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.
So during the barren winter months one has to find other distractions to amuse oneself, such as eating and talking. At a recent lunch party (ooh, get her!) I found myself sitting with a retired geography teacher discussing the advantages and disadvantages of London clay in horticulture. (Cor, mixing in the social circles of North London takes a lot of beating!) Well you could have knocked me down with a feather! Did you know that the Pleistocene ice-sheets really did stop at Henly’s Corner* (which is the junction of the Finchley and North Circular Roads). I don’t know how I lived without that knowledge until now.
Spurred on by this revelation I decided it was high time to get back out there amongst said clay and welcome in the new gardening year. As always I venture out with an open mind, and in my thirst for knowledge I discovered two new techniques:
- It’s always better to hard prune when in a bad mood. After a particularly grim morning I decided to vent my spleen on the poor unsuspecting roses. What I ended up with were neat little 12” goblet shaped bushes, instead of the usual leggy specimens resulting from hedging my bets. Moving onto the deciduous shrubs, I faced down overgrown sambucus nigra and cotinus coggygria, rubbing alongside one another like reluctant bedfellows. Secateurs in hand, I pronounced, “You grow, you go,” before hard pruning the cotinus in favour of the sambucus. It’ll be the survival of the fittest. As the saying goes, “There’s no sentiment in business – or pruning”.
- Always hard prune ivy in the pouring rain. I dread this task because the dust from dried ivy invariably chokes the life out of me. However by happy accident I discovered that, whilst pruning in the rain may result in pneumonia, it does prevent asphyxiation.
Talking of gardening techniques, for those of you who are yoga junkies like wot I am, here are a few adaptations to poses that may come in handy whilst working in your garden:
- Yogi squat or Crow pose. Particularly useful for straining your Achilles tendon whilst pruning ground cover that has spread into the lawn edges.
- Warrior One. Stand upright, legs apart, neck at 90 degree angle to shoulders, arms stretched right out of sockets overhead, long loppers in hand, whilst attempting to chop off errant whips on ancient apple tree. Repeat several times then give up and assume Balasana or Childs Pose.
- Warrior Three. Great pose for pitching forward to grapple with tenacious clematis adhered to fence, whilst balancing on one leg in order to avoid trampling all over emerging bulbs and perennials in herbaceous border.
- Corpse Pose. At the end of every Practice it is customary to rest in Shevasana. Lie down on back and surrender yourself to Nature, finally acknowledging that She knows best and that you will try to work with her at every future opportunity.
Seriously though, after a couple of invigorating spring cleaning sessions in the brisk winter sunshine I am delighted to report that I have got my enthusiasm back. The garden has been tamed into submission; at least, I don’t cringe whenever I step outside now. (Look straight ahead, avoid eye contact with patio cannas, last year’s foliage hanging on like tattered rags.)
Day length is noticeably longer. Iris reticulata, winter aconites, crocus and snowdrops are blooming. Hellebores are in flower. Buds are swelling everywhere. Don’t you just love the tight, bright new shoots clustering in profusion on previously barren stems? Only trouble now is holding myself back from pruning less robust shrubs like fuchsia, abelia & hydrangea.
Looking forward, my T & M trial seeds have arrived! I’m being more realistic this year, trying to stick to plants I know I can grow – not into pushing the boundaries, too much like hard work – and at least I shall have something to report!
- Tomato Artisan Mixed. Having said that, I tried these last year but they didn’t germinate. Love the colours.
- Tomato Sweet Baby. Website description: Fabulous and Prolific. That’ll do for me.
- Tomato Rainbow Blend. Missed the boat on these last year as they were out of stock.
- Cucumber Nimrod F1. Never grown cucumbers from seed but intrigued by their All-Female scab resistance!
- Ricinus Communis Impala. Fab-u-lous accent plants. Majestic appearance makes them look difficult to grow (therefore feather in my cap). Easy peasy!
- Mina Lobata. Seeing as everyone always boasts about how easy these are to grow I thought I’d have a go. Previous miserable attempts to be ignored – hope over experience.
- Nasturtium ‘Orchid Flame’. Out of stock. Makes you want them even more.
Incidentally the Green Bin Men still haven’t been; that’s 7 weeks and counting. I put ours out last night (the bin, not the men…although.….) in eager anticipation, neighbours following suit shortly afterwards on the assumption that my being The Gardener on our road, I must be In “The Know”. No show. Am not even sure that the Bin Men know when they should return.
I leave you now with a caution: Refrain from thinking spring is on its way as it usually snows on Feb 20th.
*HENLY’S CORNER – IN THE ICE AGE By Helen O’Brien
What has become almost a local folk legend was confirmed recently (Blogger’s Note: 1979 actually. Still, extremely recent in the grand scheme of things) by the Geological Museum, in answer to a query prompted by current road improvement proposals. But the Finchley glacier did not, as popularly believed, come from the last glaciation but from a much earlier one, approximately a quarter of a million years ago – known, in English terminology, as the Anglian advance; or as the Mindel glaciation in the European Alpine sequence.
