Scent in the Garden

Tags

Sarcococca, Scent in the Garden, Snowdrop 'S. Arnott', snowdrops, Vibunum x bodnantense 'Dawn', Viburnum tinus 'Gwenllian', winter flowering honeysuckle

Scented narcissi

I didn’t inherit any fragrant plants when I took on my garden and I’ll admit scent hasn’t been given enough priority when I’ve been out plant buying. My tastes and ideas have changed from the fairly inexperienced gardener I was eight years ago and I’ve learnt a huge amount in that time, not just about plants but also my own tastes and the type of garden I want to create. Up until we moved here I had gardened mainly in pots to accommodate our frequent moves and the fact that we were renting. Container gardening was a brilliant way to assuage my need to grow, but it’s quite a different discipline to growing in soil and planting with a sense of permanence. Many of my ideas now are driven by my love of cutting plant material to bring indoors to fill vases, and scent is playing an increasing role in these choices. Along with Sue at Backlane Notebook I’m hoping that a ‘Scent in the Garden’ meme will encourage a focus on scented plants, will make me look at this extra dimension to my garden and will uncover some fantastically fragrant plants over the coming months.

For the February instalment of the ‘Scent in the Garden’ I have both Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’ and Viburnum tinus flowering, as they have been since the end of November. The freezing temperatures haven’t been enough to discourage the winter-flowering honeysuckle from blooming. It has a tendency in very cold weather to retreat and withhold new flowers until the weather warms up. A few stems have provided a lovely addition to some stunning Cornish scented narcissi, which are a far superior Valentine’s Day gift than any red rose.

February scent

As for new appearances, there’s sarcococca, or winter box, which smells fabulous. It was just coming into flower in mid-January, but now it is in full bloom. It’s planted by the path which leads from the gate to the front door, so wafts of scent fill the air as you pass by. It’s a relatively new addition to the garden at just two years old and it is still quite small, so at the moment the air needs to be still and relatively warm for the fragrance to come to the attention of your nostrils, otherwise you need to bend down. A garden in the village has two sarcococca plants about a metre high which I covet. They are currently pumping out their heady perfume which means you can smell them well before they come into sight. One day that will be the scene in my own front garden.

In terms of scent, one of the biggest revelations for me in recent years has been the discovery that certain varieties of snowdrops are deliciously fragrant. Most of the snowdrops in my garden are the common snowdrop, Galanthus nivalis. It’s a great variety – easy to come by, fairly inexpensive and it bulks up readily to form good-sized clumps, the one thing it lacks is scent. I had heard of snowdrops which smelt of honey, but it was only this year, when I attended a talk by the author and snowdrop connoisseur Naomi Slade, that I had the opportunity to sniff a selection of snowdrops. Naomi had brought with her a collection of snowdrops in pots to illustrate the different forms – those with short, strap-like leaves, flowers with layers of petals like a ballerina’s tutu and tall-stemmed blooms with large, nodding heads. As the pots were passed around I smelt each one and made a note of those with the surprisingly potent perfume. ‘S. Arnott’ was the variety which stood out and it immediately went to the top of my must-have plant list.

I probably shouldn’t be making plant purchases until we’re settled in a new garden and I was about to resist the temptation of the plant stand at a recent visit to Colesbourne (more of which in a later post) when Wellyman encouraged me to make a cheeky purchase. He can be quite a persuasive influence when it comes to plant nurseries, but, to be honest, it doesn’t take much to break down my resistance. So here is the latest addition to the scented garden. It’s an exquisite flower and hopefully one day, in the not too distant future, I’ll have enough of clumps of ‘S. Arnott’ so I can pick a few tiny nosegays of snowdrops to bring indoors.

Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’ (copyright Ian Curley)

If you’d like to join in with ‘Scent in the Garden’ just post about what’s perfuming the air in your garden/growing space and leave a comment here or at Sue’s blog Backlane Notebook with a link to your post.

Happy sniffing!

 

Say it with British flowers

Tags

British flowers, imported flowers, Primroses, seasonal flowers, Valentine's Day

primrose posy

Valentine’s Day, one of the busiest times for flower sellers across the world is approaching. You can’t get stirred for the ubiquitous red rose, deemed the perfect expression of love, but it’s a gesture that comes at a considerable cost. Whilst the creep of supermarkets into the world of floristry has made a bouquet of roses more affordable for the masses, demand means a single stem can still cost into double figures from your high-end florists. But it’s not just the impact on your bank balance there’s the cost to the environment too.

