Oh but wasn’t I right – as the nights draw in we wistfully reminisce about the long hot summer of 2018. Get over it! Time to move on! And move on we have; half the garden is enjoying the extrovert opulence of autumn and half, well, the other half has been dug up! The prospect of a year out of charity open days and competitions (more of that later) has been liberating to say the least.
Armed with my WW1 trenching tool and my shiny new rabbiting spade no clay is too impervious to the dislodgement (new word that) of plants that have either outstayed their welcome or aren’t earning their keep. Funny thing, the more plants I dig up the more opportunities I see. If I keep on going like this there won’t be a perennial left standing in the borders. That’s not to say I’m discarding them, on the contrary, I’m dividing them and potting them on so that I can relocate them next spring where they can create more impact. Shrubs are another matter: gone for good are fuchsia magelanica Alba, replaced by viburnum Mariesii, cotinus coggygria Royal Purple giving way to photinia Pink Crispy, Kilmarnock willow in favour of red stemmed contorted willow, and as soon as its stops raining elaeagnus Limelight gets it. From the patio, miniature ornamental cherry Kojo-No-Mai and hydrangea King George are off down the road to a friend’s woodland garden, and hydrangea Zorro Pink off up the road to NGS fellow Rosie. Along with two large containers that displayed annual climbers this summer I have now created five new planting opportunities to savour over the coming winter months.
And so to this summer’s star performers:
T&M Ricinus Impala. Transformation from seed to 4ft triffid in 20 weeks, withstanding the exposed north winds of our front garden and roof terrace. Real show stopper.
Salvia Involucrata Boutin. Not reliably hardy? Well if it managed to get through last winter in North London I’d say take the risk. In its third year outside now, all I’ve done to protect it is to cut the stems down to about 45cms and mulch deeply around the crown. Right now it’s at its peak, unrestrained; it’s the size of a small country! Arching spires of bright magenta flowers reaching 7ft high. Overall span in excess of 8ft with neighbouring plants intermingling through its loose habit. And so easy to take cuttings.
Salvia Confertiflora with rudbeckias Prairie Glow & Goldsturm and patrinia scabiosifolia. My embroidery teacher (yes, well, I’ve got ‘O’ level Embroidery as it happens) always believed that red and yellow should never be seen together. Well you’re so wrong!
Salvia Black and Blue with rudbeckia Prairie Glow. Accidental pairing in the potting area will become next year’s most striking combination.
Coleus Campfire with Ipomoea Black Tone and Solar Power Green.
T & M begonias. If I could only buy one plant from T & M it would be begonia. This year Solenia Apricot, Non Stop Mocca, Fragrant Falls Orange Delight. Easy to grow plugs, extensive and prolific flowering habit, versatile placement, reliable tubers for overwintering. Can never have too many.
Having almost given up on the greenhouse tomatoes ever ripening, I am now relieved to report that T&M trials of Sweet Baby, Artisan Mixed and Rainbow Blend were, er, marginally successful in the end. Although all three varieties were deliciously tart, the skins of Artisan and Rainbow were quite thick. I feel vindicated as other growers have experienced similar results even after judicious feeding and regular watering, so I recon it’s to do with the excessive heat. Bound to be some chemical explanation available somewhere. Cucumber Nimrod supplied us with loads of fruits for weeks on end, so I came up with a lovely salad idea:
Thinly slice cucumbers, multi-coloured tomatoes, red onions and radishes.
No peeling, salting or draining required.
Marinate in French dressing overnight.
Not all my culinary efforts have been so fruitful (boom boom!) Apples and pears on the allotment have been few and far between this autumn, no plums at all, but plenty of tiny sweet bunches of black grapes. Pride certainly comes before a fall. After bragging about my blackberry jam triumph in my last blog, not so with grape jelly this time! Having followed the recipe to the letter, sterilised everything, bought muslin cloth and a thermometer, it failed to set. Boiled it up again, sterilised everything again, still didn’t set. Five jars of deeply rich grape syrup anyone? Not one to admit defeat, certainly with no intention of wasting it, I am poaching nectarines to preserve in the syrup instead. Job done!
