Off The Edge Gardening

Blurry

This has been a week of firsts, and today was my first day back at The Farm.

It was a day of mist that swiftly thickened to fog. It was mild and unobtrusive and blurred the edges of the world. All was veiled in an ethereal blanket, not threatening but embracing. My mood however was buoyant. I bounced and enthused and irritated those that had been working hard since the new year. We made plans for the coming weeks. We toured the site and Mrs G carefully listed* my suggestions and even added some of her own. Next we studied plant catalogues and further lists were made. When it was time for me to leave they promised to instigate some of the new projects before next week. As I pulled the door closed I could have sworn I heard ripping and giggling ………

This blurry witch hazel, Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Jelena’, is sporting the lone survivor flower from what was once the promise of many. A tangle of joyous burnt orange banners. Although I have no concrete evidence as to what happened to the burgeoning buds, my money is on either Public Enemy No. 1 AKA White Spot the Chicken or PE No. 1½ Flurry Bloomin’ Bunnykins and his pals. In the coming months I forecast heartache in my continuing war with these arch criminals. No doubt most of the tears will be mine. Not yet though, today I am walking on the sunny side of the street, metaphorically speaking of course.

*This was after a fraught interlude whilst the correct notepad had been selected and matching pen located.

Daphne odora “Aureomarginata”

As sweetly scented as it is beautiful.

First Day of Term

Have I mentioned before just how brilliant I am? Before Christmas I asked Mrs Bun exactly what her plans were for the unsightly pot of manky leaves that had sat in the greenhouse for the past year. She explained that it had been a gift, had never flowered, and held little sentimental significance. Bin it then, I said, with love. The pot was duly removed, plonked down on route to the green bin and forgotten. Yes, you have guessed it, above is the self same plant. The photo was taken today having spent the last two months outside in rain, frost, wind and combinations of the same. Of course this was none other than the famous “last resort” horti trick of threatening a plant with the compost bin/bonfire/recycle in order to inspire it to blossom. What did I tell you, pure brilliance! And if you believe that ……

By the way, my first day back was great, creaking a little now though!

All Things

So it has arrived, as I always knew it would. Today is the last day of what I so pompously called a “sabbatical”. The noble list of chores was touched upon but not completed. There has been plenty of relaxing and a fair smattering of indulgence. As a last kapow, we spent the last couple of days “down south”, in the delightful town of Topsham on the Exe estuary. It was the perfect winter treat, a nice hotel, great gig, a couple of glasses of red, the moistest carrot cake in the world and no rain. Now I have to face reality. It has a habit of returning to bite you on the bum. At the risk of sounding like a creep, I am actually quite looking forward to it. Early night tonight!

GPAP – Sore Eyes

This is Achillea Cerise Queen, August 2015, in Lav and Li’s garden. Although I have no desire to wish the months away, sometimes it is nice to warm your toes on the stove of summer remembrances. The winter months undoubtedly have their joys and it is invaluable to turn down the volume and plan a little. Even so, ever so often it does no harm to look back on sunnier and warmer days, when the garden looked quite different and gems such as this regal beauty shone bright. Definitely a sight for sore eyes!

Last Minute GPAP

I can’t remember if this is the seed head of a zephyranthes or a habranthus. It doesn’t really matter though, my point is still the same. Seeds are lush.*

*Translation for those of you not familiar with the terminology of the west of England, lush means mighty fine.

GPAP – Instinct

When this photo was taken, one swallow really did make a summer. The month was June, the location the Farm, and he sat defiant on an overhead cable, surveying the scene. I wonder where this swallow is now? Did he make the journey safely back to South Africa? At this very moment is he thinking about travelling north again, flexing his wings and packing on the pounds? He may even be on his way as some may arrive as early as March. It takes six weeks to complete the epic 6,000 mile journey, driven on by unremitting instinct. Unlike many migrant species they fly throughout the day. At night they rest in huge flocks, a prime example of safety in numbers. Whilst here they breed, often reusing the mud and vegetation nests they make in barns or other buildings. They can have two or three broods, each of between 3 and 8 eggs. If you are very lucky you might spot a parent feeding their young on the wing. What an incredible world we live in.

GPAP – Summer Rain

While we are on the subject of rain …… This photo was taken in July. I wonder why I haven’t used it before. Perhaps I have and can’t remember, highly possible. If so I apologise, but I think it might deserve a repeat. It is a callistemon, an Australian bottlebrush, and it lives in a pot on the patio. Patio sounds rather over-grand, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea; it abides on the 3m x 2m paved yard outside the back door. Here it shares the space with a couple of Acer palmatum, a sophora, a blueberry, a liquidambar, an oleander, a peach tree and a brugmansia. Tardis technology. Steep brick steps lead up from here to the rest of the bijou garden. I fell down those steps once and now find them terrifying, but don’t tell anyone, especially not me as it might mean I do even less work up there. This wonderful shrub was another of those, buy now, explain later purchases. But it was greeted with approval and is now a permanent resident. The picture reminds me of one of the carnivorous sundews, with their sticky insect catching droplets. Callistemons however are strictly vegetarian and, luckily for me and its good health, prefer a moist environment.

This is the last week of my sabbatical and still the rain falls. I am hoping that it gets all this nonsense out of its system before next week.

Forever GPAP – Warmth

There are a lot of tedious things about rain. These include, but are not confined to, the following:

It makes you wet,
It makes the soil wet,
It makes your sandwiches wet.

You must admit, however, that it does add a little something to a photograph. This lily, the colour of warmth, is bejewelled by raindrops. Beautiful before the downpour, enhanced afterwards.

GPAP – The Rediscovery

I found it in the garden today and I hadn’t realised that it was lost.

It has been a forever twilight day, dank and uninviting. With feet dragging slightly and a lope of indifference, I went outside to do some necessary work, it was duty rather than desire. Within minutes it came over me, that old feeling. The one that sends us out into the garden in night-clothes and wellies before breakfast , the one that keeps us there until a head torch is necessary. And with this rediscovery came the thrill, the joy, the comfort.

This is dangerous, I thought, with a secret grin. This is great.