GAPS KEEP APPEARING
I feel sorry for David, I really do! He can’t help getting nervous when every time I go into the garden I dig up any plant that displeases me, seemingly on a whim. He reckons if he stands still too long I‘ll get rid of him an’all! I felt so vindicated when, a couple of weeks ago, Monty said that in his opinion it was perfectly acceptable to get rid of a plant if you had “gawn awf” it. Sell it for charity, give it away to friends, compost it, but replace it with something you love. I suppose I have always felt guilty about doing that, as if somehow I had a duty of care to those plants which have fallen out of favour, disloyal in a way. Not so anymore! I have been whipping them out with obscene abandon and thus have ended up with immense new planting possibilities.
Well, obviously (you know me, he who hesitates is lost) by the time you read this those gaps will have been filled, so let me tell you about the provenance of some new additions to the borders:
In early July David and I went on our annual pilgrimage aka The Hampstead Garden Suburb Horticultural Society coach holiday. Based in Kings Lynn for three days, we visited Easton Walled Garden (compost bins spotted on Google Earth) on the way up, Henstead Exotic Garden in Beccles and Bishop’s House Gardens (Diocese of Norwich) to the East, and Cathy Brown’s Garden and the late lamented Geoff Hamilton’s Barnsdale on the way back. Plants to the right of me, plants to the left!
You could be forgiven for thinking you were in the midst of the Burmese jungle at Henstead Exotic Garden, that is until you reached the wire boundary overlooking the neighbouring housing estate. Point of Interest: Compost toilet Throne Room. Souvenirs of visit: Papyrus, Aeonium Schwarzkopf and miniature gunnera magellanica. Amazing host, worth a visit to meet him alone.
Barnsdale. Well, what a walk down Memory Lane! The Gentleman’s Cottage Garden, the Artisan’s Cottage Garden, and as soon as we entered the Paradise Country Garden my head was full of the haunting TV series sound track. I am a sucker for a celebrity so our visit to their nursery (Paradise indeed) was all the more special because of the presence of Nick Hamilton, who even identified a plant for me. Talk about Plant Lust though: Revered (and oft feared for her unlimited knowledge of Latin plant names, most notably vernonia crinita) group leader Diane was on the hunt for a potentilla Gibson’s Scarlet. Oh the dilemma when she found it! I can’t have those flower stems flopping over my edges, but she did succumb in the end. My folly? Moisture loving astilbes Lollipop and chinensis Vision for the driest part of my garden. Solution? Plant them by the irrigation hose. Sorted!
So, (I do so hate this current trend of opening a sentence with So, don’t you) before The Trip there was the small matter of the NGS Hampstead Garden Suburb Horticultural Society Group Gardens Open Day June 25th. What a dream! The sun shone, we welcomed 435 visitors, served 240 helpings of tea and cake, sold over 400 raffle tickets and raised nearly £700 on locally propagated plants and produce alone. Grand Total Donation to NGS £5585.76 (one wonders how the 76p crept in). How about that then, eh! Fab-u-lous!
This week? Well, this coming Sunday 30th July David & I are having our NGS Open Day. The thrice daily visit to the Met Office website for weather forecast updates is in full swing. Not looking great I have to say at the moment. (I have been known to log out then straight back in to the website just in case it’s been updated.) But after so much recent horticultural activity I am feeling quite Zen about the whole thing this time around. Seeing as the garden had to be Band Box perfect last Sunday for the judging of the London Gardens Society competition, it’s been coasting along nicely since then. Yesterday I filled my last remaining gap (yeah right, I can see me not planting another thing until next year.) A rigorous regime of dead heading along with a favorable balance of rain and shine (and several doses of Tomato feed, Mother Nature shan’t take all the credit) has brought the late summer flowers out right on cue. That is, apart from the T&M tree lilies, which of course have gone over! Now comes the real preparation for Open Garden Day: Cakes. New recipe from Cathy Brown’s garden (You will be served tea at 3.55pm precisely) Orange and Almond cake Gluten and Dairy Free amongst other old favourites. Pricing up plants-for-sale, distributing signage, organizing Float money, buying paper plates, plastic cutlery etcetera etcetera etcetera.
