giants was one option, another The Greens, but I have come to the conclusion that Milo’s Garden is the best choice.
Milo lives at the end of a single-track road, punctuated by a jaw-rattling cattle grid, eventually petering out into an unmade pitted lane. It is a beautiful place; below a river slices through mossy oaked banks, above there are steep meadows and stunning views across the valleys. Milo’s manor is also home to various four-legged and two-winged companions, but he is top dog. Admittedly, he is the only dog, but it is still a good title to have. He is adorable, affectionate and full to bursting with personality. Milo is also a known felon, prone to absconding and playing a little too hard with the chickens.
Whenever I am working alone in this garden, getting Milo back into the house after a comfort break has been challenging. His Oscar winning performances, whenever he senses his time of liberty has almost expired, involves rolling over onto his back and wagging his tail vigorously. Completely ignoring any commands from me, all the while whilst looking cute, he is only lured back inside when bribery wins the day. It is for this reason, that today, when I let him out of the house, I had a cunning plan to thwart the escape artist. The problem was solved by his human Mum. It was quite simple. I clipped his collar to a long enough chain, which in turn was attached to a heavy weight. No longer did I have to keep him in my continual eye sight, poised for pursuit. This allowed me to eat my lobster thermidor and sup my lapsang souchong in a relatively relaxed manner. Milo shuffled about sulkily, rattling his chains like a canine Jacob Marley until I unhooked him and aimed him back indoors.
Before I left, I let Milo out once more. This time he nipped up onto the small lawn, had a little wander, ate some grass, had a wee and, when it was time to go back in, pretended there was something really interesting to look at in the hedge. I have come to the conclusion that Milo is suffering from a severe case of Small Dog Syndrome. There is no known cure.
How did that happen? One day I’m griping about the incessant rain and wind, the next I’m moaning about the persistent dry windy days and bitingly cold windy mornings. I don’t care so much about the night, although I suppose I should. My poor little ones are having to hunker down as the temperatures drop, still thirsty after another hot dry windy day. That is it. Moan over. Oh, and I have done another oops and hurt my foot/ankle. I’m choosing to ignore that one. Have I depressed you? I would recommend cheering yourself up by visiting our mentor Jim at Garden Ruminations and see what the jolly folk have been up to. Let’s shake a leg, the left one is working.
First the de-robed flower of Papaver orientale ‘Brilliant’, perhaps the very same one I featured in full garb previously. Repetition, a fine rule of design.
Next Rosa ‘Absolutely Fabulous’. I am pleased to report that she still is.
One of the first jobs I did for Welsh Ann was to divide and replant some iris. Some stragglers came home with me. When I asked what colour they were, she confidently told me “blue”. I feel she was underselling them somewhat.
Onto ixia, just beginning to flower. To avoid going outside to check the label, I flicked through order forms. Apparently, these are Ixia Mixed. Definitely ixia, not so sure about the mixed.
I bought a few special pelargoniums from the soon to be late, but always great, Fibrex Nursery. Unfortunately the head count was rather excessive this winter, all but one popped its clogs. This is one of the replacements, Pelargonium echinatum ‘Album’. I feel it is best not to mention my previous track record, it might well send it into a spin.
Finally Peony ‘Shirley Temple’. I do love a peony and I do love white flowers in a bed of vibrant colours. Win, win!
That is your six, another week under our belts. Have a good one. 🙂
Since moving to South Wales, I’ve tended not to talk about the people that I work for. There are exceptions, the incorrigible Prof for one. The lovely Welsh Ann also gets a mention from time to time. A little self analysis would suggest that it has taken some time for me to make a connection. I miss my North Devon friends/clients and it would be ridiculous to expect to walk into a facsimile of the same. Now, although quite different folk, I am going to make a concerted effort to reverse this omission and share my gardening adventures with those who wish to listen.
First we have The Fit Family. They live in a barn conversion, situated down a stress free lane (unlike those to come) and have a medium to large garden, well planted with shrubs and trees. Too many shrubs and trees, which are beginning to fight for dominance, and not enough herbaceous perennials. Over one low garden wall is an arable field planted with some kind of cereal crop and beyond a small wood and the grounds of an ancient priory. It is a lovely location.
