Six on Saturday – Group Hug

After, admittedly rather cockily, boasting of four weeks Six on Saturdaying in a row, I’ve missed two on the trot. Pride comes before a fall and all that. I’m like snakes and ladders on the The Propmeister’s leader board. Still, I’m here now and ready to join in the global embrace that is SoS and share the love, horticultural and otherwise. Things we need more than ever at the moment. Let us not tarry, the sun is shining and there is pottering to be done.

First, the bargain bin hyacinths are flowering and I am very happy that for once “random” worked for me. What a blue! I’m going to attempt to keep them so they can shine again next year, which undoubtedly summons the death toll.

I have an adage “never ask anyone to do something you would not do yourself”. For this reason, after a soggy-day shopping expedition with The Vegan Cop, I nipped back into Garden Centre and followed suit. A poppy, an erodium, a lamium and a hebe. You will no doubt be formally introduced at a later date.

I jumping up and down thrilled to see my Impatiens omeiana storming away in the very shady bed. I may be weeping next week, as I believe cold weather is on its way. Shall we live in the moment?

Next door’s fence is falling into our garden, which is a little irritating as it would probably only take a couple of nails to fix it. This is OH’s ingenious propping up method. Invisible mending!

One of a scant handful of resident plants was a patch of violets. They are just beginning to flower. Although very pretty, I think I will just retain a small patch. That is a job for another day, for the moment they can bloom away.

Finally, the glorious emerging leaves of Trillium sessile. This plant is very precious to me, as I grew it from seed and waited at least one hundred years for it to flower. After I took this picture I planted it out into the garden. I hope I wasn’t being rash.

That is your lot, my friends. Shall we have one last hug?

St Crallo and The Cross

There is so much to say and so little energy to say it. It has been very very windy and it hasn’t stopped being windy yet. It was also very wet. That has now stopped, possibly temporarily. In other news, the pear tree is still standing. Next door’s fence is not. The world seems intent on disarray. It is all slightly wearying.

Today, after the rain stopped, we took a trip to Coychurch Village. We found a nice little shop and bought an enormous romanesco and a sourdough loaf, which almost certainly makes us hipsters. OH has a beard and several checked shirts so is a shoe-in, as hipster women are generally invisible it is hard to say if I fitted the spec. I am giving myself the benefit of the doubt.

We ate crisps in the local pub, who weren’t serving hot food due to a week of wakes, and sat crunching as OH moaned about how expensive it all was. I don’t think that is very hipster. Mind you, they were sweet chilli flavoured.

Then we took a look at the 13th century church, St Crallo’s, unfortunately locked, as is often the case these days. Outside the south door stands the remains of a stepped medieval cross, damaged when the church tower collapsed in 1877. I cannot confirm the age of the moss and lichen, I would think it is also quite ancient. I do know it was looking rather beautiful in the snatched sunshine.

Six on Saturday – Prize

Four SoS in a row. Surely that warrants a prize? Or a medal? Or at a push I would accept a round of applause, as long as it is rousing. I’ll have to ask the holder of the Book of Rules The Propmeister , he seems a generous soul, a man inclined to prize giving. If you want to find out what the rest of the known universe are up to in their gardens (all clean, I assure you, well there might be a little mud), pop over to his site and all will be revealled. Let’s get on, I’m needed on the luge track.

First we have the hellebore that never blooms. It has looked like this for the past two months. Hanging in suspended animation whilst all other respectable hellebores are flowering their socks off. It is ‘Anna’s Red’ and to my mind acting a little prima donna-ish. Come on, open them there flowers!

My New Year’s Resolution of less turf more border is doing quite well. I have joined up two corners into one long bed. It looks a bit miserly at the moment but will expand. A couple more plants have been liberated from their pots and into the ground including Fuchsia microphylla and Salix graciliistyla ‘Melanostachys’. I’m loving it.

OH and myself disagree on a lot of things but agree on the most important. Which I think makes it alright. One of the things we disagree about is spider plants (but they purify the air) and an excess of aspidistra in the house. This variegated aspidistra has been living outside since we moved here and shows no sign of compliant. I might plant it out in the spring, unless he sneaks it back in in the meantime.

