Unforgotten – Tick Tock

In the summer months, when visitors prowl the streets with eager purses, there was an infrequent car boot sale on the rugby pitch across the road from our house. It wasn’t a Ming vase, lost Turner masterpiece type of event, more a broken toys and scary ornaments affair. Still, as it wasn’t far, we used to visit just in case. And in all fairness we did pick up a few treasures, books, plants and this clock. When I bought it, for the grand sum of 50p, I was indulged rather than encouraged by my OH. “But” I argued “I love its chrome space-age sleekness, it is a prime example of the art of design”. And furthermore, it didn’t matter a hoot when the man on the stall confessed it didn’t work. Home it came and for the several years it lived on the mantlepiece in our bedroom where I would admire it for its gleaming beauty.

When we were thinking about moving I had to make some decisions about my treasures. Things would have to leave my magpie nest. I glimpsed the shining clock and decided that perhaps it would be a candidate for rehoming. Now Ebay and me are not good friends. Generally, I have paid more in fees than I have actually made in profit. I am not suited to commerce. But still I thought “if it is easy to repair I might make a few quid on it”.

In town there was, and probably still is, a proper watch and clock mender. A professional enthusiast; he had special glasses and eye pieces and teeny tools. I took the clock in for his appraisal, saying “This lovely clock doesn’t work, could you give me a price for fixing it, please?”. He said “you need to put a battery in it”. I said “battery?”. He said “yes, to make it work”. I said “Oh”, feeling more than a little foolish. “You just turn these screws to take the back off and put a battery in here”. “I have been trying to wind it up with that screw” I was getting in deep now. In an attempt to gain lost ground, I smiled sweetly, thanked him for his time and hurried from the shop, clock in hand.

Of course, I kept the little battery operated clock because I love it, it is shiny and space-age and works very well now it has a battery. And because it makes me smile when I am reminded what an idiot I am.

Six on Saturday – First Steps

Hello and welcome to my first Six on Saturday from Nouvelle Maison, or perhaps I should say Cartref Newyd. The top news of the week is that, joy of joys, I have eventually started to work in the new garden. Not that anyone would notice, but a few tentative steps have been made. It would be foolish to rush into such things. In my experience, you have to build up a relationship with a garden, have shared experiences, failures and successes, appreciate and tolerate personalities, weaknesses and strengths. This takes time. I am often naive in life, but not so much to think this will be a quick fix. Let me share with you the story so far. But first, don’t forget, to find out what other SoSers from across the globe have been up to, check out The Prop’s site. We had better get going, there is a long way to go.

As you can see, our starting point is small, modern, heavy on the lawn and patio, nigh on featureless. Bare bones. If I switch on the horti-translator for just a moment, this equates to POTENTIAL! The plan is obviously complex in both design and concept, but to simplify we could say “much grass culled, lots of plants in big borders, compost heap and greenhouse down the side”. Something like that anyway. I may need a hosepipe.

In the top right hand corner there is a small border in which is planted the ornamental pear, Pyrus ‘Chanticleer’. It is about 20ft tall and ominously rocked and rolled like a manic Little Richard throughout the recent gales. Still in full leaf, it has a large sail to be caught by winds. Something to be considered. Will you stay or will you go now? A prize for IDing that quote.

Not strictly in our garden, but a few meters from our front door on a communal green area, is this young fastigiate oak. I like to think of it of our tree. I am planning on some planting some bulbs and perhaps a few primroses around it. Then the corporation chaps will come and mow them down. Perhaps I should have a chat with someone.

There are a few plants in the small pear tree border. Some young privet next to the fence (days are numbered), an astilbe, a couple of manky hostas, a ladies mantle and a large clump of violets. Today (yesterday) I planted a Helleborus x hybridus ‘Anna’s Red’, Geranium ‘Rozanne’, Tiarella ‘Pink Skyrocket’ (gift from my lovely sponsor), some Narcissus ‘Tête-à-tête’ and Fritilleria meleagris. It felt good. The jury is out as to whether the violets stay.

A few more plants have travelled from Peggy’s to Patio, including the gorgeous Fuchsia ‘Eruption’. There are an awful lot more to take the treacherous journey. The tibouchina is just coming into flower so can’t be moved, I will wait for the dahlias to die back for ease and others will come piecemeal as we visit. Each time I have to make the decision to which to bring back with me I feel a little bit guilty. How do you choose between your dear ones?

