Pass Me My WW1 Trenching Tool

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.
• Eat! Simples!

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.

Enjoy the autumn. It’s a long winter ahead!