This year The Boss, AKA me, has decided to give the whole company, AKA me, not only January but December off. She decided that as it is only three and a bit weeks to Christmas, which are are bound to be soggy and miserable, which makes her soggy and miserable, it wasn’t worth the heartache. Dreamily frosty days, as we had last week, are a rare and rather cruel reminder of what we don’t have here in South Wales. Everything is mushy, everything squelches and my heart isn’t in it. I trudge about like a petulant youth, slipping and sliding and counting the minutes to home time. I am best off out of it and my clients are best off without me. That is until February, when I will bounce back full of vim and vigour, and at least half a box of Cadbury’s Celebrations.
Today, the first day of my extended sabbatical, there is a localised orange flood warning in place, the rain is torrential and the gusting wind is reaching every nook and corner. I feel fully vindicated.
OH is doing the shopping, I am expecting a delivery and outside it is blowing a hoolie by the name of Storm Claudia. Not ideal conditions for taking photos for this week’s Six on Saturday. Then inspiration hit me with a wet kipper. I will dash outside, remain within earshot of the front door and take 7 photographs (including sneaky header shot) which will be my contribution; whatever they look like, whatever they capture, whatever they miss. Which is exactly what I did. Consider it an art installation, or the work of someone who couldn’t be bothered to put her coat on. Either is acceptable. Someone who is unlikely to be so slipshod is our SoS leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations, pop over to his site and you can catch up on clan members from across the known universe. Shall we get on?
Fuchsia fulgens is new to this garden, although I have grown it before and have fond memories of it. Tomorrow it will be moving into the greenhouse, as we have a cold week forecast. This is a rather good shot of the bamboo canes, I’m not even sure why they are there. OH is a demon bamboo caner, I am a demon bamboo cane remover. Which is why we make such a good partnership.
This is one of just two rosehips on Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’. Next year I will stop dead heading a little bit earlier and maybe we will be blessed with a few more.
The nerine will also be going under cover, just to protect it from too much wet this winter. There won’t be room in the greenhouse, but it will be fine in secondary accommodation, tucked in some old wooden shelves that haven’t fallen apart yet.
I was going to save Correa backhousiana for a later occasion, but to be honest this week’s experimental method meant I didn’t have a lot of choice of candidate. Nice though! I might sneak it in again. Needs must in the depths of winter.
This Plectranthus zuluensis was given to me by Welsh John. It has just got around to flowering. I don’t mind its tardiness. Not sure it is going to enjoy the cold that is forecast though.
Salvia microphylla ‘Trelissick’ was grown from HPS seed a couple of years ago. It has flowered well this year but I never seem to be able to get a good shot of it, so it hasn’t featured before. Seems appropriate, therefore, to feature it here, in the land of imperfection.
All done, another six, another Saturday. Hope you are all weathering your storms.
Welcome to another installment of The Random Book Giveaway, which could have been named The Occasional Book Giveaway or even The Seldom Book Giveaway. These things cannot be forced, if the muse leaves you, you must wait patiently for her to return, albeit with fingers tapping as you linger. Return she did, to bless my literate dating agency with perfect matchmaking.
First we should consider the book, Meat Free Mowgli by Nisha Katona. I feel strongly there should be a cookery book self help group. On line recipes are convenient, this is true, but do not to compare to real life, in your eager hands, books of potential and joy. They are sensual riots of fancy; some fantasies that we know we will never achieve, others perhaps worth the risk, a few will be added to the repertoire. Food smeared pages are indicative of favourite recipes and never fail to make me proud. And I have many books. This is after a pre-moving cull. And still more find me. There is little hope. Nisha’s book was a gift from OH and it has proved to be a wonderful, already much stained, addition to my collection. I have attempted many of these recipes, bought new and exciting spices to experiment with and each and every one has proved to be delicious. There are clear and concise instructions resulting in honest dishes that actually work! I can recommend Cabbage Curry (I know, it sounds a bit dodgy, but trust me its good), Broad Bean Puris and Angry Cauliflower.
As for the recipient, some might know her, along with her most patient husband, as Mr and Mrs Bun. Since their defection to the Frozen North and mine to Welsh Wales we have kept in touch on a frankly-I-could-try-a-little-harder irregular basis, newfangled video calls allowing us hour long, barely coming up for air, catch ups. These chats are very important to me, it is surprising that I don’t instigate them more often. Afterwards I feel heard, understood, reconnected, the power of friendship cannot be underestimated. It is a spiritual thing. She is a good woman. It is good to mix with good folk, they make you a better person.