Finally a collection of fossils and shells which had been wrapped in tissue and stored in a box since Bristol. Devil’s toenails and tiny amonites, mother of pearl and lucky stones. They can live outside now.

That is your lot, my lovelies. The first six, the first step. Onwards and upwards!

The Unforgotten – Furry

Inspired by Lisa the Compulsive Gardener’s curiousity, I have decided to embark on a new mini-series.  Quite how mini remains to be seen.  The theme is The Unforgotten, which isn’t quite as dramatic as it might sound. Basically, it will involve me unpacking tat which has been in storage for the past 5 months.  These seemingly, or quite probably, inocuous objects will have a story, mundane or thrilling.  That is the jeopardy.

We will begin with the purple and lime green furry pencil case mentioned in my last post.  Here it is in all its glory.  I have a small thing about stationary, I know I am not alone in this. There is most probably a word for love of office-ware. If not perhaps we should invent one before it is too late. In an increasingly paperless world the days of multi-coloured paper clips, neon highlighters and novelty pencil sharpeners may be numbered. And although I celebrate the preservation of the tree I mourn the passing of the decorative ring binder.  I bought this pencil case perhaps 20 years ago, just I was about to embark on an Open University foundation course.  The reason I chose this particular item is unclear.  To impress my fellow scholars, to comfort my nerves, perhaps it was the pencil case I had wanted as a child but never got? Whatever the reason, I still consider it to have been a sterling choice. And it still brings a smile to my face.

Normality

After a rather fraught couple of weeks/months/year we are trying to recover some semblance of normality. When I say “normality” I mean the best we can do in that department. Generally, it is treacherous to compare oneself to others’ unobtainable standards. Perhaps I should say “our normality”.

Unsurprisingly, our new home is in chaos and, although desperate to get out there, I haven’t raised a finger in the garden which is looking bare and deadly dull. We have transported only a smidgeon of our plants from Mum’s house. Peggy supergluing most of the pots to the patio hasn’t helped. The washing machine is a casualty, although to be honest it was a bit ropey before storage and possibly gave up the will to live in the almost 5 months it was in a crate. Our clarion call is “do you know where ***** is?”. “No” is invariably the answer. Greeted by a growl. Amongst those missing in action are the hair-dryer, Tufty the squirrel, my shoplifting coat and all the litter bins. But on the plus side, I have rediscovered my hardhat, Minion lunchbox and my purple and lime green furry pencil case.

A large leap forward on the road to stability, was a return to work and to the garden of the indefatigable Professor Gadget and his faithful sidekick, Buster. I found both in fine fettle and was treated with the respect that I have become dependent on, ie none whatsoever. It was good to be back.

Sacrifice

Try and visualise this little scenario with me. Go on, give it a try. It is one that I have replayed over the last few weeks, I am very well aquainted with it.

You’ve been hanging on the telephone for an age, listening to the recording of a very sincere woman assuring you that “your custom is extremely important to us” accompanied by a first class ear worm. Gordon from Birkenhead eventually comes on the line, apologising for your wait. Unfortunately, by this point in time you’ve forgotten not only why you called, but the point of life itself.

Today we completed the purchase of our new home. There has been a similarity in the process with the scene above. Although, to be truthful, which I always try to be, I was significantly happier when we eventually got through.

For those of you who so generously offered their own personal sacrifices to The Big Moving Gods in the Sky, your selfishness has been most welcome. Thank you.

Six on Saturday – Hello

I just popped by to say “hello there”. To say “cooooeeeeee, I’m still hanging on to Planet Earth”. Perhaps even “did you miss me, did you notice I’ve been gone?” Too needy? Almost definitely. More importantly, I am here to share my last Six from Peggy’s house. Or rather, my last Six if the Big Moving Gods in The Sky are feeling benevolent and the ceremonial sacrifice of six jammy dodgers and a kitkat was considered adequate. I will say no more, I do not wish to jinx things. If you have a little time on your hands, it might be worth seeing what the other SoSers are up to. Pop over to The Prop’s site and all will be revealed. Shall we shake a leg?

First we have Diascia personata, the name of which I have a terrible time remembering. After an initial flowering, several pot ons, a severe chop back and a major sulk (on its part) it is now flowering again in a very civilised manor. Refined and understated, as befits the season. Fair play to you fine, *checks notes*, diascia!

“It is not dead” I kept telling everyone/myself, and I was right. This time anyway. The Tibouchina urvilleana is just forming flower buds, having pulled itself from the vortex of doom. I am very pleased because it was a gift from Mr and Mrs Fish and not only do I love it, I feel a certain responsibility of care.