Hoovering the paths and patio can wait until Sunday morning. Wish us luck, hope to see some of you in our garden on Sunday, come rain or shine, as the saying goes………
ANYONE FOR HOSTAS?
Its 7.30am on a June Sunday morning and you wouldn’t want to see what I am wearing as I type this! But if I leave it until later and go into the garden, I know I won’t come in any time soon.
Flaming June? I’ll say! Flaming nightmare more like. Working outside has felt like running on the spot: Maximum effort, minimum progress! The recent gales, which always put me in such a foul mood, have played havoc. No stakes are tall or robust enough to support the towering thalictrums, meadow rue, climbing roses & veronicastrum. Trying to control these wayward giants puts me in mind of plate spinning! Add hot dry air coming at you through some invisible wind tunnel and everything is burnt to a crisp and dry as dust! And then the deluges: Roses, so good this year, rendered brown and soggy, their stems bent from saturation.
Don’t you just love the propensity of us Brits to open a conversation with The Weather? Well, at least it’s got me started on my June blog.
It seems strange not to be opening our garden this June. Our choice admittedly, enabling me to concentrate instead on organising the Hampstead Garden Suburb NGS Open Day 25th June. We’ve been opening mid-June since 2010 so have always worked towards a well-oiled deadline. This year however the mid-summer garden has been somewhat chaotic to say the least.
But as we approach the longest day (what, already? Its downhill all the way from now on!) we seem to be in the midst of some stable conditions at last and diligent pottering has resumed. In a rush of enthusiasm (and relief to be outside without protective clothing) David has installed his new water features: copper kettle and teacup in the ornamental pond at one end of the rill and his washing dolly (the mind boggles) at t’other. Oh, the arguments about what constitutes an acceptable position for the aquatic plants, so as not to obscure the view of his masterpieces, you wouldn’t believe!
I have been unleashing my inner artiste whilst creating the patio displays. No holding back this year, containers a combination of T & M Begonia Non-Stop Mocca Bright Orange, Begonia Glowing Embers and Petunia Mini Rosebud Peachy with cannas, gingers & eucomis, whilst hanging baskets are crammed with foliage plants ipomoea, T&M nasturtiums, coleus Redhead and Campfire, heucheras and – hope over experience – hostas.
I blame esteemed Horticultural Society Chair, Doc Page, entirely! Fancy giving away two sacks full of hosta divisions to a plantaholic like me! So I diligently potted them up for charity sales, back in March, and nurtured them from slugs (and cat, more of that later!) , only to become so attached to them that I have planted them into every suspended receptacle I could find. But they are spectacular, and having smugly displayed them out of Fred’s reach, I now have to find a way of protecting the canna leaves from his grazing. And whilst we are on the subject of Fred, he and his feline cohorts are enjoying the benefits of a superfluous basket, which now hangs resplendent from the pergola, complete with fleecy lining, doubling up as a sun lounger! (Note to all interested cat lovers: Billy our Sphynx cat has actually got a sun tan).
Right, back to hostas, briefly: I think I may have started a local trend. Whilst selling said plants at our Hort Soc Summer Flower Show yesterday, any customer considering the wisdom of purchasing one of these slug magnets, was instructed to grow them in hanging baskets!
I’ve been having fun with my potatoes too. (Good grief, my excitement knows no bounds!) I am trialling a new T&M variety, which is supposed to produce bumper crops from the smallest grow bags ever made. No problem with space then, they are wedged into a gap on the patio. These triffids were growing before my eyes & needed earthing up daily. It can’t be that long before they are ready to harvest and it’s all I can do to stop myself poking around in the bags for clues. Oh sweet anticipation! And a recent delivery of trial dahlia plugs, 3 each of four varieties, is a learning curve for me. Having only ever grown dahlias from tubers I am not entirely sure I know what I am doing. But for now I have planted each trio into a large pot, smothered them in gravel, (didn’t take long for those pesky snails to sniff them out – do snails have the olfactory sense?) and hope to grow them on to the stage where I can plant them out with previous successful T&M dahlias on the allotment.
