Six on Saturday – Uncertainties

It is proper summer now. We have had some rain and we have had some sun and we have had some wind. Proper summer. And I have also started thinking about what is working in the garden and what is not. How I can improve things next year. I suppose that is how we roll, us gardeners, always looking round the next corner. Perhaps I should live more in the moment, especially when this particular moment is a good one in the garden. I am, as always, a work in progress. Someone who I am sure has plans for the future is our main man, Jim at Garden Ruminations, pop over to his site to find up what he and the other SoSers have been up to. Let’s not dilly dally on the way, I’ve got plans to hatch.

First we have the lily that was pretending to be a daylily, or more accurately the one I got confused about. Do not expect certainties now. The master of disguise has now flowered. I thought it was going to be Casa Blanca but it doesn’t look quite right. I can’t think what else it would be. It is pretty though, which is what matters in the end.

This is why I love violas.

Onto a dahlia recently given to me by Welsh John. The label read “Wine Eyed Gill” (sic). The plant says “I don’t think so”. I say “I don’t care”.

This is the variegated agave I found on a stall outside someone’s house in Newlyn. I was very excited at the time, possibly scarily so. It limped through the winter and now is doing something interesting in its middle parts. Possibly damage to the growth bud. Possibly alien invasion. It all adds to life’s rich tapestry.

Now something I am sure of, something that says SUMMER to me. I love gazanias, adore them. This year my journey to them was a little tortuous. Thanks to The Prof it eventually worked out well. Another happy ending.

Finally we have Cuphea lanceolata, grown this year from Hardy Plant Society seed. I haven’t grown cuphea for years. Quite why is a mystery.

All done, have a fab week, see you in the gloaming.

Introducing – Flora

It was the photo opportunity of a life time and I missed it. It involved a new friend. Her name is Flora, she is a Cavalier spaniel and I work in her garden. She is adorable. When I first met her she made such a fuss of me, I thought I must be something special. “She greets everyone like that” her owner told me. Oh well, for a moment I believed I was a superstar. It is a good talent to have, making people feel special.

Yesterday I was working on a raised bed, weeding and digging out an apocalyptic amount of bindweed. Flora’s Mum came out to mow the lawn and bought with her a delicious new chew to distract Her Ladyship. As soon as she had the treat safely in her jaws Flora dashed across the carefully weeded soil and started to dig a hole in which to bury it. At FM’s request I intervened, extracted the chew from its hiding place and handed it over to Mum. Flora was not impressed. In fact she came as close that a dog of her kindly nature could come to being ever so slightly miffed. Up and down the edge of the border she scurried, desperately searching for the missing chew, the likes of which had never been tasted before and would surely never materialise again.

I returned to wrestling with the deceptive bindweed. Suddenly there was a crash. I turned to find Flora in my trug, along with one of the large stones that edge this bed. She must have slipped and knocked the stone and fallen. To add insult to injury, both myself and FM burst out laughing. It would have been a fabulous photograph. Unfortunately, I was not armed at the time. Flora was not hurt by her misadventure, I lifted her out and all was well.

However, she was still not convinced that I hadn’t secreted her bounty. She set up a vigil with a “I’m very disappointed in you” look on her face. She also had a fair amount of valerian seed stuck to her ears which, in gentle revenge, I am sure she will distribute about the garden.

Six on Saturday – Can I See Your Invite, Please?

The weather has eventually broken. Thank goodness. Although I must warn you that the ETA for moaning about the rain and gloom is approximately one week. I am sure there will be many UK gardeners celebrating at the moment, none more so than Our Jim, guardian and holder of the sacred SoS baton.

Over the last few weeks I’ve notice a few interlopers at my garden party. These have not been sent an invite. This deceit is not always discouraged. As long as they don’t cause any problems, take more than their fair share of the finger-buffet or start a dancefloor fight, I’m very happy for the odd gate-crasher, as long as they know their place. Others are on the VIP list, front of the queue, in you come love, extra love. Both are here today. Shall we shimmy?

First we have a salvia grown this year from Hardy Plant Society seed. It was labelled “Salvia microphylla from Trelissick”. Having googled the aforementioned parent, I would say it didn’t fall far from the tree.

Next an unexpected marigold. I’m guessing it hitched a ride on the garden compost. It can stay. You can never have too many marigolds at a party.

Onto Echeveria ‘Perle von Nurnberg’ with associated raindrops. I deduced that it wouldn’t enjoy the moisture gathered at its centre. I tried to tip the water out but it got very messy, gravel mulch and gravity, you get the picture.

It would be remiss, rude even, to deny entrance to the Welsh Poppy.

Now one of my replacement (gone and wiped from my memory) pelargoniums. This is a regal named Covina.

Finally, the wonderful thug that is Diascia personata. Last year things got rather out of hand, this year, after a serious chat and an official warning, it is being much better behaved.

That’s yer lot, hope all is good with you all.

Trying

We live on a new housing estate. It is the first time we have lived in a modern house. We were fed up with the continual maintenance of an older property. To be honest we could no longer afford to keep it in the manner it had become accustomed or indeed deserved. One of the reasons we chose to buy a house on this particular estate was the green areas; old boundary hedges full of sloe and hawthorn had been retained, wooded areas with scrub and wildness and new planting of trees and beds of mixed shrubs. All too good to be true? Naturally.

Today I met with a local councillor to discuss the dire maintenance and rabid incompetence of the so-called landscapers. I have been finding it difficult to sit back and watch the arboricide. Trees have been strimmed to death and if the machines don’t get them then the inept staking and strangling ties will. Abandoned planting schemes are overgrown with weeds and dying from indifference. A bank of knotweed has been carefully trimmed into a hedge. It breaks my heart.

She listened to my concerns. She is up against a developer who is only interested in profit and greenwashing their activities. I am not hopeful my efforts will come to much, but I tried.

This little wallflower*, self-seeded between kerb and road, is also trying very hard. Possibly with more success than me.

* Nemesia of course 🤭 Thanks Noelle x

At Last!

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.

Introducing – Mrs Keen

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.

Six on Saturday – Frazzled

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?

All done, synchronized rain dance anyone?

Introducing – Milo’s Garden

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.

Six on Saturday – Shirley Temple and Friends

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. 🙂

Introducing – The Fit Family

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.