……..And talking of competitions, The London Gardens Society All London Championship Awards 2018 were held at The Guildhall, City of London last Thursday evening. David & I were shortlisted for the Best Small Back Garden, Diane for the Best Large Back Garden and Rosie for Best Patio. Having both won the cup two years running in our respective categories, Diane and I entered the hall with severe trepidation: dark thoughts of rivalry and one-upmanship bubbled away at the prospect of Diane scoring a hat trick and us not. How was I to be her friend anymore should that come to pass? (I’ve already had to reign in my canna envy – she does nothing to them from year to year I tell you, and they are still the tallest I’ve ever seen in a domestic garden and in pots at that!) Well readers, as it happens WE BOTH RETAINED OUR TITLES so all was well. Haha! Rosie won a silver medal in Best Patio category (she was robbed!) and we won bronze in the Best Small Front Garden class (must try harder) so celebrations all round.
With autumn in full swing now thoughts are turning to next year’s horticultural activities and challenges. Plans are already underway for our Hampstead Garden Suburb Hort Soc three day coach trip to Hampshire and the Isle of Wight next July. A week later the Hort Soc is having its second National Garden Scheme Group Open Day with twelve gardens and one allotment this time. Having said that we were not opening our garden next year, I think it highly likely that David and I will have a pop-up Open Day in aid of the London Gardens Society, but not until late summer. I am so looking forward to being able to make radical changes without having to face deadlines, so that NGS visitors can return in 2020 to rejuvenated and innovative planting schemes. I can’t believe that I’m anticipating two years hence, and being of a superstitious nature, I say all this with my fingers firmly crossed behind my back (quite a feat if you’re typing) with the caveat that We Make Plans and Fate Laughs.
So here we are in early August, it’s 33c outside, and I’m making blackberry jam! What on earth is going on? No sooner had the strawberries finished fruiting than the blackberries were ripe for picking! Is it me or has there been a worldwide conspiracy perpetuating the mysteries of jam making? 10 minutes, some jam sugar and fruit and it’s done. How simple was that. I’ve even gone on to make blackberry coulis. No doubt the apples will be rotting off the trees by the end of the month so I’ll try my luck at Apple Cheese. Blackberry and apple pie in a heatwave is just a bridge too far.
As we enjoy a glorious respite in the garden I’m reflecting upon our eventful summer: first our Hort Soc coach trip to Kent and East Sussex, then Thompson & Morgan Press Open Day, followed by our NGS Open Day hot on the heels of the London Gardens Society competition.
Amazing trees at Goodnestone Park Gardens
On July 1st, 29 of us set off on our three day Jolly amid gardens great and small, no responsibilities, no driving, no phone calls, no housework, no gardening. Yikes, what about the watering? Our irrigation system (aka leaky hose, some lengths leakier than others, due to careless forkage) only runs along the back of the borders. The central island bed, fernery, front borders and containers all need daily watering, if not twice daily. (Yeah, I know, Right Plant Right Place, but what exactly constitutes The Right Plant for this searing heat in clay soil, eh?) Patio no problem; the veterinary nurse who comes in to minister to ours cats’ needs (go on, say it, They Have Their Own Nurse Maid?) was happy to water. But the garden beyond is out of bounds (my Dearly Beloved bolts the gate with an iron bar to ward off intruders) so at the eleventh hour, he managed to rig up a timer onto our oscillating sprinkler (had to look that up, I had no idea what those up-and-over sprinklers were called, did you?). Next decision: which part of the border gets lucky? In the end we opted for the hot border that was about to come into flower and all was well.
T&M Press day!
A couple of weeks later, as T&M plant triallists, we were invited to attend Press Day, held at RHS Hyde Hall. T&M’s new show ground is so breathtakingly colourful that surely you could see the floral displays from space. Swathes of vibrant flowers and foliage to inspire and motivate you. A new range of echinacea, improved alstroemerias, petunias and begonias. And of course hydrangea ‘Runaway Bride Snow White’, winner of Chelsea Flower Show Plant of the Year 2018. New trends for 2019 include Climate Gardening, Stress Relief and Extending Summer. Venerable British gardening writer and TV broadcaster Peter Seabrook was there (I do love a celebrity, don’t you) to present an award to T&M’s very own veg guru, Colin Randell for 50 years in the horticultural industry. Most of all though it was lovely to meet the team and talk about future plans.
