A change is as good as a move …

Tags

cut flower garden, cut flower patch, garden desing, garden pond, head torch, raised beds

Syringa meyeri ‘Josee’

Well maybe that’s going a bit far but a bit of a garden revamp has certainly reignited my interest in my own back garden. This time last year both Wellyman and I were excited about the prospect of moving house but when we decided to put that on hold I pretty much lost my gardening mojo. I had entered into gardening limbo. As the summer progressed it got worse. I was still growing for work but inside my heart wasn’t in it. I spent a lot of time wracking my brain as to how to marry the situation with my need for a change. I didn’t want to spend much money and didn’t have the inclination to rip out everything I had planted over the last 8 years and start again. The idea of creating a cutting garden had been at the back of my mind for a while. A space packed with shrubs, bulbs and herbaceous perennials which would supplement the annuals from the cut flower patch. A place where everything could be picked for a vase. I’d always planned for it to be in another garden, somewhere a little bigger, where I could start from scratch. I hummed and hawed over whether it would be worth trying it here and if I actually had the space to do it. After 7 years of being in place the raised beds needed a few repairs anyway and the pond no longer worked where it was. So a few weekends ago we bit the bullet. Wellyman cleverly rejigged the raised bed configuration. By removing a few oak boards we incorporated a path into the beds and reusing the boards meant we didn’t need to spend any money.

The next job was to move the pond. I say pond, it’s more of a puddle to be honest, one of those preformed liners. It’s initial spot was fine, but then the greenhouse came along which made access to the pond tricky. Cleaning out pond weed required Wellyman (his longer arms were needed) to perform a yoga-like balancing act. Being tucked away meant not only did it not get cleaned as frequently as it should have but we also didn’t get to appreciate it. We did consider removing it completely, to put the space to better use, but we thought we’d at least try it out in its new location and then decide. Wellyman decanted two-thirds of the water into trugs and we gingerly lifted it out of the ground. Then two little eyes appeared. There was a frog staring back at us looking a little perturbed by the disturbance and us rudely waking him up on a Sunday morning. Well, what could we do? The decision was made for us, we could hardly make him/her homeless, so the pond is to stay, albeit in a new, more accessible spot.

Plants were divided and some went to the compost heap making way for others which had been sitting in pots waiting for a new home. Out have come grasses, a helenium, and some sedums, in has gone a small, repeat flowering lilac, a Viburnum opulus and some hesperantha.

Garden revamp

With time soil had made its way on to the gravel paths, so much so that I’ve had as many plants sprouting in the paths as in the raised beds this summer. As everything was getting an overhaul the gravel was moved on to plastic sheets whilst the weed membrane was swept. We made a fantastic muddy mess by washing the gravel to remove any soil and plant material before putting it all back on top of the membrane.

Working outside at this time of year brings its problems. For a couple of weeks after the clocks change, the shorter days take me by surprise. You come back after a break for lunch and realise there’s so much still to do but that daylight is already slipping away. I seem to have spent quite a bit of time in recent weeks scrabbling around in the dark with a torch perched precariously whilst bulb planting, tidying out the greenhouse or potting up plants. I think a head torch might be making it to the top of my Christmas list this year.

The raised beds in spring

The other problem is mud. It’s impossible to do anything in the garden without creating a mess and the damp weather means nothing dries out. You start this kind of work with the best intentions taking wellies off every time you come indoors but when the phone rings and you’re trying to do the welly removal dance at speed or you’ve forgotten something for the umpteenth time it’s all becomes too much of a faff. The wellies remain on and the floor starts to resemble the mud splattered patio. Then there’s the clothes. It was hard to tell if there were gloves under the hand-shaped clumps of mud which Wellyman left by the back door.

I didn’t think a patio caked in mud was what the magazine editor and photographer would be looking for to accompany shots of spring bulb planting. I’d scrubbed and scrubbed with a brush but it didn’t seem to make the flagstones look any cleaner. Day after day of thick fog and moisture saturating every surface didn’t help. I was contemplating hiring a pressure washer at one point, until I woke one morning to the sound of rain pelting the roof and more importantly the patio. Every cloud has a silver lining.

You can’t call what we did a garden redesign but I think it’s enough to fire my imagination for another couple of years. It’ll give me the opportunity to grow new plants, to experiment in the garden and in the vase, and to excite me as to how elements of the garden will change through the seasons. And, perhaps most importantly for now, there’ll be lots of lists and scribblings this winter as I scour the plant and seed catalogues.