Ten or fifteen years ago a revolution in food started here in the UK. We started to appreciate locally produced food for its freshness, seasonality and provenance. I really hope that we can start to care that little bit more about the flowers we buy too. Most flowers for sale in the UK are imported, grown in far-flung countries using chemicals often banned here in the EU. The environmental impact can be huge, depleting the local area of its water resources and damaging eco-systems. Flowers are beautiful and I can’t imagine not being able to have them in my home but let’s face it, they are non-essential. And, for that reason, I think we should care about the environmental cost of the flowers we buy even more. It feels even more careless that an indulgence should damage the planet. Taking a stance and refusing to buy imported blooms doesn’t mean you have to do without though. Caring for the planet doesn’t have to mean donning a hair shirt, it’s about taking a look at what we have closer to home and sourcing British grown flowers or growing your own.

The environmental cost isn’t the only reason why I dislike imported flowers. Even if the roses came with a zero carbon footprint I wouldn’t want them. They speak little of a thoughtful gift and a declaration of love and more of the way big business dictates to us what we can buy. It was the Victorians that first made a big deal about Valentine’s Day, but before the advent of air travel lovers would have had no choice but to exchange small posies of spring flowers. It’s only really been in the last twenty to thirty years where flowers have become a commodity to be traded on a global scale.

Imported roses always look fake to me. They never open fully and, worst of all, they have no scent whatsoever. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I know for some nothing other than a red rose, or a dozen of them, will do. But there are alternatives, blooms which are seasonal and scented, which will bring spring cheer to a gloomy, soggy February. It’s hard to believe when you look out the window on to a garden that is muddy and forlorn that it is possible to substitute those imported flowers for home-grown blooms, but it is. Our reliance on imported flowers has disconnected us from the seasons.

Valentine’s heart

Walking around my garden the other day I was able to pick a small posy of primroses. I added a few ivy leaves and tied with twine and there you have it – the sweetest and simplest of flowery gifts. All the stormy weather we’ve had recently means it’s a great time to go out and collect windfall stems. Weeping birch is perfect for making wreaths because it’s so bendy. I collected these on Friday and bent them into a heart shape, securing at the base. Scouring the garden again I picked some scented stems of Viburnum bodnantense, Viburnum tinus, sacococca and winter honeysuckle. I tied these into the base along with some ivy which I wound around the heart. A home-grown, hand-made and completely free (well apart from the twine) Valentine’s gift. Pop it in a vase or jug of water and it’ll last a week. Plan ahead and you could also have early flowering daffs or any number of bulbs in pretty pots.

Now I know that men purchase the vast majority of flowers on Valentine’s Day and some of them are possibly not going to be scrabbling around in the garden for flowers and making wondrous woven hearts, but that doesn’t mean red roses have to be the default alternative. Subtly or not so subtly, depending on how you approach these things in your relationship, point him in the direction of the increasing number of amazing flower farmers here in the UK. They are springing up all over the country and many deliver too. To find your nearest try the Flowers from the Farm website or The British Flower Collective. It might seem bleak and bare out there but even in February we have British grown scented narcissi, tulips, hyacinths, pussy willow, muscari and hellebores to choose from. So this Valentine’s Day say it with British flowers.

The Grumps

Tags

Crocus 'Cream Beauty', forcing bulbs, slug damage, The Cut Flower Patch

It’s raining again

I’m grumpy. I am sat here at my desk writing, with the rain and wind lashing against the window, wondering if this weather will ever stop. I can’t remember the last time I saw sunshine. It has been the wettest January for a hundred years in parts of the south. No mention of how Wales has fared yet but if someone tries to tell me there has been a wetter January …. well it just can’t be possible. A simple 5 minute walk to the post office or to pick some vegetables from the plot requires head to toe waterproofing and I am sick of looking like a trawlerman every time I need to leave the house. I’m even fed up of having to wear my beloved wellies. I’m not just grumpy with the weather I’m grumpy with myself for constantly banging on about the weather. As I commented to Flighty the other day, I’ve started to bore myself.

My muppet-like crocus

Back in the autumn I planted up a variety of bulbs for indoors. The narcissi, hippeastrum and hyacinths have all been and gone now but I planted up some crocus too. I love crocuses and their cheery flowers but hate the fact that they seem so easily damaged by the weather. I have found the best compromise is to fill some small clay pots with bulbs, put these in the greenhouse and when there are signs of greenery bring them indoors. They flower a little earlier with the extra protection, last so much longer,and I get to enjoy their flowers from the warmth of my kitchen. Well, that is if you get to them before the slugs do. Slugs in January, now that just made me even grumpier. The distinctive silvery trail ran across the top of the pots and the crocus stumps they had left behind. I’ve also discovered this odd phenomenon where some of the petals seem to have not developed properly but the distinctive orange stamens have poked out. It makes them look like mini versions of Beaker from the Muppets. Has anyone noticed this before? It doesn’t look as if I can attribute the blame for this to the slugs. Fortunately, some of the pots were untouched and I now have the flowers of Crocus ‘Cream Beauty’ appearing unscathed, so all is not lost and it looks like ‘Snow Bunting’ and some of the ‘Barr’s Purple’ have survived too. A couple of crocus in the garden have reared their heads but they really shouldn’t have bothered as they look forlorn and mud splattered at the moment.