When I worked for Her Bunship we often worked side by side, chatting as we went, touching on all manner of things, sometimes the sublime, often the ridiculous. It was always easy, always fun. One of our favourite topics, apart from the obvious “all things horticultural”, was cooking and, inevitably, eating. We are both keen on meat free fare and often swapped recipes and recommendations. Chatting with her last weekend, an idea pinged into my head, she would be the perfect fit for this book.
The day after the book arrived at her northern home, a picture of a very delicious aubergine dhansak arrived in my in-box. I knew they would be very happy together.
For me, the transition from “how can I sneak an extra one in” to scrabbling about in the drizzle looking for a candidate that will just about pass the SoS muster, was a hair’s breath this year. One day all was balmy summer excess, each note, if not crystal clear then a least contributing to a melodious chord. The next day it had become a cacophony of random experimental jazz. The seasons keep us in our place. As does our Six on Saturday leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations, and I would recommend skipping over to find out what the rest of the universe is up to this fine Saturday morning. Let us shake a leg.
When my Cloggie family visited a couple of weeks ago, my brother and I did a hasty tour of the garden, dodging the annoying showers. The flower that caught his eye was the self seeded marigold. The one that he saw was in full bloom and in full focus, but I’m sure you get the idea.
I don’t usually sow hardy annuals, but this year I got some free Calendula Buff Pygmy and thought I would give it a go. There is a long way to go, but so far so healthy looking.
An unnamed nerine in a pot. That’s all I can tell you, except, of course, it is very lovely.
The sunflowers have done their flowery bit and now are at the feeding the birds stage of their lives. It is good to have a full and productive existence. I’m sure a few seed will have dropped to the ground and next year we will have some inappropriately placed giants and I will laugh and blame the blue tits.
The begonias have been splendid this year although the ones out the front are looking rather battered from the recent wild weather. This rather flouncy one is in a more sheltered area and is still holding its own. The little snail thinks it a worthy bivouac.
It only seems five minutes that the fresh young leaves of the Cercis ‘Forest Pansy’ were emerging. With this wind the fiery display won’t last long, already they are scattering the lawn. Then we will be left with the hope of next year.
Another six done, another November arrived. Keep your chins up, nearly spring.
It is a recurrent problem, the same every year. I can’t solve the inordinate time it takes to accustom myself to the concept of autumn. Winter – no problem, spring – a joy, summer – luxurious; but autumn brings me nothing but impending doom. After a few weeks of moroseness I give myself a stern talking to and I get over it. Until the following year when it happens all over again. You will be pleased to hear that I have reached the “getting over it” stage. There is nothing like a bit of Six on Saturday-ing to lift your spirits and if you are not convinced by my contribution then I’m sure our leader Jim at Garden Ruminations will set you on the right track. Be warned, I might not get into jolly mode straight away, baby steps.
The cosmos have been slow to flower this year but have made up for it in these last few weeks. This one has been on the floor at least six times and OH has dutifully hoiked it back up again. Storm Benjamin was one gale too many and it has now snapped at the base. It is certainly doomed. I will pick it over for seed before I compost it. Perhaps it has shed its progeny already and next year we will have a crop of cosmos in the lawn. Could be interesting!
Welsh Ann gave me a piece of Salvia ‘Amistad’ earlier in the year and it has been very happy in its allotted terracotta pot. Now, should I protect it for winter or not? A tricky question. Probably, I should, to be on the safe side. I think I am going to need a greenhouse extension.
This Cautleya spicata is having second wind, producing a late and most welcome bloom. It wasn’t very happy with the dry weather earlier in the year and gave a rather half-hearted floral display. You can’t blame it really. We live in challenging times.
Definitely on its way to shelter in the greenhouse is the Tibouchina urvilleana. Before its incarceration for the colder months, it is showing some very pretty autumnal colours.
Very late to the party is Salvia leucantha and for my sins I can’t remember which one it is. I will pretend that its full name is of no consequence to me and that its beauty is all that matters, but in reality I’m a bit miffed I lost the label.
Impatiens tinctoria was one of the chosen few that were given extra water over the dry spell. It has rewarded me by flowering well and, although a little laxer than it should be, has done me proud. I have a cutting that I will over winter in my Tardis greenhouse.