At last I feel Garden Ready! In fact we unofficially launched the New Season with the grand opening of the Beach Hut (you would find me celebrating at the opening of an envelope!) It’s all under control, (haha we make plans and God laughs) everything in its place, and the sun is shining. There is of course the small matter of the severed irrigation system, the leaky hose, the gap that nothing will fill, the patio wall that needs painting………………..ah yes, gardening is about the process not the finished result, ‘innit.
So next month’s blog will no doubt be full of our NGS Hampstead Garden Suburb Group Open Day 25th June. If you are within a 50 mile radius of NW11 please come along, I am so bursting with excitement I just can’t contain myself!
FIVE SWEETPEAS AND A CUCUMBER
Like a fine wine I don’t travel well so I have only ventured abroad twice in 20 years (that’s if you don’t count Jersey). However a promise is a promise: We have just returned from a visit to Cyprus, home of my oldest friend Naomi, to celebrate her 60th birthday. (I bet she’ll thank me for that announcement!). I had forgotten how exotic the Mediterranean was. Oh the flowers! So the British have their privet and box hedges, but the Cypriots have oleander, lantana and hibiscus hedges! Cannas growing like weeds at the road side, ipomoea scrambling through wire mesh fences, callistemon in flower now. Little gems (well not literally lettuces but nothing would surprise me) like gentians and eryngium, nestling in shingle on beaches and rock faces. Banana plantations! Cactus flowers 20ft tall! Whether it’s the British ex-pat community over there or just brute adaptability, the roses were magnificent: I have to say though that the species roses growing wild amongst other indigenous shrubs looked more comfortable than the cultivated ones, somehow incongruous, in domestic gardens. And green lawns, hmmm, a sure sign of British ownership methinks.
As well as being in flora heaven, the fauna was highly entertaining too. Opportunist sparrows, more like our robins, silently prospecting our alfresco dining – unnerving if you are not a fan of Hitchcock’s The Birds – quick as a flash, dive bombing for French Fries in formation, the final flourish provided by a hooded crow who swooped down and carried off half of an 8” seeded baguette complete with cream cheese topping. (I wonder if foreign tourists find seagulls quite so entertaining in Southend when they steal your chips; come to think of it, do foreign tourists go to Southend?) As in so many other Mediterranean resorts, the feral cat population is alive and well thank you. By and large they are in good condition due to trapping and neutering programs established by the numerous cat sanctuaries on Cyprus. At Naomi’s apartment complex, her Russian neighbour regularly feeds the resident feral community and it was highly entertaining to see them gathering around at dawn and dusk, staring intently up at her balcony willing her to hurry up with the grub. (Evidently there are Mad Cat Women the world over.) Like a scene out of West Side Story they roamed around in their gangs, lazing arrogantly around the pool in the sunshine, occasionally brushing up against rival factions. Clearly not starving, they barely lifted their heads to register the swifts that were dive bombing the surface of the water for insects.
However, here we are again in East Finchley. One week since our return and I find myself reflecting upon the joys of travel. Although I appear to be well on the way to conquering yet another phobia, this time flying, I don’t think that I shall be making a habit of it. Holidays are all very well but I won’t be leaving the garden to its own devises again any time soon! Oh the stress of it! Should I leave the irrigation system running or switch it off? Will I return to scorched earth or sodden borders? Two days prior to departure I decided it was prudent to relocate the dozen or so trays of seedlings and annuals from the greenhouse to our spare room. With temperatures so unpredictable and access so hazardous (plants-for-sale, hastily moved into the shade, were blocking the path to the back of the garden) at least this way friend Anne could keep an eye on them when she fed the cats.
After only five days away (trip dates had to work around our local Plant Heritage sale, never mind Naomi’s birthday) the garden had gone berserk! How do other gardeners manage to go away for a fortnight? Having loaded up the washing machine for the ninetieth time in 12 hours (slight exaggeration, but still, yet another reason not to go on holiday) I could at last concentrate on the garden. Once the nursery trays had been returned to the greenhouse (thanks Anne, what’s your secret, they have doubled in size!) and the plants-for-sale had been revived, it was time to plant up the T&M tomatoes, Garnet, Mountain Magic & Indigo Cherry Drops, into their final positions, then turn my attention to the patio.
