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.

Six on Saturday – Hope

Two weeks SoSing in a row, there must be something afoot. I can’t imagine what has influenced my buoyant mood. Something must have changed. The balance of good and evil may have been addressed. Perhaps I have over-stated it, too Marvel superhero, or embarrassingly naive, the next stop Regretsville. Perhaps. It will of course depend on deeds not words, as the man himself said, and I have hope, which is a precious commodity in these troubled times. The moment is precious, let us bask in it. My job is to keep the flowers blooming. That is hard enough as it is. If you would like to read more SoS’s from across the known universe, and find out what this is all about, check out our leader, Jim at Garden Ruminations, and all will be revealed.

First we have a most special red rose, Fragrant Cloud. This is a favourite of both OH and myself. Yes, fortunately, although we disagree about a lot, we agree about the important things. Classic and highly scented, a joy indeed.

I have two stands of this argyranthemum in the garden, both have done far too well and should be dug up, divided and repositioned. I said exactly the same thing last year. Know the slothful enemy.

My OH is a great fan of teasels. We brought seed with us from North Devon which in turn came from our Bristol garden. He has planted four in the garden. They have taken over, making the most of the rich clay. Is it possible to mansplain a garden? However much they have made their spiky presence felt in “Our” garden, I must concede it has given me great joy to watch the sparrows drink from the water filled leaf axils, seemingly oblivious to the spiny leaves. Hopefully, a little later in the year, we will be blessed by goldfinches. Then the teasels can go. Please.

I managed to keep three pelargonium alive this winter, more luck than judgement. This P. sidoides Magenta Form is one of the lucky trio. Thanks for hanging on in there.

Salvia microphylla ‘Trelissick’, grown from HPS seed last year, is doing well. Not my usual colour scheme, but I am definitely becoming less Ozzie and more Cartland in my old age. Send help.

Did I buy Hemerocallis ‘Yabba Dabba Doo’ for the name? You bet I did!

That is your lot. Here’s to a better world, full of love and compassion and empathy. We can only hope.

ps I still haven’t found the Fuchsia boliviana, I am suspecting it has been eaten by Rudbeckia fulgida and at some point it will spit out the label.

Eggy

One Easter, in the mists of time, my OH bought me a chocolate egg which was accompanied by a yellow egg cup emblazoned with the script “Little Princess”. It was both delicious and funny. Since then, on the majority of Saturday mornings, he makes me one boiled egg with two pieces of toast, one lightly buttered, one with a thin scrape of marmite (hush you naysayers!). It is a tradition in our house and a very good way to start the weekend.

That is until a couple of months ago when disaster struck. A stray elbow, a careless hand, a vindicative sprite, for whatever reason the precious egg cup fell to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. “Don’t worry, I can fix it” my valiant, and probably over-ambitious OH reassured me. And he did. In his way. And I love it. And it is both delicious and funny.

However, it has now transformed from a functional item to a work of art/statement of love. Which left me egg cupless – a woeful state indeed. How could I replace such a rare and precious artifact?

A great friend of mine has had a heart-breakingly sad year. She has borne her loss with courage and grace and is now living with her grief in an uneasy truce. Some days she wins, other days not. Despite all of this pain she has worked hard to help her own healing process. To live her life for both herself and her much missed husband. And, luckily for me, one of these ways is to take up pottery.

Last week we met for lunch and she presented me with two fabulous egg cups. Naturally she couldn’t make one for me and not OH! I was absolutely thrilled. They are all the more special because they are made by someone who is very dear to me. Someone who I admire and love and wish I could soothe just a little bit more. Thanks Duffs, you are a star!

Six on Saturday – Strength in Numbers

Anyone else feeling a little horticulturally overwhelmed? Well, (hoping someone said yes) so am I. The garden has switched to hyperdrive, spilling out and over in a what was charming and now is alarming way. There is a slim chance, miniscule in fact, that I may have planted too many plants in the garden. As I type, these squidged in specimens have their elbows out, vying for space, desperate for attention. I am not without guilt. Each night, lying in bed, I sit up and cry, much to the amusement of the neighbours and consternation of OH, “but what happened to the Fuchsia boliviana?!” and the like. But what hope is there for a gardener so deficient in self-control? Someone who is most positively in control is our mentor and champion SoS herder, Jim at Garden Ruminations, pop over to his site and many mysteries will be revealed. Shall we get on? I’ve got to get back into the garden and restrain the eccremocarpus.

Geranium ‘Ann Folkard’ an ideal candidate for this kind of chaotic planting. She finds her way, round and through, complimenting and enhancing without resorting to thuggery. Here she is embracing an astilbe, white cosmos and, a yet to flower, Penstemon ‘Laura Jane’

Erodium manescavii and Eschscholzia californica are getting on like a house on fire. Not strictly on the guest list, but nonetheless welcome, the self seeded Calendula ‘Westwell Hall’ has fitted in very nicely. This marigold came from North Devon, in the garden of the most wonderful Buttons. Happy days.

More ND memories, I must be feeling a little nostalgic today. This is what I call Rosa ‘Beautiful Bobby’, a cutting from The Buns garden. It has been poorly trained to the fence so is finding it’s own support from the crimson leaved acer.

The Polemonium ‘Purple Rain’ has done well this year, flowering once very early and having another try again. The persistent Diascia personata, after a cruel chop, is returning after giving our Gertie a chance to shine. The battle lines continue to ebb and flow, whether or not I have any influence is debateable.

This year I have not embraced the bedding ethos. No reason, I do like a few pelargoniums and marigolds about the place, it just didn’t happen. I’m not sure you could really call these bedding plants but the Isotoma axillaris and Nemesia ‘Lady Lisa’ bought to fill a pot seem to be mingling nicely.

Some plants, however, stand alone quite happily, aloof and self-sufficient. Hemerocallis ‘Nona’s Garnet’ is one such independent soul, it is more than enough on its own, although I am sure it will play nicely with those threatening to intrude. This beauty was purchased, with one or two of its friends, from the wonderful Pollie’s Daylilies . As I have said before, visit her website at your peril.

There you have it, Six on Saturday, the end of June and several more growing months ahead. The battle continues!