There we have it. I feel much better now. Except the greenhouse bit. I am not sure how everything is going to fit ……
It has been a wild week, just weatherwise you understand. All is calm, all is bright apart from that. Accordingly to those who study such things, we have had double the precipitation for the month already. Our water capture is overflowing and memories of drought long past. If we weren’t having warnings about rain and flooding it was wind alerts. Gales and torrential storms, wonderful. Understandably the garden is a little confused. The crispy are now softening, the stunted are putting on tardy growth spurts. There have been casualties, there have been survivors, all will be left now to do their best. No propping, little tending, it is too late in the day. Perhaps I am being lazy or defeatist or maybe realistic. If you would like weather reports from around the world and perhaps the odd mention of a plant or two, pop over to Jim at Garden Ruminations. Shall we get on?
Pelargonium ‘Crocodile’ is new to me this year. I was imagining a little more of a scaley threatening vibe, but in reality some of the leaves are quite benign. The very pretty cerise flowers are not scary at all.
Plectranthus argentatus has enjoyed whatever has been thrown at it this year. I’ve grown this tender perennial ostensibly as a foliage plant, but in full flower, as it is at the moment, it is a joy indeed.
Leonotis leonurus, underwhelming, could try harder.
Kniphofia ‘Alcazar’, after just a couple of years, had become a monster. I called in the heavy mob (OH) who dug it up and divided it into four less monstrous pieces. I think it may have forgiven the harsh treatment.
This hedychium, which I think is H. aurantiacum, has failed to flower since its move to South Wales. It has grown exponentially, sturdy stems, but no blooms. It is a late flowerer so I haven’t given up hope just yet, but there are no hints that it is even thinking about it. Too dry, too shady, too fertile, who knows?
The Bed of Anarchy looks like a hippopotamus has wandered by and taken a nap. This Salvia uliginosa has bent down to greet the rubeckia, a happy meeting.
All done, Six on Saturday as required. A little tougher this week. It can only get worse.
I thought this Six on Saturday we could have a little game of Spot the Odd Plant Out. I do love a puzzle. It is a tricky one, but do your best, you will not be judged on your observation skills. I might snigger behind my hand, but it will be with love and respect. I’m sure it will be a doddle for our leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations. If you would like to know more about this wholesome and nourishing meme, pop over and all will be revealed. Enough of an introduction, let us get to the nitty gritty.
The canna are reaching for the stars (apologies for ear worm) and flowering beautifully. I’m not sure what they are, perhaps seed from Tony, perhaps from Steve Morgan. Last year I gave my brother some mirabilis seed, a few months passed and he sent me a questioning photograph. After the “trip over the step resulting in a mix up of all the seed I was carrying” incident, it seems I wasn’t quite as good at seed ID as I thought I was. I don’t think he is worried, just a little surprised. His canna is also flowering well.
Tithonia rotundifolia has struggled this year, or rather the gardener has struggled to germinate and bring them on. This is the sole plant, which has taken rather a battering in the recent weather. I will collect seed and attempt to do a better job next year, both with keeping them in hand and tending to them.
Peeping through the foliage, towards the rear of the plant, I see that the Colquhounia coccinea is flowering. Most modestly.
Digitalis isabelliana ‘Bella’ hasn’t baulked under the drought strain. It is a favourite; the form, the colour, even the name. Which possibly has just doomed it to an untimely death. I have the power. Beware.
This special hedychium, Tara Seedling, has done particularly well this year, spreading and flowering better than ever, despite being surrounded by some proper mean spirited bullies in the Bed of Anarchy.
Worth waiting for, nothing quite like it, is Tibouchina urvilleana, always hanging on a thread of suspense. Apparently, it has been renamed Pleroma urvilleanum, which sounds more like a skin condition than a fabulous, tender but more than worth it, wonder.
Did you spot the odd one out? I have every faith you have. It may not be the same as everyone else, I am depending on that. There is always the obvious and the fanciful. Neither are wrong.
Another week, another weather related drama. Plants in the garden are beginning to droop a little, a couple are definitely on the frazzled side. I put this down to the dense planting, which means any meagre rain or mizzle that has fallen in the last week or two has been unable to reach soil level. This blanket vegetation has conserved moisture for a long time, now the cracks are beginning to show, quite literally in our clay soil. If you wish to find out more about Six on Saturday, and possibly join in, check out the man who has his finger on the pulse Jim at Garden Ruminations. Off we go.