Crocus ‘Cream Beauty’

The real delight of bringing plants like crocuses indoors is that you get to look at them close up. It’s hard to get close to something that might only be 10cm tall when it’s growing in the garden. In a pot on my window sill I can see the delicate markings on the petals but best of all I have discovered that crocus have a scent. You need to get right into the flower to catch a whiff of the perfume but it’s worth it. It isn’t a scent which permeates a room, which is a pity, but every time I pass by, I stop to have a sniff, and it’s enough to lift the spirits.

Some plants in the garden haven’t escaped winter slug damage. The flowers of snowdrops have been nibbled too, as have some primroses. It all makes me wonder about climate change and gardening. In 2012, we had no summer to speak of. Instead we had grey skies, cold days and lots of rain. Last year we had no real spring with cold days lingering on well into June. I remember vividly that first week in July felt as if we went from winter to summer. My memory of this is so good because I needed an extension on the deadline for my photographs for the book I was writing. It’s hard to conjure up summer when you haven’t had one yet. And, so far, we are yet to have a winter. No real frost, no snow and interminable amounts of rain. I’m wondering what 2014 and beyond are going to bring. Will we ever get to garden this year or should we start to farm cranberries?

The Cut Flower Patch

As well as the appearance of the crocuses something else which managed to lighten my mood was the arrival of an advance copy of my book. A small number of books arrived just after Christmas, ready to go out as review copies to newspapers and magazines. The rest will arrive in the coming weeks, closer to the date of publication. I knew the book was on the way, so when I saw a parcel in the postman’s hand and the label of my publisher on the envelope I got a little excited. I know it might seem a little odd that I sound surprised I got excited about it, but I am. I have seen the images and text so much over the course of the last year that I feel like I know them inside out, so I did wonder whether it would be a bit of a let down when the book finally arrived. I’m pleased to say that wasn’t the case, and to see it all together, as a finished product, did make me grin in a slightly inane manner for quite a while. Wellyman, bless him is actually reading the book, even though he must feel like he knows it all inside out too.

It’s been quite cathartic to write about my grumpiness but I can’t put off the inevitable any longer. I have kale to pick and it appears to still be raining so where are those waterproofs…..

Winter blooms

Tags

forcing bulbs indoors, Hippeastrum 'Royal Velvet', Hyacinth 'L'Innocence', Narcissi 'Grande Soleil d'Or', Narcissi 'Paper White'

Hyacinth ‘L’Innocence’

My regular readers will know I approach January with a certain degree of trepidation. It’s much easier to feel positive and optimistic when there are twinkly Christmas lights to brighten the short, dark days of winter. Mince pies and mulled cider help too. Then January arrives, the Christmas decorations come down, there’s the metaphorical tightening of belts as we recover from seasonal expenditure and the physical loosening of belts to cope with all that festive food. The sense of anticipation which accompanies the Winter Solstice ebbs away as I’m still scrabbling away in the dark when I get up on a morning.

Something that has made a difference for me this winter has been the decision to grow indoor bulbs. This has been the first time I have managed to get my act together, remembering to not focus purely on spring and the outdoors when I ordered my bulbs back in the autumn. On the list were hyacinths, Narcissi ‘Paper White’ and ‘Grande Soleil d’Or’ and Hippeastrum ‘Red Velvet’. I was a bit dubious about whether I would like them or not so I stuck a tentative toe in the water and I didn’t go mad with the order.

My reluctance partly stemmed from my dislike of probably the most popular of all bulbs to force, the hyacinth. They have always seemed funny plants to me. With their short stumpy stalks and fat stubby trumpet flowers they just look a little odd, particularly when they’re grown directly in the ground. Perhaps if the flowers were more delicate or their stems longer, but as they are they have never done it for me. If Narcissi ‘Paper Whites’ are the Kate Moss of the bulb world, all willowy and sylphlike, then hyacinths have always seemed, to me, like a Les Dawson character, solid and stocky. Then there’s their famous scent. Potent is how I remembered it. My mum used to grow them, and with several on one windowsill I remember them being so overwhelming that a particular room was off-limits whilst they were in bloom. But browsing through the bulb catalogue back in August I thought I should give them another go. And I’m rather pleased I did because I have several in flower now brightening up the January gloom and filling my house with a delightful perfume. My selection of variety may have something to do with my new-found love of hyacinths. I picked the white flowering ‘L’Innocence’ which not only looks more stylish and modern than some but it also seems a little more delicate and a little less dumpy. As for the scent, it isn’t overpowering at all, and with the very occasional patch of sunshine or heat from the radiators warming the air the aroma is wafting through the house. So for bulbs indoors I’m won over but I remain to be convinced by them as additions to my borders.