Never wanting to be left out of a party, snowdrop or otherwise, here is my contribution, Galanthus ‘Magnet’. It lives in a pot at the moment and I am undecided whether to plant it out or keep it confined. Control or not control, that is the question. That is always the question.

This week the Prof (yes we know who he is) donated these pieces of London Pride to the cause. We love London Pride in our house. An important thing we do agree on. Saxifraga x urbium for those who like a bit of Latin. Which I do.

This little chap is guarding the patio area until we find a permanent/semi-permanent place for him. Now who does he reminds me of …..

And so we end. Another six, another saturday. Take note Mr P.

Have fun, my friends.

Introducing …..

Yesterday was my inaugural day on a new job. The one with dogs and a blank canvas. It is always a bit daunting, starting over. Does one ever get over that “first day of school” feeling? Still, there was no reason to be worried. It was a good day. Shall we examine the clues?

A clear sky was a harbinger of delight, with no threat of rain on the horizon. This was contrary to the previous day which was gloom and heavy mizzle. A frisson of optimism permeated.

He had lined out his tools in a very orderly manner. Obviously a man on a mission.

I was greeted with coffee, always a way to my heart. Yes, this could be good.

Then he showed me the two new compost bins he had constructed in the week since my last visit. Rock on!

Unfortunately the pixies had not sorted the lawn out in my absence. To call it threadbare would be a compliment. This is going to be our biggest challenge. On the estate, where plastic-not-so-fantastic rules the roost, it is widely considered impossible to keep a lawn, citing the dreaded clay as the culprit. True, the soil is clay, but look around you folk, all the common areas have grass that is doing quite nicely thank you very much. My guess is that the ground has been compacted by mega machines during the construction process, top soil stripped and turf laid on top. Not ideal. In this garden, my new client sensibly laid a layer of top soil before seeding the area. It thrived for a year before its downfall. I think compaction is the problem. So we are going to aerate, add lawn sand and resow with a grass mix specifically for clay and waterlogged conditions. Then I am hoping-upon-hoping that the naysayers will be proved wrong and that the abomination of all things pure and true, artificial grass, can be bannished from the planet for ever. OK, perhaps I am getting a little carried away, but you get my point. Any top tips or helpful hints will be gratfully accepted.

We made a great start, creating the first new bed of the garden. We are going to work with what we have, using plants suited to these conditions. I have high hopes.

Oh yes, and we need a name for this new addition to my blogging world. For once I let him chose his own. The Vegan Cop. I like it.

Spectre

It was pasty time at Professor Gadget’s. We were having our usual lunchtime conversation “I’m definitely not buying any more plants, I’m so over plant buying” “No, I’m not either, no way, no how!”, when a humongous crash came from the kitchen. A moment later a bird crashed to the ground outside the breakfast room doors and swiftly took flight again. “What the ….?!” we both cried.

The Prof bravely investigated and found no sign of bird, injured or otherwise. However, the perpetrator had left a spectral calling card on the kitchen window. Prime suspect is the local sparrowhawk, chasing prey and over-shooting the mark. Although, to be honest, the mugshot looks more like a splattered pigeon to me. Whoever it might be, I am certain it will have a sore head today!

Six on Saturday – First and Last

February has arrived, as it always would, and what a relief. A short month, almost an afterthought, one to fill in a gap between January and March. Things have not progressed much since last week, but there have been glimmers of hope. For more Sixing pop over to His Propness and find out what has been going on in the rest of the world, most of it anyway.

Earlier this week, as I was arranged elegantly on the chaise longue watching The Housewives of Bridgend, my eye was caught by something in the garden. “An iris!” I shouted gleefully. One of the bargain basement rescues was doing its thing. I hadn’t even noticed a bud. This could be due to my lack of observation or its stealth. No matter, it is lovely and made me happier than perhaps is natural.

