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.