Narcissi ‘Paper White’

The hyacinths weren’t the first of the bulbs to flower with the Narcissi ‘Paper White’ timing their opening for my birthday in November. They are the most delicate of flowers with a sparkly sheen to their purest of white petals. They are also one of the most perfumed of narcissi. The jury is still out on whether I like their scent or not. Occasionally I would wander into the kitchen and sniff the air and then start looking around for the offending aroma, checking the soles of shoes, emptying the bin etc, only then would I realise it was the narcissi. I have heard it likened to the whiff of cat wee before. But then there would be other times when it would smell completely different and quite beautiful. I’ll grow them again because they are so easy and home-grown flowers for a November birthday are too good to ignore.

Hippeastrum ‘Royal Velvet’

The winter blooms continued with my hippeastrum. Its huge bulb took a while to get going but then I dug out my heated propagator and sat the pot on the base of this. It wasn’t long before a green stalk emerged. It kept on growing and growing in a triffid-like manner. When it reached nearly 3ft it started to show signs of a flower bud. Slowly, four individual trumpet-shaped flowers appeared with them finally opening on Boxing Day. The variety ‘Red Velvet’ couldn’t have been better named or more suited to the Christmas period with its luscious and humongous flowers. It was fascinating to watch it grow because I had never tried it before, and there’s nothing like rekindling that child-like wonder by cultivating something new. I might look to see if there are any smaller varieties though as it’s tall and increasingly leaning flower stalk have given some cause for concern.

In the greenhouse I have a large pot of Narcissi ‘Grande Soleil d’Or’ and some crocus waiting to be brought indoors. The extra warmth inside will speed them into growth for an earlier show and keep up the succession of winter blooms. And, whilst I’m waiting for the days to lengthen and the weather to improve, my indoor flowers are providing some much-needed cheer.

Squirrels, Mr T and inappropriate watering cans

Tags

Alan Titchmarsh, Carol Klein, Dr Hessayon, Garden Media Guild Awards, Jason Ingram, Matthew Wilson, Strictly Come Dancing

Ditching the wellies

I’m in a bit of a daze at the moment. Some of it is due to a lack of sleep. We appear to have mice or squirrels in the loft/wall cavities which sound like they are performing their own version of Strictly Come Dancing throughout the night, right above our bedroom. Wellyman and I weren’t keen on the idea it might be a rat so thought we’d refer to it as a squirrel in the hope that would make it all better when lying there at 4am listening to some hobnail booted creatures above our heads. But it turns out rats are preferable to squirrels on the sliding scale of unwanted creatures in your loft. Squirrels, according to the pest control guy, are the animal equivalent of a teenager left home alone. I’ve always had a soft spot for squirrels, even the unloved greys, but apparently they will cause a scene of devastation given half the chance. Not a particularly comforting thought as it seems, on initial inspection, unlikely to be rats. Lets hope for mice then, although it’s hard to imagine something which can squeeze through a gap as narrow as a pen can make so much noise that even Wellyman is roused from sleep.

Only two hours slumber was probably not the best preparation for my day out in London last week. My publisher had invited me along to the Garden Media Guild Awards at a rather swanky hotel on Park Lane. So I ditched the wellies and jeans in favour of heels and a frock and headed east. The awards recognise the best in broadcasting, books, print, photography and online media in relation to gardening. Many of those attending are freelance so I suppose the event doubles as a bit of a Christmas do for those who wouldn’t otherwise get the chance to end the year with a bit of a party. Although everyone seemed much too well-behaved for it to resemble a true Christmas party. I wish I could post up some photographs but the ballroom was strangely lit with green lights. Maybe they thought it appropriate as we were all gardeners but it gave everything an odd Kermit-like tinge. It was lovely to meet up with fellow bloggers Michelle, Petra and Naomi. Alan Titchmarsh made an impassioned ‘I have a dream speech’ about the future of gardening and horticulture, Carol Klein looked very glamorous and Matthew Wilson managed to keep the post-lunch (and wine) audience under control. Dr Hessayon, he of the ‘Expert’ books fame, took to the stage to present an award and made a speech, a speech which was oddly misreported in several newspapers. There was much consternation on Twitter from those who had been there – had we really missed the standing ovation? Turns out you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers. I was really happy for Jason Ingram, who took the photographs for my book, when he won ‘Photographer of the Year’. Then it was time to leave; the matchsticks would hold my eyelids open no more. I did have to navigate a room of over 300 people with my goody bag first though. I’m sure the idea behind using a watering can as the receptacle for a variety of gardening related gifts rather than an actual bag seemed like a great idea on paper, the recipients were after all a group of gardeners. On the other hand the very long pointy spout was an accident waiting to happen. Numerous groins and a pregnant lady narrowly missed a poke from me but I thought it was safest to make my exit when I realised I had been stood with the spout only millimeters away from the ear of a man who was sitting down behind me. Still, I guess a watering can was an improvement on an axe, the gift given to all the guests a few years ago.

