Off The Edge Gardening

Six on Saturday – Tempus fugit

Pay attention impetuous youth! All you downy-haired saplings listen carefully to what I am about to say and take heed! The rumours that Old Father Time presses his foot firmer on the gas with each passing year is in fact a painful truth. Was it really a week ago since the last Six on Saturday? Hard to believe. Quite why this acceleration occurs is a mystery to me. I am sure it has been pondered in scientific papers and debated long into the night by academics. Whatever the reason may be, I don’t like it. And rest assured I will be making an official complaint to the management. Talking of highest authority, our SoS CEO The Propagator might be able to shed some light on this annoying phenomena. If not he will definitely be able to explain the modus operandi of this Six on Saturday malarkey. Anyway I haven’t got time to hang about. It will soon be next Saturday.

To begin we have a viola, one of my favourite winter bedding plants. That is once you come to terms with the fact that it often stops flowering over the worst of the weather and you start wondering why you didn’t chose cyclamen or primulas instead. Then, just before your patience wears dangerously thin, it bucks up its ideas and flowers its pretty little head off. I planted some yesterday (including this darling) in the Belfast sink at the front of our house, before which I had rammed in 12 orange and 12 purple tulip bulbs. In my mind’s eye these will make a dramatic display in the spring. The truth of the matter may be quite different.

As well as sorting out one of the planters I also cleared some of the rampant geranium and replaced it with an ompalodes and an epimedium. I am a huge fan of epimediums, sometimes known as barrenwort or bishop’s hat, so it has been a great mystery (to myself only, no one else is the slightest bit bothered one way or the other) why I haven’t acquired one before. I say acquire because this wasn’t actually bought. It was half inched (with permission) from Lady Mantle. Autumn colour in herbaceous perennials is often overlooked as a bonus.

I am sure that many of you are well acquainted with the common bindweed, which has the great accolade of being my favourite weed, although I am also very fond of enchanter’s nightshade. As a child (and even now when I get the chance) I loved to pinch the back of the flower and catapult the bloom out into space. I find pulling up the long brittle roots very therapeutic, a challenge and conundrum. As they don’t start into growth until quite late in the season, much else gets a head start which is very thoughtful. They are good fun all round. These days all bets are off when they get to the stage of flowering; a quick tug and a telling off and all is well in the world again. If only it was so simple to solve other global problems. This one is growing high in the hedge, out of reach of my twitching hand, and was looking very pretty in the sunshine today. It was awarded a stay of execution until I find something to stand on.

When grown well Trachycarpus fortunei, known to its pals as the Chusan palm, is a fine and dramatic specimen to grace the garden. Here is the rub. This specimen is not grown well. It is crammed into a pot, fair bursting at the seams, situated in the windiest position of the garden. It is not happy. It is ugly and angry but defiantly continues to produce new fan-like leaves, which before too long become burnt and ragged. Sad really. It should be rescued by someone kinder.

To add insult to injury, the poor palm has to share it’s already cramped living quarters with a tatty old ivy. Where this Hedera helix came from, I have no idea, possibly snaked in from somewhere close by. In part variegated, the rest reverted to dull type, it too is struggling. Now they are inseparable in their agony, a chimera of pain. I think I might be getting a little carried away. Swiftly onwards …….

We will end on a happier note, Fuchsia microphylla, the small-leaved fuchsia. Also in a pot, but a quite different story this time, it has been tended to and adored. Although not entirely happy with the stresses of the searing summer, it is now relaxed and healthy. At the moment is has both fruit and flower adorning it. Even better. Talking of fruit, if you fancy a challenge take a look at Mr K’s SoS, he has posed a little puzzler for us all.

That is it! Done and dusted. See you all in the gloaming.

Double Vision

A couple of months ago Lady Mantle was invited by Max for lunch. This was the first time that one of my clients had visited another. It got me to thinking.

When I lived in Bristol, before I saw the horti-light, I used to visit a hardware shop not far from where I worked. It was a traditional, fork handles/four candles kind of place. Packed from floor to ceiling were pots and pans and sandpaper and scissors and mothballs and other such treasure. Quite why I was such a faithful fan I can’t remember, possibly I was going through my string phase or needed to bolster my collection of galvanised nails. Behind the counter sat one of two youngish chaps, both with a similar demeanour of “don’t bother me unless you really have to and then don’t bother me”. They were fine once you got to know them, but were definitely disciples of the “treat them mean and keep them keen” school of customer service.

