This morning Lord and Lady Mantle introduced me to three giant cacti, wondering where we could fit them into their planting scheme. Not quite sure where they will best slot into the general “Game of Thrones meets The Only Way is Essex” ambience.
Lord Mantle was looking fine in his natty hat though.
Until about an hour ago I was definitely not going to partake in Six on Saturday today. I was strong. I was recalcitrant. I would not be bowed. Exactly who does that Propagator chappy think he is anyway? Controlling my Saturdays, forcing me to go outside into the big outdoors, rummaging around in my garden for worthy subjects, ruminating for hours to pick just the perfect words for a blog when I would much rather be lying on the chaise longue eating Monster Munch and watching reruns of The Dukes of Hazard. Then I was reminded why. The chip, which had been implanted when I was initiated into this strange cult, started tingling ominously. And I knew just what this meant. It was a warning from the Main Man that any further defiance would warrant a turn of the switch with my name on to Teach Her a Lesson. For that reason I am very pleased to present my Six on Saturday, with a song in my heart and a skip in my step.
First of all we have a pretty pink aquilegia. Yes, the march of the granny’s bonnets has begun. Each year I vow to rid myself of them before they re-seed in every nook and cranny, pot and planter. Each year I fail. Until now of course. This year will be the year that I tame the onslaught.
Now we have the flower buds of Libertia grandiflora. With a following wind these should be in full bloom by next week, but I rather like the honeyed casing, looking more like a plump grain spike than a member of the lily family.
Earlier in the week I did a little shopping, of the horticultural variety. Some things were for others, some for us. One of the new addition is this purple sage, a replacement for the bog standard green variety that perished over the winter. It is now planted up in a special terracotta pot, purchased from Fish Pye Pottery in St Ives, and is situated just outside the back door for easy access whenever I need some sage. Which to be honest has, so far in my life, been a rare event. Of course this might change now I have this lovely specimen.
Another purchase was a few lobelia and a tray of petunias. The only problem is that I have nowhere to put them yet. Those pesky primroses keep flowering and flowering and flowering and flowering. What a fabulous problem to have.
Now an emerging rodgersia leaf. This plant is in a pot and although I try my hardest to keep it well watered it isn’t very happy. On days when it looks particularly sad I whisper “when we move to my fantasy garden you will have all the damp shade your heart could desire and you can relax into a humus rich soil on the banks of a cool stream and spread your leaves in joy.” I did notice that for the first time a flower spike is forming.
And finally the Pelargonium cordifolium var. rubrocinctum is completely forgiven for its pretentious name. Anyone with a heart ……
All done. Back to the Monster Munch.
Just a thought. If anyone from Monster Munch Inc is reading this, I will happily take a large box of pickle onion flavour in lieu of any sponsorship money. I mean if Mr K has his Haribo ……….
Oh dear.
Of course it was too good to be true. Last week was the intruder, the uninvited guest who agitated the party, whipping up the mob, charming us into believing we could have better. But we can’t. This is the south-west of the UK. It rains. It blows. We have residual webbed feet. I should have known better than to raise my hopes. But I did. Now everything is back to type and I feel disappointed. Which is why I am here, far too early for a Saturday morning, on the set of Carry on Screaming. The wind outside is making ridiculously clichéd sound effects, sleep is impossible.
But let us not descend into melancholia, this blip is nothing that a bit of Six on Saturday can’t sort out. This cure-all is distributed by Dr Prop, medicine man and snake oil supplier to the stars. If you dare, pop over and see what it’s all about.
To begin we have apple blossom, of which there is an embarrassment this year. Or should I say was? I am wondering how much will remain after these gales. Still, we rarely eat the fruit these tiny twisted trees produce. The jackdaws will be remiss, they love their autumn apples.
Next we have a surprise, to me anyway. As the label had been stolen by the fairies/broken/never existed I was under the illusion that in this pot lurked a bizarre root vegetable I had bought from Lidl a couple of years ago. Apparently not. I believe I can say without contradiction that it is a fuchsia. Then it all came flooding back. It is Fuchsia jantasensis and it has been languishing for a few years not doing anything of merit, definitely not flowering. I can quite honestly say that it was not worth the wait. Apparently it is quite variable in form. Not sure this is its best incarnation. The pollen looks like broken biscuits which is rather sad.
Now for a something with a little more potential. Osteospermum ‘JK’ is just about to come into flower. Dependable, weed smothering, bright and beautiful. Sound like anyone we know?