Delicious food at the GMG awards, shame about the green lighting

Then there was the long trip home before heading off the next day on another long journey to visit family in the north-east for the weekend. And now I’m back home and it’s December and I feel completely unprepared for everything this month demands. The garden and allotment demand little or no attention at this time of year which is just as well really. I miss the fresh air and exercise of a morning spent gardening but I’m enjoying the break this year more than in the past. Scouring seed and plant catalogues and the internet for ideas for projects I’ll be working on next year is exciting but daunting also. Where will I fit it all? Am I biting off more than I can chew? There are the first signs of new life on the plot as daffodils poke through the bare soil, encouraged by the mild autumn. It’s surprisingly how the sight of just a few fat green shoots can spark a feeling of positivity and creativity but they did. It’s going to be a hectic few weeks but I’m determined to get out into the garden and have a poke about in search of new life. As we move closer to the shortest day it makes all the difference to my mood to be reminded spring won’t be too far away.

Spring delights

A dead mouse, an Indian summer and Christmas colour

Tags

amarylis, bulbs for forcing, Countryfile, hyacinths for forcing, paper white narcissi

Bulb planting

There’s something to be said for blissful ignorance. There are so many forms of communication nowadays that being unaware of what is going on has to be a deliberate choice; don’t listen to the radio, turn off the TV and don’t read twitter. Take the weather for instance. The Countryfile weather forecast had set expectations high that a spell of good weather was on its way, the Indian summer I had been hoping for. For days though a thick layer of looming and oppressive cloud hung over this corner of Wales. The sense of disappointment was huge but it was made worse when I would hear reports of sunshine and warmth elsewhere. The thought that if we lived only 40 miles or so further west or north and I would be basking in glorious sunshine just made me feel as if I was missing out, rather like knowing there was a party taking place that I really wanted to go to but couldn’t be there. Much better to not know the party was going on in the first place!!

Tuesday was another day that started off with a slate grey sky, the cloud was so low it was almost making me feel claustrophobic. Opening the curtains in the dining room I spotted a little mammalian treat left behind so thoughtfully by our neighbour’s cat. I made a mental note to tackle the mouse’s disposal after breakfast. Of course I got distracted and forgot entirely about the dead creature so inconveniently deposited just by the greenhouse. So an hour or so later, on my way to check my seedlings in the greenhouse, I stopped to see if our resident frog was poking through the pond weed. I knew instantaneously what the soft squishy thing was that I could now feel under one of my flip-flops and screamed. I had stood on the dead mouse. Poor thing! To add insult to injury the meaninglessness of its death, purely as a play thing for a cat that has no need for extra food as it waddles around the neighbourhood, had now just been compounded by the lack of respect my shoe had shown it.

Despite the lack of sun I thought I’d better make the most of the fact that it was at least warm and start my bulb planting. I really dislike bulb planting. It’s hard work and the deferred gratification of having to wait until spring to see any rewards for your efforts doesn’t help. My strategy this year is to plant the bulbs in stages rather than in one mammoth session. This will hopefully make it all seem a less daunting task. The first of the bulbs to be planted were those I had bought to force for some early colour indoors this winter. I prefer to not give Christmas any thought until about mid-November, if I have any say in it but sometimes a little planning ahead is necessary and with my pots and bulb fibre ready I got planting. There were some paper white narcissus which should flower before Christmas, a multi-headed and highly scented narcissus called ‘Grand Soleil d’Or’, an amarylis and some Hyacinth ‘L’Innocence’, a beautiful simple white especially prepared for forcing. I haven’t grown any bulbs this way since I was a child, it was one of my mum’s rituals to plant hyacinths every autumn. I remember planting them in brightly coloured bowls and putting them under the bed in the spare room and checking them every week or so, waiting to see signs of shoots poking through. I never used to like the smell of hyacinths so it’ll be interesting to see if my sense of smell has matured at all. I’m hoping that planting these strongly scented bulbs isn’t going to make parts of the house a no-go zone this winter.

