Six on Saturday – Here Comes the Rain

We wished for it and our hopes were answered. You can, however, have too much of a good thing. Enough rain now. Please. Have a nosey at our SoS leader’s site, Jim at Garden Ruminations, to find out if anyone else is acting like a spoilt brat. Shall we mosey on?

This delicate umbellifer, Chaerophyllum hirsutum ‘Roseum’, is flowering in spite of being squished and elbowed by its neighbours. Never forming the beautiful patch of joy that I envisaged, it would be harsh to complain. This is user problem rather than plant failure.

The fabulous Aquilegia canadensis was grown from seed last year. It is still in a pot, indecision has thwarted me, but that is the story of my, and by association, my plants’ lives.

At this time of year I spend a lot of time peering at the ground wondering if or when something will emerge. I am not very good at remembering when one plant or the other is due to start up. This Rogersia ‘Heavenly Gill’ has arrived. Whether it is early or late, I couldn’t tell you.

A couple of weeks ago, I went shopping with Professor Gadget. It was the best kind of shopping. Although, ostensibly, we were buying plants for His Professorship’s garden, I couldn’t resist this little Rhododendron ‘Ginny Gee’. My dad called me Ginny. He was the best. No one could blame me.

Anemone coronaria ‘Bordeaux’ was a gift from my fabulous friend Mrs Swotty. Last weekend we spent a wonderful few days Chez Swot, and, along with Mr S. they didn’t disappoint in their ability to be skilled at everything, to the point of slight irritation. Luckily, my big love for them negates any small annoyance.

Hestercombe Gardens in Somerset is marvelous, to me, for many reasons. It is a place I visited during my first incarnation as a gardener, when I was fresh-souled and wide-eyed and full of wonder at all things. It was here I first saw Uvalaria grandiflora, flowering on the steep banks, between follies, headed towards the waterfall. I was smitten. I still am, even though on a much smaller scale. Which is plenty.

That is your lot. Another six, another Saturday. Let’s hope there are many more to come.

Six on Saturday – Awakenings

Well, this is more like it. Stuff seems to be happening in the garden. Good stuff. That, to me, is the definition of spring. Positivity. And don’t we need it?! Shoots and blossom and frogspawn are useful allies in reminding us of stronger forces. We need less reporting by mainstream media on the deluded and more about those who are standing up, putting their heads above the parapet, swimming against the tide. And there are plenty who are doing just that. Many are awakening, we just need reminding. A fine spring analogy.

Time to get on with the task in hand, that is Six on Saturday. If this concept is puzzling, and to be honest I wouldn’t be surprised, then Jim at Garden Ruminations will reveal all. Let us shake a leg.

First a survivor. This Tulipa sylvestris was planted in the whiskey barrel two seasons ago and is the only one to show it’s face this year. Fair play.

I love a blue flower. This Pulmonaria ‘Blue Ensign’ is doing me proud. In a week or so it will be completely forgotten, shoved about by later players, lingering in the background, hopefully to return next year.

Last week my SoS Sis mentioned this, perhaps, a little unusual ornamental currant, Ribes x gordonianum. Just coming into flower, it is the pale and interesting cousin of last week’s blousy Ribes sanguineum. No favourites here, they both have a place in my heart.

Anemone blanda. I rest my case.

This is a gurt big hosta, a gift from Welsh John, looking about as determined as a plant doomed to mollusc attack could be. WJ’s always seem to be untouched. I must keep the faith.

Always end on a slam dunk. Tulipa ‘Orange Dynasty’, didn’t even touch the back board.

There we have it, another Six on Saturday.

The One that Didn’t Get Away

In our house, there are many things that elicit rolling of eyes and tut-tutting. High on the list of irritants are quiz show contestants who say, after getting a question wrong, “oh, I was going to say that!”. Well this is the blog posting equivalent.

Last weekend I noticed that the Pseudowintera colorata ‘Moulin Rouge’ was flowering prolifically. I had never seen one so full of bloom, tiny margarine yellow flowers, lining the branches in splendour. Subtle but effective. I even sent OH out to have a look. Admittedly his reaction was muted, but to be honest I’m not sure he actually knows what a pseudowintera looks like and therefore randomly gazed about the garden for what he considered an appropriate amount of time. This didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. “I’ll share that wonderous sight next week and everyone will be so impressed. I will be the talk of the blogosphere and riches will be mine”, I thought.

Surprisingly, this morning I remembered the joyful spectacle and went out to take my, bound to be, impressive photograph. Horror! All the flowers had gone over, just stalks remaining, all except this one pathetic example.

Honestly, I knew I should have posted it earlier!