One day I was in another part of town, in desperate need of some WD40 (we’ve all been there) and I remembered that there was another outlet of this same store close by. Perfect, my penetrating oil and water-displacing spray deficiency sorted. As I crossed the threshold I stopped in my tracks and looked about me in disbelief. It was exactly, I mean exactly, a carbon copy of the other shop. The same size, the same stock in the same position and behind the counter (which was identical) the same grumpy man who gave me the very same look of disdain. Surreal. I poked my head out the door, just to convince myself I was where I thought I was. Yes. Fearing the ridicule of Laughing Boy I continued as if this absolute attention to doubleganger detail was all perfectly natural, made my purchase and left slightly disturbed by the whole experience.

When her ladyship said she was visiting I fantasized about how wonderful it would be if, after lunch and small talk, she was invited to look around the garden and found a carbon copy of hers. There would be no looks of disdain though. Just laughter at such jolly ruse. It wasn’t real life after all.

Six on Saturday – Autumn Antics

It has been a rather discombobulating week, with midweek shenanigans and not much work. The little work I did proved to be rather beneficial, it seems that I am no longer in denial about the onset of autumn. It appears that I have caught up with everyone else, just in time for winter to rear its, potentially, ugly head. This week I have enjoyed being wrapped up against the elements, the drizzle didn’t bother me, the urge to tidy was strong and truly enjoyable. So much so, I worked in my own garden yesterday, before the “weather” arrived and I was reluctant to come in when it did. Today I will be celebrating the autumn garden. Well my autumn garden anyway. Six things in fact, which is just as well as this is Six on Saturday time again. Swan on over to The Propagator’s site to discover what it is all about Alfie, where to send your blank cheques and read contributions from other ~~mugs like myself~~ SoSers.

First we have more from the Bed of Anarchy, which on reflection does sound like a death metal band. The late flowering cerise cosmos are supporting themselves on the now monstrous Lycianthes rantonnetii. This Paraguayan nightshade is also commonly known as the blue potato bush, neither of which are particularly decorative names, and has grown to its predicted 2m in one bizarre growing season. Whether or not it will be allowed to stay is the subject of heated debate (with myself and therefore could run for weeks). It may be located to someone with a more appropriately sized garden.

Next we have some pyracantha fruit, admittedly looking quite beautiful. I may have mentioned it before (perhaps one hundred times) but I am not a fan of prickly plants. And they know it. This one, purchased by OH, is in a pot and has viciously stabbed me on numerous occasions. Intentionally. It knows it is quite safe.

Now for a newbie to the Heavenly Horti Family. This is Salvia ‘Phyllis’ Fancy’ gifted to me by my old friend Hero. I have long loved this salvia; hardy and long flowering and of course dreamily delicious with its violet calyx and tinged white flowers. It was necessary to prop her up against the scaffolding for a spot of industrial chic and the fact that she is rather floppy. At present she is banished to the naughty corner, as she brought a cargo of unwelcome whitefly with her. All the same, a lovely present.

Onto more fruit, this time of the honeysuckle. These strawberry jelly orbs are tasty morsels for hungry birds, fresh flowers are opening on a daily basis and it is quite thornless. Am I making myself clear?

Now we have a slightly battered flower of the osteospermum that never sleeps. A slight exaggeration perhaps (moi?). The Beasts stopped it in its tracks, but after a rather harsh chop back earlier in the year and some encouraging words it has come back fighting. Always a joy.

Lastly we have Salvia leucantha, doing a fine impersonation of a purple wet dog. It has been featured before, but realistically this is going to happen more often as the year progresses. I am hoping that rather like myself, your memories are more patchy than photographic.

That’s it! Another SoS completed! Thanks Mr P for your leadership. Same time, same place?

Thelma and Aunty Louise

One of the many benefits of my job is that, whether I’m looking for them or not, I acquire new friends along the horticultural way. As a matter of course my employer ends up becoming my buddy as well as my client. Perhaps I should warn people of the risks involved before they take me on.