Have you got any plans, grand or small, for your garden this autumn/winter?

 

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Clearing the decks

Indian Summer sunshine – Bunny tails (Lagurus ovatus)

I’ve always been a great believer in the adage ‘a tidy house, a tidy mind’. There definitely seems to be a correlation between how clean the space is around me and how clear my brain feels in order to get on with work. Perhaps that’s why I’ve noticed in the last few years the fog that descends on me in August as the garden takes on a slightly wild appearance and I realise that it’s in control and not me. It’s not that I want a garden which is pristine. I prefer a relaxed space with plants tumbling over paths and self-seeded plants popping up in unexpected places, but there is a line where relaxed becomes chaotic. I’m sure I’m not alone in the reluctance to remove or cut back plants which are past their best but still flowering. With autumn comes a release, the freedom to feel able to empty pots of their tired and overgrown bedding plants, to pull out those annuals which have seen better days. It all feels very therapeutic.

October will be a busy month and time in the garden will be in short supply so we’ve made the most of this brief Indian Summer to gain some control. Pots have been cleared and replanted with violas for autumn and winter cheer, hanging baskets have been dismantled, the compost heap has been emptied, the last of the tomatoes picked. Then there was the plot. Work up there is restricted to weekends now but at least I’ve got Wellyman helping out now that he has finished his degree. Apart from brief trips to pick flowers or collect some fruit and vegetables it had been over three weeks since I’d done any work on the plot. I felt a bit guilty it had been so neglected but there’s nothing like a spot of weeding and deadheading to give you the chance to mull over the year and think about what you’ve learnt, the successes and failures, what you want to grow next year and what isn’t worth devoting soil to anymore.

Cosmos ‘Psyche Rose Picotee’

A few thoughts which crept into my head:

• You can have too many pots – they overwhelmed me and the patio this year. Many of them were for work so were a necessary nuisance. But it has shown me the need for space in a garden particularly if you don’t have a lawn. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can have too many plants.
• It’s surprising how inconvenient it can be to have lettuce and herbs growing on the plot rather than at home. It’s only five minutes away but it might as well be the other end of the country when I’m mid-sandwich prep and realise I’m short on salad. It would make sense to have these in pots at home but I refer you to my previous point.
• The frustrating and unfathomable nature of nature. Wasps have plagued our raspberries this year. Apart from them adding a certain amount of frisson to the picking process – Russian roulette with a sting rather than a bullet – they have the annoying habit of eating a hole in the base of a raspberry and then moving on to the next where they do the same. If they all clubbed together and at least picked a berry and ate the whole thing I wouldn’t mind so much, we all have to eat, but no, they work their way through our raspberry patch nibbling away as if they’re at a food festival and want to try a bit of everything.
• I love growing potatoes. For several years I haven’t bothered with the humble spud but back in January we were in a garden centre looking for something else and ended up coming out with a few paper bags of seed potatoes. Perhaps I’ve loved them so much because for very little effort they reward you handsomely. I’m looking to double the amount for next year. Any recommendations gratefully received.
• I can’t get enough of dahlias. As with the potatoes these fabulous plants need so little attention and yet they just keep on producing the most exquisite of flowers. They’re happiness in a vase. If the bank balance will take it, a whole bed will be given over to them next year.

Dahlia ‘Karma Naomi’