I’m just not feeling the love! Apart from sloping off to the greenhouse every few days to check on the cuttings (progress not great.) I’ve done nothing NOTHING, I TELL YOU! Oh the guilt! I’ve come up with every excuse: it’s too wet, too cold, too early, too late. Apart from one manic flurry of activity on 23 December, that’s it! Talking of which, having overstuffed our green bin within two hours of the last refuse collection for six weeks, it has now started to compost itself and has reduced in volume by a quarter!
Now, it’s not that the garden can’t wait – it’s hanging in a sort of suspended animation – it just feels odd not to have deadlines (self-imposed I grant you) to meet. Apart from the miscanthus, oh yes and the slimy brown kniphofia ribbons, which really could do with the chop now, the entire landscape is looking bedraggled and somehow in this dim January half-light, saps one’s enthusiasm. Due to lack of will, I never got round to pruning back the cannas on the patio and now I’m thinking I might as well leave them on as protection against inevitable cold snaps; if I cut them down all I’d end up doing is covering them with fleece anyway.
Nandina domestica & Nandina domestica ‘Twilight’
On a more positive note, I have managed to find the energy to fill up the numerous bird feeders regularly. Fussy eaters all, we have had to shop around for a particular seed mix and give away our existing supply to my mother (for her birds, not her, silly!) Mind you, seeing as she only lives 500 yards down the road, the very same birds may well chance upon this alternative food supply, only to turn their beaks up again. I have been desperate to spend some gift vouchers on a squirrel proof caged suet block feeder. Do you think I can find one? Out of stock everywhere. Still, as a consolation I treated myself to some more spring bulbs: Our local garden centre has been selling off five packets for £1 so I bought chionodoxa, puschkinia and erythronium. All I’ve got to do now is plant them. Highlight of the New Year was the arrival of T&M NEW Spring catalogues. True to form I have placed my order for all plugs orange. Begonia ‘Fragrant Falls Orange Delight’, begonia elata ‘Solenia Apricot’, begonia Non-Stop Mocca Bright Orange and petunia ‘Sweetunia Suzie Storm’. (Not to mention last year’s overwintering begonias, already showing one or two pips…..) And it’s not all gloom and doom outside. I’m quite into nandinas right now. In addition to our nandina domestica, which is covered in shiny red berries, I’ve acquired nandina domestica ‘Twilight’, part of a new range of dwarf Heavenly Bamboos ideal for containers. Talking of containers, the red cyclamen & cornus against the black grass strikes a cheerful chord amongst the brown landscape, and the papery flowers of hydrangea Zorro held on top of its black stems looks rather arty.
Red cyclamen, cornus with black grass, Hydrangea ‘Zorro’
So to while away the long boring hours indoors (lovely actually, all snuggled up on the sofa with various felines, binge watching USA plastic surgery Before and After documentaries) I’ve been cataloguing all my press cuttings (ooh, get her!) into a folder. The cupboard was so crammed with dozens of back edition publications that I was afraid wood worm would move in and eat them. What a trip down Memory Lane that has been. The first edition of Garden News to feature its readers’ 4 Corners Gardening column was published on 26 January 2005 and we have been contributing on a monthly basis ever since. Never mind the changing landscape, the range of hairstyles is breath-taking! And back then David even had hair! Happy 13th anniversary to us. I reckon we must have outlasted most of the editorial team in that time. Amazing to see how the garden has developed from Central Lawn surrounded by Narrow Borders to No Lawn overwhelmed by Plants Everywhere.
The Garden, 2005 & Now!
Clearly Nature isn’t suffering from lack of encouragement from me right now. Spurred on by writing this blog, I’ve just ventured outside to take some photos and have come back in with very mixed feelings.
Budding shrubs, Mad Melianthus and Heavenly Hellebore
- Optimism: Hellebore hybrids are emerging, Lords and Ladies foliage marbling shady places, iris reticulata, snowdrops, narcissi all popping up.
- Trepidation: Buds swelling on deciduous shrubs too soon already. More guilt: hardy geraniums and various withered perennials need cutting back. Relief: some of the cuttings are still alive.
- Admiration: overwintering cannas and salvias are sending up new shoots.
- Challenged: good grief, the hardy fuchsia, sambucus and cotinus are going to need some serious reduction. Amazement: Mad Melianthus Major has Four Fat Flower spikes on it.
- Anticipation: my beloved roses are begging for their winter pruning; can’t wait to set my newly serviced secateurs upon them next month. Too long, too long!
So at last I can feel the sap rising. Any day now you will find me outside bonding with my garden again. A Happy New Gardening Year to you all.
Whilst Cyprus enjoys an Indian summer, (or even a Cypriot summer for that matter,) the UK is plunging head first into winter. Having just spent a glorious week in 26ᵒc Paphos, staying with friend Naomi – how thoughtful of her to relocate to such a lovely home – it was quite a shock to the system to return to dreary 13ᵒc London. (Feel guilty now saying that, as if being disloyal to a family member!) However, I actually find myself to be more acclimatised to the cooler weather, spending so much time as I do outdoors. Who would have thought it ! In fact today we are experiencing a lovely crisp sunny day in Finchley and I feel invigorated as I pick the last of the windfall apples from underneath our ancient tree. For some reason they are the size of cricket balls this year so quite glad I wasn’t underneath when they fell.