With the assorted T&M jonquils finally over, I turfed them out of their pots, foliage and all, ready for replanting on the allotment. Not known for my patience or adherence to the six week rule, out came the rest of the spent bulb leaves from the permanent planting schemes. I’ll take my chances! You may remember my concerns regarding my two towering abutilons, well readers, they are well deadski, as my friend Laurie from the Bronx used to say! Quel dommage! ………..And five minutes later I muse that golden hop might look striking combined with blue ipomoea and black eyed Susan. There’s no sentiment in war, or gardening it seems.
So anyway, with Spring Phase One out of the way, next weekend is Hanging Basket and Container Display time. Yippee! Having successfully overwintered several cannas on the patio for the first time, I planted out some additional divisions in April. Hostas and heucheras, suspended in hanging baskets out of harm’s way, are slug (and Fred the cat) free. The piece de resistance will be T&M Begonia Non-Stop Mocca Bright Orange, Begonia Glowing Embers, Petunia Mini Rosebud Peachy combined with coleus Campfire & black and lime green ipomoeas. I love creating the patio displays, and whilst I was reminded by fellow blogger Julie Quinn that gardening is about the process not the finished result (more of that later), summer bedding schemes are like stage sets with a definite beginning and end.
Talking of Julie Quinn, isn’t it a small world. There she is, gardening away no more than 2 miles down the road from me, attending all the same local plant sales, with friends and acquaintances in common, loves cats and has medical connections. Julie made me very welcome for afternoon tea at her house where we shared horticultural experiences, knowledge and opinions in her beautiful paved garden. Thank you Julie, it was a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Last Saturday we held our Hort. Soc. plant sale in the Hampstead Garden Suburb. My spy tells me that, whilst queuing to get in, visitors were enthusing about this annual event as one of the highlights of the neighbourhood social whirl, not to be missed. I love selling – once a retailer always a retailer; shoppers still stop me in department stores and ask me where the loo is – so I was in my element amongst the trailing lobelia and petunias, “All plants on sale for £1.40 each.” I have however lost the art of adding up in my head and so hastily produced a crib sheet of £1.40 times table. There was a huge selection of veg and salad plugs and of course I couldn’t resist some extras for the greenhouse and allotment. Having guarded my purchases throughout the morning (funny how seemingly civilized locals can turn into marauding rabble when there’s a bargain to be had) I took my eye off the ball, for one minute I tell you, and they were gone! Panic set in; the Great Clear Up had begun, car boots were searched to no avail, fellow committee members were eyeing me with caution as I interrupted conversations to enquire, “Has anyone seem my five sweet peas and a cucumber?” Indeed, ever efficient chairperson Doc Page and the team had tidied them away ready to be returned to the local nursery, so I guiltily retrieved them and beat a hasty retreat! I am happy to report that they are all now happily in situ and growing on well.
So much to do, and without our usual mid-June NGS Open Day deadline it feels strange to be just ambling along with tasks at a leisurely pace. But my new mantra, “Gardening is about the process not the finished result” ringing in my ears, I can finally allow myself to potter gently on. Yeah right, until the next disaster…..
I’m feeling very mellow right now. It’s Easter Monday, it’s not raining, and I have time to reflect upon the weekend. On Saturday David and I visited Kew Gardens or should I say The Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. I’m ashamed to say that neither of us has been there since we met, so that’s nearly 30 years. I remember being underwhelmed by Kew, very flat, very open and uninspiring if trees are not your first love. (I can see you shuddering; sorry but there you are!) However, this trip proved to be much more enjoyable, primarily due to the company of our good friends Pat & Eamon, who treated me for my birthday.
On arrival we headed straight for the Kew Explorer Land Train, where we mistook a giant Moomin for The Easter Bunny, exposing us to the withering disdain of surrounding children. Then we kept joining in with the driver’s repartee, unaware that he was in fact enclosed in his vehicle so could not hear us. (Probably just as well.) The bluebell woods were pretty but I reckon our local Littlewood and Bigwood in The Hampstead Garden Suburb look better. (Yeah well, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of pride in your local environment.) Anyway, the 35 minute choo choo ride was a darn site more picturesque than the round trip of 56 stops – East Finchley to Kew Gardens – on the Tube. And I’m pleased to report that London’s tourist trade is alive and well thank you.