Tomorrow I am going on a road trip with Nancy Nightingale. We are going all the way to Cardiff to what I believe is called a “gig” in modern parlance, after which will be staying at an, almost inevitably, dodgy hotel. The band is a Swedish sisterly duo called First Aid Kit and one of their songs is on my “imagined” greatest hits album. This is in partnership with my esteemed singing teacher who sings over my mistakes. My Mum, with tongue firmly ensconced in cheek, said “if they need a break you could always take over”. It will be risky to rely on them to need the toilet on demand, we may need to plan a stage invasion. I just have to work out how to get a step-ladder through security.

It should be a fun couple of days, involving music and plants and laughing, some of my favourite occupations. However, I am a little nervous. NN is a fully paid up, card holding, Rock Chick. I am, a rather scruffy, definitely uncool gardener. This presents one almost insurmountable problem. Seriously folks, WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?!!!

This Tibouchina urvilleana, gifted to me by one of my clients turned friend, the lovely Penny (Mrs Fish). She headed south for the summer and hasn’t returned. And I miss her and her gang.

Six on Saturday – Accusations

There have been accusations. Wicked and cruel lies. Rumours abound that I have been flaunting the Six on Saturday rules. It would be unfair to name names as to the source of this gossip, but I will give you a couple of clues to their identity – Haribos and edifices.

I would like to put things straight. Firstly, I must reiterate that I am far too scared of Our Leader (who has a chart and gold stars and black grim reaper stickers) to waiver from anything but the strict party line. Secondly, there are rules? Why didn’t anyone mention this before?

Onwards and upwards. The first goodie of the day is an unnamed rose, already in the garden when we arrived. A couple of days ago my OH made a special request for a photo of this beauty. He says it reminds him of me – prickly and a bit rough around the edges. It could have been much worse. Unlike me it is deliciously fragrant and a repeat flowerer. I really should take some cuttings.

Next we have Scabiosa ‘Plum Pudding’, which has been bashed and buffeted about but is still hanging on it there. The flowers out of season are lighter in colour and smaller in size than a few months ago, but still worthy. Earlier in the week I sent The Prop some seed of this wonderfully richly coloured scabious. Yes, that is right, a little bribery and corruption, anything to get another gold star, although to be honest he hasn’t mentioned one. A little lax in habit, when placed with some supportive friends it will thank you (just like me).

Now the first Lavanula pinnata flower of the year, with a few more coming along in the background. At first I thought it was a snail nestling in the bloom, but I’m wondering if it is the rear view of a ladybird. I suppose I could go and check, but I’m not going to, looks cold out there, another storm on the way. Whichever, it is probably quite happily in dreamland, overcome by the lethean effect of the lavender.

This is a new one to me, a tentacled fruit of Liquidambar styraciflua. I have never seen one before, on our tree or any other, however I might just have been looking at my feet at the vital moment. The RHS website describes them as “inconspicuous” – not so Your Highnesses, not so! Once ripe I will of course be collecting the seed. If I have plenty, I might share with anyone who likes growing things from seed ……..

On to Salvia corrugata, just beginning to come into flower. The mother plant died last winter, which is not really surprising as its home range is Peru, Coloumbia and Ecuador. This is a cutting that was kept safe and sound. Apparently seed was first collected from the wild in 1988 and all plants in cultivation come from the six seeds that germinated from that trip. Precious.

Lastly we have a view of a section of the Bed of Anarchy. Left to its own devices it has gone from strength to strength. A few plants are struggling in the fray, but mostly they are finding their way and giving protection one another from wind, rain and chill. Read whatever you will from that.

Another SoS completed, in time and on budget. And the rules obeyed. I must find out just what they are in time for next week.

Curmudgeon

I am not a fan of Halloween. Quite the contrary.

However on this night, when my door bell rings, I attempt to go through the appropriate motions with at least a little feeling. I pretend to be terrified by the little ghouls and ghosties, I offer hypo-inducing sweets to the adorables in their costumes, I encourage and praise. But in truth I hate it. There are several reasons. When I get home after a hard day on the coal face I don’t want visitors however cutsie. I want to lounge in my faux caribou negligee with matching mules and eat a giant-sized bag of maltesers without interruption. And I am a scaredy cat, frightened of her own shadow half the time. Coming from a city where a knock on the door on All Hallow’s Eve often meant being faced by a trio of pubescent youths, demanding in their crackling voices “Trick or Treat” which meant “Treat or beware”. No less, there is all the wasteful tat sold for the event, the corporate marketing machine demanding the purchase of rubbish that will be no doubt be binned as soon as night is over.