Ready for NGS and looking great!
Back on the home front, it was time to start preparing the garden for the London Garden Society judges and NGS Open Day visitors alike, and that included filling the gaps that I had left for some last minute judicious planting. And boy, did I heal’em in! The long awaited day of the annual Chenies Manor Plant Fair dawned. Over 30c it was, quite hideous in fact, but did it put me off, no way. Plants were purchased and abandoned for collection later by my long suffering DB (David Broome/Dearly Beloved – get it!?) Such is my bewildering sense of direction I had to photograph the plant stalls on my phone so that we could find them again later! A sudden urge to redesign the planting on the roof terrace meant loads of new grasses and red hot pokers. I felt sorry for the plantsman who was selling the elusive willowy rudbeckia Prairie Glow; I swooped upon him with such excitement he must have thought I was unhinged. Friends Yvonne and Marjorie, clearly also in the throes of plant lust, filled up the car with their finds until it steamed up. The back seat was dominated by towering lythrum, showering its flowers like confetti in an attempt to pollinate the upholstery.
The drying barn at Great Dixter & Hydrangea ‘True Blue’ at Goodestone
Long story short, after weeks and weeks of subtropical temperatures, the day before our NGS Open Day the heavens opened, the winds blew. Saturday morning I was out there in my babydolls, staking and stringing up the wayward thalictrum, filipendula, lythrum. (Felt like stringing myself up actually.) Having baked cakes all the previous week, max temp 35c, and bought a glass drinks dispenser with tap to serve elderflower cordial (for visitors) and Pimms (for after party-party-party), come the morning in question it was heavy rain, thick cloud and gusty wind! Bitter sweet or what? I’m not bitter…..Two cakes stayed in the freezer and out came the tea urn. (Why oh why is there always one visitor who wants decaffeinated tea?) But by 2pm opening time it had cleared and in point of fact the general consensus was that cool air had brought the visitors out whereas 90c would have kept them away. Could have done with those two cakes an’all. Still, you never can tell. 120 visitors, £1000 donated to NGS charities. Result!
The very next day the heat wave resumed and here we are in August, enjoying the slower pace of school holidays: roads and back gardens are quiet, parking is a joy, watering goes on and on. After such intense preparation I feel as if I’m neglecting the garden but in truth, apart from regular deadheading, feeding and watering, its doing its own thing quite happily with the minimum of intervention. Actually I feel like a spare part.
One or two loose ends. I regret to admit that as far as T&M trial tomatoes are concerned there’s not an awful lot to report. Despite the better light levels, regular feeding, damping down and watering in the greenhouse, I have about a grand total of half a dozen trusses resulting from six cordons. And they are climbing out of the window! Cucumber Nimrod is another story – lovely fruits and loads more to come. I have managed to make a gazpacho so all is not lost.
More by luck than judgement my patio theme 2018 has been very definitely Red! Red T&M begonias – what was I going to do with 36 Non Stop Mocca red begonias? No problem, they are everywhere, front and back, punctuating all the container displays – red thalia fuchsias, red salvias, red cannas, red coleus Campfire, red ricinus communis, red seat cushions, red framed wooden wall art, red hose and watering can even. Of course when it came to the LGS judge’s observation that this simple colour theme was strikingly effective in it simplicity, I had to concur, didn’t I.
And finally…..on our aforementioned coach trip we visited fellow T&M triallist Geoff Stonebanks’ Driftwood garden in Seaford. What a showman, a great host with a larger than life garden, with quirky plants and ornamentals everywhere. No wonder he’s been so successful in his charity fundraising. Well done Geoff, keep up the good work. We’re having a year off next year. Eat your heart out!
The Summer of 2018 will be remembered with mixed feelings, but one thing’s for sure, once the heatwave has gone and the nights start drawing in, we’ll miss it, you know.
I have this fantasy image of myself in diaphanous summer dress, wandering around my garden with a woven willow trug and floral secateurs, in the hazy lazy afternoon sunshine, listening to the soporific buzzing of the bees, whilst gently snipping deadheads off my beautiful pristine roses. STOP! I’m actually crawling around the borders on my knees peering at the shredded foliage of the edging plants caused by my Dearly Beloved pressure washing the paths.