The Palm House was amazing, although I had to keep my hat on to stop my hair frizzing up in the humid environment. We did the whole thing, up and down, taking loads of photos: the sheer size and scale of the the thick aerial roots, the parasitic orchids and exotic flowers took my breath away. Mind you, last time I went into a tropical house like that was at The Eden Project, where I got quarter of the way in, had a panic attack and had to elbow my way out against all oncoming pedestrian traffic, leaving David wondering whether to carry on or follow suit. Needless to say I prefer the open space and calm of The Lost Gardens of Heligan. Having said that, I did once have a panic attack in the woods at Kenwood on Hampstead Heath, until David pointed out, quite stoically, that if I looked to my left I would see civilization in the form of the 210 bus travelling along Hampstead Lane. And anyway, seeing as Hampstead is home to a myriad of psychotherapists, there was sure to be plenty of help at hand. So Saturday was somewhat of a victory for me, having conquered my claustrophobia of the Tube and the Palm House.
(*NB The collective noun for psychologists is a Complex or a Couch according to my dear friend Google)
David got to do his Dr Doolittle thing again with the resident geese, who really are just ducks with attitude. (He is somewhat of a swan whisperer too but that’s for another day). But the highlight of the day for me was the Water Lily house, the surface of the pool was like glass and was like a 3D Monet painting.
Anyway, to matters on the home front now. With more time on our hands than anticipated we managed to reconstruct the living wall by the front door. Much more Sophisticated (that’s my new watch word by the way, along with Theme Park every time I see David paint another blue and white stripe on the Beach Hut). The new wall troughs are aircraft grade aluminium with high density foam sides apparently. And readers, I have filled them already, with revived heucheras, grass divisions (am feeling very noble about the recycled element) and ferns (support your local garden centre). The Three Cannas are now nine; three for the patio, three for the front garden and three for the little girl who lives down the lane. (For those of you who think I have just lost the plot, think Bah Bah Black Sheep!) Really though, three for the plant sales.
Talking of divisions, 2017 will henceforth be remembered as the year the garden went mad! I blame friend Diane who preaches the gospel according to Mulch. All plants were ticking along nicely until she convinced me to mulch my borders every spring, and see what’s happened? The plants have grown like triffids and are now threatening to take over the world. Thalictrum growing in all the cracks, filipendula popping up like Japanese Knotweed, sedge grasses swallowing neighbouring perennials whole, and persicaria! It’s colonised half of the central bed, while the other half is covered in dainty (what, hahaha!) woodruff. Mind you, Diane is threatening to have next year off from opening for the NGS just to rid her garden of invading bullies; a case of reaping what you sow if ever there was one. I feel I should label the plants-for-sale with a government health warning.
On an even more depressing front (don’t interrupt me now, I’m just getting into my stride) my two feature climbers on the patio, abutilon megapotamicum and Kentish Belle look, well, dead actually. Not a green shoot between them. This has happened before and thankfully, with some emergency resuscitation, they sprang back into life thereafter, but I’m not hopeful. Still, I fancy a golden hop and perhaps Spanish Flag……………….
I could go on and on, but my recliner is inviting me to watch The Beechgrove Garden (watch out Gardeners’ World). See you next time, love, Caroline.
DIVIDE AND CONQUER
So last month we had spawnography, and this month we have tit wars! Honestly it’s like Animal Farm out there! We have two nesting boxes and a number of nesting pouches in the trees, but it seems the only Des Res worth considering is the one in the apple tree. So, the great tits, who have been nesting in it practically every year since we moved in, are now being dive bombed by the blue tits, who sit (perch?) in wait in the tree canopy, ready to mob them every time they try to roost. But my money is still on the GTs, as the BTs seem too flighty (haha get it?) to me, veering off in the direction of the bird table at a moment’s notice.
I’ve never had so many birds in the garden as this spring; David loves the ones I mentioned above, but my heart belongs to the robin. When I’m working in the garden I can see him he flittering about in the corner of my eye, singing so quietly it’s almost as if he is humming to himself. He has another more sinister side to him though; I can see why people say that robins peck the eyes out of new-born lambs. Jitterbug our Devon Rex cat, whose intensions are not good when it comes to our feathered friends, has a love hate relationship with Robin. Being separated by only the wire netting of the catatorium, they torment each other at every opportunity.