But for fear of being thought an old curmudgeon, each year, instead of escaping to the pub, or perhaps sitting in darkness lain siege to in our own home, I buy half a hundred weight of treats and wait. When no one comes, like today, I am offended. Seriously, there is no way to win.

Sometimes I make things up, that is true. In my defence it is more “getting carried away” than “bare face fabrication”. This red hot poker is called Kniphofia ‘Happy Halloween’. Just the kind of thing that I could have invented. It is indeed fact, according to RHS Rosemoor. On reflection, there is always the possibility that they invented the name for the occassion. How could I suggest such a wicked thing! Must be something in the air tonight.

Distracted

When I arrived at The Mantle Mansion this morning I was distracted by something I had passed at the entrance. I wandered into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee and greeted Their ‘Ships, who were dining on kedgeree and peasant porridge. “What is that out the front?” I questioned. They giggled in a very un-Lord and Lady manner. I was perturbed, what was so amusing about that innocent query? “The new plants by the door? What are they and where have they come from?” The dejected couple led me back to whence I had come to show me what I should have seen on my arrival. My defence for missing their pre-halloween prank was that I was distracted by some plants. This isn’t the first time it has happened, but it is the first time a skull was involved.

Six on Saturday – Dreary

It always takes me a few weeks to accustom myself to the shortening days and falling temperatures. All week I have struggled to get up in the morning and when I drag myself out of bed I am more belligerent teenager than disco diva. Today was no exception. There is one word that concisely sums it up. Dreary. The weather is dreary, I feel dreary, all is bloomin’ dreary. Still, I suppose it is all part of life’s rich tapestry, complaining will get me nowhere, least of all with you lot, so I will proceed with the always spectacularly undreary The Propagator’s meme, Six on Saturday. I can’t be bothered to explain what it’s all about, if you haven’t a clue what I am talking about (which to be honest is a regular occurrence for some) pop over to his pad and he can tell you all about it. Let’s get started.

We begin with a reluctant osteospermum. Petals held tight, closed until at the very least a single ray of sunshine warms it’s aching heart. I feel its pain. Hyperbole, moi?

Next an out of focus Geranium ‘Blue Orchid’. This is at present lodging at the far end of the alley to nowhere, out of harm’s (read builders and scaffolders, but of course I am just kidding myself nothing is totally safe from their tentacles of destruction) way. No I haven’t got over their recent little oops but I am working on it. This lovely little geranium was a gift from Julie, my friend from horti college. I could see a glimpse of blue out of the window so I went on a trek to find out who it belonged to. Shimmying through and around I could just about, at arm’s length, with a sophora getting a little fresh, snap a photo. It was a miracle of perseverance.

One of the reasons that it is becoming increasingly difficult to venture down plant alley is the relentless march of the nasturtiums. Here they are shown avalanching over a liquidambar, whilst a cosmos admires their exuberance. I keep pulling at it, it keeps on keeping on, laughing at me all the while.

Another plant which is showing no signs of slowing down is the cerise pink cosmos. After a very slow, snoozing sloth-like start, buds are popping up like chickenpox. This is a good thing. And not in the least dreary. I’m bored with dreary now, it is so, well dreary!

It was a tough year to be a rose in a pot, even more so in a garden full of container grown plants where you have to jostle for attention. Even so, it flowered well at the beginning of the year and has in the last few weeks gifted us some stragglers, this being one.

Lastly we have this diamond of a pelargonium and a confession. This was given to me last year by Mrs Bun and I was supposed to be donating it to Nancy Nightingale for her garden. For some reason it never ever made it there. In fact it didn’t get much further than outside my back door. My soul feels much better now. It is very beautiful.

Another Six on Saturday week completed, and yes it definitely is getting trickier each week. It is good to have a challenge. Which is no doubt just what I will be saying next time.

Acer japonicum ‘Vitifolium’

Hero and myself spent a wonderful day at RHS Rosemoor, successfully dodging heavy showers and small children dressed as gruffalos. It has been very difficult to pick just one photo to sum up the day. The magnificent cheese scone from the restaurant before we got going was a contender (had to build up my strength for the trek ahead and previous experience told me I wouldn’t be disappointed) as were callicarpa, kale and kniphofia. After much deliberation this Acer japonicum ‘Vitifolium’ won the contest. A vision indeed of autumn incarnate.

By Special Request

Just for you Mrs D, the Delusional Azalea. Still deluded.