The golden droplet flower of the New Zealand kōwhai shone like a misplaced piece of summer at Chambercombe Manor at the weekend. Not thriving there, but managing to muster enough strength to pop out a few flowers on its scantily clothed boughs. Sometimes less really is more.
Tree Watching – A little waffle to fill the space
There is not a lot of action at the moment in Larchland. There may be a slight swelling of buds, but this is probably wishful thinking by Ms Eager Beaver. So I will use this lull in visible activity (I am sure there is a lot going on behind the scenes) to get you up to speed on Larix decidua. We wouldn’t want any embarrassing silences would we? It is a deciduous conifer, native to central Europe and introduced to Britain in the 17th century. It is a fast growing tree and the resulting timber is strong and resistant to rot, however the Japanese larch, Larix kaempferi, is considered superior and is more often grown as a plantation crop. “So how” you may well ask “do you know the difference between the Japanese and the European?”. Well apparently the seed scales on the cones bend downwards in the Japanese tree while the European’s curl upwards. As I have only just discovered this fact, I am very pleased that it appears I have identified this tree correctly, admittedly it was more luck than judgement. Unless, of course, I am deluding myself again and there is a little downward motion ….. no I must be strong in my convictions. These cones with their, undoubtedly up-curling, seed scales may remain on the branch for many years, so it is not even worth loitering just in case the deadlock may be broken by one falling off. Never mind, another month and it could be all steam ahead, otherwise brace yourselves for some more scintillating/sleep inducing facts!
NW5 – George
As handsome as ever!
NW4 – Rejoice
It is February now and the wheels are turning faster. The days are noticeably (and rejoicingly) growing longer meaning that not only is it easier to get out of bed in the morning but the plants are benefiting from more light. If I were a true plantophile these would be listed in a different order. Sometimes, however, a line has to be drawn.
NW Day 3 – Ophelia
The hazy colours, frozen in time, brought to mind John Waterhouse’s painting Ophelia. Just before she got in, obviously.
NW Day 2 – Diamond Day
Over the past few years I have had my battles with ivy, tugging and unravelling, prising their adventitious roots from tree, border and unsuspecting shrub. I have also admired and appreciated their many good points, listened to the throb of an insect blanket supping on their tardy flowers, watched as clumsy pigeons and flighty blackbirds feast on the deep dark fruit. Today was the first time that I marvelled at their beauty.
NW Day 1 – Puddle
I didn’t promise anything about the posting of evocative photographs. Obviously I have no control over what you may or may not deduce from an innocent picture. This one seemed appropriate today, the reason why I am keeping to myself. You can interpret it entirely as you wish. It could indicate a leaky hosepipe, the discovery of an ancient spring, the creation of bog garden or something else that didn’t even cross my mind. Totally up to you ……
Whatever the Weather
To bore others is one thing, to bore yourself another. Bearing that in mind, I have decided to place a temporary embargo on any mention of the weather. Nothing at all. Not even in passing. Or as an afterthought. If a tornado sweeps me up and deposits me at the end of the yellow brick road I will keep stum. This is a promise. However …… just before the prohibition era begins I have a few things to get off my chest.
This week I have been submerged in the weather; immersed, saturated, sand blasted. My ears are ringing from the relentless roaring of the banshee wind. My face is glowing, not with health but because a layer of my skin has been removed by the driving rain/hail resulting in a slightly scary post chemical peel demeanour. Working in these conditions is like trying to garden on a bouncy castle with a jet engine in your face, especially when wearing so many layers you need a spreadsheet to get dressed in the morning. Your senses are confused by the cacophony, your balance undone by the gusting gales. It is not so terrible that work is impossible, there are no snow drifts, flash floods or hurricanes, but resides in the grey zone of “only the brave/stupid”. It is exhausting, frustrating and sometimes surprisingly fun.
There it is, I am now purged, my lips are sealed from meteorological utterances for, well shall we try a week?
This is Brachyglottis greyi, also known as the daisy bush. There is a very nice cultivar called “Sunshine”, but of course we wont be mentioning that for a while. I think this is going to be tougher than I first thought.
Alabama Slammer
Today I have been working on a piece for Devon Life magazine about Castle Hill Gardens. Sorting through the masses of photos I took last April of this enchanting Palladian House with its extensive landscape gardens, I came across this photo of Fothergilla major Monticola Group, sometimes known as the Alabama Witch Alder. This shrub, and indeed all of its relatives, has been on my Lust List for a while, certainly since moving to the acidic soils North Devon. When I came across this fine specimen I undoubtedly stood and stared for a while, I may have even dribbled a little.
This, to my mind under-rated, genus was named after Dr John Fothergill, an 18th century Quaker. He was an eminent physician, philanthropist and botanist with a penchant for American plants, a very busy man but I don’t expect he had to wash his own socks. This deciduous shrub is native to the Allegheny Mountains in the US which span from Virginia to South Carolina. Related to the witch hazel, in the family Hamameleoaceae, the scented fluffy white/golden flowers bloom in April and May and are much-loved by bees and other pollinators. After a summer providing a valuable backdrop to the summer shiners, in autumn the fun begins again. The foliage turns firework shades of yellow, orange and red just in time for bonfire night. This plant will give you joy early and late in the season, performing well in both the opening scenes and the finale. It is slow-growing but can reach 2.5m x 2.5m, which admittedly is quite large but definitely not in the leylandii league. It really is easy to please, enjoying sun to part shade, is hardy to -15C, prefers an acidic soil but will tolerate neutral with a yearly acidic mulch applied. The only things to avoid are limy dry soils. So why isn’t it grown more often? To my mind it is worth a place in any garden, preferably mine. One day perhaps ……
Hail Hurts and other lessons
Things I have learnt in the last week:
1. Longjohns are my new best friend, with my thermal vest a close runner up.
2. A good hat which doesn’t obscure vision or fall off and cosily covers the ears is imperative.
3. When the aforementioned hat falls into a muddy puddle and is put on the wing mirror to dry, do not forget to remove it before you drive home. First Reserve has been called out of retirement. I hope someone nice has a new hat that doesn’t obscure their vision ….
4. Fingerless gloves work even though this seems against all laws of nature.
5. Working in the close vicinity of evil roses can result in peek-a-boo seat of the pants, luckily my dignity was retained due to “new best friend” above.
6. If you remember to pack two sets of waterproofs, extra fleeces, gloves and hats the weather will instantly turn unseasonably warm and dry. Do not become complacent, the next day it will all change to seasonably cold and wet.
6. Hail really does hurt!
Off The Edge Gardening 