Excuse my ignorance but until our recent visits to Cyprus I had no idea just how close to the Middle East it was, and how that impacted on its flowers. Plants that we treat as annuals here grow into shrubs and trees over there! Lantana: neighbour Anne nurses her cherished lantanas over the winter like delicate invalids, but Over There they grow into huge hedges with stems as thick as your fingers. The collective fool’s errand of trying to grow lavender successfully in the clay soil of the Hampstead Garden Suburb (henceforth to be referred to as The Suburb) is in deep contrast with the robust dense aromatic shrubs thriving in the thin stony soil of the Med. When visiting mountainside Monastery Neophytos we were captivated by the sunken courtyard garden, viewed from its ancient cloisters. Colour and vigour on a grand scale. Huge clumps of ginger and canna lilies, brugmansias growing into trees, Ali Baba pots of bougainvillaea and oleander, all surrounded by characteristic *Cypress trees. And the roses! We shouldn’t be surprised by their presence amongst all this exotica, considering their origins:
The first known paintings of a rose are actually frescoes, the earliest example of which was discovered in Crete around 1600 B.C.
Crusader Robert de Brie is often given credit for bringing the Damask rose from Persia to Europe sometime between 1254 and 1276. It takes its name from Damascus in Syria.
(*As to the reason why its Cypress trees and not Cyprus trees, I just don’t want to know.)
Bearing in mind that this is a gardening blog, I shall make my next paragraph brief: Second only to the flora, Cyprus means Cats to me. Cats at Naomi’s apartment complex, cats around your ankles at bars and restaurants, and above all, due no doubt to the significant British ex-pat community, cat sanctuaries, the largest of which Tala Cat Sanctuary, run by two Brits, has at present over 750 cats. For those of you feline phobics I make no apologies for including a photo of feeding time, a frenzy reminiscent of piranha fish! There is a tenuous link to horticulture here – feral cat communities thrive in the shelter of oleander and lantana hedges planted in raised beds all over the island!
And so to our return. I had imagined that autumn would have turned to winter in our absence and that I would be able to run amok with the secateurs, cutting everything back. I’m tired, I wish everything would die so that I can come indoors and have a rest! But what do I find? Salvias in full flower, a rainbow of colours; no way was I going to dig them up, having waited so long for their finest hour. Leaves still stubbornly sticking to their branches so no point raking until they are all down. Ergo, no chance of applying mulch to borders yet. (How daft are we? We rake off leaves then apply mulch. Why not just leave leaves to rot? Looks messy. Expensive intensive counterintuitive step!)
Still, there’s plenty to do in the meantime. In the Control Room (aka greenhouse) the salvia, fuchsia and penstemon cuttings I took last month are flourishing in their propagator (as is the electricity bill.) I’ve been so encouraged by my success that I have taken cuttings of coleus Campfire, and, fingers crossed, so far so good. I suppose now that the aforementioned cuttings are sprouting new leaves that means they’ve rooted, so I need to pot them on now, do I? Or do I wait until spring? Decisions, decisions!
And I shall not be idle outside either. (Why not? Please, can I be idle soon?) For the two large terracotta pots flanking the rustic arch into the fernery (now doesn’t that sound grand) I have bought a pair of cornus Alba Sibirica and half a dozen ophio-watsit black grasses to surround them. Now I come to think of it, some white bulbs would make a good contrast so I might just have to go to the nursery again; what a hardship! In the two black planters outside the front door I’ve planted Madonna tulips, Pueblo, Minnou and Falconet species narsissi, topped off with evergreen ferns and white cyclamen. Quite uncharacteristically tasteful for me.
Last Christmas I treated myself to six T&M hyacinth Midnight Mystic bulbs for a festive display in our front porch. Having carefully lifted them after flowering, I transferred them to the greenhouse to dry off, finally removing their dead foliage and roots ready for storage. I must have got bored or distracted because there they sat in a 6” plastic pot under the staging all through the rest of this year until I accidentally found them when tidying up in October! Still, they felt firm enough so I potted them up in shallow terracotta bulb pans and put them in a dark cupboard for a couple of weeks, and hey presto, they produced shoots! Now happily ensconced in the porch once again, they are sprouting away with visible buds. Amazing resilience!
There are some strange combinations going on in the borders right now, no doubt due to Mother Nature’s seasonal confusion: Late summer flowering Salvia Black & Blue with early spring flowering Coronilla valentina glauca ‘Citrina’ (or Bastard Senna – who knew?) It’s mortal outside but with no frosts and plenty of bright sunshine I feel like the grim reaper pulling up the annual container displays on the patio.
And whilst we talking of odd weather conditions, don’t ever moan to me about the vagaries of the British weather. Whilst In Cyprus it was too hot for me to sit in the sun during the day, but as soon as the sun went down, out came my suede fur lined jacket (travelling attire – I come from a bygone generation who still dress up to travel)) for evening excursions!
And as one of our favourite celebrated gardeners would say: whatever the weather, enjoy your garden.