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.

Six on Saturday – Reluctant

It is not getting any easier, this Six on Saturday lark. I was rather reluctant to venture out to take photos; a cold, soggy and dark garden is not the most enticing destination. However, I told myself that if there was a time when I should make the effort it was now and, not quite convinced by this argument, I took the plunge. I will not pretend I lingered long, but enough to take the shots I needed and reconnect just a little with the story. After all winter is a big part of the narrative, we should not ignore it. More SoSers can be found with our meme-master, Jim, take a look and find out more of the tale.

First a great favourite of mine, Phlomis ‘Rougemont’, which has a story attached and gives my heart a little tug whenever I see it. A gift from Phlomis Phlo and TT, this is the first winter it has stayed out of the greenhouse. It seems to be faring well.

Winter is when you realise just how scant the bare bones of the garden are and wonder if you should do something to improve this. This Pseudopanax lessonii ‘Moa’s Toes’ has thrived here and I adore it. I have got my eye on another pseudopanax at the moment. Resistance is futile.

Now is the time when we must bask in the potential of buds. Last year we had two heavily pitted apples that only their parents could love and we did. Lots of fruiting spurs could suggest a better harvest this year. However, I must not get my hopes up, there is many a slip twixt fruiting spur and fruit.

Oops, should have brought these house leeks into shelter. They look ok, don’t they?

Another bud full of hope is that of Rhododendron ‘Graziella’. It will be a few months until it flowers, but the anticipation will rise. Instant gratification is unusual in our horticultural world, part of the joy is the waiting, the looking forward, the expectation. For my part I need to focus on the moment more. Years ago I read a line in a poem “Only the wanting is perfect”, it struck a chord with me. I thought it was by Brian Patten and, although I have tried, can’t find the source. One day, hopefully.

The garden is in near monochrome at the moment. I found an exception in the shadows, a leaf from Pyrus ‘Chanticleer’, which for some reason has produced this technicolour leaf.

There now, that wasn’t too difficult after all. Hope you are all safe and well.

The Random Book Giveaway – Letters of Note and Dawn

Have you ever read a book and thought “Doris would really enjoy this” only for these good wishes to go the way of many, dissolving into the ether of apathy. This is the springboard The Random Book Giveaway leapt from, where I attempt to pair a book with someone who I think will appreciate both the book and the gesture. In short, a dating agency for the literary curious.

Before we get down to the nitty gritty, first some background to my tale.

When I was a little girl, my Mum and Dad had a post office and stores in a small village in East Sussex. This was an aberration from the norm, but not unusual as such. We moved a lot then. What follows are my memories of this time, the memories of a four year old, enhanced by whispers and gossip. From these shadows there are several seminal moments, many of which could be revisited, but the star of the show has to be Mrs Sydes the Post Lady. Every weekday morning, and possibly Saturday too, she sorted the village post on a large table in the basement of our house. Once sorted she firmly tied the various piles with string, pulling the letters taut. This whole process, whenever possible, was studied by mini-me, transfixed; mesmerized by the flapping of the envelopes being placed in piles, the sound of the string drawing tight against paper, the loading of these into the delivery bag before she set off on her mission. If, for any reason, she was unable to do the rounds my Dad took her place, pedaling around the village astride his trusty red GPO bicycle with, if I was lucky, myself perched on the crossbar. Happy pre-health and safety days, indeed.

This experience ruined me. The flames of my inherent curiosity were fanned to a conflagration. I was desperate to know what was in each and every envelope, all of which were bound to be exciting. The parcels made me faint with anticipation. Which is one of the reasons why a book containing private letters, both ancient and modern, was irresistible to me. The book in question is Letters of Note by Shaun Asher. Perfect for my Random Book Giveaway.

Before we get to the book let us talk about the recipient, Dawn. My youth was full of super cool people, I was not one of them, but she was. Dawn was confident but not cocky, her laughter was wicked but never cruel and her pink, orange and bleached white mohican was monumental. There seemed to be no-one who didn’t come under her spell, she was strong and vibrant, funny and at ease with herself. All the things I wasn’t. If all this wasn’t kudos enough, she worked behind the counter at The Millhouse, a cafe that was more cult classic than middle England, and treated all clans and cliques with equal respect and good humour.

Later, when we both lived in Bristol, our paths crossed again, inevitably tribes will collide, and our friendship blossomed. We crazy danced, we went to gigs, we played euchre, we laughed; we made a good match, her wild and forthright, me restrained and nervous. They were happy days, full of fun and craziness, but it was much more than that, it was making the most of the little we had, it was being happy with whatever that was, it was living in the moment and, rather more bizarrely, it was lambs running up and down the corridor. What should not be overlooked is Dawn’s kindness, her fiery compassion, her outrage at injustice and love for both animals and the environment. It is not unusual for me to wonder why someone should want to be friends with me. And this is a case in point.

And now for Letters of Note, which touched me greatly when I first encountered it. It is book that I read from front to end in a quite orderly and out of character way, and have dipped back and back and back and, I’m sure, will continue to do so. It will make you cry and laugh and think and possibly reconsider. There are letters from famous people and those not widely known. There are love letters and letters of dismay. There are letters of defiance and confrontation, letters of forgiveness, farewells and funny letters. There are handwritten, typed and illustrated letters. Each and everyone is special in its own way. Which is why I believed that Dawn and Letters of Note would be such a splendid match.

And, to complete the circle, Dawn sent me a wonderful letter of thanks for this amazing book. I think it might have worked.

Six on Saturday – Chilly

A deep breath everyone, we’ve done it. Congratulations Gang, we have successfully managed to complete 2024 and have moved on to 2025, in spite and despite the festivities. Well I hope we all did.

It would be fair to say that this current spell of chilly, and perhaps snowy, weather is my fault. Last week I was bemoaning the mild and clement, hoping for something more seasonally appropriate. And my wish came true. “Sorry about that” or “you are most welcome”, take your pick. I might alternate between the two. Of course, if I had known I possessed the power of wishes, I might have chosen something quite different.

The SoS task is in its tricky stage for us in the Northern Hemisphere, the sun certainly helps with the challenge, we do our best until spring. If you wish to see some Southern Summers and Winter Wobbles then pop over to Jim’s at Garden Ruminations and enjoy. Let us make a start.

First we have a dried flower head of a potted hydrangea, an adolescent cutting from Peggy’s garden. At the moment it is loitering at the side of the house, Sun Alley, moved from its previous home to accommodate the roofer who didn’t turn up.

Each winter the blackbirds arrive, presumably from their Nordic summer homes. They love the apples we throw on the lawn for them but not, it appears, the skin. Today they have apple sorbet.

A self-seeded foxglove, most welcome in this garden, is showing how the most fashionable plants are wearing their frost this year.

Another evacuee from the shady front of the house (did I mention the roofer that didn’t turn up?) is this beautiful Polypodium cambricum. I have a little fernery, all in pots, and this is one of my favourite, presumably puzzled as to what this yellow stuff in the sky is.

The goldfinches found the teasels! Obviously, not in this particular photograph, you will have to take my word for it. I had faith and they came.

Another potted plant basking in Sun Alley is this sweet little cyclamen, name long lost, that never lets me down. The contrary is true. Each year I promise to divide and repot and as yet haven’t. This year, I promise.

There we have it, six on Saturday. Whatever the weekend brings you, stay safe and warm or safe and cool whichever best applies.