Well along the road to snoozeland, the hostas are shutting down, withdrawing chlorophyll from their leaves and giving us a fine lemon drizzle display of colour. I rarely consider hostas as plants with autumn merit. I may well have to rethink that opinion. Remind me next year.

Onto Hedychium ‘Pradhanii’, which has sporadically produced some rather contorted, disturbed flowers for several weeks. The recent rains have suited it and now the blooms are as exotic and wonderful as they ever have been. Hip, hip, horrah!

Begonia grandis ‘Claret Jug’, is another beauty just coming into its own. Burgundy backed leaves and stems, fresh pink flowers held on Barbie branches, this is quite glorious.

Finally, Nerine bowdenii ‘Bicolor’ has thrown up two flower spikes this year and this is the first to shine. And shine it does. Now we just have to wait to see if its delicate relative, N. undulata is going to turn up to the party.

That is your lot. Hope you are all staying well and happy. ‘Til next time.

Six on Saturday – Slugs and Salvias

It is impossible to deny autumn any longer. Not that denying would have ever done any good, it was coming however much we imagined the fabled Indian Summer was just around the corner or that global warming could be a good thing. To me autumn is not really about temperature or sunshine or even turning trees; it is an inkling, a relaxing, a sudden lack of urgency, a submission to the inevitable. Quite why this disturbs me, I’m not sure. Other people love this time of year, perhaps if I stood close to these happy folk a little bit of optimism would rub off and turn my frown upside down. There is a solution to my problem! I know just where to find some of these curious beings – our Six on Saturday Capitan’s blog. Not only will you find autumn worshippers, you will also find an antipodean spring and I, for one, shall be basking in their narcissi strewn glory. Shall we proceed, it’s nearly Christmas.

When we first moved into Peggy’s house and garden there was a delightful absence of slugs and snails. It seems someone has been gossiping and now, exacerbated by cooler weather and heavy dews, they have found us out. This beauty was crossing the lawn in the general direction of the dahlias. They have now been diverted.

Next we have a tough, old, chewed and dewy leaf of a dark leaved dahlia. As the season progresses I care less about nibbling. Already my eye is set on next year’s finishing line.

The danglers are just coming into their own and Fuchsia ‘Bornemann’s Beste’ is no slacker in this department. Just waiting for Eruption now, hopefully by next week.

Penstemon ‘Dorothy Wilson’ is a rather diminutive lady, in plant form anyway. This is one of a group I bought last year, which at long last are beginning to show willing. She has been planted in a narrow raised border, all the better for appreciating her prettily perfect flowers and how they sparkle in the low morning light. I do love a penstemon.

Salvia involucrata ‘Hadspen’ and “understated” are not words generally found in the same sentence. It is brash and beautiful and I absolutely adore it.

Peggy recently proclaimed that she loves pansies. And pansies are just what she gets.

There we have it, another six over and done with. Wishing you all good health and happiness.

Six on Saturday – Pot Wars

Reporting from Limboland. Still no news on the house, which I suppose would negate our citizenship of Limboland, but I wanted to make it quite clear. Quite clear as to the mood. Tettering. Possibly the best word. There might be other words more appropriate. Still, I am but a single grain of sand in the dune that is SoS, check out the others at Chez Prop, you will love it. I’m late already so we had better shake a leg.

First, we have Fuchsia ‘Thalia’ which is just beginning to come into its own. I especially love the dangly fuchsias, or the triphylla for the more botanically minded of you. In the past few weeks I have struggled to keep my pots watered sufficiently, many need transplanting into either larger pots or the ground and are bursting to get out. Still, I persist, but they complain however hard I try.

Even the ginger mint is moaning, frazzled and weary. The flower is pretty though and the pollinators love it.

Onto Mandevilla laxa which should be climbing but has, quite wisely, decided to stay closer to the ground until all this uncertainty is resolved.

I am pleased that this Hedychium ‘Tara’ seedling is flowering, I thought it might sulk for a while. I waited as long as I could before I dug a piece up from our old garden as, on excellent authority, I believe it is best to wait until they just come into growth to move them. The flowers are not as big and juicy as usual, but I can forgive her that.

Next Pteris umbrosa, Jungle Brake, a tender fern from SE Australia. This one was actually from mid Devon, as I bought it at a Hardy Plant Society AGM. I chuck a piece of horti fleece over it during the worst of the weather and it has so far served me well. I’m very fond of it.