Not long before Christmas I planted Anemone Mistral Fucsia and Mistral Vinato together in a pot, thinking they would be good foils for each other. I have wanted to grow Italian anemones ever since I saw my friend Pat the Field holding a bunch of her wonderful cut flowers. Vinato is deepest purple with a sky blue eye and Fucsia is not a spelling mistake and fuchsia pink. They are emerging gracefully and I was interested to see that the foliage on each is quite different. We will see how efficiently they were mixed!

Finally, the primulas have started making an effort. For a long time they have had manky leaves and a distinct lack of blooms. Long may this last. Soon, hopefully, tulips will begin to poke their noses out around them, although I can’t for the life of me remember which ones.

The blue hyacinths are slowly maturing, they are partners to the rescued irises and have recovered from their shame of being overlooked by the general public quite nicely.

Another slouch has been the violas. It happens every year. They underwhelm for weeks on end and then suddenly, just when you had forgotten quite why you bothered, they do this. Beautiful backlit by the sunshine. Yes, I said sunshine. It has gone again now though.

Many years ago, when we lived in Bristol, my OH bought me several replicas of soldiers from the Terracotta Army. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite run to originals, and possibly they are better suited to a museum rather than my garden. They were dotted around in borders and have gradually succumbed to the fight. Except this one. He is the last man standing.

That is your lot, have a great week everyone.

Back in the Saddle

For those of you who don’t know/don’t remember/don’t care, ever since I became self-employed I have taken January off. I have been known to call it a sabatical, mainly because it sounded like I was doing something useful to further my career, which to be honest was rather misleading. The reasons for this hiatus have receded into the mists of time, something to do with short days, bad weather and reluctant clients, but remain unclear even to myself. Still, it gives me a nice break to wallow in left over crisps, chocolate and gin from Christmas and dream of springtime adventures. Each year, without exception, I have been champing at the bit to get back to work.

This year, safely ensconced our new abode, I have kept up this tradition, although I didn’t actually have many jobs to sabat from. I didn’t let this thwart me, and for the month of January I pottered and fidgeted and generally made poor use of my time. Same old, same old. Now, however, mobilisation is underway. The wagons are rolling.

Yesterday I returned to work (he might well dispute this fact) in Professor Gadget and his faithful sidekick’s garden. After the usual extensive debrief, coffee, HPS seed examination and discussion (something to do with me bagsying them all), coffee, garage door man arrival, coffee, garden tour, coffee, rose pruning, pasty, coffee, more rose pruning, I was on my way home via the local garden centre. That’s a better way to spend your day.

Today, I might have found myself another job. In fact I think I have. And I am hopeful it is going to be a good one. When I say good, I mean, dogs, blank canvas, someone who has faith. Fingers crossed.

Six on Saturday – To Infinity and Beyond

Two SoSing weeks on the trot, I must be on track for a gold star on the The Prop’s chart of Shame and Glory. The cold and crisp has been replaced by the damp and dreary and, although I have had countless flights of imagination, I haven’t done any actual gardening. Still, these things can’t be rushed. Shall we tootle on?

First, we have a Buzz Lightyear ball that was in the garden when we arrived and doesn’t belong to nextdoor. Now it is ours. Apparently, “Possession is nine tenths of the law”, is that actually true? Anyway, it acts as an ice breaker on our water reservoir and has proved very useful over the last couple of weeks.

Next, a scabious, yet to be planted out, that is having a mini flowering flurry. Scabby little flowers, which is appropriate for a scabious, I suppose. Still, it always good to see a flower at this time of year, adds to the delicious anticipation of spring.

This tatty bookshelf is going to become my plant shelf. All I’ve got to do is go to the shop, choose some paint, buy some paint, find the brushes and sandpaper and turps and suchlike, prepare the item, paint the item. See you next year.

The hydrangea cutting from Ilfracombe is producing some fine looking shoots from the bottom of the plant. This makes me very happy. Big chunky shoots, what would be better?

Not content with two bird feeders we have now have three. I am very pleased to report that our avian count has increased this week, with a lone blue tit and a glossy starling visiting the feeders. The sparrow mob and inadequate robin are still in town. Great tele.

Finally, as the great Prop would say if he thought about it, “always finish with a pretty one”. Leaves a sweet taste. Here is a darling little cyclamen, flowering its socks off.