The hyacinths need a spell in a cool, dark place to allow roots to develop. I simply covered my pots in the left-over bulb fibre compost bag and then put them in a cool spot in the house. I’ll check on them every now and again and when shoots start to poke through I’ll remove the compost bag and move them into the light. I planted them into normal plastic pots but the plan is to get hold of some zinc planters in the coming weeks. I think the combination of the white flowers and the silvery zinc will look quite festive.

The daffodil varieties I’m growing, on the other hand, don’t need light excluding from them. So I’ve put the pots in a cool spot in the garden for now. As the weather gets a little cooler I’ll then bring them indoors. The amarylis needs warmth and light and is sitting in the greenhouse at the moment because of the warm weather but, as soon as the temperature starts to drop, it too will take up residence on my kitchen windowsill. You don’t need to use bulb fibre to plant up indoor bulbs, a multi-purpose compost mixed with some perlite to improve drainage is fine. Bulb fibre is best though if you’re using containers that don’t have drainage holes in them as it has charcoal in it which will keep the compost smelling fresh.

Woven birch plant supports

I have, in the past, bought bulbs already planted up from the garden centre which are just about to flower but they do have a tendency to become very floppy. The low light levels of winter mean they strain for any available light and they are quite tall plants for a pot anyway. Garden centres often put a stick painted green into the pot to provide some support but it’s such an ugly thing and detracts from the beautiful flowers. So that’s why I spent yesterday weaving some birch twigs to create some more natural looking means of support for my home-grown forced bulbs. The birch twigs are brilliant and super flexible and the woven structures should do the trick.

As the hours passed the sun did finally burn through the cloud, so much so that I was gardening in a vest top and shorts by the end of the day. Strange to think that these bulbs will be flowering in several months time when the warmth of summer will be a distant memory. Hopefully their flowers will brighten up those winter days. Does anyone else grow bulbs for indoors? I’d love to hear about your favourites.

Frost, Fields of Gold and a Dodgy Mussel

Tags

Cornwall, fields of daffodils, Padstow, scented narcissi

The one downside to growing all the plants I need for the book I’m writing is not being able to go away for any reasonable length of time. Dreams of a week away will have to be put on hold this year. I have been known in the past to take seedlings and young plants on holiday with me rather than leave them to fend for themselves but the volumes I’m growing this year would mean hiring a van just for the plants. A mobile greenhouse, now there’s a thought.

Last week we did manage to squeeze in a few days in Cornwall and whilst winter still had its grip on most of the country we escaped to the one place untouched by snow and frost. I could go on and on about why Cornwall is such an amazing place. Whether it’s the quality of the light, the stunning beaches or the rugged coastline they are all great reasons to spend some time there but it’s the milder climate and longer growing season that tempts me to live there permanently. Despite the ear-aching cold wind I was surprised at just how many plants were flowering. At home my garden was slowing clawing its way into spring. In the narrow, sheltered streets of Padstow it was hard to tell what season it was going by the plants in flower. There was lavender and scented narcissi, ceanothus and primroses. So close to the warming influence of the water, frost and snow are rare occurrences in the county, and in the tiny villages which hug the cliffs running down to the sea the extra shelter provides an enviable micro-climate. The red valerian in one garden looked like it hadn’t stopped flowering since last year.

Cornish fields of daffodils

There is one flower, perhaps more than any other that is connected to Cornwall and that is the daffodil. For centuries farmers have grown them as a crop both for cut flowers and bulbs, the milder climate allowing them to pick flowers from October right through to the end of March. I’ve always wanted to see daffodils grown on such a scale but have never visited Cornwall at this time of year before. Then coming back from a visit to Falmouth we saw fields of gold in front of us. At first I instinctively thought it was rapeseed until I realised what it actually was. I was pointing excitedly and saying ‘We’ve got to stop’. I realise that sounds a bit odd, it was only a field of daffodils after all. Finding a place to stop so I could get some photos I opened the car door to be completely surprised by the smell. Although on the side of the road furthest from the field the scent of so many daffodils drifted across to me. After all those years of thinking about how the scene would look I’d never given any thought to the fact that it would smell so amazing and I wasn’t even that close. I love it when that happens. You come across or experience something you’ve thought about for a long time and not only does it meet your expectations it exceeds them.

It was good to get a few days rest, walk on the beach and breathe in the sea air but the general aim of going away was to come back feeling re-energised and raring to go. Unfortunately the bug I picked up on the last day had other ideas. I’m blaming a dodgy mussel. I’ll spare you the details but it may be a long time before I can face seafood again.

