Six on Saturday – Jaunty

After the wind and rain of the last couple of days, much of the garden is at a distinctly jaunty angle. To be honest, I’m surprised there are not more casualties, but there is time enough for disaster. Always look on the bright side. First a disclaimer: I braved the weather to take these photographs, yes, a medal please, so no snarky comments about blurriness. Think romantic, soft focus, atmosphere. Secondly: To find out more about Six on Saturdaying, to join in or maybe just read other contributions and be inspired, pop over to Garden Ruminations and everything you could possible want will be at your finger tips. No exaggeration. Thirdly: Let’s get on with it.

Old Gertie is having another go. Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ has performed well this year, as have most of the roses. Which was, indeed, predicted by Elvis Costello.

Hedychium ‘Assam Orange’ is new to our garden, although I have grown it before. Perhaps not the showiest of the gingers, it is stalwart and reliable, the perfect kind of friend. It also has the most amazing berries later in the year. What is not to love?

This was a unexpected and pleasant surprise. The Cuphea lanceolata, grown in this spot last year, has generously spread its progeny.

I’m a massive fan of New Guinea impatiens. I’ve got a big pot of deep red ones in the north facing front of the house and this pale pink out the back in the shade of the tree. They keep keeping on for months on end, until the frost eventually end its fun. And my fun too.

Most of the dahlias have been happily flowering away for a few weeks. Dahlia ‘Veronne’s Obsidian’ is fashionably late, making its dramatic and slightly ominous arrival just in time for the autumn.

Another newbie is this fabulous South American, Fuchsia ‘Vulcanica’. I am ever so slightly smitten.

There we have it, the first autumnal, après storm, post of the year. So far we have come off lightly.

Smelly

It may well be hyperbole to suggest that, as a gardener, my only occasional sense of smell is a tragedy. When I tell people they roll their eyes in disbelief “what nothing?”. Then I tell them I also suffer terribly from hayfever, unconnected but adding extra straws to the poor camel’s back. “And you are a gardener? Isn’t that a rather odd choice of career?”. To my mind, it shows how committed I am, that even without the added dimension of fragrance and that for several months a year I am an itching, snivelling mess, I still want to tend gardens.

However, in the last few weeks, due to a blast of steroids and decreasing pollen production, I have been able to smell somewhat. Quite how efficiently is hard to tell. This ability will undoubtedly swiftly diminish over the coming days/weeks until once more I am bereft. There is no time to delay!

On Wednesday, at The Fit Family’s, I took full advantage of this window of opportunity. And what a wonderful journey it was. The experience was no doubt exacerbated by the aroma enhancing sunshine, something we have been lacking in of late. Lavender, rosemary, nepeta, sweet peas, salvia, mint and thyme were savoured, inducing memories of times past. A little like Marcel Proust’s madeleine but not as posh. I even rubbed the stinking leaves of Vestia foetida for the complete experience.

But, it was this, unnamed bloom that kept drawing me back for another go. Unadulterated essence of rose. Perfect. I will try to remember until the next time I am blessed again, whenever that might be.

Critical

Some of my clients are unnecessarily critical of their own garden. They only notice the things that have failed, are not tall or prolific enough, have not quite lived up to expectation. This is not unusual, we often see the weeds before the flowers in our own gardens and the contrary in others. Sometimes we should just stand back and, even if we need to squint just a little, appreciate the beauty that we have had a hand in creating.

Last week, I was playing the usual game of hide and seek with Welsh Ann. Come to think of it, on the whole, she hides from me and I hunt for her. Should I be reading something into this? As my search progressed, I walked under the car port that separates front from back and was greeted with this wonderful display. I thought “how lovely” and “this should be shared”. And so I have. It is very beautiful. You have done a fine job, WA!

Six on Saturday – Antipodes

As our lovely antipodean SoSers are feeling the garden sap rise, so we in the northern hemisphere are beginning to sense the onslaught of autumn. Which has made me think, what does that make us, what is the opposite of antipodean? Hang on a minute, I’ll consult my extensive library, primary, secondary sources, microfiche and digital storage. Apparently antipodes simply means somewhere diametrically opposite, which of course means that here in the UK we are antipodean to those in our antipodes. I may have fallen down a big hole here. I think we better get back to SoSing, Jim will explain all.

The dahlias have been a little late on parade this year. Is it because they stayed in the ground over winter or we haven’t had the heat this year to remind them of their Mexican ancestral home? Who can say? Someone, I’m sure. No matter, they are welcome to both gardener and pollinator whenever they choose to arrive.