Having recently swelled with optimism at the pronouncement that spraying diluted garlic solution on hostas repels slugs and snails, despondency came in the form of leaf shredding pigeons and a leaf nibbling Oriental called Fred (cat, silly!), clearly neither species in the slightest bit phased by garlic fumes.
T & M Foxgloves Illumination Flame have disappeared under the filipendula seemingly in a matter of hours after planting in a suitable gap. The astrantia has crawled all over the dicentra and alchemilla molis. Such an unassuming plant, huh, roots like thatch, needed the WW1 trenching tool to hack some clumps out of the soil along with all the daffodil bulbs. Looks totally decimated, should have left well alone. Talking of daffodils, the wretched things bloomed so late that their leaves will be sprawling all over the place until end June if I want any flowers next Spring. All the phormiums died so out came the trenching tool yet again to prise them out. Why can’t the shallow rooted plants die?
Why oh why does the salix integra hakuro nishiki morph into a thatched beach parasol just as the perennial ground cover starts to really take off underneath? The time had come, the time that I dread beyond all other times, to let David loose on the hedge trimmer. Always a row first about methodology and a row afterwards about clearing up.
….And breathe! Well, the worst is over. Today’s somewhat less contentious task was to get the plant loops and stakes into the melee of jostling perennials before everything toppled over. I know I say this every year, but the roses are going to be spectacular. I’ve never seem such prolific sprays of buds, their branches in serious danger of collapse from the weight. And the T&M tree lilies (at least 6 years old now) are in bud already. They don’t usually flower until our NGS Open Day end July, another potential worry then. I put all this growth acceleration down to the recent tropical storms followed by hot humid sunshine. By the way, how many of you watched the eerily soundless lightning storm a couple of Saturday nights ago and thought of War of the Worlds? But lightning is supposed to be good for the garden; it fixes nitrogen into the soil or something like that. (Please feel free to correct me if I am way off the mark.)
So having finally planted up all the patio containers and baskets – T&M begonia Non-Stop Mocca red, Solenia Apricot, Fragrant Falls Orange Delight and petunia Suzie Storm – we turned our attention to the garden accessories. Tatty old white cast iron table and chairs are now subtle sage green, shady fencing where nothing will grow now adorned with pale grey framed mirror, with added bonus of bouncing light back into dingy border as well as reflecting bright sunny border opposite. All planned of course! The driftwood fence is up and is a real feature, a perfect backdrop to ferns, heucheras and a brand new acer. Which brings to mind What Does Good Taste Actually Mean? A certain celebrity gardener (famous parents, you know who you are!) opined to readers of his column in one Sunday paper, that whilst lime green foliage was a characteristic Spring charmer, ideal for lifting shady areas, to mix it with purple foliage, or perish the thought, silver, was a bridge way too far! Well I DON’T CARE. I love my limes and purples and oranges So There! And to celebrate the subjectivity of Good Taste I have created a window box of contrasts: bronze coleus Campfire, lime green ipomoea and black ipomoea, dichondra Silver Falls and lysimachia nummularia Aurea!
Here we are again, coming into the height of the gardening season. What better way to spend a Sunday than by visiting other NGS Open Gardens, talking plants, eating cake and oohing and ahhing at unusual and innovative schemes that you wish you had come up with first. The first week of June was NGS Festival Weekend and so we spent a leisurely Sunday visiting three of my gardens (i.e. gardens under my watch as local Assistant County Organiser.) Marjorie’s small but perfectly formed cottage garden in Hampstead Garden Suburb, full of hidden pathways clothed in old roses and clematis; Sandra’s sweeping lawns, leading to a glamorous sunken pool area surrounded by tropical raised beds and swathes of bamboo, a world away from Finchley Central! Ian and Michael’s Oakwood garden, transformed in two years from traditional lawn to terraced decking, exotic architectural planting, water features and pergola, worthy of Chelsea Flower Show. We truly are a nation of gardeners.
