The Mighty Fallen

When I ventured out into the chilly morning air, to put yet another Dom Pérignon bottle in the recycling bin, I was met with a sorry sight.  Lain dead centre of the path, pathetic and crestfallen, was the mighty purple tulip featured in this week’s Six on Saturday.  It had been unceremoniously ripped from its base by the brisk easterly wind and dumped without grace upon the ground.  Without hesitation, I swept it up and popped it into a vase along with some daffs.  I’m sure they won’t mind sharing.

Six on Saturday – Not Going Out

We made it to another Six on Saturday, hurrah!   If you are curious, pop on over to The Prop’s and find out what the rest of the gang are up to.  For some it will be spring, for some it will be autumn, but we are all united by one thing.   Things have slowed down, there is no need to rush as tomorrow will be soon enough, there is time to consider and immerse ourselves in the moment.  I find that very comforting in these strange times.  Let us meander to over to my chosen ones.

Firstly, we have a sublime double purple tulip.  I’ve looked for the label, but nothing.  I’ve looked for the packaging, but nothing.  Someone needs a firm talking to.  It is not the first time this has happened.  The worse thing is that it is a dreadful example to my esteemed clients, whom I mercilessly nag about keeping everything labelled.  It is a bit like telling everyone to stay home and then travelling to your holiday home 150 miles away.

Next we have the knicker elastic radishes, looking rather dandy.  I have been watering and cooing words of encouragement.  Their neighbours in the pot, some spring onions, have also begun to emerge.  Always a miracle.

Onto the red Woolies acer looking resplendent against the white-washed wall.  I think I might have used a similar photograph before, but I reckoned that nobody would remember or if they did, they wouldn’t care.

Now we have a jolly osteospermum.  The foliage is quite frankly rather ropey, as would befit any decent osteo at this time of year.  The flower is wonderful.  My head says “trim it back”, my heart says “not on your Nellie”.  Another battle to be waged.

Then one of my favourites in the garden, Anemone nemorosa ‘Robinsoniana’.  Every year I chop back the fuchsia in the front garden to allow this ethereal beauty to shine.  By the time the fuchsia has grown back, her moment in the spotlight is over and she is happy to play second fiddle.

Lastly the bronze fennel, Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’, that I dug up and disposed of a couple of years ago.  I may have left an iddy biddy bit behind.  Talking of behind.  Fat Ol’s sister Daisy thought my photo would be greatly enhanced by the addition of a sunbathing pussycat.  I agree.

That’s yer lot for another week, my friends.  Stay safe and well and home!

GMBG – April – Peggy matched with Julian of Norwich by Janina Ramirez

For this April’s GMBG I have not adhered to my usual draconian rules.  This month I haven’t gifted the book in question to anyone, but I did lend them my copy a few months ago.  I think that considering a) we live in exceptional times and b) it’s my party and I will cry if I want to, this slight deviation from the straight and narrow is acceptable.  And the pairing seemed appropriate.  Any letters of complaint can be sent to my agent.

First the benefactor.  The person in question is my mum, Peggy.  As long as I can remember she has been an avid reader.  Many years ago, when she was temporarily bedridden after a back operation, my Dad would choose her library books for her.  One day I accompanied him on his mission.  As he chatted to the librarian I began to study the available books, pulling them out and carefully considering them, reading inside the dust cover, weighing up if they would be appropriate.  Joining me in my quest my dad enquired “What are you up to?”, “Finding some books for mum, of course”, “You don’t do it like that, watch me!” and he proceeded to randomly pull six books off the shelves, returning to the librarian for stamping and more chat.  “Oh”.  She never complained about his selection, although I have always wondered if it was a case of “beggars can’t be choosers”.  At the moment she is self-isolating, alone but chipper as always.

I don’t remember learning to read and recently I asked Peggy if she had taught me.  She seemed unsure.  “Well I would read to you and then afterwards you would read the same book to your little brother.  I was never sure if you were making it up or you had memorised the words”.  Whichever, I could read by the time I started school, at barely 4 years old, and haven’t let up since.

Now for the book, Julian of Norwich, A Very Brief History by Janina Ramirez.  I was first tempted by this book because of the author, not the subject.  Dr Ramirez is a cultural historian, with a PhD in the art, literature and culture of Anglo Saxon England.  She a brilliant presenter of programmes on both art and history.  But she is not the stereotypical academic, more gothademic, with her long black hair, wearing stacked platform biker boots and heavy black eyeliner.  She is ace.

This book is about the 14th century anchorite* Julian of Norwich.   In 1390, she was bricked up in a cell in Norwich Cathedral until her death in 1413.   Yes, “she”.   Julian was a she, probably a noble woman, although it is far from certain exactly who.  It was here that she wrote her book Revelations of Divine Love.   Janina’s book is intriguing, discussing who Julian might have been, why someone would want to cut themselves off from society in such a way and what was occurring whilst she was interred.  It also explains how her book differed from previous religious writings.  Julian’s emphasis was on love and hope as opposed to guilt or punishment.  Love and hope, much better options.