So having said in my last Blog that all the hard work was done, I can now officially eat my hat! I have always shied away from lifting and dividing if I can possibly help it but this year I have had to knuckle down to some serious hard graft. Scuttelaria, liriope, day lillies, flag irises and phormium just got completely out of hand. I had to use my First World War trenching tool just to prize them out of the ground! When it came to splitting up the clumps I had to use David’s heavy duty saw as my dainty hand saw just bent under the strain. The phormium and flag iris divided into over a dozen new plants each, and the day lilies were so heavy it took the two of us to lift them out of the border. Doc Page, esteemed Chairman (person, sorry!) of our Hort Soc – he of the immaculate hostas – donated a sackful of divisions that had to be split again just to be able to pot them up into 6” pots. The Three Cannas, still bursting out of their cut off dustbin sacks, are pushing out vigorous shoots in all directions and will have to be divided an’all. But oh, the number of plants I have propagated for our plant sales is mounting up apace. Ka-ching! Think of all that money we will raise for the NGS this summer.
This positively tropical weather has brought the garden on so fast I can’t keep up. I am not allowed to switch on the irrigation system as David is painting the summer house (Project Beach Hut is well under way, more of that next time) and the roof terrace tends to leak water down the outer walls. Nor may I have access to the hose as its mount has been removed from said walls for same reason. So it’s the watering can and moi. Now that we have stripped back most of the clematis Montana from the pergola all the pots of ferns have suddenly become exposed to direct sunlight and keep wilting pathetically. I have to say that the cats love their new sunny spots: It was especially thoughtful of me to leave the black fleece on the cannas so that Jitterbug could enjoy the afternoon sun in comfort. (Cannas not so happy, having lost all their new tips in the process).
Progress of a kind is being made in the greenhouse now that the mice have finally vacated. (Not so much as a backward glance.) So now that it’s safe to uncover the seedlings do I switch off the heated propagators and risk damping off (I know all the technical terms y’know) or leave them on and roast them to a crisp? Off, and I’ll take my chances. So far so good. I haven’t managed to kill the tomato seedlings yet, in fact they have even developed their first proper pair of leaves, and last year’s begonia tubers are sprouting nicely too. Dozens of T & M plugs have been potted up, some mini plugs doubling up per 10cm pot. Oh for those surplus containers that were tossed asunder for taking up too much space last autumn. So far Bidens Collection 15 Postiplugs are putting on the strongest growth, and this year I was ready with the slug pellets to protect Petunia ‘Romantic Mini Rosebud Peachy’, which got devoured within their first fortnight last spring.
I’ve raised four seedlings of Courgettes ‘De Nice A Fruit Rond’ ready for the allotment next month, and the broad beans were transplanted onto the plot last weekend. (Do any women actually like broad beans? Mr B loves’em. I recon it’s a man thing). One long row of Pea ‘Terrain’ seeds were sown a couple of weeks ago, followed by a parallel row of Pea ‘Eddy’ seeds, sown by my allotment partners Rose and Ed – we’ve decided to conduct a controlled experiment, nothing to do with competitiveness or one-upmanship at all! Talking of which, last weekend it was like a holiday camp down there, never seen so many plot holders in one go; nothing at all to do with the imminent site inspection, I’m sure. Truth be told, I feel put to shame; on the one half of our small plot the soil has been turned and manured to perfection but on my side of the plot the soil surface has at best been scratched. Clearly I believe in the No Dig method. (Actually I believe in the No Work method, however I am in the minority here.) I brought home armfuls of daffs from previous years’ transplanting, and will add this year’s assortment of T&M jonquils, currently flowering their hearts out and wafting their fragrance all over the patio.
For this Spring’s trials, I have just received a new T&M potato variety, complete with Incredicompost, Incredibloom fertiliser and grow bags, as well as a couple of experimental varieties of cosmos and poppy to grow from seed. Well within my comfort zone and not too likely to embarrass me with poor results Oh well I will just have to rake my cut flower bed to a fine tilth and get down to it. Still, ever the optimist, here we go…..
And in conclusion, this month’s star performance goes to Erysimum Red Jep and Coronilla glauca Citrina. Happy gardening, love, Caroline