The 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.
Weather for Ducks
Today I was digging up couch grass at The Farm. If you laid all the roots that I painstakingly removed end to end it would stretch to the moon and back. No exaggeration. On the plus side we picked the first apples of the season, the forecast doom and destruction didn’t arrive until the end of the day and we had quadruple chocolate biscuits (yes quadruple!). Just as the monsoon got going, and I was planning my escape, Mrs Duck waddled past with her new brood on the way to the pond. Looks like she is taking better care of this lot. Please forgive the quality of the picture, it might have been fine for ducks but it was dreadful weather for photographers!
Fear
It was my first day at a new job today, which is always a little scary. It is one I have talked about previously, you may remember, the one with all the exotic plants and a puppy called Max. For some reason I was more nervous than usual and couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps it was fear of the unknown, or fear of failure, but more likely it was the abject terror of negotiating the hairpin turn and vertiginous drive. So when the approach was mastered, albeit in an inappropriate gear (will do better next time), I felt a little better. As I reach the house I noticed a shining white sail in the garden behind. I was grandly welcomed by the gorgeous Max, who ensured I was fed, watered and looked after for the whole day (which I might add was as glorious as a cliché summers day). What is more, my introduction to this lovely garden was working beneath this beautiful eucryphia, the alabaster sheet spotted earlier, where I was serenaded by an avian choir. I really had no reason to be worried.
Municipal Magic
Municipal planting is often derided as out-dated and starchy, almost laughable, at least sniggerable. Today I would like to stick my head above the horticultural parapet and fight the provisional park’s corner. Taking a short cut through Runnymede Gardens in Ilfracombe this morning, I was taken back by the beauty and vibrancy of the borders and beds. And I was not alone. I was thrilled to watch visitors marvel at the gleaming treats and examine the blooms from near and far alike, much as you would in a Botanic Garden. So what I would say to the doubters is “get your fashion blinkers off and take a gander at this lot”.
This is a tricky time of the year. Planting schemes are often worn out after half a summer of copious flowering and gaps are plugged with pots or something from the substitutes bench. These however are still going strong, they have coped with early drought, torrential downpours and wicked winds, not to mention the worse menace of them all, the public. Individually and en masse, they are magnificent, a testament to great design and careful and knowledgeable maintenance.
And as for the bandstand ………
Cheek
“When we were out today we bought some plants!” “Horror! The bloomin’ cheek of it, anyone would think it was your garden, who told you that could you go out unaccompanied and buy just anything willy nilly. I hope you got something decent, if it is forsythia or cotoneaster I will faint.” “We have planted everything we bought” “Well that will be another job for me, rearranging and replanting and trying to make the best of clumsy and clashing work, too close, too deep, too far apart, not deep enough …..” “Come and see the new plants.” “Deep breath – oxalis, pulmonaria, brunnera, all placed perfectly with an artist’s eye and with care and attention. By golly someone taught you well!” Two gold stars on the chart for Lord and Lady Mantle, they done good.
Not a Carrot
Today was a classic summer’s day, a cliché almost. Wall to wall sunshine, a warm but gentle breeze, a sky unsullied by clouds. Apart from quick drying washing and an evening barbecue, this unusual occurrence was not taken advantage of. It was not a working day and I had things to do that did not involve gardening, I needed to work indoors. I am not a domestic goddess. I do not make jam or marmalade, I once made chutney but as I don’t like chutney this was not a great success. Pickled onions and shallots are a thing of the past. If the locusts (locals) have left some fruit I will make sloe gin. I bake only on occasion, my flower arranging technique is “bung them in”, there are no Christmas garlands or sun-dried herbs. However I am a demon at making rosemary oil. For those of you interested my method is as follows:
- First pick a load of rosemary.
- Beat it into submission with a rolling pin and stuff it into a container of your choice. I use a spaghetti jar, quite why there is one of these in our house I have no idea, but at least this makes good use of it.
- Push similarly whacked cloves of garlic and a couple of chillies (yes I know it looks like a carrot) into the jar.
- Pour in enough oil to cover. The profession DG’s would say use “bland” oil but I find that an insulting description. I would prefer to say it is best not to use the highly flavoured ones such as olive. It is however your party, use whatever you like. Today I used a mix of sunflower and rape seed.
- Stand back and admire your handiwork.
- Every day or, more realistically when you remember, give it a shake and after a couple of weeks it is ready.
- Strain off the gunky stuff and bottle up.
- Use to it to cook your roast potatoes in and you will thank me for ever more.
Flying Ant and other Stories
On balance it was a very good day at Lionel and Lucinda’s. A day of many parts. It was Flying Ant Day; a curious and slightly sinister version of Formicidae relocation. It was a Day of Welcome Gifts, of cut and come again and rocket, of home-made mackerel pate and elderflower cordial. On the downside it was a Dig up a Truck Load of Crocosmia in the Vain Hope you will get Rid of Them Day and a Swelter in the Unexpected Summer Weather Day. Far outweighing the hard slog was the Fall in Love all Over Again with Cosmos from Cerise through Pictoee to Virgin White Day. All in all there are no complaints.
Lavatera “Pink Blush”
This gently unfurling Lavatera “Pink Blush” was nibbled whilst tight in bud, causing matching holes in each petal around the bloom. It reminded me of making paper chains of dancing ladies when I was an adorable child. Carefully cutting around penned outlines on folded newspaper and, when released, marvelling in the emerging chorus line. Some of these memories may be a little shaky, mainly the adorable bit.
Farewell
Today was my last day working at Spotty Dotty’s. It was a tough decision but in the end it was too long a journey to make it a sensible proposition. A day spent on my own, punctuated by very heavy showers, so vigorous George the cat didn’t even come out to say hello. In honour of this sad event I would like to precis my short time at this garden.
I lost my camera and fell in some nettles, I chopped 5 million geraniums, I laughed at a Peppa Pig umbrella (broken), I tried not to fall down the slope, I fell down the slope, I got wet, I broke the pond, I loved the wisteria, I skulked in a corner so as not to look at the eclipse, I stroked George, I sang along with the disco chickens, I got ants in my pants, I had fun, thank you all x
Things I never thought I’d say – Part Three
I think I may have fallen in love with a gecko called Maisie.
Off The Edge Gardening 