Talking of Chelsea, first time in twenty years, I went this year: RHS Members’ Day Tuesday. Not wishing to sound churlish, I was quite sceptical about how much I would enjoy it, as last time I barely saw the show gardens for crowds five deep in front of me and the old tented plant pavilion was sticky hot, cramped and made my hair frizz up! So I am delighted to report that I thoroughly enjoyed it. The fun started on the previous Sunday when my Chelsea companion Rosie came over with the programme, and we sat on the patio for a happy hour, drinking strawberry laden prosecco, whilst marking up our route in order of preference. Large show gardens first, then refreshments, Space to Grow show gardens, Great Pavilion, more refreshments, and back again, followed by Artisan show gardens, refreshments and finally, when I didn’t care if ever saw another plant again as long as I lived, the trade stands. Sunny day, the right dress, comfortable shoes and a hands free shoulder bag made manoeuvring through the crowds virtually painless. My highlights? Matt Keightley’s’s Feel Good Garden, currently being recreated down the road from here, for patients and staff at Highgate NHS Mental Health Centre. In the Great Pavilion, Tom Stuart-Smith created a garden for Garfield Weston Foundation, all shapes, sizes, textures and shades of green, green, green. Cool, tranquil magic. I could live there. Favourite plants? Evolution Group hellebore hybrids and variegated hellebores, rosa Jacqueline Du Pré and new Solomon’s Seal varieties. And of the trade stands, a pair of huge wire mesh boxing hares.
And even after looking at all that perfection, I was still happy to return to my own plot. I’ve fallen in love with our garden all over again this Spring. It never ceases to surprise, delight and challenge me. Until the next horticultural trauma, that is.…………..Happy gardening.
So on Thursday 19th April we went away for The Long Weekend (more of that later). 27ᵒc. Evidence of new shoots emerging in garden at last. Daffodils coming into bloom. Last minute seed sowing completed.
Fast forward to Sunday 22nd, 24ᵒc, daffs gone over, tulips out already! Fern coils, emerging from the soil, now 12” tall; hostas, from spears to full leaf in three days; ricinus seedlings sown on Wednesday, up 4”. Woodruff marching all over the central bed and helianthus Lemon Queen rampaging through the tubs on the roof terrace.
And now, one week later, 13ᵒc. If the plants knew how to retract their foliage, now would be the ideal time. My poor cannas, liberated from under cover one minute, back inside the next. Greenhouse needs a revolving door.
Still, undeterred, I’ve been keeping busy (and active, just to keep warm) in the greenhouse, potting on all the T&M Trial seeds: tomatoes Artisan, Rainbow Blend & Sweet Baby and cucumber Nimrod (100% germination – note to self: need a polytunnel!), ricinus (4 out of 6 seeds germinated), mina lobata (supposed to be so easy, eh? 4 out of 16 seeds germinated, huh!) & cerinthe Purple Belle (5 out of 10 seeds germinated). Rooted cuttings of fuchsia thymifolia, erysimum Bowles Mauve and salvias Confertiflora and Involucrata are sulking now that I have switched off the propagators. Jumbo plugs Petunia Sweetunia Suzie Storm are storming ahead (ha, got it?) as are Begonia Fragrant Falls Orange Delight and Solenia Apricot, but I’ve lost over a third of my 36 Begonia Non-Stop Mocca cartridge plugs; I think I’ll stick to the larger plugs in future. What exactly was I going to do with 3 dozen of them anyway? Prize for the Greatest Endeavour goes to Foxglove Illumination Flame, already potted on twice and ready for planting out after all risk of frost has passed. (August maybe?)
What a learning curve this winter has been though, seriously. Plants I felt sure would perish, such as salvias involucrata Boutin and Black & Blue, are up and about, whilst other more robust shrubby salvias, deadski as one New Yorker friend used to say. Melianthus major and fuchsia thymifolia are resurrected from the depths of the earth, while I’ve managed to lose lamium. Who could kill that? Just shows how crucial it is to apply thick autumn mulch. That, coupled with the T&M plastic tomato rings, has saved the day. To that end, I carried out a controlled experiment: two agastache Golden Jubilee with ring surrounds and one without. (In truth a happy accident, as one of the rings was blown away in a gale). All three survived, however the unprotected one is markedly smaller at this stage in the game.