Finally we have the lax and lazy Impatiens puberula that is only bothering to pop out the odd bloom and that in a half hearted way. Earlier in the season I repotted this and cut it back hard, which might explain the reticence. Perhaps more than any, the impatiens have hated the dry and are top of the list when I’m watering.

Next year will be different. This time next year, Rodney, we’ll be millionaires!

That is your lot. Hope you are keeping well and happy. ‘Til next time.

Just a Heuchera

“All I need is a heuchera” said Professor Gadget as we entered the garden centre.

“Okeydokey” his faithful sidekick replied “just one heuchera it will be!” popping a little geum into the sweet mini trolley.

Unfortunately, The Prof didn’t find a heuchera he liked. He did, however, find a couple of other things to fill the gap in his life. I may have helped a little.

And we had to revise the trolley specification. Twice.

The best laid plans of mice and professors.

Six on Saturday – Turn Right

Everything has conspired against me in my Six on Saturday mission this week. I have had computer tantrums, a bread knife related finger injury and a dodgy camera. Did I let that stop me? Did I, hell as like! Captain Prop didn’t get to where he is today by letting an insignificant thing like a poorly pinkie stop him getting where he is today. Nor did he succeed by adhering to the rules, which is to my advantage because I haven’t either. My six are all about a day trip. Read on McReaders……..

I’ve been to the open air St Fagan’s National Museum of History many times. Scattered across wooded acres are reconstructions of Welsh buildings, rescued from the four corners of the country and rebuilt, brick by brick. There are iron age roundhouses and a 1948 prefab, a grand medieval court house and a beehive-shaped stone pig sty. There is a working mans’ institute, general stores, a bakery, a sweet shop and a fish and chip shop. You can look inside many of the buildings, which are furnished and often, if the weather necessitates, have a fire blazing. Fascinating stuff. I can’t get enough of this kind of thing. Since I last visited, admittedly a few years ago, they have installed a treetop walkway for kids and intrepid adults and a new pub project is in the process of building built.

In the main modern building, airy galleries house anthropological treasures including iron age jewellery, Neolithic skeletons, suffrage banners and a vintage Fergie tractor. Until quite recently the wonderful Everyman Theatre performed on site every summer. Beneath the heaven-reaching trees, we have enjoyed musical theatre, Gilbert and Sullivan and Shakespeare. We would arrive in daylight but by the time we departed night had begun to fall. It was always a magical walk back to the car park past the ancient buildings, their history more lucid in the twilight. One year, when they were performing The Pirates of Penzance, buccaneers roamed the site leaping out and scaring the bejezus out of everyone.

Something, however, I have never done before is to turn right when entering the main park. In fact I didn’t even know there was a right. Oh dear, what a mistake. How has this happened? No one told me it was possible. Right takes you to St Fagan’s Castle and Gardens with its ancient fish ponds, champion trees, fallen mulberries -thriving in their prone positions, herbaceous borders, grass parterres and knot gardens, cut flower borders and decrepit vineries. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

And it gets even better. I spotted a gate in the boundary wall and through that gate was a pub. We nipped through, had a quick half and a sit down, met a puppy and fully refreshed returned to our exploration.

Then, on the way out, we discovered a wall full of second hand books for sale where I picked up Three Dublin Plays by Sean O’Casey. Gardens, history, beer, puppies, books; a tailor-made day trip, it couldn’t have got much better. Perhaps a plant sales area ……. maybe not.

There is a further twist to this story. My camera battery was getting low and subsequently the photos are very disappointing. Which is a bit of a blow as I wanted to use them for my Six this week. Which I have, because I figured it was better than nothing.

My first picture is a gorgeous sanguisorba in the mixed formal borders in front of the Castle which, if you are being picky, is in fact an Elizabethan mansion built on top of a Norman Castle. I was especially impressed by this planting, full of grasses and late flowering perennials.

Next we have a charming little prefab, which unfortunately we couldn’t go inside. I love the long leggy hypericum in front.

A row of terracotta with associated spiders webs.

One of the fallen mulberries, still producing fruit and looking beautiful in their gnarled splendour. I noticed they had planted some striplings for future generations to enjoy. And yes I did eat a berry.

The only good place for fake grass.

And yes, I saw several young girls who would have ideal for pickling and bottling.

That is your lot. Have a good week, one and all. Stay safe and well.