Off The Edge Gardening

Reading

A couple of weeks ago I was in my doctor’s waiting room, quite happily making imaginary diagnoses of my fellow patients with one eye whilst reading a magazine with the other. Do not try this at home, it is a skill I have taken years to perfect. Just as I was about to find out who Baroness Fortescue-Dimblesquat was going to marry, my name was called. Before enquiring about the possibility of an extra-pair-of-hands transplant, I complained that I had not been allowed to wait long enough. “Reading a gardening mag?” he asked, “Good Lord no, I seldom read them!”. He laughed “no I never watch medical dramas, I have enough of that gruesome stuff here”. Which on reflection wasn’t comforting.

However one thing I did read in a magazine was that if you position Eurybia divaricata, formally known as Aster divaricatus and commonly known as the white wood aster, in the sun you are missing a trick. Always keen to find good specimens for shady areas I moved some of these asters into the wooded area in Max’s garden. Yesterday in the gloom these star-like flowers shone out like welcome beacons. Perhaps I should start reading the press more often.

Bright Side

There are some advantages to persistent mizzle, even when you are out in it all day, stewing like an old turnip in head to toe waterproofs, the only ventilation provided by a leaking boot. They are as follows:

Good company, both human and canine, although a degree of encouragement was dispensed from the dry side of a window (yes Pickle I am talking about you, fair weather friend).
Excused the chore of lugging watering cans up and down steps (lucky as a strategic tennis ball was positioned at the very top) (anyone else think this is a bit suspect?) (and what was that piece of paper I was asked to sign the other day?)
Rapid weight loss, although unfortunately only temporary, it went straight back on when I partook of my early evening quart of Merrydown and black.
Photogenic raindrops on refreshed flowers.

People

Folk, they get in the way.

Some say “I like having people in my photos, they add scale and interest”. Not me. They clutter and blot and spoil everything.

Trying to photograph the Hot Garden at RHS Rosemoor on a Saturday in August without including a member of the public is as tricky as unicorn hunting. I was tempted at one point to shout “duck” and take my chances, but chickened out at the last moment. I tried glaring, and dodging, and sighing, all to no avail.

So here is a smidgen of the wonderous garden, looking fabulous, free from those creatures, who as I snapped were stampeding towards my people free corner, to ruin everything.

Six on Saturday – Wise Words

Another day, another Six on Saturday. As I am on a jolly holiday trip today I have risen very, very, very early* to contribute to this popular meme, for fear of the wrath of The Emperor Prop if I should miss another week**. Due to my extreme rushdom these photos could have done with a retake/delete, but as these pictures where snapped at the crack of dawn*** this was not possible. In an attempt to ~~justify~~ ~~excuse~~ ~~disguise my bad craftmanship~~ explain, I decided to use the noble medium of metaphor to ~~get me out of a sticky situation~~ enlighten you.

Lesson One. Do not judge a flower by its lazy photographer.
Let us begin with the moody tones of Buddleja ‘Black Knight’. From this, carefully selected, angle the blooms are mostly in the shade. We have been robbed of an accurate representation of its beauty. This requires the viewer to exercise their imagination to complete the picture. It is important to keep the brain muscle active. Basically I am doing you a favour.

Lesson Two. Out of sight is out of a scatty mind.
Earlier in the year I dug up this Roscoea purpurea and potted it up for safe keeping. This spring, although I was patient, nothing came up in the pot. This poked up its cheeky head last week. In the ground. At the exact spot that I had dug it up. The question is what did I cosset through the harsh spell? A figment of my imagination perhaps.

Lesson Three: All that glistens is not gold platform boots.
Even when it is out of focus. The flower heads of Miscanthus nepalensis are sprinkled with pure sunlight. These gilded strands carry the seeds which will make more of these stunning plants. Once into their stride, this is but a baby, they produce spectacular, polished metallic, rasta dreads. A very special sight.

Lesson Four: Ignorance is sometimes bliss
Or, don’t believe anything you are told. Except of course that you are lovely. This white sidalcea was sold to me as an unknown geranium. Unknown, yes, geranium, no. The result is quite blissful. To represent the hazy nature of my knowledge off this plant, I have employed this vaseline smeared effect.

Lesson Five: Behind every great fuchsia is an great one.
Could be construed as, “don’t always look at the ones that push themselves to the front, the ones just behind are sometimes much clearer”. Fuchsia hatchbachii, a favourite of mine, is proving this point.

