Off The Edge Gardening

“I just wondered” Mr G slipped into the conversation “what are you like at shifting hay bales?”  “I don’t know, I’ve never tried.” “Just popping out for a couple of hours, cover for me.”  “Of course.”

For some reason I am noticing a lot of seed pods this year.  This is Pittosporum tenuifolium and I don’t recall ever having seen fruit on this large shrub (with designs on being a tree).  Perhaps in previous years I have been diverted by some exciting autumnal event, although I can’t imagine what that could be.  The wall of death riders usually pop by in the spring and the fire eaters never get here until Christmas.

Better than before?  Perhaps more welcome.

We were stood up by the dregs of Tropical Storm Henri today, at the last moment he veered off to the east.  This is definitely not a complaint, an unexpected dry day is a joy indeed.  We celebrated at Max’s house by shifting piles of garden detritus up and down his garden’s steep slopes using wheelbarrows, trugs and arms.  After much discussion with Max’s Dad and negotiations with the neighbours, we settled on a bonfire site for the brash, boughs and bad weeds, up hill from the piles.   Then, a much easier decision, ear-marked a new composting area for the work in progress, again up hill.  Lastly a place to pile the beautiful pin-up compost for immediate use, thankfully down hill.   Then it began, the burning, the shifting, the tipping, the raking.  We disturbed and relocated two frogs, one baby toad, a shrew and a slow worm.  By the end of the day we had achieved all we had wanted and whole lot more.  In the dry.  My back is aching, my knees creaking, my arms heavy.  It was a great day.

I am generally a little sniffy about TV garden makeovers.  To me instant gardening is the antithesis of what it is all about, in fact it may very well be one of those oxymorons.  In fact I would go as far as to say that the words “instant” and “gardening” should never appear the same sentence.  “Unrushed”, “considered”, “evolving”, “organic”, any of those adverbs would be much more to my liking.  However sometimes needs must.

The other day Mrs G casually dropped into conversation the following nugget:

“Did I tell you about the wedding party that is arriving at the weekend? They are getting married at Rosemoor then coming back here for the reception, their marquee is going to be right in front of that long border.  Do you think you could tidy it up a bit?”

I replied:

“Do you mean the border that has been ignored for the whole season as we were going to completely blitz it and redo it over the winter months?  And do you mean RHS Rosemoor, the Royal Horticultural Society’s flagship for the south-west that is looking particularly splendid at the moment and where we will obviously be compared with?  And do you mean NEXT WEEK!!!!”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“OK.”

So myself and Slasher Sean cleared entrenched weeds, removed rogue trees, dug out invasive grasses, disguised broken bits, robbed from other parts of the farm and planted new specimens, before finally mulching with some luscious woodchip.  In keeping with tradition we did a big reveal to Mr and Mrs G who I think were quite happy, although when they see the gaps on the rest of the site I am not sure they will be (only joking!) (or am I?).

The result of this challenge is that SS and I are thinking of a pitching a new TV programme to the BBC called Farm Force.  It will have a similar format to other such programmes but we will bring a pig and a chicken with us.  What do you think?  It could work!

Mr G gathers in the squash harvest.  Luckily there was just one of these mammoth fruit to transport to the barn for storage.  Pumpkin pie anyone?

I do work, honestly I do.  In fact I was working this very morning.  OK, so it was at Lord and Lady Mantle’s garden on Exmoor, driving across the North Devon countryside in the morning sunshine was a joy.  It also wasn’t exactly a chore working in their blossoming garden, everything we have planted in the last few months is thriving.  They had completed their homework, including persuading innocent family members to move ginormous rocks to help stabilise the border above the pond.  Both received A* for their efforts.  Then, after a hasty sandwich (made with his Lordship’s homemade bread) I whizzed off to meet the Mr and Mrs Potts at Marwood Hill Garden.  We had a wonderful afternoon exploring and exclaiming, rummaging in the shrubbery, discovering new treasures and at every turn saying “that is my favourite hydrangea, no this is my favourite hydrangea”.  We left wanting more, but time had ran out and the Plant Centre was closing ……….

Something bizarre is happening in this neck of the woods, something we haven’t seen since 1865.  This strange phenomenon is called unrelenting sunshine.  We had a preview yesterday.  I celebrated by working in my own garden (I’ll just do an hour, what tea time already?).  Today was more of the same.  The autumn sun was tepid at best, not armed with potential of a Costa del Devon tan, but was absolutely perfect working weather.  I was very happy about this as working (and obviously extremely hard) is exactly what I was doing.  The gentle warmth filled me with energy and enthusiasm, desperate to appreciate every clement day until the el Nino winter hits.   However it is only Monday, to be cruelly realistic by Wednesday morning I may well be back to my usual slugdom.