Six on Saturday – Competition

On a day of bright sunshine, bluster and showers so shocking to make you chuckle, it was a minor challenge to get any decent photos. This makes me ponder as to what is the most important, Six on Saturday-wise, the shots or the words? The most important to me or to you? Words are more my thing, although I do enjoy taking pictures. Does it really matter? No, it doesn’t. This is not a competition, either literary or visual. Sound like a very healthy environment? Spot on! Want to know more? Jim at Garden Ruminations is the man. Enough question marks for a year of blogging, perhaps more, shall we get on? Oops, there goes another one!

First we have Narcissus ‘Thalia’, bobbing about in the wind, in a picture I thought I might call Daffs in Motion. This is a well loved variety and quite rightly so; deliciously creamy, multiheaded and fragrant, a real beauty.

My SoS Sister, Noelle, posted me a box of delights, five different primulas, straight from the Planet Cute. There were also a couple of oregano to add to my herb collection. I’m still smiling.

At the moment Pyrus ‘Chanticleer’ is reminding me of its many merits, other than as a meeting place for the resident delinquent sparrow population. Fabulous flowers, fresh young foliage, bringing structure and wildlife into the garden.

Last year I bought some plugs of Meconopsis ‘Lingholm’; they struggled and sulked and I almost lost patience with them. A couple of weeks ago I spied a little growth in their over-wintering pots and wondered if there was yet hope. I planted them out into a terracotta window box, in semi-shade and into ericaceous soil. They seem happy. We will see. I’ve been fooled before.

Just saying Omphalodes cappadocica ‘Cherry Ingram’ is enough to brighten your day. I have done it several times already this morning.

Ribes sanguineum ‘King Edward VII’, a runner from JK’s mother plant, is as happy as Larry here. Not sure who Larry is, but I am sure he is a man of great taste. In fact I have had to substantially chop this spring wonder to prevent it from taking over the garden. You must learn to share.

There we have it, another six, another Saturday. Here’s to many more.

Six on Saturday – Whinge Free

No whinging this week, I promise. I’m too scared of Jude to try that lark again. Of course, she is quite right and I have given myself a serious talking to. And for once I actually listened. So, for one day only, which is all I can promise, all will be happy, upbeat and optimistic. There may be skipping. If you would like to learn more about Six on Saturday, Jim at Garden Ruminations is your man. Shall we proceed?

Some consider lesser celandine, Fiscaria verna, a noxious weed. Although nigh on impossible to eradicate, due to the tiny root tubers which drop off when the plant is disturbed, they are invaluable for early pollinators. They disappear below ground before summer is here and what is more they are a little ray of sun shine. Just like me.

A couple of Muscari latifolium have popped up unannounced. My favourite grape hyacinth. That is wonderful thing about lost labels and goldfish memory, you are given a gift on every spring emergence.

A self-seeder is a joy indeed, especially when it has as much to contribute as honesty, Lunaria annua ‘Corfu Blue’ (perhaps). Violet spring flowers are followed by decorative seed heads. Win, win.

This could be the year! Our peach tree is flowering well and all it has to do it be pollinated, avoid frost and hold on any fruit until picking time. I feel it has the strength to succeed and I will be cheering from the wings.

Does anything fill a gardener’s heart with glee more than a freshly germinated seed. Not much. This is Glaucidium palmatum (hopefully) which I have never actually seen in real live but have always admired in photographs. A long way to go, but a strong first step.

These hyacinths were dug up from their terracotta pot and stuck in this pink plastic one after they had finished and replaced by some other floozie. The plan was to replant them in the autumn. The gardener forgot. The hyacinths went ahead anyway. Yet again, surplus to requirements.

There we have it. Have a wonderful week everyone. The only way is up, baby!

Six on Saturday – Meagre

When does it get any easier? I’m finding Six on Saturday particularly tricky this year. Perhaps this is my floral equivalent of the hunger gap. In the scheme of things this problem is small fry and of course it can easily be remedied. I need to explore plant possibilities that will give me a little oomph, pre-tulips and post crocus, something a bit different. This probably will involve shopping, which I shall embrace like a martyr. I’ve got a good idea, I will see what the other SoSers are parading over at Jim’s, there is bound to be inspiration there. In the meantime I will share my meagre lot. We must all do what we can to lighten the gloom.

First we have a couple of blurry rosemary flowers on a stunted rosemary plant. I am struggling to comment further, except perhaps to pretend it has been cared for by someone else and the photo was taken by next door’s dog.

Next, a rather tatty euphorbia doing that bendy thing they do just before flowering. Nice colour though, I think I would call it “bruised purple”.

Now we have the desiccated frond of Baron’s basket fern, Drynaria sinica. I had a poke about and there is plenty of dormant, just considering waking, all we need is some warmth, foliage.

In the back garden every single viola has been nibbled by assailants unseen. However, these munchers have not found their way to the front of the house. Yet. Hence, one perfectly formed flower.

