Perfect Parcel

Who doesn’t love to get home from a hard day at the coal face to find that your previously ordered plants have arrived?   I have heard tell that are some strange folk out there who wouldn’t get quite as excited as me, but this could be apocryphal.  A parcel is a wonderful thing and one containing horticultural jewels is even better.

This cardboard box arrived today from Fibrex Nurseries, it contains three different ferns, an abutilon, a correa and a grewia (no me neither).   The plants are healthy and generous in size, they were packed immaculately wrapped in newspaper and bedded in shredded paper.   Not a piece of plastic in sight.  Great service, great ethos.   Just perfect.

 

Toil

It seemed like a brilliant idea.

“Let’s make a flower bed in the middle of the lawn.  More colour, less mowing.  There will be plenty left if you ever fancy a game of crochet.”   A perfect plan, not just perfect, inspired.

“We’ll pile the sods in corner a few meters away and when it has rotted down in 18 months time it will have transformed into a lovely loamy top soil that we can use around the garden where necessary.  Sorry?  What did you say?  A change of plan?  You want the turf transported up the steep and slippery gravel path, past two encroaching and especially prickly holly bushes, across more gravel at the front of The Hall, through the gate and beyond to reclothe the tatty lawn by the herb beds? ”  Admittedly this would involve more work, but still it was a great idea, two jobs completed in one foul swoop, can’t argue with that.  Let’s get going.

“The wheel barrow has a flat tyre?”  Fine, we’ll fill the trug, attach it to the sack truck and pull it up the slope.

“The sack truck has two flat tyres”.  Silence.

“But we have another sack truck”.  Result!

Fast forward through 7 hours of turf removal, turf transporting, turf laying, carrying bags of compost and sand down the slippery slope, digging, ball throwing, extraction of two full barrows of buried broken bricks and concrete that had to be pushed on the flat tyred barrow to their resting place, edge laying and, phew, the job was complete.  We were broken.  But we did it.  We created an elliptical bed, much larger than it appears in the photo below but I didn’t have the energy to walk the 10m required for a better view-point.  They said it couldn’t be done.  We showed them.

Now for the planting.  The good bit.

Striptease

This is the season of the striptease.  Teeth grindingly chilly in the morning, warranting thick jumpers and substantial socks.  By early afternoon the sun is blasting requiring a peeling of layers until decency dictates a halt.

I’m not complaining.  The jolting icy air is as effective as smell salts to invigorate the sluggish gardener, the later gentle warmth carresses the muscles and boosts the batteries.

Tomorrow we have rain.  I will have to depend on my reserves.

Inappropriate

Yesterday I attended, along with Hero and OH, the local Plant Heritage lecture day and lunch at Marwood Hill Gardens.   I listened intently, notebook in hand, to talks on scented shrubs and later about botanising in Madagascar.   I even remembered to pack my specs so I could actually see the slide show.   I wandered around the garden for a meagre hour, enjoying bluebells and magnolias.   I scoffed my lunch, including a rather fine mixed fruit crumble and custard, and made new acquaintances.  I possibly heckled the Officer in Charge of Raffle Drawing and then won two books (one on rhodies and one about growing fruit.  All rather wonderful.  But before all this had begun, there was another important job to be completed.  Yes, you’ve guess it, shopping!  In true plant hunter style I tasered the opposition and perused the fine wares on the plant table.

The result of which is that I have bought another inappropriate plant.  There was no deception involved, I knew just what I was buying.  I have killed one before.  Lachenalia quadricolor, the four-coloured opal flower.  Its natural habitat is in crevices of granite outcrops throughout the Western Cape of South Africa.  And it will not tolerate frost.  What could possibly go wrong?  But just look at it, surely not one of you could have resisted!?

I may also have bought a trillium.

Six on Saturday – Sun God

I am expecting great things from our band of SoSers this week.  Specifically the UK department.  Unfortunately we must exclude residents of the subgroup The Western Isles.   Something very strange has happened.  IT HASN’T RAINED FOR A WHOLE WEEK, NOT AT ALL, NOT ONE DROP!   If you find this hard to believe, and I wouldn’t blame you, pop over to our very own Sun God Prop’s site and read all about it yourself.  And at the same time you can console any contributors from Stornoway where there is aways a rain cloud lurking.  I possibly exaggerate.

To begin with we have Anemone coronaria ‘Bordeaux’.   I planted these in the same pot as Hedychium ‘Pradhani’ once it had died down for the season.   Succession planting, extremely grown up.  Little did I know quite how wonderful the blooms would be.  The first blue bossed, deepest burgundy flower literally stopped me in my tracks when I spotted it earlier in the week.