Lesson Six: Honesty is the best policy.
Usually anyway. Sometimes, in order to avoid misunderstanding or misrepresentation, words are not necessary. Here Hedychium ‘Tara’ is speaking for herself using her beauty alone.

That is your lot. Now you can nip on over to The Propagator’s site and find a cornucopia of SoSers, that should keep you out of mischief for a little while. As for myself, I must bid you adieu, off to RHS Rosemoor Flower Show ……

*If you believe this, you would believe anything
** I’m just kidding myself, he doesn’t even notice, he has so many loyal subjects, I am just another acolyte.
*** See * above

Pursuit

The annual wildflower mix on Button Moon is still going strong, with tickseed and late marigolds beginning to take over from the linum and nigella. This is great news not only for us but for the host of pollinators who are enjoying these riches. Today I pursued, in the nicest non stalker like way, a tiny blue butterfly. She landed, briefly, on Eschschlotzia californica ‘Red Chief’ which is lolling about on the adjacent bed. With a zoom and a lucky shot I captured her, before she flitted off again, blissfully unaware of the huntress.

Vital Seeds

Today has been all about seeds. Not any common or garden seed either. We are talking about organically raised, locally grown by good guys seed. They are soon to open their virtual doors for business, when they will share this angelic seed with us lucky folk. At a (no doubt very reasonable) price of course. Free seed would be too exciting for my delicate constitution. We know what happened last time. I am still having nightmares. Or perhaps I am thinking about the poor unfortunates that I mowed down in my frenzy. It is all a blur. Anyway, keep an eye, ear and nose out for Vital Seeds, they are on their way!

These are the berries of Maianthemum racemosum, false Solomon’s seal, a very handsome seed carrier if ever I saw one.

All for you

Weary and you are thinking about turning in early but you glance out the window and the buddleja against the dusk sky looks incredible and you just have to capture it so you grab your camera and stumble through the plants and the recycle bin and the angle isn’t quite right so you stand on the dodgy bench and can’t keep yourself still let alone the camera but you snap a few in faint hope and in retreat put your foot through a random box that is lurking beneath the bench and curse and stumble back inside.

All for you.

Wasps are People Too

There is a wasp nest in Max’s garden. A quarter way up the slope they have buried bravely into the scorched and stoned soil. I have watched as it has evolved over the weeks, the main entrance expanding, shingle strewn, workers ever vigilant,.

As of yet they have caused no mind to beast or person. I’m no waspologist but as far as I can ascertain they are good guys in the garden. The great misunderstood. They get a lot of bad press and windmilling arms. I don’t blame you, it is instilled into your very bones that they are the enemy, that they will sting out of malice alone. I am happy to report that this is not true. One less bad guy in the world. Result.

Early in the season the wasps harvest aphids and other sap sucking creatures to feed their demanding carnivorous babies. These larvae in turn feed the adults sweet intoxicating nectar to keep them focused on the job. The fretful young, once they have shrugged off their youthful ways and spun their way to pupa, leave the poor sugar addicted mummas to get their fix wherever they might find it – be it picnic, barbecue or your kitchen. Understandable under the circumstances.

This afternoon several wasps were flitting around the tap whilst I was filling watering cans. I noticed a couple of casualties in a shallow saucer nearby. They were thirsty and their colleagues had drowned trying to satiate this thirst. I filled a shallow bowl, with room enough to perch, and soon enough they came to drink. A small gesture.

Repeat

Rain sun rain sun rain sun rain sun. To someone with a dodgy zip on their waterproof, this has been very irritating. Obviously we are talking about “me” here, not the bee thingy in the photo, which is definitely more photogenic than me fiddling with my anorak. But then you wouldn’t have made that mistake, would you …….? Surely not!

Team Building

When visiting Marwood Hill Gardens the other day we, Max’s Dad and me, were greeted quite unexpectedly with “are you on the team building day?” We looked at each other, both of us wondering which answer we should give. Before committing myself I enquired “is there free cake?”. It appears that this gave the game away. “We are just here to go to the Plant Centre” MD explained. “It doesn’t open until 11.00.” So we had our own mini-bonding session. We drank coffee, sans patisserie, and wandered the gardens admiring the planting, the bird life and talked about building a raft out of empty oil drums and planks of wood. Then we went to the Plant Centre. And, bizarrely, we didn’t buy anything.

This garden is always a joy, these agapanthus one of many highlights.