Nancy Nightingale’s garden. From scrappy turf to crazy colour in just five months. Remind yourself of what it looked like in March in my post Start. Not bad. From a plant puncher to someone who requests photos of their garden texted to them when they are on holiday. Even better.
Copplestone Capers
A couple of weeks ago myself and the OH headed south to the grand metropolis of Exeter, to partake in a little retail therapy and a big pizza. We parked the car in Barnstaple train station car park and took the Tarka Line to the big city. Crowded carriages and bawdy students withstanding, I invariably enjoy this journey. It takes just over an hour as it meanders through the delightful Devon countryside. A large proportion of this trip is joyfully a WiFi desert. Instead of spending quality time admiring kittens and googling how long it would take to pogo stick from here to the moon, it is necessary to think, look out the window, make notes, or perhaps read a paper. All things that our distant ancestors would to do as a matter of course. So I settled down to some serious contemplating.
Suddenly I was snapped out of my meditations on whether David Essex would reconsider my recent proposal. We had stopped at Copplestone station. Although only there long enough for a man with a goat to board, the platform stood out like a floriferous beacon. I just had to know “how, why and who” had worked so hard on this project.
A couple of emails later and I was visiting the wonderful women who have created this oasis. And up close it is even better. Bug hotels, herb gardens, composting areas, rainwater butts, as well as the overflowing planters and well stocked borders. It is not a surprise that they have won various awards for their work. It was an honour to meet them, and I hope my forthcoming article in Devon Life will do them proud. They certainly deserve it.
Six on Saturday
I’m not much of a joiner-in. Its not that I don’t want to, but I lack focus and commitment. However I have decided to have a go at The Propagator’s meme, Six on Saturday. For those of you who don’t know The Propagator he is best described as The Terminator in reverse. His remit is simple: post six photos of plants from your garden on a Saturday. That can’t be too arduous can it? Apart from the small fact that most of my pictures are taken in my esteemed client’s gardens and I never work at the weekend. Um. Could be tricky.
I have asked Mine Host if I can use photos from other places and he most kindly agreed. I haven’t mentioned the “not taken on a Saturday” bit yet as I don’t want to push my luck. I will promise to stick to six if that helps.
So in an uncharacteristic willingness to conform, I have on this occasion battled through the chaos and managed to find the magic six in my own garden. As I have mentioned before my own garden is full of good intentions and neglect. This was therefore not an easy task. But I was brave.
The opening photo is Scabiosa drakenbergenis, which is a cutting from a plant at Cliffe. That plant was grown from seed. It is loyal and undemanding, winding its way through and around others in the border, popping its head up in unexpected but welcome places. It comes from the Drakenberg Mountains in South Africa, reaches 1m tall and is tough and beautiful, a perfect combination.
Next comes Fuchsia hatschbachii. This fuchsia came into my possession whilst on a trip with Torrington Tina. That is all you need to know, except no criminal activities were involved. None that might result in a prison sentence anyway. I like to think we liberated it. Compact in form, dark green foliage, masses of slim red and mauve flowers. No wonder both myself and TT had independently admired it from afar. Sometimes you do get what you wish for.
Now for the ubiquitous Verbena bonariensis. Self-seeder and butterfly magnet extraordinaire, it was doing its job well this morning. This little chap was hanging on for dear life as the stems almost doubled in the brisk breeze. Others might have called it a raging wind. Hopefully his persistence paid off.
Oh yes, the rose. The Rosa ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ that I bought earlier this year from Cannington Walled Garden has just begun its second flush of flowers. The scent is delicious, the flowers a treat. It is doing very well in its pot, has avoided any blackspot and is growing just a little too vigorously!
We must have a dahlia. This is one that I grew from seed and is purported to be Dahlia australis. I have an inkling there may have been some shenanigans with an interloper. Although this has the slightly nodding habit of the species, it is supposed to be single flowered. Oh well, you win some you lose some, and it is very pretty. It shall be known as Dahlia australis-ish, which is quite hard to say after a couple of babychams (or equivalent).
And lastly the magnificent teasel. These self seed in the front garden and are direct descendants of The Giant One. TGO lived in our garden in Bristol and hitchhiked a lift on one of plants we brought with us. For the past 10 years they have appeared without fail, to the great joy of local bees and finches. When the winds come from the North, they dance a merry dance.
So there we have it, Six on Saturday. Thank you Mr P for hosting this meme. I hope I have passed the test.