Next we have a crocus with its violet veins on the palest lilac background.   It has a name.  It is a secret.

bud

Now the new foliage of one of our apple trees.   Look at the vibrant lime green leafettes with the softest indumentum, everything at this time of year begs close examination and praise.  Come on apple tree do your best or I will chop you down!

On to Pelargonium cordifolium var. rubrocinctum which has spent the winter outside tucked in a corner, with the barest wisp of a covering when absolutely undeniable.   Flowers are on the way, along with some new leaves.   Much tougher (apparently) than you would imagine.

What lies beneath?  When I tipped Potentilla ‘Brohna’ out of her pot to settle into the garden, I found that the base was being used as doss house for all manner and size of slugs.  They hadn’t nibbled this plant but I imagine they nipped out at night for general rabble rousing and munching away from their own doorstep.  Do not fear, they will nibble no more.

Lastly Tulipa ‘Blue Diamond’.  How the mighty have fallen!  It wasn’t long ago that I was coo-cooing over this tulip, it had prime position outside the back door, and its every wish was catered for.  Now it is languishing up by the barely standing shed, the pot overtaken by oregano and residence of the horse’s head.  It is still not blue, but it was forgiven for this misdemeanour a long time ago. Exile was harsh punishment.

All done for another week, may the sun continue to warm our hearts.

 

Tail End

It started well.  A drive in the early morning sun as Exmoor looms large in the distance is rarely a chore.   Arriving at The Mantles Estate my civet poo coffee was freshly brewed and only slightly less warm than my welcome.  The twin magnolias battled to outdo each other’s beauty.   Sparrows squabbled over prime real estate in the meld of clematis/wisteria.  All was well in the world.

Lord Mantle is on a mission.  It is called “tame the iris in the pond”. This Iris pseudoacorus, innocently planted several years ago, has become a island, so large the resident frogs recently declared independence from the Principality of Kemacott.   This behaviour cannot be tolerated, these flags need to be culled.  Too large to manhandle, His Lordship had a cunning plan.  He bought a winch.  Are warning bells ringing?  They should be.

As we worked on our own jobs in the garden, myself and Her Ladyship were on high alert, ready to assist when needed.   Which we were.  We pulled, we pushed, we gave advice that was very well received (fib), we used broom handles and scaffolding planks as levers, we returned to our duties as necessary.  The chief engineer was patient and methodical.  “Can you just pull on this strap?”  he asked in his pretty please voice.   “Of course” I replied “It would be an honour”.

Really I should sue.  Look at their faces of concern.

I had an extra cheese roll at lunch time.  It seems it is more important than ever to pad out my tail end.   My amble posterior saved me once again.

 

Six on Saturday – The Management

There have been complaints from The Management.   We are talking Upper Management.   Even higher than our master CEO Prop.  Yes we are talking about Peggy, my mum.   It has been noted, and duly logged, that I missed the last Six on Saturday and my excuses for this week fell on deaf ears.   As I have rarely done as I was told since a I was a very young girl this would usually be shrugged off with a “whatever”.  Then, she took a tumble.  As she hasn’t been practicing her judo rolls she is feeling a little worse for wear.  Anything to get me to do as I’m told.

Can I be honest with you without fear of rebuke?  I thought not.  Rebuke away.  These photos were not taken in my garden and definitely not on a Saturday.  And this is going to be brief.  Concise is a better word.  Let us go.

First Epimedium ‘Frohnleiten’, lovely jubbly.

Second Hacquetia epipactis, splendiferous.

Third forget-me-not, amazeballs.

Drimys lanceolata

Fourth Tasmannia lanceolata (Drimys lanceolata), fandabidosi.

synthris

Fifth Synthyris missurica, perfectarooney.

Lastly little mousie magnolia bud casing, stupendimania.

Adios friends!

Disappointed

It has been a disappointing week so far.  The work has been fine, no complaints there.  I am quite well, no extra aches and pains or sniffles.  Spring has finally arrived, officially anyway.  Gardens are mobilised ready for action, each day another plant primed.

But don’t tell me, after deluge and gale aplenty, that there will be fine weather when you can’t honour your promise.   Murk and drizzle and gloom is no compromise.  So disappointing.

Gone

A welcome gap in the weather.  After leaving the main road, en route to The Mantles’ estate, I spied a buzzard perching on a post at the side of the road.  I cut my speed and approached slowly, coming to a halt next to this beautiful raptor who, other than giving me a derisory glance, paid little heed.  Just as I drew my camera he looked me in the eye, and said “no paparazzi”,  effortlessly gliding across the field to find a little more privacy.