Ascot Spring Gardening Show
We’ve been getting out and about. The new Ascot Spring Gardening Show mid-April was a real treat, especially as it wasn’t actually raining or snowing for once. Much larger than I had anticipated, there was a Plant Village with about 3 dozen specialist nurseries, and as Spring is my favourite time of year (hmmm, usually…) the array of pulmonaria, brunnera and ferns was right up my street. Good job there was a Plant Crèche too! There were six show gardens from established designers and six created by talented horticultural students for the Young Gardeners of the Year Competition, horticultural trade exhibitors, and a programme of free talks, as well as floral demos by royal florist Simon Lycett.
So, to the birthday celebration weekend in Norfolk, bathed in glorious 28ᵒc sunshine, so brief but so welcome. (Enshrined in the canon of clichés since the 1730s, George II is supposed to have characterized the British summer as “three fine days and a thunderstorm”.) We had a lovely time; the boutique hotel was very shishi, the food surely cooked by a Master Chef finalist, and the two resident cats begrudgingly graced us with their presence. At Sandringham, my new concessionary status saved me £2 on the entry fee. But it was the Norfolk Nursery Network that was the highlight for me. Poor David, destined to languish, with all the other bored partners, in the café of one such nursery, while I ran around semi-hysterical, swooping up such gems as clianthus puniceus (Lobster Claw climber), nepeta Six Hills Gold (variegated version of Giant) and centurea pulchra Major (pink thistle to the uninitiated), clematis recta purpurea and geum coccineam EOS. Pure Joy. Where are they going to go? Who cares! Mind you, David satisfied his craving for buying Souvenirs That Seem like a Good Idea At The time. In Southwold he got some funny looks as we strolled around the town centre, swinging an anchor from his shoulder, (it’s for our Beech Hut Summer House, silly) and in Swaffham it was a rusty old petrol can. (I stand corrected – it’s Vintage apparently. Heaven knows what he’s got in store for that!)
Another highlight was our visit to Holkham Hall to see the 6 acre walled garden, surely the largest in England. An exciting project is underway to restore the walled garden which was originally laid out by Samuel Wyatt during the late 1700s. Huge greenhouses adjacent to the substantial walls, others sunken to avoid extreme temperature fluctuations; an ‘Arena’ of plants, vineyard, kitchen garden, one ‘room’ complete with lawn surrounded by ornamental beds. A veritable work in progress with knowledgeable guides and a team of local volunteers. How I wish I could have rolled up my sleeves and joined in. Nearby Gooderstone Water Gardens was a haven of tranquility: One Man’s Dream fulfilled. Billy Knights, a retired farmer, began designing and creating the Water Gardens in 1970 in his 70th year, on a damp site too wet to grace cattle. He worked on his garden until he died aged 93.
Inspiration was another thing we brought back from Norfolk. Driftwood is very prevalent in the coastal gardens of East Anglia, and so on the patio, our multistriped fence will be transformed into a driftwood groyne, engineered from old scaffold planks. Mercifully the stripy bench has now fallen apart (nasty looking thing) to be replaced by a stylish (by that I mean subtle, not a concept usually associated with us Broomes) bleached wooden bench.
The weather forecast is set fair from early May so maybe now I can get on and do some actual gardening! There’s the new plants to go in, the overwintered ones to go back out. The hardstanding is smothered in slippery moss but the reclaimed sets are too delicate for pressure washing, so its hands and knees time. The rill is fowl – full of pond weed, rotting leaves and stagnant water, but also full of tadpoles so no action required for now. The living wall needs replanting. The hanging baskets need filling.
And so it goes on……..Happy gardening! Love, Caroline
So I wasn’t far out about snowfall on Feb 20th, wasn’t I? I had a bad feeling…..BUT NOT THIS BAD!
Would you believe it, yesterday I was on the allotment pruning the blackberry hedge in my shirt sleeves and today I’m back in my thermals! I’m not sure my nerves can stand it! During the first week-long whiteout I kept sidling out with increasing trepidation to check on the plants: indications are malianthus major & fuchsia mycrophylla have succumbed and the small shrubby salvias look a bit too crisp for my liking. Time will tell. I’m panicking now; less than four months until the London Garden Society competition and NGS Open Day. And no plant hunting expeditions (to Enfield – does that count?) yet this season either – I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. Mind you, we are off to Southwold in Suffolk soon, host to many a specialist nursery, so I shall be able to feed my plant buying habit to the extreme, as I am sure that EVERYTHING OUTSIDE IS DEAD.