What now? Oh yes, strawberry flowers. Shall we take a moment? I think we need it. Imagine a sun-warmed plump strawberry, plucked straight from the plant in all its virgin glory, at best wiped on the leg of your shorts to remove any slug slime, sweet and fragrant. Better have another one. Fabulous. That feels much better.
The photo is a bit blurry because it was raining when I took the photo, and the wind had already begun its torment. The things I do for you!
This little tulip, Tulipa batalinii, was bought at Marwood Hill Gardens a couple of weeks ago. One pot for me, one pot for my friend. For some reason we thought they would be bright red, possibly because this is what we wanted and somehow by wanting them to be that colour it would materialise. Wrong again. This flower has been wide open and has now quite sensibly decided that the better part of valour is discretion. It is rather pretty, with its green tinged edge. But definitely not red.
A few years ago I saw a truly gob smackingly amazing lily on the television which went straight to the top of the Lust List, Lilium ‘Forever Susan’. Deepest mahogany petals, the tips of which are orange, as if someone has held onto the ends as each were individually dipped. When I spotted a pack in a garden centre I was very excited. When I came to plant them I realised that they were Forever Linda and not Forever Susan. Close, but not close enough. Nice, but not nice enough. I mustn’t muddy my love.
There we have it, another week completed. Stay safe. Remember the strawberries.
This photo of an emergent azalea was a lucky take when a glimpse of sunlight hit. It feels as if it was a singular event. Otherwise it was rain and hail with the odd episode of torrential. It has been a long and very messy day.
I am now going to eat chocolate. This may be just as messy but I doubt whether it will take very long.
Just to put you at your ease Lady Mantle, I will not be naming names. All I am going to say is that after tea break only one person returned with me out into the garden, into the deluge and the storm and battled the ferocious monsters that had been summoned up by the weather gods. And one other person stayed inside pretending to be busy.
No names, Lady Mantle, you are quite safe from retribution.
After chasing a bee around wind-blown lavender for two incredibly tedious minutes, a previous announcement in a post Trending sprung to mind.
This may run and run.
Happy Six on Saturday Easter! Or should that be Happy Easter Six on Saturday? Whichever, I hope your Easter is a good one, whether or not you partake in this weekly rite. Not sure what I am on about? Nothing new there then. It may all become a little clearer if you visit The Easter Bunny of Propdom’s site. He will explain, and while you are there you can find out what all the other bunnies have been up to.
Shall we begin with a fat green caterpillar looking splendid in the magnificent blue bowl of Anemone coronaria ‘Bordeaux’, featured previously. If we don’t allow caterpillars then there will be no butterflies or moths. As I have discovered this week, the human species inflict more damage on my plants and aren’t half as pretty. It is good to share sometimes.
Next we have the Cappadocian navelwort, Omphalodes cappadocica. Such a pretty plant, a blue of the angels. I half-inched this piece from Lady Mantle’s estate when she otherwise engaged (on her gin break). As I was already nailed for the theft of one plant I thought I might as well go for broke and take another. Although the wanted poster is rather fetching likeness, I consider 30 bob and half a corned beef sandwich a rather insulting reward for my apprehension.
On to Dodecatheon meadia, the shooting star. It is just coming into bloom and each year charms me with its downward pointing dart-like flowers. At the moment it is growing in a pot, which is not ideal but means I can bring it in and out of the spotlight as warranted. Now it is in prime place, as it deserves.
Next another emerging Woolies acer. In the last few weeks I have been systematically ….. hang on a minute who I am trying to kid, that is absolutely nonsense, I have never been systematic in my entire life……. I have been randomly potting up and on, renewing compost and feeding all the permanent pot residents. They thank me for this spring clean and renourishment.
Bleeding heart, bleeding wonderful.
Finally my cunning tulip plan of the autumn, to pack Tulipa ‘Orange Emperor’ and Tulipa ‘Purple Prince’ into the Belfast sink, has finally come to fruition. Admittedly there are more earth shattering innovations, but on a cold November weekend it seemed pretty avant garde. The crowd were on the edge of their seat for a while when the purples flowered and the oranges were a no-show, but eventually everyone caught up and it is now looking splendid. A happy ending. Just as it should be.
Happy hopping everyone!
Another day, another company, another courier.
Today I will try to salvage the poor lupins that were crushed into an undersized box and left to their fate. Replacements are apparently now on their way, but still I despair.
Is it me?
Shameless? Perhaps. Or maybe a case of any port in a storm. Not quite safe enough though.
Off The Edge Gardening