Spick and Span

Tags

Hellebores, snowdrops

Emerging snowdrops

I had a bit of a frantic tidy up this weekend. It had something to do with lying in bed all last week and having too much time on my hands to think about all those jobs I wanted to be getting on with but just didn’t feel up to doing. I do like things to be tidy. It stems from living in tiny places at university and then a minute flat when we first got married. I hate not being able to find things, can’t abide clutter and I definitely believe in a tidy place equals a tidy mind. Recently though I’ve been so busy certain cupboards and drawers have become a bit unruly. You know the thing, you open the cupboard door and things fall out but because you’re in a hurry you just wedge everything back in again until the next time, when of course it all falls out again. Well it was all starting to annoy me so I spent Saturday whizzing around like Mary Poppins, cleaning and reorganising.

It wasn’t just the house that had suffered a bit of neglect over the last month or so. The front and back gardens were looking a bit worse for wear. Granted it’s December and they are unlikely to look at their best but there was a general soggy scruffiness that just looked messy. The main spur though was the sight of the first little clump of snowdrops that we spotted in the churchyard in town on Saturday. It seems pretty early but it got me thinking about my own snowdrops and whether they were showing any signs of an appearance.

On Sunday morning I had a bit of a poke around in the borders and there they were, hidden under a pile of decaying alchemilla foliage. They’re just little green shoots at the moment with no real signs of white yet but even so it was a great discovery.

I don’t tend to tidy up the garden too much in autumn, preferring to leave seed heads to catch any frost we may get, and this year was no exception. It can be good to leave the top growth of some plants to provide the crown with a degree of protection from the winter weather and, of course, plant debris can provide a great place for ladybirds and other insects to overwinter and ultimately the leaves will break down and enrich the soil. However, as with most things there are downsides and just as piles of leaves may act as a warm duvet for beneficial insects so too are they for those creatures you don’t necessarily want in your garden such as slugs and earwigs. For me, it’s really down to personal preference and available time as to whether to clean up the garden or not before spring. I was pleased though to get my hands on quite a few slugs and some snails eggs all tucked away under a soggy geranium. At least that’s a few less of the mollusc foes for the garden next year.

Hellebore flower buds

It seemed a shame though to have snowdrops pushing through and not be able to see them because they were smothered under dying plants and so Wellyman and I spent Sunday clearing up both gardens. With secateurs at hand, asters, alchemilla and geraniums were cut back. Some plants were left though. Sedums, heleniums, achilleas and grasses were left for their structural qualities. These have looked great over the last few weeks covered in frost and they will provide some height and interest in the garden well into the new year.

One part of the garden had become a bit of a no go area after it had been taken over by Verbena bonariensis plants which had self-seeded everywhere. I’d left them to flower over the summer and into autumn but it all just looked too much of a mess now. They all came out to reveal the winter flowering honeysuckle coming into flower.

In my front garden the tidy up allowed the Viburnum bodnantense ‘Dawn’ in all its full candyfloss-pink glory to take centre stage. It felt great to get out into the garden, into the surprisingly warm sunshine and get some fresh air and exercise after a week stuck in bed. It felt even better once we’d finished to see the garden all spruced up and ready for those spring bulbs to push through.

Wrapping up for Winter

Tags

bulb planting, Narcissi, rose pruning. Rosa 'Shropshire Lad

Flaming blueberry bush

I’ve been running around in a bit of a panic this week trying to get the plot and garden sorted. I saw the forecast for the week ahead, on Sunday night, and no my eyes did not deceive me, there were snow flurries shown on the map. OK they aren’t meant to make it so far as Wales but those icy winds from the Arctic looked like they might. Even the weatherman was warning gardeners they had a 4 day window to prepare for the cold spell. Well I can confirm today that it is more than a little nippy outside. Cold enough for a woolly hat and gloves.

My franticness has been exacerbated by demands on the work front. Projects are starting to take off but rather like buses they seem to have all come along at once. Now I’m not complaining but it has all rather taken me by surprise. Blogging activity has been curtailed, so my apologies if I don’t get round to responding to comments or have a chance to leave them on your own posts. I just need to get organised and manage my time a little better and I’m sure normal activity will resume once again. A 26-hour day might help, too.

The weather this week hasn’t exactly been conducive to spending time in the garden. A dark grey, looming sky has hung over this part of Wales all week. Monday was wet and I started to worry I was never going to get the remainder of my daffs planted. We found a real bargain at a local garden centre a couple of months ago. You could fill a medium-sized plastic flower-pot with Narcissi bulbs for £2.99. Wellyman did see this as a bit of a challenge and quickly devised a strategy to place the bulbs in the pot to maximise the space. By placing the first layer of bulbs facing up and then the next facing down, and so on, he believes we got about ten more bulbs than the lady next to us!! Wellyman does love a good deal and 45 bulbs for £3 certainly fitted that bill. So much so, that we went back for a second visit at the weekend to stock up on some more.