As Julian wrote, over 600 years ago:

All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

*An anchorite is a religious recluse.

Six on Saturday – Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?  No, I’m afraid we’re not.  Hunker down chaps, we’ll get there in the end.  No problem, all this self-isolating gives us plenty of time for Six on Saturdaying.  Except I couldn’t fit it in yesterday.  So here I am, the crack of dawn, trying to get it sorted.  I seem to be in a bit of lull gardenwise at the moment.  The tulips are just hanging there, reluctant to colour, the herbaceous stuff is beginning to show a leg but nothing too dramatic.  Maybe I’m not looking hard enough.  I remember last year thinking I should do something about filling this gap.  Next year I will definitely do something about filling this gap.  However I managed to rustle together a meagre six and if you wish to see what the rest of the gang are up to pop on over to the great Marvello Propello‘s blog.  Let us get on, soon OH will be serving me my lightly boiled egg with marmite soldiers.

First of all we have a self-seeded primula, crammed into a gap in a low drystone wall.  It has obviously had an interesting life; scarred, battered and bruised from run-ins with mollusc and cold winds.  However, in the spring sunshine it looks most fetching.  Perfect is so last year.

Next we have Lilium ‘Forever Linda’ which had been tucked around the corner in the “resting” area for out of work plants.  It took me by surprise as to how close to flowering it is.  It is ear-marked to be planted out in the garden today.  Whether that talk will become the walk is debateable.

I love dandelions.  They are great for pollinators and telling the time.  The other day I saw a lady acting rather suspiciously on a patch of rough ground not far from our house.  As I passed by, she gave me a wry smile and I realised she was picking dandelion leaves, perhaps for her guinea pig or rabbit, or perhaps for a salad for herself.  Dandelions are great.  They may or may not make you wee the bed, clinical trials underway.

For the past two weeks “COME ON PEGGY!” has been periodically shouted at a nondescript pot of compost residing in my dining room.  I potted up all my dahlias a couple of weeks ago and they are now sitting in the pathetic plastic greenhouse, hopefully thinking about some action.  This one had special treatment, bought into the warm of the house.  It is the dahlia I named after my mum.  The full story is here: It is All in the Name.  Eventually, as you can see, she listened to my pleadings.  That’s a first. (not really)

A couple of years ago I sowed some Lathyrus aurea and some Laythrus vernus.  Then all the labels fell off/broke in half/rubbed off/didn’t exist in the first place.  Since then I have been waiting for one to flower so I know which is which.  And here it is.  The first flower of Laythrus vernus.  And very lovely it is too!

Lastly, we have the magnificent barnets of Muscari ‘Mount Hood’, although a few seem to have lost their wigs.  This year I have become a grape hyacinth fan, I will definitely be trying more varieties in the future.  More plants, that is what we need!

Take care and be safe my friends, ’til next time.

Further Apart but Closer Still

Contrary to popular advice, I like to talk to strangers. I may have mentioned this before, along with the fact that I cannot be blamed for this affliction. It is my Mum’s fault, I have no choice in the matter. Nature or nurture? Whichever it might be, I am a lost cause.

This morning, early enough to encounter dog walkers and joggers, I wandered into town to pick up a prescription. I danced the Two Meter Fandango with everyone I met, crossing the road or moving into space, ensuring Social Distancing protocol was observed. Each time we exchanged a smile, a thank you, a good morning.

A shaven-haired chunk of a man approached with his similarly imposing doberman. I had passed this duo many times before, a nod the most intimate we had ever been. Today, as he moved into the road to let me pass, he said “I feel bad doing this” and we stood appropriately far apart and chatted for a few minutes. A charming, personable fellow.

Over the past couple of weeks I have been in contact with friends and family, and even the odd stranger, more often than ever before. Checking up, checking in. Although, in physical terms, we feel so very far apart, perhaps more importantly we have become much closer emotionally. The silver lining.

Up, Up and Away

This made me very happy.  My first seeds of the season, Cosmos ‘Purity’, have germinated, the sight of which bought me great joy.  On reflection, it was a slightly disturbing amount of pleasure.  I may have double fist pumped.  They look like groovers at a seedling disco, throwing some fine moves, so happy to be growing.

After a few stern words, or perhaps inspired/shamed by the cosmos, the cucumbers and courgettes are also making rumblings.  About time too.  Slackers will not be tolerated!

Stitchwort

Our designated daily exercise took us up the moorland hill that looms malignly in view of our house.  In truth we skirted rather than climbed.  It was quiet, except for the exuberant birdlife, and the fresh air was soothing and much appreciated.  The wildflowers are being to shine, it is their time.  The celandine, the violets, the thorn, all beautiful.  They will be there whether or not we are there to appreciate them.  I rather like that thought.  It is all going on even if we aren’t at the party.  Fair play, I say.  Get on with it, do your thing.