In front of the house is some common ground, planted with a few trees and, if left uncut, well stocked with wildflowers. Under the fastigiate oak, directly opposite our house, I have planted some Narcissus ‘Jetfire’. Over the past few days I have been admiring them as they bob about in the breeze. I hope passersby are enjoying them too.

Lastly, we have flowers on the, inappropriately bought and therefore planted in a pot, Acacia dealbata ‘Gaulois Astier’. Not quite the mass of blooms I was hoping for, but there is always next year. A year older, a year more floriferous. Perhaps.

All done, another six crossed off. Maybe next week will be more inspired. We can but hope.

Six on Saturday – Pinch Punch

Happy 1st of March to you all. For the optimists, debatably deluded on this frosty morning, this means spring has officially begun. For the pragmatists, we are still officially in winter until the 20th of this month. Naturally, I am in the former category, ready to be disheartened when the snow starts and all my seedling fail. If you would like to find out more about Six on Saturday-ing, the frequent flyer reward scheme and money off vouchers available, pop over to Jim at Garden Ruminations and be prepared to be disappointed by two of the above. Shall we shake a leg?

Last week’s crocus have opened in the welcome sunshine. Apparently we are set fair for a week, I will believe it when I see it.

Last week Fred included Furcraea foetida in his six and I promised I would include my young Furcraea longaeva for comparison. As OH had just eaten the last of the bananas, I have include our cat for scale.

I received a cutting of Salix gracilistyla ‘Melanostachys’ in the post from the wonderful Chloris many moons ago. This is the first year that it has flowered well. I am very pleased.

Last year’s comfrey feed is all bottled up and ready to go. Although I am sensorily deprived (not depraved) I have it on good authority that it is not as stinky as usual. It is hard to believe this could be a good thing. We will see.

A ragtag of crocus and violas, mostly nibbled, but from afar look quite lovely.

And finally, did you really think I would forget St David’s Day? I would be run out of town! Or, even worse, I would get one of Welsh Ann’s stern looks. Here, to celebrate the national day of my current home, is Narcissus ‘Tête-à-Tête’, always a joy.

All done, a few glimmers of hope in a increasingly incomprehensible world. I fear it is not enough, but if we all do our bit it might be.

Six on Saturday – Cliché

Whatever you may have heard, I am not a fair weather SoSer. I have legitimate reasons for being absent for the past few weeks. They are: holiday, distraction, apathy. I’m here today with a rather unoriginal post, full of late winter clichés and repetition. It is hard this time of year, tricky to get out in the garden and tricky, on a (yes another) Met Office wind and rain warning day, to take photos and write a commentary. I have tried my best. If you would like to catch up with other troupers then pop over to our Six on Saturday leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations, for your entertainment. I think I see a glimmer in the sky, let’s get on!

First we have Helleborus x hybridus ‘Anna’s Red’ a quite rightly very popular hellebore. Last year it flowered for ages. This year she doesn’t seem quite so voluptuous. Maybe she hasn’t got going yet, maybe she is exhausted. I’ll give her a feed and hope for the best.

No late winter blog would be complete without Iris reticulata. A few odd ones usually pop up, survivors from previous years. After last year’s soggy summer I’m surprised any have made it through. Perhaps it is time for a replenish.

Seasonal optimism is the name of the game. It is beside the point that these honesty seeds, the spawn of Lunaria annua ‘Corfu Blue’, would have germinated on concrete. Almost, but not quite. Still, I’m not complaining, all comers are welcome.

I love a crocus, but they are not suited to the wet and windy weather that seems to be our wont these days. More warnings for tomorrow so this little rocket may have crash landed by Monday. Enjoy it while you can.

I’m not a frilly kinda gal, either in dress, furnishings or flowers. Strangely, I am attracted to this semi-double hellebore seedling. It is probably an aberration. I’ll be better by next week.

In for a penny, in for a pound, my sixth and final offering is Galanthus ‘Sam Arnott’, the ubiquitous snowdrop. And isn’t he a handsome fellow?!

Each and every one of my garden clichés is a joy. I may have used them time and again, but they don’t lose their appeal or beauty. Things don’t have to be different to be worthy*.

That is your lot, the sun is out, the garden/swamp beckons. Have a good week, everyone.

*Which doesn’t mean I won’t be buying any more plants. Different is good too.

Six on Saturday – Getting There

This is the last January 2025 Six on Saturday. This, to us in the Northern Hemisphere, is almost universally a good thing. Obviously, I can’t speak for everyone. There might be people out there who love drab, damp, windy and decidedly chilly weather. Each to their own. For the rest of us, far, far on the horizon, spring is lurking. Which on some days is enough. If you have time on your hands, pop over to find more SoSing at Garden Ruminations.