• Despite feeling like I can’t keep on top of everything I can’t bring myself to hand in the allotment. I don’t spend as much time up there now as I first did. But where would I grow all those potatoes and dahlias if I didn’t have my little patch of land.
• Nobody mentions storage when they extol the virtues of growing your own produce. We had over 60 apples from one small espaliered apple tree this year. Fabulous! That is until you have to find somewhere to store them all. I look at those beautiful wooden apple storage racks that appear in stylish gardening magazines at this time of year and wonder who has the space for them – I can’t get into my downstairs loo because it’s become home to a trug for the recycling, vases which won’t fit anywhere else and a collection of pots filled with ‘Paper White’ narcissi for forcing. Best I stick to early potatoes next year.
• I need to be more ruthless. We have three rhubarb plants – two is plenty. I’ve been meaning to get rid of one of them for a few years now but never seem to get round to it. It’s the same with flowers. I seem to grow some each year despite not really using them as cut flowers. I’m finding that my flower patch is a bit like my wardrobe – I have my favourites that I go to all the time and others go untouched. Fashion magazines talk about capsule wardrobes – does anyone ever achieve that, even the top stylists must have something lurking in their wardrobe that they thought was a good idea when they bought it but they’ve never actually worn it. Well I think I need to attempt a flower version of the capsule wardrobe with my cutting patch. I need to ruthless with flowers that are taking up valuable space and ditch them next year, then I can squeeze in some more dahlias.
• Last year I’d missed the opportunity to sow some green manure and I really regretted it. I don’t like to see bare soil over winter particularly after persistent heavy rain when the soil takes on a pulverized look. It can be tricky using green manures though. That desire to eek out plants for as long as possible (this seems to be a running theme) means that it can often be too late to sow a green manure so that it puts on enough growth at this time of year do actually do its job. Well, on Sunday any vegetables and flowers that had seen better days came out, the ground was cleared and raked and in went some winter rye grass. Hopefully by the end of the month it will have formed a tufty, green duvet to protect the soil over winter.

I’d love to hear what you’ve taken away from this growing year.

Rain, rain go away and publication day

Tags

natural Christmas decorations, The Crafted Garden, topiary

A wet August has made for a decidedly sodden garden and allotment, and at times a soggy gardener. I wouldn’t have minded so much if it was just drizzle but it has been the sort of rain, those big fat drops, which soaks you in minutes.

I’ll admit I’m a bit of a fair weather gardener. It’s the cold that mainly makes me retreat indoors. Rain doesn’t bother me so much, particularly if I’m prepared and wearing full waterproofs, even if I do make a passing attempt at the ‘trawlerman off to sea’ look. The problem with gardening when it’s wet is the mess that results. It’s impossible to not end up looking like a creature from the deep or like I’ve spent the last few hours bog snorkelling rather than gardening. Or is this just me?

Weeding is initially quite pleasurable as dandelions and thistles with long tap roots slip from the rain-softened earth so much more easily than from sun-baked soil. It’s not long though before I’m covered in mud. Using the trowel or hoe elicits a squelching noise from my rain-soaked gloves as another weed is removed. Deadheading isn’t too bad but then the petals and leaves stick to me.

I trimmed my yew topiary cones by the front door last week. The forecast promised wall to wall sunshine and little chance of rain. The yew needed taming. It had taken on an unkempt shagginess which meant it was no longer possible to distinguish any real shape. I wish I hadn’t planted them in the first place. Clipping them, although a task only needed to be done once a year, has become a chore. One of those jobs I’ll put off until I have to accept I need to do it or we won’t be able to get to the front door. Of course the wall to wall sunshine included a series of heavy downpours – it’s been that kind of summer. I sheltered in the hall during these cloud bursts but each time I returned outside the soggy yew clippings would cling to everything – me, the shears, the path and the brush. Much muttering about stupid yews and their annoying need to grow and chastisements of the inexperienced gardener who planted them 8 years ago ensued.

There’s an autumnal feel to my arrangements now

I absent-mindedly left the shed door open last week. The next morning it looked like a torrent had streamed through it. A neighbour asked if I’d heard the storm that night. I sleep with ear plugs in so had been oblivious to the deluge the heavens had deposited on the village.

At least showers have replaced incessant rain. In the intervening dry spells I have been trying to get as many garden jobs done as possible. Hardy annuals have been sown, biennials are in their final homes on the cut flower patch, the plot has been weeded and the box balls no longer look like shaggy hedgehogs. All this means I can go off for a bit of a break knowing everything is as it should be, well, for a couple of weeks at least.

So it’s finally here. The Crafted Garden is published today. It’s an exciting and nerve-racking time. I’ve had some lovely feedback already which is always a bit of a relief. I really hope if you get a chance to read it you’ll feel inspired to try some crafting using nature. Whether it’s simply collecting a few bits and pieces on a walk and creating your own nature table at home, making natural wreaths or finding ideas for home crafted Christmas decorations. Even if crafting isn’t your thing I’ve included some fabulous garden-worthy plants that will make great additions to any green space and there are tips along the way on how to grow a variety of plants. And of course, there are plenty of flowers.

The Crafted Garden is available from bookshops and online, or you could take advantage of this special discount price.

To order The Crafted Garden by Louise Curley at the discounted price of £13.99 including p&p* (RRP: £16.99), telephone 01903 828503 or email mailorders@lbsltd.co.uk and quote the offer code APG355. 