Stitchwort is one of my favourite spring flowers.  I love its name and its simplicity.  Although I cared to see it, it didn’t give a fig whether I was there or not.  That is how it should be.

Six on Saturday – From a Safe Distance

Harold Wilson once said that a week in politics is a long time.  Over this past week so much has been happening worldwide that it feels like an eternity.  Still spring skips along and stuff is happening; good things both in the garden and out.  If you want to see how alike we are around the world, in our gardens but also in our woes and joys, pop over to The Prop’s site where all will be revealed.  Here you can find out what our fellow humans have been getting up to and how many extra hours they have been in the garden when they should have been “working from home”.

First we have the same Muscari latifolium that I featured a couple of weeks ago, now all grown up.  Fabulous.

Last year my little brother and his family went to Tanzania on holiday.   As they are what we affectionately know as “The Cloggies”, ie they are mostly Dutch and live in the Netherlands, they very kindly posted me some African coffee instead of a postcard.  Unfortunately, possibly due to my extensive criminal record, the Customs and Exise people intercepted it.  They then proceed to break the seal, rootle around inside for a bit, before sending it on to me.  I decided not to drink the coffee.  The empty tin makes a rather nice container for a couple of baby sempervivum.  Thanks bruv, it was a nice thought.

Now we have a pot of radish and spring onions, well the potential for them anyway.  This is a feeble grow-your-own attempt.  I made a bit of a boo-boo and bought seed tape for the radishes.  It is weird stuff.  A bit like knicker elastic.  Nothing has germinated yet.  Perhaps it was knicker elastic after all.  Like the true professional I am, I have been checking for action several times a day.  Nowt yet.  Do you like my “no poo-ing in this pot” defence system?  For the cats you understand.

A couple of days ago OH decided to dead-head the hydrangea.  “Don’t stand on the bleeding heart that is growing underneath” I pleaded.  He gave a look, and it wasn’t the look of love.  He didn’t.   Lamprocapnos spectabilis ‘Valentine’ is quite safe.

I am trying to get my Jacaranda mimosifolia re-accustomed to life in the big bad world by moving it outside during the daytime and bringing it back into the relative comfort of our dining room at night.  It has been “in, out, in, out” but as yet there has been no “shaking it all about”.

Lastly we have the unfolding fresh foliage, red-edged and vulnerable, of one of our many Woolies acers.  Every one a winner baby.

‘Til next time my friends, stay safe and well.

 

GMBG – March – Flowers

Did you think I had forgotten about my Book and Reader dating agency?  I mean March is almost over and not a whisper.  Do not fear, all is well.  You can’t hurry love.

The happy couple this month are the book Flowers and my friend the delightful Cathy.  I like to call her Swotty.  She is an eco-warrior, she loves flowers and the world.

I found this little book in a covered market in a nearby town.  The cover is repaired and retorn, and features the humble daisy.   It was love at first sight, quite irresistible, and I wanted it for myself.   But that was not meant to be.

It is a book for children, with text by C E Smith and drawings by Janet Harvey Kelman.  Although I can’t find a date anywhere in the book, I think this edition might have been produced in late 1920’s to early 1930’s.  Inside the front cover, in pencil, the name Josephine Fulford – Upper IIIP is written.  I love that.  A tangible link to the past.  One that gets you thinking: who was Josephine and what became of her? Did she marry and have a family, are her descendants close by?  Perhaps she became a famous botanist or naturalist.  Did she love the book or were her botanical studies a chore?  I am hoping this mini-tome was a joy to her and inspired a lifelong love of nature.

For ease of identification, the book is divided by colour, illustrated by 48 colour plates.  These plates are quite stunning.   You won’t find any tongue twisting Latin names here, just evocative common ones: Dog’s Mercury, Mouse-eared Chickweed, Brooklime Speedwell, Biting Stonecrop, Tormentil.  Beautiful words, a salve to the tongue.  Words to be said out loud, to be savoured and tasted.   And all for 3/6, three shillings and sixpence.  A bargain.

 

Home Not Alone

I have decided not to work until things sort themselves out.   I will miss the gardens.  But they will wait.  Annoying, they will probably thrive.  Perhaps more irritatingly, the sun has shone in constant sniggering glory ever since.  I will miss my friends; human, canine and feline.  But they will welcome me back when the time is right.

Today was good.  I am not expected them all to be the same.  Things got sorted, a few more stitches were made, bread was baked, washing dried, and a stroll was peaceful and reviving.   And I have counted my blessings that I am lucky in all this.  We have enough and I am not alone.

But I am not getting complacent.  The house may well get smaller over the coming weeks.