They are not gardeners. They are runners/cyclists/skateboarders/footballers/frisbee players. They have been adopted by an enormous black cat with no name. I have named it Panny due to its similarity to a panther. It is affectionate and noisy.
Last week I spotted this cat jogging across the garden and smiled. “There goes the lovely Panny”, I thought. Then, “What is that in her mouth?”. This curiosity soon turned to dismay, as I realised her bounty was a squirrel and she was heading intently for the house. I hurried to cut her off at the pass and cried out for Mr Fit, who rushed to find out what the commotion was about. Panny dropped her prey, which lay motionless on the ground. After a close-ish inspection, Mr Fit announced “It is still alive” then “What should we do?”, as Panny lurked in the background. “Have you got a shovel?” I asked. With a look of absolute horror on his face he said “You want me to bash it on the head?”, beginning to regret that he hadn’t taken up my offer of references. “No!” I explained, equally astounded, “I thought you could use the shovel to move the poor thing to somewhere shady and out of reach of the panther!”
Mind you, on reflection, its not a bad idea to let your client believe you have a dark side.
Like many Northern Hemispherer contributors, I’m sure, I have struggled to whittle my Six on Saturday choices down to the allotted number this week. This is not a complaint, this is a relief. Houston, we have take off! There is still lots to do, with potting on and planting out, but this has slowed to a leisurely stroll rather than a sprint hurdles crashing into every other barrier. The watering is becoming a worry, the first water butt is empty, the second sounding a bit echo-ey and no rain on the horizon. I know, some people just can’t be pleased. If you would like to meet the gang, then pop over to Jim’s site and you will be transported to all corners of the universe. Come on, let’s not dilly dally.
First we have the Dutch iris ‘Carmen’, with the Geum ‘Tangerine Dreams’ playing peekaboo and some Allium in the background. I have a soft spot for all things Cloggie and this beautiful iris has not let me down.
I promised My Tiny Welsh Garden that I would show my more subtle geum. And here it is – Geum ‘Mai Tai’, who, compared to her more blousy siblings, is petite and understated. There is room for all.
Polemonium ‘Purple Rain’ is having its moment of glory, I just love the bright yellow stamen against the pale purple petals. I suspect the bees love that too.
Morea huttonii has flowered for the first time in any garden of mine. Slender and fragrant, we had some fine stands at Cliffe where it wowed early visitors. Just two stalks this year, the only way is up!
Onto Rhodohypoxis baurii (or similar) which, in spite of the fact that last year I vowed to divide and repot which turned out to be a big fat fib, is doing rather splendidly. I promise this year I will be more attentive. It is in writing now so I will have to keep my word.
Finally, we have the miniature bulrush Typha minima which is flowering for the first time in our miniature pond. This, perhaps underwhelming, shot is a means to an end. A way in for me to tell a charming tale. It is short, but it is sweet.
We provide a running bird buffet in the ornamental pear tree in the guise of feeders full of peanuts, seed and fat balls. On occasion, I throw some stale bread onto the lawn which is pecked at by sparrows or scooped up by a corvid. Over the last few weeks we have been mesmerised by a magpie who methodically dips a piece into the pond to soften it before eating it. Now that is what I call clever.
All done, another six under my belt. Have fun, my friends.
In the beginning I used to blog every day. It is hard for me to fathom quite how I managed this herculean task. Looking through those early On the Edge years, I note I was often concise and to the point. What happened to that woman? Gradually, posts have petered out to the point that Six on Saturday is at best a bi-monthly event. It is not that I have lost my love for either life or writing, it is purely and simply a habit that has been broken. To be honest I have many, less savoury, habits that would have been better to forego. Inappropriate yodeling, for instance, or cooking too much spaghetti and, of course, there is the little plant buying problem. Faults aside, there is a reason for this extra post. In preparing for tomorrow’s Six on Saturday I found myself to have seven photos, none of which I was willing to sacrifice. “Gillypoos” I said to myself “Why not write a blog, purely and simply for the one picture too many”. “Great idea, you are genius” I replied. So here it is. A poppy, Papaver orientale ‘Brilliance’ looking rather wonderful in the morning sunshine. See, that wasn’t too difficult was it?! See you tomorrow.