*UK ONLY – Please add £2.50 if ordering from overseas.

My new book – The Crafted Garden

Tags

cut flower patch, Frances Lincoln, homemade wreaths, inspired by nature, natural crafting, seasonal crafting, The Crafted Garden

My new book ©Jason Ingram

A heavy envelope which felt like it had books in it arrived the other day with the postmark of my publisher on it. It’s funny how after nearly two years in the making, and the pulling teeth process of editing which can make even the most committed of authors fall a little out of love with their book, the excitement is still there when you see all that work come together for the first time. It’s not as if the content comes as a surprise, you spend hours in front of a computer writing the words, there’s the time coming up with the ideas, in my case growing the plants to provide the material and there’s the photo shoots. Finally there’s the editing process. Time spent working with your editor and the designer marrying the photos and text together, and the juggling of it all to fit the layout and design of the book. Weeks and weeks of looking at PDFs and going through edited text can strip you of most of the passion and excitement you had when the book first started to form as an idea.

Fortunately there is a breathing space when it all goes quiet, the emails from the publisher stop and you return to a life no longer dictated to by your book. You stop waking up early, usually with a sudden jolt, worrying about whether you’ve spelt someone’s name correctly in the acknowledgments, or whether you remembered to send that urgent email about the photo that’s in the wrong place.

A spring project – The Crafted Garden ©Jason Ingram

Several months later the emails start again – publication date is drawing closer. Then a package, a book-shaped package, arrives and that excitement you felt all those months ago when you first starting working on the idea returns. It’s a little odd seeing all those long hours, the frustrations but also the fun times, staring back at you in book form. It’s a team effort to bring everything together and it was a delight to work with the very talented team behind my last book, editors Helen and Joanna, photographer Jason Ingram and designer Becky Clarke. Wellyman is also rather chuffed that some of his photos have made it into the book too.

The Crafted Garden brings together my love of gardening, crafting and nature. For me these three loves go hand in hand. Why buy a fake wreath to adorn your door when the natural materials to make a gorgeous seasonal wreath can be grown so easily in your garden or foraged from the hedgerows? Why buy Christmas decorations shipped in from the Far East when simple ways to festoon your house can be made from cones, lichen-covered twigs and evergreens collected on a winter woodland walk? They can be thrifty, fun to make, connect you and your home with the seasons, and they can be composted when the New Year arrives.

The Crafted Garden ©Jason Ingram

I think more and more people have grown tired of mass-manufactured products that have little or no charm, made in vast factories and shipped from the other side of the world in massive container ships. Many of us are rediscovering the pleasure in making our own or seeking out skilled craftspeople who make bespoke pieces. I think this is all a bit of a backlash against the homogeneity of the high street. Being creative is also good for us. Neuroscientists are looking into how creative tasks impact on the brain. It’s believed it can have an impact similar to meditation, and increasingly crafting is being used as a way to help people suffering from stress or mental health problems. Why do gardeners and florists regularly top the lists of people happiest in their jobs? Because there’s a real connection between a task and a visible outcome and in many cases the chance to be creative.

I’ve found crafting with natural ingredients has broadened my ideas about what I might grow in my garden or on my cut flower patch. I now regularly include flowers which dry well alongside those I pick fresh. I also look out for plants with great seed heads which I can save or pretty leaves for pressing.

The Crafted Garden ©Jason Ingram

For me it has also been a great way to beat those winter blues. Projects give the mind something to focus on as the light levels drop and by creating projects based on the seasons it has made me learn to appreciate what each season has to offer. I’ve always loved the weeks before Christmas and decorating my home but I can’t be the only one who really feels the gloom of January, the house bare after the winter festivities. But if you have some pots of paper white narcissi and flamboyant hippeastrums waiting in the wings to decorate a dining table or windowsill it’s amazing how they can lift the spirits and remind you spring isn’t far away.

The Crafted Garden is divided into the seasons with projects inspired by the plants and countryside of each. And, because I’m a gardener and plant lover, each project includes details of how to grow plants which could be used in the project with some other recommendations too. The projects range from ways to make your home look pretty, to floral fascinators perfect for a wedding or festival, with some ideas which would work as presents too. And there are ideas on how to craft and arrange flowers in a more environmentally friendly way. I’ve included a range of projects; some are very easy, others a little more complicated but still achievable. Lots of them are fantastic for crafting with children and inspiring them to appreciate nature.