All done for another week. Take care and stay safe, my friends.

Six on Saturday – Speedy

This is going to be whistlestop SoS. If you want to read more, less rushed and far more deliberated versions, pop on over to The Running Propper to find others who obviously take this more seriously and should be lauded. Wow, that was a long sentence, more commas perhaps? Right, let’s shake a leg.

First we have frosty leaves. Yes, leaves from the ornamental pear that still looms large, but rather more naked, in the garden. Since we put the bird feeders up it has become full of itinerant sparrows and one, rather disapproving, robin. I am so pleased the feeders have been found and put to good use. No offence to our residents, but a larger variety of visitors would be nice. A blue tit or goldfinch or blackcap, all welcome.

Next privet. The previous owner planted a strange little hedge-ette beneath and behind the tree. OH hates privet with a vengence. Their days are numbered.

Onto a bargain. Bought these blue hyacinths and mixed iris (possibly reticulata but some look a little large) for half price. They will be potted up with some Allium moly that I am still yet to find a home for. Blue and yellow, very “famous flatpack”. Of course that is if they flower together!

Now a speciality of the region, blurry lichen and moss. A good sign. Not the blurry bit, that was me wobbling trying not to stand on the emerging Tete a Tete, the lichen and moss bit.

Another new bed! This time a home for Salvia uliginosa, Hedychium ‘Tara Seedling’, Bidens ‘Hannay’s Lemon Drop’, Rosa ‘One that The Professor Gave Me and I Can’t be Bothered to Go Out and Find Out What its Called’ and a couple of other things.

Finally the gallant and beautiful Correa schlechtendalii, still having a go.

That’s it, your six for this week. Hope all is well with you all, keeping sixing!

Six on Saturday – Murk

I feel a little bit confused. Not unusual, it’s true, but the severity of the confusion seems all the more at the moment. I mean to say, what day is it?! Saturday of course, it is Six on Saturday time. I am barely into my January sabbatical (big word for a month off) and I’m drifting about like a anchorless dingy. I am chomping at the bit to get out and do stuff in the garden, but it has been so wet that even in the tempting rain-free interludes the ground is sodden and I know better than to stomp (rather than chomp) about on easily compacted soil. Frustrating. I suppose that is the name of the January game. However, all is not lost. There are plenty of people out there enjoying sun and warmth and all things floriferous, and there are others, like me, who are dreaming of sunshine, and some that might well be under a blanket of snow. If you check out The Prop you will be able to catch up on what is what and what is not in the world of SoS. Come on now, let us shake a New Year leg.

First, we have a snail. Not a real snail, but a monster to scare the others off snail. It hasn’t worked in the past, I live in hope.

Next, a hitchhiker. A plant that I have previously dug up at great physical cost, cursed on its defiant return and later its prolific self-seeding. Now I am activity tending this thug in its host pot of watsonia. It is bronze fennel, Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’, and I don’t know what I am thinking. If I moan at a later date please feel free to say “told you so”,”when will you ever learn?” and the like.

This Christmas our household was the proud recipient of two bird feeders. The bog standard one from me to him, the fancy pants acorn from my astute nephew and his partner. As our garden is not on the birdie super highway, I was jumpy uppy downy thrilled this week to see a sparrow on BS and a robin taking full advantage of FP. Very happy me. They will come.

Onto the anaemic leaves of emerging ranunculus. Early, I know, but at least it has turned up to the party.

Someone who has never left the party is Osteospermum ‘Purple Sun’, pictured next to our rainwater reservoir, AKA a plastic box. Ever ready to pop the odd flower out, so far any attempt at cold hasn’t thwarted its enthusiasm. Long may this last.

Finally, I bought some seed. Yes, I know, I have a biscuit tin full of seed. OK, fair cop, I have two biscuit tins full of seed. But I do need, yes need is the correct word, some reliable fresh seed for a talk/practical presentation I will be doing in March. I have a certain responsibility. And I love Rudbeckia ‘Irish Eyes’ and I just had to have Ipomoea ‘Heavenly Blue’ and ………

That is your lot. Have fun, stay safe, ’til next time, my friends.