Friendship

You can strike up friendships in the strangest of places.   Well I can anyway.   A packed polytunnel at the both marvellous and cruelly irresistible Sampford Shrubs, was one such place.  The person in question, who I befriended, or perhaps befriended me, was a visitor from Cornwall.  I was on my way to Somerset.  On reflection making a friend surrounding by plants is not strange at all.   For me anyway.  We met, we bonded over row upon row of salvias, dahlias and other delectables, and we went our separate ways.   After a few years of house moves and life changes we met once more today, reunited by the would-be demon “social media”.  And where better to have this reconnection than Marwood Hill Gardens?

This Meconopsis napaulensis was for me one of the outstanding plants of our visit, although there were many to coo over.  A fabulous day.

 

Love in a Meadow

The soil is parched, despite regular watering.  In spite of this hostile environment many of the plants on Button Moon are continuing on a trajectory so upward I am scared where it all might end.   No more so than the wildflower meadow.   Last year it was a mixed meadow, this season a little less diverse.  But not diminished in any way.  Dominated by candytuft in sugared almond shades, nigella intersperses from white to Marianas Trench blue.  It is a joy to behold, diverting.  What is more, it is a moving picture, with flitting butterflies and bees and all host of pollinators that I really should learn the name of, skimming and feasting.  This love in a mist, denim blue with spiny green ruff, was the winner in a very tough competition.  Until next time, when its crown will most certainly fall.

Six on Saturday – Platinum

This might take some time.  I’m writing this week’s Six on Saturday on my Mum’s gas powered laptop.  It has languished forgotten in the cupboard since 1836 when she upgraded to a solar paneled tablet.  Once we had located the cranking handle (filed under archaic miscellany) and turned it over a few times it started up surprisingly easily.  And it is working very well.  As long as you are of the opinion that speed is an over-rated phenomenum.  The point, that I will hopefully reach before you all nod off,  is that I think this devotion to duty deserves a gold star on Mister Prop’s progress chart.  The reason being as follows:  a) location, b) content c) inclination.  At the moment I am in a different country to the one that my garden is located.  I have once again left OH home alone to the horror that ensues when I leave, that is peace and quiet and no backchat.  b)  Necessity has led me to utilize Clause 567, Subsection 34a in the Six on Saturday Constitution.  All the following plants were in my garden at some point but are are now in Max’s.  All were grown from seed.  c)  Driving on the M4 westward on a Friday afternoon to spend the weekend doing Peggy’s garden has left me a gibbering wreck.   However I have summoned all my inner strength and, aided by some thinly veiled threats by my mother, I have managed to complete my task.  On reflection this might warrant the platinum award.  What do you think?  After all that gibbering I best be brief.

First we have Lobelia bridgesii and heavily laden friend.  Gorgeous and gorgeous.

Now onto Campanula persicifolia, the peach leaved bellflower.  A great, and I mean that most sincerely folks, self-seeder.  I have an inkling that at least one of his siblings will be white.

Next Cephalaria gigantea,  the giant scabious,  this is a couple of years old now but still not up to its full fighting height.  It has made a rather serendipitous stand with some linaria interlopers.

It is no secret that I am an avid salvia fan and this one is no exception.  Salvia forsskaolii, indigo woodland sage, is a boisterous beauty.

There are two of my Iochroma australe seedlings in Max’s garden and they have both flowered for the first time this year.  As luck would have it, one is white with a hint of pink, and one is dusky blue.  The blue has my vote, but they are both lovely.

When we were kids we jokingly nominated each other football teams, I had Gillingham, my brothers Peterborough and Crystal Palace.  In the same vein I always think of Gillenia trifoliata as my signature plant.  It is thriving in a spot the text books called unsuitable after the removal of a nearby large tree.  Very adaptable us Gill’s.

Right, better get on, got gardening to do!

 

 

 

 

Roses, Roses, Roses

A splendid day at The Buns.  The sun shone, a breeze cooled, flowers bloomed.

But something was amiss in the Land of Lemon Drizzle.  Was there an inkling of strain in the sultry air?  What could the problem possibly be?  I think I have been forgiven for relegating their lavender from No. 1 in the hit parade to equal status with the French example.  However, I’m not so sure that Mrs B has forgiven me for telling everyone about her rejection of my geum pressie, and by association of me and my undying love and loyalty, as documented in a recent Six on Saturday.

Perhaps I should stop mentioning it, that might help.  One more time wouldn’t hurt.

Prerogative

The other day I was admiring a row of Lavandula angustifolia in The Buns’ garden. “I was just thinking” I said to Mrs Bun, who was troubled that I had drifted into some kind of pollen induced coma “that you can’t beat good old English lavender.”  Relieved that the body inaction was just due to brain over-action she replied “Definitely, I so agree”.  It was decided.

Today on Button Moon I wondered if I had been a little rash in pinning down my affections to just one species.  This French lavender, Lavandula stoechas, was doing its utmost to sway my opinion.  And it succeeded.

I have determined that they are both wonderful.  You don’t always have to have a favourite.  And you can always change your mind.  It is decided.

Six on Saturday – Regime

Saturday is flying away and I can’t keep up.  Unfortunately my usual weekend regime: dawntide 10k run followed by toasted quinoa breakfast with a quick scan of Plato’s Symposium, then a brisk hike up the Matterhorn, fitting in a visit to the local nursery on the descent and some hands on gardening when reaching home base, has meant that I have only just got around to writing my Six on Saturday.  Oh, hang on a minute, I think I might be getting myself mixed up with our guru The Dalai Propa.  My truth is that we went to Lidl and then on to ‘Spoons for a large glass of red and some chunky chips.  Never mind, I am here now.  It is Saturday and I have Six.  Which, if I have interpreted the rules correctly, is all that is required.

Strawberries is a great place to start.  Some have been munched already, which is fine.  But not by me, which is not.  I have picked a few to ripen fully indoors to foil the little slimy blighters.

Rosa ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ is flowering well, and not yet complaining for her pot restraints.  Obviously not blue in even the widest sense of the word, but I do love this colour, a mauvish grey perhaps?  The white stripes are also nice, but possibly indicate impending doom or nunglewurzles or even Serengeti fever.

Our shopping list today included beer, limes and donut peaches.  We came home with all of the above plus Aloysia citrodora, Lemon Verbena, and an Arts and Crafts sideboard.  These things happen.

Continuing in the herbalistic vein, is a beautifully variegated mint snuggling up to Viola ‘Molly Sanderson’.  The mint came from Mrs Bun.  It was very late on parade and we wondered if it had died “but you can’t kill mint!” we said.  Then, giggling I believe, it popped up everywhere. This is a little that was destined for the green bin.  Needless to say, it is corseted in a pot.  Its name is out there somewhere.

Now we have Glumicalyx nutans bought last year at RHS Rosemoor’s garden show.  I must hold my hand up and admit it was partly bought for its name, although I am very pleased that I did.  It is now planted by the side of the steps, so we can look up into the wonderful pendulous rusty orange flowers.

And lastly the lily that wasn’t the lily that I wanted.  It is forgiven.

All done, all dusted.  Until next time!

 

 

A Day in the Life of Max Doginovich

It was a pretty good day in Max Land.

The sun warmed, the brisk breeze cooled.  As well as the usual gardener creature there were plumbers to play with.  Sticks were aplenty.  Seagulls kept a respectful distance, taking it easy on account of the weather, but still you remained vigilant.  Unless of course there was chance of a diverting stick throw.  The fetid pond water was delicious to quench your thirst.  That clean stuff from the tap rejected as poison.  A sneaky mini pork pie a treat.

What more could a little dog ask for?