The Crafted Garden is published on 3^rd September by Frances Lincoln and is available to preorder now from Frances Lincoln, Waterstones and Amazon.

Gone to Pot

Tags

container growing, flea markets, Mabel and Rose, The Foodie Bugle, The Posh Shed Company, Toby Buckland Garden Festival, vintage garden pots

A Posh Planter from The Posh Shed Company

For seven years or so I gardened pretty much solely in containers. Renting meant we couldn’t do a great deal to any of the gardens that came with each new house other than mow lawns and trim hedges. In other words, the boring bits. Container growing was the only way to get my growing fix. Our pots mainly consisted of edibles. We had good crops of courgettes, French beans, tomatoes, spuds and salad leaves. To be honest though by the time we had our own patch of soil my interest in pots had rather waned. Growing in the ground was a bit of a revelation. For about 5 years I had hardly any pots and I think I found it quite liberating. Pots, particularly small ones are demanding on time with all that watering and feeding.

However, over the last few years my love of containers has been rekindled. It has taken a while, but pots have slowly started to creep back into the garden, partly because I’m running out of soil and partly because I’m learning to appreciate them all over again. There are pots by the front door, pots with succulents, and planters with herbs. But what to use as a container?

I was lucky enough the other day to receive a wooden planter for a project I’m working on. Made in Herefordshire by The Posh Shed Company it’s rather lovely – good and solid, and in a very fetching shade of blue (they’re available in a selection of other delicious colours too). You could plant directly into the planter if you lined the slatted wooden base line with an old compost bag or some plastic sheeting with holes punctured into it. I rummaged in the shed for a pot that fitted snugly inside instead. It was as I was planting this wooden container that I caught myself thinking about how the choice of pot can make such a difference to a particular display and your garden as a whole.

In the past I was rather limited in my choice of pots. Moving constantly meant I didn’t want anything too heavy and my gardening budget was quite small. If I’m honest though it was more my imagination as to what to use as a pot that was the limiting factor. Plastic was my first choice. It was cheap, practical and lightweight, but let’s face it plastic pots aren’t particularly attractive. However, as they tended to be home to courgettes and potatoes I wasn’t too bothered at the time.

Terracotta is probably the most widely used material for containers. Most of my pots were clay but I’m less fond of it now. For me, the colour seems to jar in my garden and I’m not sure it’s the best foil for many plants. I find the orange tones don’t work with pastels which dominate my planting. It’s all a bit fake tan-like for me. I still have a collection but it dwindles every year as I lose some pots to frost. I do like the older-style terracotta which tends to be less orange – more of a pale, creamy colour, and most of my succulents are at home in these terracotta pots picked up from flea markets and second-hand shops. They’re easy enough to find and generally inexpensive. I’ll often find them hidden under a table in a box covered in cobwebs and the fragile skeletons of spiders. Larger terracotta pots, especially the older ones are pricey, and one of the lessons I have learnt is that if you are growing in pots the larger the better. One of the biggest mistakes I made as a rookie gardener was to buy small pots which a plant would fill all too quickly. Often I hadn’t given much thought to proportions either. By the time the plant had reached maturity it would more often than not look like it had out grown it’s home, rather like the teenager who has had a growth spurt and is sporting half-mast trousers.

Zinc planter

Gradually I’m moving away from terracotta in favour of other materials. Vintage finds are some of my favourites. Zinc baths are fabulous. If you’re after a large planter they can be excellent value for money. Flea markets and shops are the best places to find them and the cheapest. You can also find them online and in shops which specialise in gardenalia. This rectangular metal box was £10 from Malvern Flea Market. A trader had bought a job lot of them from an old garage which had closed down. They were a bit on the greasy side when we got them home but nothing a good clean couldn’t shift, and they’ve looked beautiful this spring planted up with tulips.

French enamel pots

I’m a bit obsessed by vintage enamel. I’m a bit like a bloodhound who has the scent when I go to one of my favourite flea markets. These were great value – £15 for the 3 from Toby Buckland’s Garden Festival.

Bonsai pot – a home for succulents

I discovered this bonsai pot on a recent shed clear out and thought it would be perfect for a few succulents.

Rusty urn

Then there is this vintage urn – it’s part of a pair. Crikey, they’re heavy – hence me moving only one out of the shed for this picture – but they look amazing. Sadly they aren’t mine, I’m just looking after them until I can deliver them to a friend.