Photinia ‘Pink Marble’ has not got the room it needs to flourish, in summer it is jostled by salvias, dahlias and a euphorbia. At the moment it is getting a little breathing room and giving us the chance to appreciate it’s beauty.

Last weekend, when I was playing hooky from SoS, I emptied the compost bin. Although some was still a little sticky, ie not gluey, stick full, most was great. This is both a daunting and satisfying job. I am worried about who might have set up residence and take a fancy to run up my trouser leg. Once done I am reminded what a fantastic way to use up garden “waste” and treat the garden.

I can’t remember what this variegated grass is called. Undoubtedly there is a label in the pot it lives in. Another certainty is that it is cold and windy out there and I am playing my wimp card. Whatever its name, it is a stalwart in the winter garden, which at this moment in time, is quite enough.

The Hardy Plant Society seed arrived this week. And then it arrived again a couple of days later. I had ticked the “I’ll have the stuff no one else does” box. Not disappointed in the slightest. Those that need stratification have been sown and left outside. I was planning on moving them to a more exposed position but didn’t. See excuse above.

OH cleared the patio last weekend, removing all the pots and planters and giving it a good clean. Time for repotting of the acers and decisions to be made about other under performers. This lovely little stone planter needs to be replanted. Hopefully the moss will not be disturbed too much. Not sure the ladybird will take it kindly but I will be gentle and return her when appropriate.

Spring flowering Ipheion uniflorum ‘Wisley Blue’ is a little previous. No complaints here.

There we have it, another six complete. Nearly there.

Lost and Found

I have a, perhaps, peculiar notion that lost things have a will of their own. Left to their own devices they will re-emerge, “ta-da!”, when the time is right. If a cursory search is unsuccessful, it is quite clear the item in question doesn’t want to be found until it is good and ready. There is little point in wasting any more time on all fours peering under the sofa brandishing a stick. Unless, of course, the escapee doesn’t want to be found at all and then you are doomed. Which pretty much covers most bases. This theory is not laboratory tested and the more cynical of you might conclude it is because I have the concentration of a distracted gnat and have never lost anything of great value. You may have a point.

A couple of months ago, whilst working, I lost an ear bud. At the time I was clearing a row of exhausted ipomoea whose job was to climb a short length of picket fencing just outside JK’s front door. As I tugged, in a controlled and clinical way, a piece of tendril whipped past my head, flicking said ear bud out into the universe. I searched the flower bed, the lawn, under the car, in the green bag, in the compost bin and then I searched each and every one again. Then JK searched the flower bed, the lawn, under the car, in the green bag, in the compost and then, under cover of darkness, armed with a highly suspicious torch, searched again. Nothing. We did not stint on effort and this diligence was not rewarded with success. Never mind. I must be more careful in future and note that black is not an appropriate ear bud colour for a cag-handed gardener.

Two weeks later, I received a text message from Mr K. Miraculously, he had found the absconded ear bud. He had appealed to St Jude, the patron saint of desperate causes, by singing Hey Jude, channeling his inner McCartney. Lo and behold, there was the bud, defiantly in plain sight on the bed that we had both searched intensively. He would have appealed to St Antony of Padua, who is the patron saint of lost things, but didn’t know any Beatles numbers for his incantation. No matter, Jude came up trumps with the goods.

We must now talk about another mislay. Several years ago, on the way from here to there, we stopped for refreshment at a garden centre in Somerset. As luck would have it, there was a car boot sale in progress. I love a car boot sale. After a little browsing, I spotted a wooden long-handled collection box, complete with key stating it has once been used at the Bridgwater Agricultural Society Show. We were meant for each other. Deals were dealt and it came home with me, most likely along with a few plants. I decided the box was to be used to save £2 coins, which when full would surely provide a substantial haul. It has never got to those heady heights and when we left Devon it was emptied and the contents spent on frippery.

Arriving in our new house, I unpacked the box and started my collecting again. However, rather annoyingly, I couldn’t find the key. It will turn up, I thought. Surely I wouldn’t have been slapdash with this much loved possession, I would have put it somewhere safe. Definitely. Intermittent additions were made to the box but still no “ta, da!”. I consoled myself that this must be the best kind of saving, with no chance of withdrawal, except by use of violence. And I am not the destructive type. I held firm to my hypothesis.

A couple of days ago, I invested another couple of coins into the fund. Rather clumsily, whilst moving the treasure trove, I tipped the box onto its side. Needless to say, I was quite surprised when the box opened, spilling its treasure across the floor. Now, I wondered, what is that distinctly un-coinlike, object in the middle of the pile? Only the missing key! It appears that for the last three years, the box hasn’t been locked at all, available for delving at any time. More than that, the key hadn’t been lost but somewhere very safe. There is little hope for me, but much hope for my theory of the lost and found.