Off The Edge Gardening

 

A gentle walk this afternoon diverted me from my snivelling for a while.  My spirits were lifted by bud upon bud, shoot upon shoot, a sky free from its usual dampening blanket and a camellia looking like an explosion in a Barbie factory.  More healing than a cup of Lemsip (other proprietary cold remedies are obviously available).

This mahonia leaf is a nigh on perfect match to the colour of my nose.  sniff sniff

I don’t bother with New Year’s Eve these days.  Gone are the wild parties of my disaffected youth, the conga has drawn to a halt, there is no more kissing of strangers or midnight choirs, just a glass of pseudo champers and an early night.  Do I sound like a champion party pooper?  The truth is that I am just eager for the new year to begin.  After the black hole (albeit a pleasant one) of pre-Christmas, real Christmas, post-Christmas and “anyone any idea what day it is?”mas I am eager to get going with this 2015 malarkey.  Ready to experience all those adventures lurking around the corner.  Ready to face whatever challenges this new year will bring.  So today, on the first day of 2015, I wish you the same as I wish myself – may we get what we deserve and may we deserve what we get.  Be brave and kind and a bit daft, listen to others, notice the small things.  And when things go wrong, as they undoubtedly will, I wish you strength and humour and a good friend to share the burden.  Oh, and most importantly, whenever possible fit in a sneaky cartwheel.  Happy New Year!

Yesterday, after a week of rain and gales, it was a pleasant change to experience some winter sunshine at Lavinia and Lionel’s.  The day was especially important as it was one of those milestones that we invent for ourselves but all the same are of consequence; it was my last day of work before Christmas.  For the record it turned out to be a very satisfying day.  It saw the completion (!) of Phase One of what will hopefully come to be known as The Grass Border and those plump alliums were planted before they shooted and shrivelled.*  The two L’s then fed and watered their grateful gardener in a way I don’t deserve (always a sucker for a muffin!) before I set off on my merry way.  There had been a couple of sharp showers but this small hardship was rewarded by a clear, bright and optimistic rainbow.  This ceratostigma seed head was looking fittingly seasonal in the low light and the acrobatic goldfinches will enjoy these tasty morsels if ever their fast-food station goes dry.  In the meantime we can enjoy their burnished beauty.

Happy Christmas and a peaceful New Year to you and yours.  May the world be a better place in 2015 and may we do what we can to make it that way.  love xxx

*As is generally the case Phase Two will follow Phase One .  When this will be and what it will entail is classified information.

Today I spent an interesting seven hours in the driving wind and rain hard-pruning a stand of oversized hydrangeas and fuchsias.  If I didn’t know any better I would say these shrubs had been mainlining steroids.  Looking my glamorous best in full waterproof attire with mud streaked visage and singing a medlay of christmas carols (generally only the first line, dum di dums and improvisation for the rest) I enjoyed myself in a rather masochistic way.  I discovered this tiny nest close to the top of one of the fuchsia mammoths, about 3m high but attached so firmly that not even a North Devon gale could shift it.  A little googling has led me to believe it could have been the summer nursery for a chaffinch family.  As the Discover Wildlife website describes “Decorated externally with lichens and cobwebs and lined with hair.”  So beautiful, the jewel in the crown.  I wonder whose hair they used?  Do you think that might be George’s shade?  I proudly took my find to George’s mum who tried to look pleased that I had brought her a stick.  I suggested that she should practice her “that’s a rubbish present but I am going to pretend I like it” look before Christmas.  In GM’s defence she hadn’t actually noticed the delicate little house nestled amongst the rather large twig that I was thrusting towards her.  In the end she was as charmed as I was.  Either that or “The Look” had been quickly perfected!

You know you are onto a good thing when your esteemed client comes into the garden to greet you with a steaming hot cup of coffee.  It is pouring with rain and not only is she wearing a natty pair of pink patterned wellies she is carrying a (broken) Peppa Pig umbrella over her head.  Pure class.  She tried to convince me the umbrella belongs to her daughter but I am not convinced. Luckily for me, bearing in mind the “heavy showers” that were in danger of ganging up to become “persistent rain”, I spent the majority of the morning inside their greenhouse pruning a delinquent grape vine.  This involved a little free climbing, many trips to the compost heap, a lot of bravery and no whoops’.  In my experience “whoops” is not a word to be used when either pruning or cutting hair, although in the past I have said it on both occasions!

My day summed up in a photograph.

The twig with a suspended water droplet symbolises my nose.  The weather was so damp I am now covered in a healthy layer of lichen.

I may have forgotten my hanky, but least I am perceptibly pollution free.

Every year it happens.  I go soft.  More accurately “softer”.  I skip my way through spring, summer and autumn singing tra la las with the odd yodel thrown in, barefoot with flowers in my hair.  Then winter does what it has been signed up to do, including such things as “finger numbing frosts” “never arriving but often threatened snow” “doom and darkness” “teeth chattering, leg bending gales”.  Of course I know the theory, but it is the physical experience that always comes as a complete shock to me, as if this strange new season had been invented just to spite me.   The wind is the worse culprit, it is what George’s dad called  “A lazy wind, it can’t be bothered to go around so it goes through you”.  It was indeed very lazy.  Once out of the inclement elements and back in the snug santuary of home it is nigh on impossible to get warm, “chilled to the bone” as they say.  I am not sure of the science of this claim but some evenings as I shiver whilst others melt I envisage my body like a human baked alaska.  Next you are inflicted with “glowing cheek syndrome” causing your face to beacon as if you are on your third large sweet sherry martini.   Another problem to address is the reluctance to ever ever ever remove your thermals and the associated health issues.  The shame is that I know it never gets really cold here, to some our best attempt at severe weather would count as a balmy spring day.  So there is no getting away from it, I have once again turned into a fully fledged softie.  If previous years are anything to go by I will toughen up quickly, which is just as well as we have only just begun.  I thought this little rose, gentle in bud, was feeling the same way as me.  It just had that look about it.

Although it would be quite unfair to have a favourite client I think it is extremely acceptable to have a favourite pig.  Let me introduce you to George.  He is a kunekune which are native to New Zealand and means fat and round in Maori.   His combination of rugged good looks and an endearing personality makes him irresistible.  Add to that a slightly dangerous demeanour, a surprising turn of speed (well I was surprised when he turned and sprinted towards me shortly after this photo was taken) and a good line in grunt.  The father of seven beautiful piglets with the almost as gorgeous Victoria.  He is at present involved in a doomed love triangle with a young sow to be fattened and a slightly bolshie Shetland pony.   I will be there to scratch his head and offer words of consolation when it all goes pear-shaped.

A few months ago I wrote an article extolling the virtues of the aster.  Today I spent the morning de-astering a border that had been infested with my favourite late season flower.  Me and my big mouth.  There was no way around it, each and every stiffled plant had to be dug up and the invasive monster untangled and teased out from roots and crowns.  The disinfected were then replanted.  There is plenty more to do and this project will keep me out of mischief for several visits.  Lunch was pumpkin soup and home-made bread supplied by my last speed date of the week, the lovely Lavinia and Lionel.   Still smiling!

Of course the photo is not of an aster or a strangled plant, it is the helicopter seed of Lavinia’s favourite Japanese Maple.