Six on Saturday – Dyb, Dyb, Dyb


I’m prepared this week.  No last-minute rush, all is calm and in control, just like a girl guide.  In real life I didn’t make it to the heady heights of girl guidom, but I was in the brownies, who quite frankly take anyone.  I can’t remember much of our exploits except there was a curiously large plastic mushroom placed in the middle of the room at all our gatherings.   Like many of my fellow gang members, my arm was bedecked with various badges.  Unfortunately they weren’t cool and sophisticated subjects in those days, no Inventing, or Aviation or Zero Waste.   Possibly there was Crocheting Toilet Roll Covers and Defrosting Arctic Rolls, although I can’t be certain.  The only one I remember for certain was the music badge.  Perhaps too well.  “What is this instrument?” the examiner asked pointing at a picture, “A bass” I replied.  “Can you be more specific?”.  I was puzzled, very puzzled, what could this highly technical terminology be.   I had studied my Ladybird book The Story of Music from back to front and front to back, I had been confident I had all subjects covered.  But I was flummoxed  No light bulb moments.  Eventually after much furrowed browing (which I blame for my present wrinkle predicament), some uming and a far amount of ahing, I conceded I didn’t know.  She made a terse note on her clipboard.  Now a little uncertain of myself, I went on to play my recorder solo, possibly a rendition of Handel’s Water Music, more likely Frère Jacques, as I say my memory is hazy.  It turns out this mystery instrument is called a “double bass”.  Give the gal a break!  And yes, I am still bitter.  And yes, I did get my badge.  And yes, it is time I moved on.

Seems I have wandered off the track once more.  I will lose my trekking award.  Back to the task in hand, which is Six on Saturday.  An event where billions of people from across the galaxy feature six items from their gardens, or an approximation on this theme, in a humongous horticultural jamboree.  If you wish to get your SoS arm badge then pop on over to our Akela’s site and you can discover much more, including the words to She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain which you will need for a sing-song later.

First we have a viola which is still in its reticent stage.  Each year is the same.  I plant them with great verve and expectation, praising and naming them with great aplomb No. 1 in my top ten of winter bedding.  Then they sit there. *time passes* Any flowers that deign to show their cutsie faces are nibbled by slugs in their overcoats, they grow lank and dishevelled.  *time passes*  Then eventually they wake up, read the contract and get into giving us a great display just when we are thinking about changing the display.  We are still at stage 2, although this little chap has avoided mollusc attack so deserves a show and tell.

Lamprocapnos spectabile 'Valentine'

Next we have the emerging foliage of Lamprocapnos spectabile ‘Valentine’,  or Dicentra specabilis ‘Valentine’ to those who knew it in its previous incarnation.  They are perfect in their infancy.  Scattered around are leaves from the large shrubby phlomis that shades it, torn off in the recent high winds.

Lillium 'Casa Blanca'

Now we have the first showing of the diva Lilium ‘Casa Blanca’.  This majestic lily was a gift from my favourite heckler.    I don’t wish to ruin his reputation so he will remain anonymous.


Who invited you to the party?


Onto the emerging leaves of Potentilla ‘Lady Mantle’.  This name has yet to be officially accepted by the Royal Horticultural Society.   Which is mainly because I dug a piece out of her ladyship’s garden and ran home with the hounds snapping at my ankles.  Without label naturellement.


Lastly a flower which is not in my garden, but it will be soon.  This beautiful camellia bloom belongs to our neighbour.  Soon, when it has bored of being splendid, it will drop over the wall onto the path that leads to our front door.   I think it is quite fair that I can share in its loveliness, the fee being that I will clear up the deceased.

There we go, six done and dusted.  Dyb, dyb, dyb, dob, dob, dob.



Today at Button Moon was a day of digging holes.  Big holes, little holes, medium sized holes.   Some awkward roots and slates, some easy passages.  Luckily I was armed with a golden spade, it made life much easier.  Everyone should have a golden spade, even if you haven’t got golden boots.  Into these holes I planted a pot bound camellia, three Heuchera ‘Marmalade’, a Viburnum tinus and Rhododendron ‘Horizon Monarch’.  Grow, grow, grow!

This osteospermum needs no encouragement.  Some might say it needs to calm down a little.  Not me.  I say “grow, grow, grow!”

Six on Saturday – Foreign Correspondent


Never say that I am not dedicated to the Six on Saturday cause.  In fact, Mr P, at the risk of blowing my own tuba, I think I deserve a special platinum star on the chart for today.  Don’t know who the illustrious Propagator is? Pop over to his blog and you will find out all about SoS and discover lots of other deluded folk such as myself.  Back to the point in hand.  This weekend I have left my long suffering OH at home who is having to eat fry ups and drink beer and watch rugby all on his ownsome.  He wont have the joy of someone singing along to all the anthems, where correct words or even language is of little consequence.  Neither will he have to share his crisps or feign interest when I tell him another of my riveting stories just as a vital penalty is being taken.  And later he can channel flick without fear of disapproving tuts.

I have traveled to another country, the ancient realm which is known as Welsh Wales.  Actually it is only known as this to people who don’t speak correctly and get Wells in Somerset confused with our Celtic neighbours.  Such as myself.  For those of you unfamiliar with this land, let me enlighten you.  It’s famous sons include the great king Owain Glyndŵr, Tom Jones and Ifor the Engine.  It is a land of green valleys, stunning coastlines, noble castles and The Edifice.  And my Mum.  And as tomorrow is Mothers’ Day, here I am, dutiful daughter.

These photos were taken either in Mum’s garden or close by.  I seldom venture out there these days as she employs a gardener from April to October.  I like to call this imposter “The Other Garden Woman”.  There is no need for me anymore (sob).

Let us begin with some crocuses (croci?) that are huddled in a corner of the garden.  Quite happily getting on with the job of being a crocus without the, possibly unwanted, attention of gawping humans.  Until today.

Next we have some catkins, I took this on my way to the shop to get some milk and other essentials.  Yes, wine and sausages, you guessed it.  I meandered a little off the path, which is par for the course.

Now we have a heuchera which I probably bought at some point.  Not a clue what it is called.  Rather nice though.

This mini-hebe was looking wonderful today.  Perhaps because these photos were taken on my camera, the colour isn’t as true as I would have liked it to be.  Luminous green, splendid.

“You must include the camellia. ” As you know, I always do as I am told.

And lastly, a primula gift from little old me.  It’s called Zebra.  I do love zebras.

Thanks for hosting Mr P,  as for next week, well its looking unlikely.  Don’t forget to update the chart!


Garden Poker


I will match your brambles, couch grass and let-loose mint with an attentive robin, sweet winter box and a golden bossed camellia.  Then, just in case you imagined there was still a chance of winning, I will raise you one day of wall to wall sunshine.   I would fold if I were you.



What is better than the first camellia flower?

A glint of cerise catches your eye in the distance.  Abandoning your wheelbarrow you tentatively investigate, non negotiable curiosity drawing you towards a hint of something special.  In a scrappy hedge of hardy fuchsia, self seeded ash and buddleja, tucked in behind a lodge, the discovery of an up-to-now un-found camellia.  One crumpled lipstick bloom basking in the sporadic sunshine.