Meanwhile back in the garden…..the frogs have been at it again! Disgusting! It’s like the West End on a Saturday night out there. Obviously trying to make up for lost time between bouts of extreme weather, the frogs have been – how shall I put this – prolific. You could see the water rippling away from the upstairs windows day and night! I hope the spawn isn’t spoiled by this RIDICULOUS snow fest. To whom do I address my complaint?
We’ve been enjoying watching the birdies, not much else to do, let’s face it! We’ve got a pair of gold finches now to add to the other couples. It’s getting a bit like Noah’s Ark with the onset of Spring (haha really?). Blue tits, great tits, long tailed tits, coal tits. (Who knew there were so many different types of tit?) Robins, dunnocks, blackbirds, wrens. We even have a devoted pair of collared doves alongside a pair of feral pigeons. (They don’t mix, not in the same class I’m afraid). No sign of the mice this year but Cyril the Squirrel is a regular.
So on a more horticultural note; I’ve been sowing my T&M seeds already. Tomatoes Rainbow Blend, Artisan and Sweet Baby. Had to put my specs on as I couldn’t see the seeds; at six in a packet you can’t afford for them to go astray. Cerinthe major and ricinus communis are more like my kinda seeds, BIG. All in the propagators in suspended animation, no doubt due to this ICE AGE! Last year’s overwintered T&M begonia tubers are romping away, so robust are they that I have been able to take them out of the propagators to fend for themselves. (Interesting aside: Apricot Shades are way ahead of Non Stop Mocca.) My T&M foxglove Illumination Flame plugs arrived today. After I had stopped laughing hysterically, I had to admit that they are lovely plump jumbo plugs, so I shall force myself into the FREEZING COLD greenhouse to pot them up without delay.
To those of you patient enough to wait until end April/ early May to see if their late developing perennials have survived, I offer my admiration and wish you luck. I think I’ll hedge my bets: if there aren’t any further signs of life by Easter, I shall dig’em up and stick‘em in pots before replacing them with LOVELY NEW ALTERNATIVES. The list includes small shrubby salvias, penstemons & erysimums. There are exceptions: Having protected my favourite tender plants, agastache Golden Jubilee, salvias Black & Blue and Amistad, with T&M plastic auto watering collars, filled to the brim with mulch over winter, I was delighted to see that new growth was coming through. That is, until this morning, when they were once again covered with snow. So now we wait and see….I shall be heartbroken if they die after such a promising comeback.
I was asked recently, Which was more important to me: The garden, my husband or my cats? Well, let’s put it like this: If Everything In The Garden Is Lovely then all is well with husband and cats. So you can only imagine what a nightmare my household is at the moment! I am to be found stalking around irritably mumbling about the irony of Global Warming, whilst my Dearly Beloved thinks it’s HILARIOUS to recite the latest weather forecast on the hour. And I was doing so well too. Roses done, clematis done, hydrangeas and fuchsias done (oh woe is me). I finally surrendered to my impatience and cut back last year’s canna foliage, only to watch helplessly as their stumps and new shoots turned to mush in the ensuing snow. The consequences of this unwelcome weather will spread far and wide, as do I. By now I have usually burned off my winter weight through copious activity in the garden (not to be confused with the frogs). Not so this year. I want to be 60kgs on my 60th birthday (20th April – same day as Adolf Hitler) so there is work to be done.
In conclusion, I grudgingly admit that some parts of the garden have been greatly enhanced by the snow. The coloured dogwood stems really stand out (hadn’t got round to pruning them yet, thank goodness). T & M cornus Winter Flame (Winter 2012/3 trials) sets off mahonia Soft Caress and sorbaria Seb a treat under the apple tree. Snow dusts the pittosporum Tom Thumb like icing sugar, and the tracing along the ancient limbs of the lilac looks positively architectural darhling! T&M bulbs chionodoxa (or scilla- which is which?) are thoroughly enjoying this weather, as their name would suggest, Glory of The Snow! And in the front garden, David’s installation of The Magic Tap water feature has caused consternation amongst the local children.
I shall leave you to ponder the following: if it carries on like this you can use your leftover Christmas cards as Easter greetings.