This year I grew Datura metel ‘Belle Blanche’ from HPS seed. They grew well and flowered beyond their young years. Even more disturbing than their rapid growth are the spiny fruit, reminiscent of a morning star. Not the socialist newspaper but a formidable armour-piercing medieval weapon. Although I would imagine a sharp slap with a newspaper might sting, it would be as well not to get the two confused in armed combat.

This Potentilla atrosanguinea has managed to poke its head above the melee and is looking particularly good amongst the dark leaves of Dahlia ‘Bishop of York’.

As is this community’s wont, I was sent a package of various seed from Fred, an SoS stalwart and fine gentleman. I was particularly pleased to receive, most probably due to shameful hinting, Geranium maderence. I duly sowed the seed and waited, quite patiently. After a few weeks I became downhearted and ignored the pot, save for the occasional water accompanied by a wishful/scornful/disappointed look. It seemed to work. One seedling has appeared. I am very happy. I shall continue the glaring in the hope more will appear.

The aubergine have pulled their weight this year. This is Rosa Bianca, reminding us why they are also known as egg plants. Ostrich egg, in this case.

About as common as I am, the vigorous Rubeckia fulgida runs a thin line between glorious beauty and irritating invader. Today it is the former. The story of my garden and my life.

Next time it will be September. Crazy talk.

Red Herring

The header shot is a red herring. It reflects neither my world nor my mood. Today is more rain and rainy days blues than sun and sunflower cheer. A blip, or perhaps another blip in a summer of blips. An enforced holiday. I’ve spent the morning constructively; I’ve made soup from a selection of our tomatoes, attempted to tame the kraken that is my late-season greenhouse and in the process discovered an errant monster cucumber. I’ve been for a walk in the weather and checked my favourite horse chestnut tree for conker progress, quite good since you ask. And I’ve tidied my desk, which means I’ve moved things around a bit. This has inspired me to introduce you to a new member of our household and resident of my office.

In our house we love a rummage in antique/bric-a-brac/junk shops. And we have found a formula that seems to work for us. We never walk around together, we move around the shop independently then at the end compare notes of likes and loves and must haves. OH is a scanner, minesweeping for treasure, swift, efficient. I like to chat to a few people, pick things up, daydream a little and for these reasons take much longer. A couple of weeks ago we visited a favourite of ours, one we always visit when we are in town, a tiny converted chapel over two diddy floors. As usual, OH had finished his tour and I had barely got into my stride. I had already selected a green passion flower patterned Wedgewood plate and spoken to the owner about a new restaurant. Then I went upstairs to admire the handmade quilts, leaving OH waiting non-patiently. And almost immediately I found my prize. I went downstairs with this charming chalkware terrier held aloft smiling in triumph. “You aren’t serious?!” OH said. Crestfallen, incredulous that anyone didn’t feel the same way, I said “He can live in the office with me”. Which is where he resides, on my desk, ever so often his little eyes meeting mine. As yet he doesn’t have a name. Suggestions on a postcard, please.

Six on Saturday – Fallen

Voice in Head, Angel Division: You really should ensure everything is well staked in the garden this year, traditionally you are rather lax in this department.

Voice in Head, Devil Division: But they look so ugly and intrusive for such a long time and to be honest I can’t be bothered.

A few weeks pass.

Voice in Head, Angel Division: Everything is growing well, you don’t want to miss your staking chance. You will live to regret your laziness.

Voice in Head, Devil Division: Stop nagging, the borders are so densely packed the plants will hold each other up.

Summer storm.

Voice in Head, Angel Division: I told you so. I’m sure that Jim and the other SoSers won’t have been so remiss.

Voice in Head, Devil Division: You are getting on my nerves now, Ms Smarty-pants! Will it make you feel better if I confess?

Voice in Head, Angel Division: Probably the best idea.

Oh dear, this cosmos, just coming into full flower, was snapped at the base and beyond saving, a sorry sight. My head hangs in shame. And such a pretty colour.

Although tragic, the loss of the cosmos was celebrated by those behind, who could do with a little more wriggle room. The ethereal Salvia patens should never have its light quashed under a bushel, or indeed behind a cosmos.

A couple of weeks ago I accused a particularly fine purple gladioli of elbowing out the others. I was wrong, a perfectly pure white flower (one for Tony) appeared. Again, I was wrong to leave it unsupported, vulnerable to the elements. Not sure that those two wrongs make a right. History would agree.

If it wasn’t for the other casualties in the garden, one might be forgiven for thinking the teasel damage was sabotage. The bee isn’t bothered by the prostrate angle of it’s dinner, which made it impossible for me to cut off this part of the plant. Darned conscience!

