Arrive with a Bang, it’s the only way!

Was anyone paying attention?  Do you remember me mentioning my distinct distrust of flying?  My absolute terror of turbulence?  So which one of you organised this as reported in the Majorca Daily Bulletin

Let us say that we arrived with a bang.  And a crash.  And an hour late.

The 45 minute late night drive to the villa was illuminated by continual lightning on all sides.   Half an hour after arrival, coinciding with a crack as if the world were splitting open, the lights went out.  After some tentative poking about in fuse boxes we went to bed to the sound of torrential rain and sporadic flashes.

By lunch time the following day the electricity was back on, the rain had stopped, the Mediterranean sun was doing its best, and I had already spied jacaranda, hibiscus, lantana, oleander, and bougainvillea.

All was well in the world.

Adventures

Rose

I am off on my adventures again.  The only difference is this time it is real.

Adventures are relative, what is a meander in the park for some is a winter long Antarctic expedition for others.   This is somewhere in the middle, perhaps veering towards the park end.

But it involves flying. Which ain’t natural.

I’ll be back, God willing, in a week and a bit.

As always I am depending on you to hold the fort.

Here is a very pretty rose to keep you going.

Things I never thought I’d say – Part Eight

Pygmy goat

“Mrs G, one of the pygmy goats has got his head stuck through the fence!”

It is not as if the goats’ field is bare, it is lush and green and full of tasty buttercups.  It seems that, in Cocoa’s eyes anyway, these are not quite as delicious as the ones the other side of the fence.  As bad luck would have it Mr G, AKA Farmer Tony, had headed across the border to pick up his new charabanc and was accompanied by Master G.  So it was left to us gals to sort out the problem. The horns were the sticking point.  Once through they didn’t seem to want to go back.  Hinges would have been useful.  We pushed. He pushed back harder, they are surprisingly strong these little ‘uns.  We tried a tentative twist but were rebutted, literally.  All the while he continued an occasional nibble, wouldn’t want to miss such a fine opportunity.  So after a consultation with our non-resident expert, we located wire cutters, chopped through the fencing and released the little blighter.  He skipped off back to his mates without so much of a backward glance.  I meandered back to my planting, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

 

Mystery

Cephalaria gigantea

This is the first cephalaria flower of the year.  In Max’s garden anyway.  It is Cephalaria gigantea, the giant scabious, which when it gets into its stride will reach 2.5m in height and 1.5m across.  No need to inforce the Trades Description Act here.  It truly is a giant.  If you have a small garden you might be able to fit one in.   But nothing else.

At the end of last season Max’s Dad visited a very reputable establishment that begins with W and ends in Y and purchased some Cephalaria alpina.  Ringing the changes, so to speak.  This relatively diminutive cousin only gets to about 1.5m high.  The airy stems topped by pale yellow blooms would be perfect in the long border.

We chose a suitable mid to rear position for the new member of the family, introduced it to its new home, planted and watered.  Then we waited for it to grow.  And we waited.   And we waited. And eventually it grew to the heady heights of 20cm and started to produce flowers.  Pink flowers.

At this point, I carefully re-positioned to the front of the border and sighed.

On the plus side it is a pretty little scabious and is flowering beautifully.  What ever it might be!

Meadow Magic

Bee and clover

Mr Bun has been on a mission.  It has been rather scary at times.  Perhaps the first words he ever said to me were “do you know about meadows?”.  Um, a little, definitely not enough for your purposes.

This has not deterred him.  A gentleman who is in his second prime of life, who has recently climbed far enough up Everest (yes that gurt big mountain) to put the rest of us mere mortals to shame, is not going to let much phase him.  So he has been a’meadow making.  He has researched, questioned, prepared, stared at earth, doubted a little and is now semi-rejoicing.

This week the difference in his patch is phenomenal.  And it is a patch.  No more than 3m x 2m. We stood and admired it’s good behaviour before setting off to work.  Myself and Mrs Bun tended borders and beds, planting, weeding and chatting, the usual. Bees were supping and a gentle hum of insect pervaded even though the day was murky.

Just before home time, Mr Bun appeared with a list of the wildflowers he had sown and we trekked down the garden to do some tentative identification.  I spotted bird’s foot trefoil. Several times.  Different versions, obviously.  There was citrus sorrel and common knapweed and purple vetch and ox-eye daisies and a selection of grasses that begged closer inspection.  However, what was almost shocking was the preponderance of insect life.  The main garden was apparently merely a waiting room for the main party.  I reached for my camera and in the excitement pushed all the buttons in one go.  Inadvertently I set it to Night Mode.  I didn’t even know there was such a thing.  This means there were no photos.  A lesson learnt.  Perhaps.

Mr Bun is also an accomplished photographer.  Yes, he is very annoying.  This is one of his wonderful pictures which he has kindly loaned me.  I have to give it back later.

Here we have a bee (perhaps a tree bumblebee Bombus hypnorum) dining on red clover nectar, Trifolium pratense.  But it was not just bees, all kinds of flying folk were here, wasps and hover flies and the like.   Who knows what lay beneath the sward?! The rest of the garden paled into invertebrate insignificance.  And all in an area 3m x 2m.  Each and everyone of these creatures will benefit not only this garden but those around it by helping to maintain an ecological balance.

Really there is no excuse.

Well done Mr Bun.  What next?

Fur and Flowers

Stachys byzantina

I work in Mr and Mrs Bun’s garden once every three weeks or an approximation of that.  This means that a lot changes between visits and at certain times of year these differences are more extreme.  Like this time of the year.  Today fragrant roses had replaced tulips, forget-me-nots were mere memories, clematis flowers like saucers were peeping out of shrubs and the lemon verbena had fully recovered from its winter sulk, sharing its sherbet scent as it was brushed past.  The new meadow was a full foot taller, dahlias were just beginning their show, hollyhocks were pushing skyward and scabious cushions supported industrious bees.  All was doing what it was supposed to be doing.  Well most of it anyway.

This Stachys byzantina has grown too large for its position and is scheduled to be moved at some time in the future.  Until then, and its inevitable cut back, we can enjoy both fur and flowers.