The bronze fennel was humming today. All good. The bronze fennel is growing in the same pot as the peach tree. Not so good. I am kidding myself that it is protecting the fruit, two of which are still hanging on. I am promising myself that this intrusion will be sorted very soon.
A self-seeded cosmos is showing how it’s done. No gardener intervention. Except for me saying “watch out for the cosmos at the edge of the border” to the lawn man, AKA OH.
This is Dahlia coccinea var. palmeri and I grew it from seed. Anyone who know dahlias knows this feat doesn’t deserve a round of applause.
Gertie is having another go. Fair play.
A couple of years ago I visiting West Penwith and we walked The Prom from Penzance to Newlyn. In one of the tiny courtyard gardens was the most incredible purple dahlia. I’m not sure what it’s name was, but this, the first flower of my plant, has salved the itch that I have had ever since. Dahlia ‘Thomas Edison, I salute you.
Ludmilla’s Pink Heart and Austin’s Red Pear. There is room for everyone here.
Come August I have recovered from my “it’s nearly Christmas and we are all doomed” angst and into my “let us live in the moment, time is but an illusion” phase. The garden is pretty much looking after itself, just some dead heading and propping and thinking. I have begun collecting seed and planning for the future, making unlikely promises to myself. It is all part of the circle. I never quite believe them. For more about Six on Saturday visit our mentor Jim at Garden Ruminations. It is worth a look, I’ll be popping over myself very shortly. Let’s get this show on the road!
I have been struggling to get a worthy photo of Impatiens arguta ‘Alba’ and this is the best of a bad lot. This year it has seeded itself far and wide, but it is easily pulled up and so far has not proved to be too much of a nuisance.
One of my favourite salvias is S. involucrata ‘Hadspen’. Tall, cerise pink and furry, what more could you want?!
Our little potted apple tree has done quite well this year, in spite of next door’s fencer snapping a branch or two. I am sure I made a note of the variety, quite where I put that note is another matter indeed.
Never, ever plant Bidens ‘Hannay’s Lemon Drop’ in your garden. It is a thug. It is thuggish to thugs. Do not be swayed by its elegant beauty. It will take over your world with a trillion intertwined roots that weave relentlessly through the border. There is no mercy. A job for the autumn is to try and get rid of this monster. Pretty though.
Dahlia ‘Verone’s Obsidian’ is one of the few named dahlias that I have in the garden. It has the distinctive Honka shape and is most likely parent to some of the others. I am very fond of it.
A photo bombing Verbena bonariensis amongst a sea of Rudbeckia fulgida. Another rampant yellow daisy. I’m going to be busy.
Another six, another week. Next time I will be a whole year older.
It has been a very pleasant week. I was back at work after a enforced sabbatical due to car troubles. A tooth was filled without the need for anesthetic or tears. I’ve caught up with all the present generations of my family. Tomatoes are ripening. The weather has been benign and the mood high. No complaints at all. In fact I’m going to attempt a whole Six on Saturday without a gripe. If you wish to meet more of the gang and our mentor, pop over to Jim at Garden Ruminations and all will be revealed. I think we had better get on with the task at hand.
This Geranium pratense ‘Plenum Album’ has been flowering for a few weeks now. I don’t remember it being in bloom for quite so long in the past. It is the brightest white with a suggestion of pink around the central boss. Nothing to moan about here.
The label in this sweet pepper says Golden Cal Wonder. Someone sack the labeller. Or perhaps give her the benefit of the doubt and blame the adorable piskies who often play such pranks. On examining the other pepper labels I think this must be Kapla. There are only two so no intensive detective work was necessary. Disaster averted, contentment reinstated.
I bought this fabulous Plectrantus argentatus last year and over wintered it in the greenhouse. This year I have taken several cuttings and planted the mother plant in the garden, where it is thriving. It appears that it is now called Coleus argentatus. God bless the botanists. This non-moaning might be more tricky than I imagined.
Salvia patens is the pure blue of heaven itself, which in this case has been enhanced by the romantic lens I used to take the photo. If you believe that, you’ll believe anything.
In your face tigridia. Brash, gaudy, unsophisticated, screeching “look at me!” from the border. Fabulous.
Finally, we have another in my series of bee bum photos. This little chap is enjoying all this glorious purple gladdie has to offer. It makes my heart sing.
All done, not a complaint to be found. I’m exhausted.
Off The Edge Gardening 