The eryngium has tumbled into the Rudbeckia fulgida, which is not altogether a bad thing, aesthetically anyway. The rudbeckia, like much in the Bed of Anarchy, is in need of a firm hand. I promise this will be done in the autumn, but I wouldn’t trust my word.

Not all succumbed to my neglect. A low centre of gravity and a sturdy base helps to weather most storms, which is exactly what Dahlia ‘Labyrinth’ has done. A flower after my own heart.

Voice in Head, Devil Division: Happy now?!

Voice in Head, Angel Division: Now about that rudbeckia ……

Shopping

This photo wasn’t taken today. Today was a quite different story. Same place, the Fit Family residence, but with substantially more rain and significantly less sunblock. All these handsome plants are now safely in their new homes and most are settling in nicely.

I enjoy a bit of shopping, that has been well documented, and plants are high up on my list of preferred acquisitions, especially if someone else is footing the bill. It took two attempts to visit the nursery these goodies were purchased; reached down an obscure country lane with no obvious signage. A proper old school establishment, replete with polytunnels and dutch trolleys, classic fare. The first time they told us, through padlocked gates, that they were preparing for Chelsea and we were turned away. I am assuming this was the RHS Garden Show rather than a West London football derby, but I might be mistaken. The second time, the gate was again locked but after suspicious side glances and mutterings they allowed us entry. I’m not sure if Mrs Fit whispered a secret password or unveiled threat, or perhaps they remembered that in order to run a business they should allow people in to buy plants. Any are possible.

Once we had gained access to the permissible polytunnels (“not that one! or that one!”), we shopped with stealth and precision, nods or head shakes confirming or disapproving choices, before moving onto the next tranche.

Our choices were packed into the back of the car, payment was made and we were on our way home with just enough time to unload before I had to leave for the day. Which meant that the following week I was reminded yet again of the fabulous plants we bought. And all over again I marveled at their beauty and smiled.

Although this simple tale is a snapshot of a sunny morning a few weeks ago, perhaps this is the day we need something bright and beautiful to remind us, well, that bright and beautiful things do exist.

Six on Saturday – Complain

Welsh Ann’s husband, English Will, says that gardeners are never satisfied, it is either too hot, too wet, too cold or too dry. It is hard to argue the fact. And, just to prove him right, in my small horti way, I am going to complain about the weather. This week has been too hot by far, for gardening anyway. Code S (for scorchio) was declared and emergency measures were put in place. Amongst other, highly confidential criteria, the ridiculous but effective foppy hat and OH’s voluminous shirt (generously donated) were brought into action. Unfortunately there is no photographic evidence, you will have to take it on faith. Of course, across the SoSing world there will be more tales of heat, rain, frost and drought, maybe some pest and disease to ramp it up a little. Perhaps there will also be fine flowers, fruit and veg and beautiful borders. Pop across to our mentor and cat herder Jim to find out more. Shall we shake a leg, there is watering to be done.

First we have the glorious bloom of Dahlia ‘Bishop of York’. Last autumn I dug up and stored only two of my dahlia, my most precious, this one and Peggy. Tragically, both rotted whilst the rest, left to languish in the garden with just a blanket of mulch, have thrived. Welsh John gave me a replacement. Yet again the kindness of gardeners prevails.

Next, we have tomato ‘Sunbaby’, a gift from Welsh Ann. It is growing outside against a south facing wall and has to date been prolific, delicious and beautiful. What more could you ask of a tomato or indeed anyone?

Now we are on slightly dodgy ground. This is Gladiolus colvillei ‘Galaxian’, new to me this year. The problem is, I am not sure I like it very much, the white isn’t pure enough, the pink not rich enough. Maybe I will soften to the charms of this gladi, the jury is out.

Echeveria lilicina has not complained about our, probably pathetic in the scheme of things, heatwave. In fact it has been basking. A gift from Torrington Tina, I have many sponsors, all are terrific.

Now a chance for a mini-moan about the taxonomists, those in charge of names and changes. This is Isoplexis canariensis ‘Bella’ or perhaps Digitalis isabelliana ‘Bella’, take your pick. I failed with one of these Bellas a couple of years ago, then found another on a rack of plants outside a pet shop in Llantwit Major. It survived the winter in the greenhouse and, now planted out, has bloomed. Result.

Finally, the slightly late on parade, Rosa ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ who is beyond reproach. Almost. Perhaps for the blackspot. Fallibility is so attractive.

