Saxifrage

saxifrage

I have absolutely nothing to say.  Except if it doesn’t stop raining very very soon I’m going to have a hissy-fit.  And also, here is a saxifrage.  It is getting fed up too.  Although, to be honest, it doesn’t look that way.   In fact it looks very pretty, for a delicate little plant that is getting soaked to the cellulose every day.  Perhaps I should try harder to put on a brave face.

Flamingo

img_0853

“Are you a Softie Walter, or female equivalent?” I asked my singing teacher, Nancy Nightingale. “No, I don’t mind getting wet and muddy at all” she answered with a trill.  “That is just as well” I replied.

Rain stopped play last week and I refused to let it happen again.  The weather folk at the Met Office had done a swerve overnight and “cloudy but dry all day” had morphed into “pouring with rain until later when it might just carry on raining anyway.”

But we had seed to sow and bulbs and tubers to pot up, and I wanted to get on.  So we soldiered on.  First we put together the plastic green house, a miracle of engineering.  Then we filled it with planted up dahlias, lilies and tigridia and pots of sown marigolds, sunflowers and cosmos.

I had given Nancy a comprehensive shopping list to get us started on the road to horticultural glory, which she had dutifully followed to the letter.  This list was not as complete as I first thought and there were a couple of omissions.  It is tricky when someone is starting from absolute zero, with not even a shed to have nothing in, no tools, no pots, no compost, no gloves, no nothing.

“Oh” I remembered “And you will need a watering can.” “Don’t worry” said Nancy “I’ve got one.”

This is the watering can.  A pink flamingo.  The water comes out of a hole half up its beak. Interesting.

We will have to get a more substantial one, once we get going and the border is planted. But in the meantime, this cheeky chap will be just perfect.

Cope

Prunus × incam 'Okamé'

Prunus × incam ‘Okamé’ is just a babe, no more than 30cm tall, but that hasn’t stopped it flowering prolifically.  It was enjoying the spring sunshine today as much as I was, and that was a great deal.  After last night’s riotous, window-shaking, sleep-depriving storm it was all the more appreciated.  It seems that calm can follow as well as lead. This flowering cherry will reach 4m-8m in height given ideal conditions. The thought of a tree that size, fully clad in these pretty pink blooms is almost too much to cope with.  But I will be brave.  I will manage.

Some Daffs for St David

Daffodils

I would like to wish a happy St David’s Day to you lot across the water.  Yes, you know who I mean. The Welsh from Wales.  On a clear day I can see your shores from my window; the mystical islands of Worms Head, the fabled Pembrokeshire coast and its equally gorgeous sister, the Gower peninsula. Misty lands that come and go with the weather.  Sometimes I wonder who is looking back at me.  Then I pull the curtains.

Efallai y bydd eich cennin Pedr yn sefyll tal a bod eich cennin byth yn rhydu. Hapus Dydd Gŵyl Dewi!*

* If it is nonsense I blame Google translate!

Rubble

img_7406

It wasn’t anything like this today.  In fact it was pretty much as opposite as you could get.  The day was suffering from multiple personality disorder.  Torrential rain, hail and wind, with the odd teasing glimmer of sun and rainbow.

Today was due to be my first visit to a new client, a job I am looking forward to very much. Because of the unfortunate weather, I was forced to cancel our appointment.  This client is not altogether a stranger.  Those of you who have been paying attention will remember that a few months ago I started having singing lessons.  Ever the opportunist, this new client is my singing teacher.  Although I restrained myself for a while, eventually I couldn’t resist saying, in the nicest possible way, “you really have got to sort your garden out”.  Luckily she agreed.  We will be beginning in the front garden, “garden” however is an exaggeration. This space is overlooked by the kitchen-dinning area where the family spend much of their time.  It is also gazed upon by us warblers, through the large expanse of window which forms almost one wall of her music room. At present this outdoor space is comprised of a newly turfed area edged by a paving path on one side and a white wall on the other.  Full stop.  That is it.  Not one plant, and I am not counting the scrappy, uneven grass. The style of the rear garden is largely similar.

My singing teacher is wonderful.  Her home is full of colour and character, just like her, so why should her garden be so deathly dull?  The answer is, she doesn’t know what to do, she is scared of failure and she thinks it is beyond her.  This confident and talented woman says things like “but I will kill them”.  I suppose it is the equivalent of me saying “I won’t be able to sing that” or “reach that note”.  My job will be to convince her that not only can she make her own very personal garden, but enjoy creating and maintaining it.

So we are planning a garden full of colour; fuchsia pinks, sunshine yellows, cherry reds, big bright and beautiful!  We are going to grow cerise sweet peas, burnt orange escholtzia and golden marigolds from seed.  There will be cactus dahlias, Penstemon ‘Garnet’, beefy blood red opium poppies and Rudbeckia ‘Goldstrum’.  The walls will be painted, the plants will spill and clash and anarchy will reign.

But first it has has to stop raining and then we have to get all that builder’s rubble out of the soil, so as they say, watch this space …..