Tuesday was drier so I took the plunge. The soil was a little claggy in places and ideally I wouldn’t have been doing anything with it but my bulbs needed planting. It’s surprising how time consuming bulb planting is and, as I think I may well have mentioned before, it is not one of my favourite gardening tasks. Well worth it come spring though. Wednesday was spent moving any tender plants into pots and bringing them indoors and potting up some of the herbs to overwinter in the cold frame. My succulents are tucked away under cover too as they hate a wet Welsh winter. Chairs and table were cleaned and squeezed into what remaining space I have in my shed. Hose pipes are stashed away protected from any frosts.

Rose pruning

Wellyman helped me tame my climbing rose, ‘Shropshire Lad’. I normally prune roses in late winter but this climber had got a bit unruly this summer and was sprawling all over the place. As I was a little worried that any strong winds would damage the plants I thought I’d tackle it now. It was only meant to get to 8ft at the most but had stems at 10ft and more reaching for the sky. I guess it’s happy where it is. Wellyman is normally a little reticent when it comes to pruning. I’m a bit more gung-ho but, strangely it was hubby that was saying, ‘I think we might as well take that stem out too’. Although it can be a little worrying when you see the pile of plant debris on the ground and you wonder if you’ve been a bit too brutal.

I’ve still got jobs to do, of course. I’ll wait until the frosts have knocked back the herbaceous perennials before I tidy some of them up and I still have some flowers in the beds at the allotment which might well be gone completely by the start of next week. But, on the whole, the garden feels like it has been wrapped up for winter. Now it’s me that needs wrapping up.

Carpets of Snowdrops

Tags

galanthus, painswick rococo gardens, snowdrops, spring bulbs

Snowdrops at Painswick

I have one or two clumps of snowdrops starting to flower in my own garden and as much as I am charmed by their appearance, they cannot compete with the sight of carpets of snowdrops that will grace many gardens over the next month or so.

I am lucky enough to be within visiting distance of two of the most famous snowdrop displays in the UK, Painswick Rococo Gardens and Colesbourne and nothing can beat the spectacular sight of thousands of snowdrop flowers en masse.

Snowdrops en masse at Painswick

Galanthophiles, otherwise known as snowdrop lovers, flock every February to Colesbourne in Gloucestershire, once the home of one of the most famous galanthophiles, Henry John Elwes. There are now 250 varieties at Colesbourne, the first named Galanthus elwesii was brought back from Turkey by Henry in 1874. His family still live at Colesbourne and the present owners have done much to build the collection.

Colesbourne snowdrops (image taken from snowdrop.org.uk)

Snowdrops for some reason seem to appeal to the collector. I have to admit that I find it difficult to see the difference between some of the varieties and yet there are those who will pay up to £25 for a pot of Galanthus ‘Lapwing’. I do, however understand why they are such a loved plant. They are one of the first flowers to appear and are hardy little things often poking up through the snow and frost. They signal a change in the seasons, with a much longed for spring on it’s way.

Colesbourne isn’t just about snowdrops though. Other spring bulbs feature such as cyclamen, crocus, daffodils and muscari, along with an excellent range of hellebores. When we visited last year I was particularly impressed with the number of winter flowering honeysuckle plants dotted around the garden, their scent was sublime. If you fancy taking a plant away with you there is a good selection and plenty that don’t cost £25. Interestingly, they dig up their bulbs when they are dormant and pot them up ready for you to plant when you get home. They believe they do better this way as there is less root damage than transplanting them when they are in the green.

Painswick is another place worth a visit to see snowdrops. The garden was designed in the 1740s in what became known as a ‘rococo style’ but by 1970 it had become an overgrown jungle. Garden historians became interested in Painswick and the owner set in place a restoration project using a painting of the gardens from 1748. It is thought that John Atkins, a retired nurseryman living in an estate cottage was the first to introduce snowdrops to Painswick. It now has one of the largest naturalistic plantings of the bulb.

I love visiting gardens and by January I am always starting to feel withdrawal symptoms, so it is great that there are places that celebrate late winter and early spring and give us gardeners, who have been cooped up all winter, an opportunity to get out  and be inspired.

I unfortunately remembered when trying to find the photos for Colesbourne that the battery on our camera died that day, which was and still is very annoying. Oh well, I guess it’s a good excuse for a return visit.