Six on Saturday – Faster, Higher, Stronger – Together

I do like a theme, it helps to rein in my thoughts, and for today’s Six on Saturday I am going to use the painfully obvious subject of the Olympics. I am a non specific sports fan, there isn’t much I wouldn’t watch with glee, and three weeks of excellence and excitement is a joy to me. This does not mean I won’t live to regret starting today’s project. In any case, I would prepare yourself for the tenuous and downright ridiculous. Which of course, would never be used to describe our esteemed Director of Sport, Jim at Garden Ruminations, high jump over to see what everyone is up to (I did warn you!). On your marks, get ready, let’s Go!

First we have a lacecap hydrangea, grown from a cutting taken from Peggy’s garden just three years ago. It lives in a pot which is often shoved one way or the other, not ideal for this moisture loving shrub. However it has jumped these hurdles with ease, growing very fast and producing more than enough flowers for its stature.

Sailing on, we have this jolly dahlia entertaining a bee. I’ve no idea what variety it is, possibly it was grown from seed. It remained in the ground last winter and has now become a hefty specimen, chucking out blooms like the best discus thrower.

Next we have Roscoea x beesiana, synchronised diving duo extraordinaire. Whilst these flowers are pure cream others are dashed with various amounts of purple. All lovely.

Shooting for the stars is this deep purple gladioli, seemingly the only one that has made it through. Perhaps it elbowed the rest out of the way, which of course is not very sporting. It does have the look of the dark side about it. Umpire!

This is all going swimmingly well. Next, we have a eucomis which came from Welsh John last year, who perhaps knows more about its identity. I read somewhere that it is safest to keep these slightly tender bulbs a pot and store them in the greenhouse over the wet winter, which seemed to do the trick. Winter training is of course, very important.

Finally, with all the grace of a gymnast, we have Salvia curviflora. I find this gorgeous flower tricky to photograph in all its cerise glory. I wonder if what I see is wrong and what the camera shows me is right, or the other way around. Something to ponder on, but perhaps only for a moment, the Olympics have started and I am needed as unofficial commentator and armchair expert.

Six on Saturday – Annual Report

On today’s SoS I thought I’d tackle the sometimes contentious issue of annuals. There are some who believe them to be unworthy of the grown-up garden, these fleeting fly by nights are surely only for small children and the unimaginative. Clients can seem a little disappointed when told that a particular plant won’t return the following year. They look at me with sideways eyes and wonder if this is less than cost effective, a mere opportunity for bringing more plants into the garden. The truth is quite the contrary and I fight avidly for their corner. I try to explain that these transients often seed prolifically, germinate freely and are incomparably beautiful. A handful of seeds, with a little encouragement, can change your borders from year to year, whilst keeping the perennial bones intact. Fashionistas, such as myself, might consider them as a jaunty belt or scarf to uplift an old outfit. Notwithstanding the doubters, I would not be without annuals in my own garden. If you get a minute, pop over to see what Jim and the other SoSers are up to. I think it is time I proved my point.

It is quite a few years since I last grew Malope trifida ‘Vulcan’. When Hardy Plant Society seed was on offer I leapt at the chance and it is as wonderful as my rose coloured specs remembered. Definitely seed catching here!

I haven’t as many marigolds in the garden as usual. There are some self seeded Calendula ‘ Westwell Hall’ and the tagetes that stand guard in front of my tomatoes, fighting off aphid. These are from seed saved last year and are the prettiest sentries you might find.

This is the second year I’ve grown annual mallows in the garden. This one, Malva sylvestris var. mauritania ‘Mystic Merlin’ (most probably as my label was too short for the whole name) is also HPS seed. It will flower continually until the weather nips its buds or the gardener pulls it up.

Cosmos. The best annual ever. Any arguments, feel free to pop round and we can arm wrestle the point.

This is bit of a cheat, but I have learnt from the best, as Lantana camara is perennial. However, in this country, it is generally grown as an annual as it will not last the winter. It arrived here by happy accident. After her holiday in exotic climes, I knew that Welsh Ann was interested in a lantana for her garden. I bought one on spec only to discover her grand plan had changed. I had to keep it myself. Shame. Oh dear. What a pity.

Cornflower. I rest my case.

Talking of a little less than honest, I realise than many of you will be worrying about my Fuchsia boliviana ‘Alba’, missing in action, prime suspect Rudbeckia fulgida. You will be thrilled that it has been found. Rudbeckia absolved. All is well. If blatant flouting of the most fundamental of SoS rules offends you, please do not scroll down.

A dull photo, but the joy is in the finding.