Is May my favourite month? Perhaps. Ask me again in June. Whatever I might say in the future, May is certainly up there with the best. It is a time when all things seem possible. Bubbles have yet to be burst. True, we have a few aphid and the nights could be a bit warmer, the tree dahlia hasn’t woken up and I fear it is waiting for a kiss from handsome prince that doesn’t frequent these parts, keeping up with the potting on and pricking out is a challenge and now there is watering too. However, the sums are adding up on the side of the good guys, for the moment anyway. Today, my SoSers, I am a positive gardener and proud to shout it out loud! Hopefully the rest of you are feeling the same, I am sure Our Jim will be skipping about full of the joys. Shall we boogie on down?
First we have Anemone blanda, the wood anemone, well one of those that purport to be called that. Last spring I cut a narrow channel between the lawn and the back patio and planted gazania. It was easy to step over and a blast of colour, which is always welcome in Plastic Fantastic Land. These summer beauties are long demised. Some time ago, I know not when except it was a few months back, as a spring replacement I planted some anemone corms. I watched and waited and was ever disappointed. Then, one day, bingo!
Scilla peruviana ‘Alba” slipped into my virtual basket when I was shopping at Avon Bulbs. This photo doesn’t show it as its best, here it looks a little dowdy. I assure you, it is anything but. One of my clients has a magnificent violet clump of these scilla, I am going to insist on her dividing it this year and donated just a little bit to her best gardener.
Aquilegia have hitchhiked their way into the new garden. I am quite happy about that. This one, well ensconced in the pot of a dark leaved Japanese Maple, is proving that self seeding is the perfect way to travel the world.
Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’ reminds me of Button Moon and my dear friends who employed me to eat wagon wheels and garden the grounds of their fabulous hotel. The flower is a beauty, as they were. Happy days.
The candelabra primula have done very well this year. They were bought as plugs last year and have thrived through no effort of mine and much tending of the universe. This one is called White; it needs to contact its publicist.
Finally, in our little patch we have set aside some wild areas, around the greenhouse, around the washing line. I set OH the task of identifying this golden gem. He says it might be Hawksbeard. I am quite happy with that conclusion.
That is your six, on a Saturday. I have fulfilled my brief, this week at least. Have fun, keep the faith and don’t forget to dance whenever possible.
Rain, shine, rain, shine, more raining, more shining. Just make your mind up, is all I can say. April is over, we need a little more consistency and a lot more warmth. It has been a mixed week but, adding up the pluses and the minuses and the indifferent, a good week. If you want to see what the other SoSers have been up to, pop over to The SoS Hub and all will be revealed. Come on, let’s get going, there are eggs to be boiled.
First, the wonderful Dodecatheon meadia putting on the best display ever. The best for me, not in the world, I am not expecting a Guinness Book of Records representative with a clipboard any time soon.
Next Matteuccia struthiopteris, a gift from Welsh Ann last year. Another, perhaps unintentional, gift that hitched a ride was Inula hookeri. Both are lovely, one perhaps a little bit more of thug than the other. I’m not naming names, you know who you are.
Ever since I saw a bank of Uvalaria grandiflora at Hestercombe Gardens in Somerset I have wanted a little of the action. And here it is. Little, but definitely some action.
Every year I like to buy at least one inappropriate plant for my present circumstances. Last year’s contender was Enkianthus campanulatus. No regrets.
In the autumn I duly dug up my many (relatively speaking) dahlia and stored them in the greenhouse, dusting with cinnamon to combat rot, snuggly packed into crates with crumpled newspaper, checking them on a regular basis. I was especially anxious to get them out of the ground as the soil here is heavy and wet. The only one I didn’t lift was a large dark leaved, grown from seed, monster. Too big for cossetting. It seems it didn’t need it.
Finally, cuddling up against the weather, Tulipa ‘Copper Image’ and T. ‘Negritta Double’ doing what I thought they might do when I planted them. Now that’s a first!
Off The Edge Gardening 