Generally I avoid prickly plants, call me a wimp if you dare. But from a safe distance, and with the renewed bravery a little sunshine brings, this coconut scented gorse was a real treat in the spring sunshine at The Farm this week.
Heading west for a few days, see you when I return.
My knowledge of water gardening is minimal, and that is being generous. I do however know that this is a bulrush, last year’s stems standing to attention awaiting the arrival of this year’s growth. These are looking a little bedraggled at the moment or, perhaps more accurately, stone dead. However soon, when once again in full livery, they will provide the perfect hiding place for ducklings and baby Moses’.
On occasion, especially when you work outside, the world gets ramped up to high volume. Everything is more intense, you become more aware, you sense the essence of things. Yesterday the culprit was the wind, today it was that stranger the blue sky. Perfect.
A tough morning. It had been a restless sleep disturbed by raging storms and appropriately bizarre nightmares but I had no chance to be bleary eyed. Walking from the front door to my car the unremitting wind and accompanying vicious showers suggested strongly that I return to my bed. Tempting, but I pushed on. Crazy stallions were stampeding towards the shore and I worried about those who were out at sea and for those who might have to save those poor souls. Soon I was cajoling Max’s less-than-keen Dad into the garden (yes you’ve guessed it “Its just a shower!”). We struggled through the gales and rain like evil needles, whilst we dug up more of the dull fuchsias and ferns and non-performing azaleas. All this on a steep slope, muddy underfoot. To add insult to injury, gusts shoved us spitefully like a school bully, while trees groaned beside us mimicking our own misery.
After a soothing lunch of soup, bread, cheese and chat, I was refreshed and refuelled and ready to continue the fight. Then the kamikaze scaffolders arrived to take down the scaffolding and a car was in the way. So when MD said “The car has to be moved, shall we go to Marwood to see what they’ve got in the Plant Centre?” I was buckled into the car before minds could be changed. So I was back at Marwood again, twice in one week! We met the lovely Marwood gang, drank coffee in the inner sanctum, cuddled a lurcher puppy, bought bergenia, veronica, hellebores and cleyera and admired the greenhouse camellias. Some of these camellias will be exhibited this weekend at the Early Camellia Show at RHS Rosemoor, surely this virginal white, gold bossed “Coronation” is a contender? Now what’s that other saying? Oh yes “third time lucky”!
Lord Mantle certainly knows how to pack a trailer. This task was project managed with precision. His Lordship instructed and I followed. LM was officer in charge of collecting the raw material, delivering to site, presenting to myself, pointing and saying “chop there”. Naturally I excelled as chief chopper. My duties entailed chopping when and where I was told to (generally). Any unruliness is solely down to later additions, made when he foolishly left me unattended whilst making scrambled eggs on toast for lunch. I would imagine that it is once again in alphabetical order.
ps Lunch was lush!
Yesterday I met up with the wonderful Malvern Maid and her lovely Malvern Man to explore Marwood Hill Gardens. We had a great time. The Big Three of plants, cake and shopping were achieved. It was a splendid day. There was a surfeit of gossiping and tangents and gasping. It was very good.
And it got me to thinking about friends. This is only the fourth time I have met MM and I know very little about her history, the details of her life are a little vague, and she would say the same about me. But that doesn’t matter. We clicked the first time we met and this hasn’t diminished, we hit the ground running. It is an easy relationship, no need to impress, undemanding, not forced and above all honest. The essence of friendship. Some of my friends are a little hard to handle, some are quiet and contemplative. Some I see often, some rarely. Some are gardeners, some not. They all have a special place in my heart. These friends support me when necessary and I try to do the same in return. So these delicate scilla are a gift* for my friends, old, new, virtual and real. I am lucky gal.
* When I say these are a gift, it doesn’t mean you can go to Marwood and take these flowers, just look at the pretty picture and be happy.
A daff for my lovely mum, love and kisses YBD x
Just as Brucie has “Nice to see you”, Larry Grayson “Shut that door!” and James T “Beam me up Scottie”, I too have a catchphrase. It is the rather snappy,”Don’t worry, it’s just a shower!”.
After spending a restless night in which the Valkyries hammered at our window demanding entry for hours on end, I drove to work through the hail storm from hell. “Don’t worry” I thought “its just a shower”. Shortly after, as I sat in Lavinia and Lionel’s kitchen sipping a cup of their finest coffee, I looked out of the window. To my surprise the sky was full of white fluffy stuff “Good golly” I mused “that’s proper snow” followed swiftly by “Don’t worry, it’s just a shower”. So gallantly I donned full waterproof kit: hat, snood, oversized jacket, trousers, boots – nothing could encroach this meteorological force field. After some, I thought rather cruel, laughter from Lav I set to work, undaunted. This heralded the sun’s dramatic arrival. What followed was a horticultural striptease and the realisation that I had had no need to worry at all, it really was “just a shower”. Who would have thought it? I was right all along!
What a heady brew of a day! A potent cocktail of rain, hail, sleet and sunshine, all washed down with a wind from the north west that could lift you off your feet. Unfortunately this wind, and the many others that have preceded it in the past few weeks, has caused much damage in the garden. The soft and spoilt foliage of evergreens has been scorched and disfigured, wet-footed shrubs and trees have been rocked on their soggy roots and newly emerging flowers discoloured and ripped from their boughs. So often the icy pair of frost and snow are demonised, but the evil duo of cold wind and persistent rain are just as worthy for a pantomime hiss. I am hoping that some of Max’s magnolia blooms will hang on long enough to reach their full potential. Since I started working in his garden, late last summer, I have been impatient to see this collection of trees in flower. It may be that this wind scuppers my wish. If so I suppose there is always next year, but that seems an awful long time to wait ……..
Too tired for words tonight and its only Tuesday! Perhaps this picture will have a thousand for you. If so, can you talk amongst yourselves, I’m off to bed.
Off The Edge Gardening