Redistribution of the Wealth

IMG_0648It the time of year when gardeners begin to eye up seed harvesting potential.  Of course this involves our own gardens but also includes the plots of our friends and neighbours, and sometimes perfect strangers.  Ever vigilant, ever watchful, we earmark the prey and use all our wiles to win the bounty.  We slip into conversation how much we love the plant in question, we wonder aloud how easy it is to propagate and sometimes we ask directly for a contribution, perhaps promising some of our produce in return.  This weekend I have returned from the Midlands with a small bag of french marigold seed, a compact and floriferous little gem that caught my eye and my imagination.  Redistribution of the flower wealth is all well and good, the trouble lies after the chase, when we have gained the prize.  This is our downfall, the weak link in the chain.  It would seem a little presumptuous to travel with seed packets and a marker pen so we have to make do with what is on offer to store the seed.  “Don’t worry” we say “I will remember what they are and deal with them as soon as I get home”.   It may surprise you to discover that my life isn’t that organised, I have given up hope that it will ever be, so this rarely happens.  Thrusting a chilly hand into a pocket I invariably come across some unidentified pod floating about.  Looking for a hanky to mop my fevered brow, secreted black pearls will scatter on the hushed museum floor.  When searching through my handbag for smelling salts I make the sticky discovery of a napkin squashed with over ripe berries.  Rarely do I have a clue as to where, how, or why they are there.  Sometimes I sow them anyway, sometimes it is a missed opportunity.  This cartoon shiner of a hollyhock is on my acquisition list, I will definitely remember this one.

Rain Didn’t Stop Play

IMG_0686Just as the Inuit language contains 50 different words for snow *, in North Devon we have a similar amount for rain in all its incarnations.  Today it mizzled, drizzled, thought about raining, poured down, threatened, spat, spotted, dripped and tipped.  Still at the Farm we worked through most of the day, clutching onto the charlatan weather forecaster’s promise of intermittent showers.  By the end of the day I was soaked through sturdy waterproofs all the way to my liberty bodice.  Whilst dashing from thundercloud to thundercloud, this Rudbeckia “Irish Eyes” was glowing in the gloom, supported and supporting the Cerinthe major.  A rather nice pairing, I thought.

*It appears that this much bandied fact is thought by many to be at best apocryphal, at worst a hoax.  Some however are adamant this statement is true.  The “many” and the “some” are academics, professors of linguistics and the like, you would think that between themselves they could work it out.  Anyway, as I was just using it as a handy way to illustrate that it rains a lot in North Devon, and I don’t (unfortunately) know any Inuits, I cannot confirm this either way.  It may have been better just to have said “it rains a lot here”.  It rains a lot here.

Rain Stopped Play (again)

IMG_0655After yesterday’s wall to wall sunshine today was the flip side of the coin, floor to ceiling rain.  Unfortunately this meant I had to cancel my visit to Max’s, disappointing as we are only just getting to know one another.  He had bravely been out for his constitutional and luckily agreed that it was a little soggy today for digging in the soil.  So it was a day confined to barracks.  Soup was made, a writing project completed and the chores list is now a little shorter; prevarication was also indulged.  This beautiful grass, Hordeum jubatum or squirrel tail, was yesterday shamelessly waving its silver pink tassels in the balmy breeze.  Today I am guessing it will be looking a little more like a water rat!

Coreopsis tinctoria “Quills and Thrills”

IMG_0643Be warned this tickweed is an unruly beggar, unable to stand up on its own, flopping about like a drunken harlequin.  But forewarned is forearmed and some horticultural corsetry can easily control this inelegant lolling.  Surely these singular flowers can be forgiven all but the most serious of misdemeanours? Flaring sleeves of amber, lined with rich terracotta, attached to a boss of bronze dotted with sunshine yellow, fascinating and intriguing.  These special blooms coupled with a curious name makes this easy to grow and hardy annual thoroughly irresistible!

Still Going Strong

IMG_0625Sweet peas, the scent of which takes us back to summers past and gives us hope for those to come.  These fine specimens have been tended by Lady Mantle who has taken her role of guardian very seriously.  She has diligently removed tendrils before they could contort and sully the blooms, tying in the now anchorless stems to sturdy canes.  She has picked on regular basis encouraging a steady flow of flowers and scanned for foes who wish to nibble on the new shoots.  The upshot of this dedication is that the Mantle ancestral home is full of fragrance and there have been plenty to share with friends, neighbours and serfs.

Strawberries, No Cream

IMG_0538 Arbutus unedo is strawberry by name but definitely not strawberry by nature.   Admiring the peeling cinamon bark, ivory bell flowers and luscious looking fruit will have to suffice as the Strawberry Tree is not a tasty specimen.  Pliny the Elder apparently commented after tasting just one of the tempting berries “unum tantum edo” meaning “I eat only one”.  Enough said.

Pollen

IMG_0567The much maligned lily stamen, replete with granules of rich ochre pollen.  Often ceremoniously snipped before they can stain your best frock, drop onto the cream pile carpet or mar the Maltese terrier.  This is a great pity, they are as beautiful as the exotic blooms they bless.