A Watsonia’s First Outing
A watsonia seedling’s first blooming. I’m rather pleased with the colour. Just peachy.
Helpers
Today I had some helpers. I love helpers.
The day was splattered with small miracles:
- We dead headed and there were very few floral casualties.
- We collected seed from Briza media and Festuca glauca in a roaring gale, and some even made it into the pot.
- We studied worms in the compost bin and spoke to snails in Snail language. Caterpillars were peered at. No creatures were harmed in the making of this documentary and most slithered away at the earliest opportunity.
- We harvested cucumbers and figs and none were dropped or squashed.
- We took it in turn to take photos and the camera stayed out of the pond, as did everyone else.
- Falling over was practised and not a bone broken or tear shed.
Almost spent flowers were saved and made into an art work with the fruit and vegetables. Ducks and sloths were impersonated. Self seeded foxgloves were relocated. We tried to fool a lupin that we were visiting bees. Everything was watered, whether they wanted it or not. A unicorn (real) was sighted.
I love having helpers. And little ones are definitely the most fun.
Same Old Same Old
It isn’t the first time I have featured this amazing tree. I doubt it will be the last. Albizia julibrissin, the Persian Silk Tree, today at Max’s. Incredible.
Test
We have new neighbours across the road.
For the last few weeks a self-seeded calendula has flowered defiantly against their wall. I have watched it with great respect.
Yesterday the man came out and weeded the wall edge. We held our breath.
He left the marigold.
He has passed the first test.
Focus
The little camera I use for work focuses itself. Actually my big posh camera does as well but at least I have the option to switch to manual. Sometimes self focusing is good, sometimes not. On reflection often it is not, occasionally it is good. This photo, taken at The Farm on Thursday, got me thinking. I know, dangerous territory, it happens from time to time. Although not text book photography, I like the fact that the centre is blurred and the sides sharper. Instead of concentrating on the centre of the picture your gaze is drawn around the whole shot, taking in all the colours, forms, light and dark. A fluke, but one I am happy about.
Yesterday was my birthday. I love birthdays, not just mine, others’ also. People who say “Oh, I don’t bother now” or “what is the point at my age?” I say boo sucks to. For the fortunate, including myself, it is a day to be treated and remembered and when love is explicit . It is hardly indulgent, to be a little bit special on one day out of 365. Embrace it, I say. And return the favour. We all deserve to be the centre of attention one day a year. To be just a little bit more in focus.
Good Contacts
What better way to pass a free morning than spending it repeatedly poking yourself in the eye for a few hours? Yes, I have been trying out contact lenses. What fun!
I have been finding wearing glasses whilst working very tricky. It is gradually descending from mildly irritating to downright tedious. I don’t need to wear specs all the time (yet) but can’t read a word without them. This translates in gardening terms to “spot weeds”, “find pests”, “read plant labels”. As anyone who has tried to walk about wearing reading glasses will know, this veers from comical to dangerous. So my specs go on for close up work and then off again to visit the compost bin. When not in use they sit on the top of my head where they get caught up in my hair which necessitates an inelegant and often painful removal when I need them next.
Only last week the pound shop glasses Farmer Tony generous donated to me, when I had forgotten mine and was squinting like Mr Magoo, fell off the top of my head at which point I promptly stepped backwards and crunched them. Tricky.
There has to be a better solution.
So when at a recent eye test they suggested contact lens, I thought, “why not give it a go?” They also mentioned the words “free trial”. Even better. I am not naturally squeamish. I love watching a good operation on the TV, but when it comes to the eyes being treated I can be found hiding behind the sofa looking for lost crisps. I am definitely eye squeamish.
Still I was game. Faint heart never won good eyesight. This morning was my initial appointment. All was well until I had to put them in. “What I have to do it myself?” Eventually I managed it, after much pushing and prodding and stretching and thoughts of “beam me up Scottie”. My tutor was a saint. And the result was great. No irritation, just much better eyesight, it was truly amazing. All was well. We had this cracked. Then I had to take them out. Or not, as the case might be. After an age trying, with eyes red and sore, I admitted defeat.
My humiliation culminated in an ethereal optician putting me in a headlock and removing the offending lenses.
But I’m not giving up. Yet.
Both
Just one look at the flower spike of Lobelia ‘Hadspen Purple’ leaves me weak at the knees and a little breathless. Or maybe the steep hill that I climbed to admire it was to blame? Perhaps it was a little bit of both. Either way, it is not only stunning but very special. Definitely both.
Off The Edge Gardening 