The problem with vintage stuff is that if you’re not careful your garden can start to resemble a scrap yard or flea market and that’s generally not the look you’re trying to achieve. Balancing out the use of vintage pots with other containers is one way around this.

Wood makes an excellent material for containers. Old wooden fruit crates are one of my favourites. I line them with old compost bags to stop any compost falling out and it also helps the wood to last as long as possible. They’re a particular good depth for tomato plants with some basil planted around them. Then there are the more substantial wooden planters like the one from the Posh Shed Company. Containers like this make a statement in a garden and can be a focal point in themselves. Choosing containers in colours that blend with your garden and planting scheme is another way of tying a garden together. You don’t need to spend a small fortune on having a garden specially designed. Simply using containers in complimentary colours to your house, garden and planting combinations will give your garden a harmonious feel.

For more details about wooden planters from The Posh Shed Company.

Some of my favourite places for vintage finds – Shepton Mallett and Malvern Flea Markets, Toby Buckland’s Garden Festivals, The Foodie Bugle, Mabel and Rose.

Where to start?

Tags

Anne Wareham, Fern Verrow, Jane Powers, Jonathan Hession, Lunar and Biodynamic Gardening, Mark Diacono, Matt Jackson, Outwitting Squirrels, Stockton Bury Gardens, The Irish Garden

Tropaeolum tricolorum (Bolivian nasturtium) taken at Stockton Bury © Ian Curley

The problem with having a break from writing my blog is I never quite know where to start when I come to writing it again. Plants are probably the best place as it’s their fault I have so little time for blogging at the moment. I have plants everywhere. Every windowsill is being utilised, the cold frames are full to bursting, as is the greenhouse. It’s all one big juggling act of staggering sowings, moving plants about to harden them off and then moving them on to their final planting spots. I seem to spend quite a bit of time just staring at things and scratching my head wondering what the next move is going to be, like a horticultural version of chess.

Stockton Bury Gardens © Ian Curley

I have quite a few exciting projects on the go which require me to grow and nurture plants for photo shoots. This is on top of the plants for my own garden, the vegetable beds at the allotment and the cut flower patch hence my home being transformed into a forest of greenery. There are plenty of times when I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, but I’m trying not to dwell on that thought. Then there’s writing, all the usual stuff that goes into keeping day-to-day life ticking over and a husband in the final weeks of a degree. Who knew geologists were so interested in the bottom parts of fossilised creatures? Oh, and throw in a gum infection so one side of my face resembled a gerbil and the gnawing pain of toothache. It’s all very exciting (well, apart from the toothache, obviously). It’s just an overwhelming time of year when it feels like twice as much work has to be squeezed into the same amount of time.

Stockton Bury Gardens, Herefordshire © Ian Curley

There was a chance on Saturday though to spend a few hours at a nearby garden to give Wellyman a break from his revision. Stockton Bury is a bit of a hidden gem, tucked away in Herefordshire. It’s a bucolic landscape, a sleepy county where the pace of life is still governed by the rural economy and the seasons. It’s a place I’ve been past many times. I have no explanation as to why we haven’t visited at some point, but as the saying goes ‘better late than never’. And what a stunning garden it is; a real plantsperson’s paradise. There was lots to see with plants I’ve never come across anywhere else. The garden covers four acres and is full of the most photogenic buildings you’ll ever see, from oast houses and a pigeon-house to fabulous ancient barns surrounded by cider apple orchards. The whole place reminded me of the nineties TV programme The Darling Buds of May. Despite its size it didn’t feel grand or ostentatious, and there were plenty of ideas and inspiration for the visitor. The plant highlight of the day had to be the fabulous tree peonies. I’ve never seen so many in one place. They had me drooling and wondering if I could shoehorn yet another plant into the back garden. We didn’t come home with one – I need to do some more research first, but pots of the German catchfly Lychnis visicaria and a hardy native orchid did come back with us.

Stockton Bury Gardens © Ian Curley

It’s not the ideal time of year to try to indulge in a spot of reading. My eyes don’t stay open for long on a night and my New Year’s resolution of reading in my lunch break has been postponed for now. A couple of books that have come my way recently which I’d love to mention are a bit of an eclectic bunch – Outwitting Squirrels by Anne Wareham, The Irish Garden by Jane Powers and Lunar and Biodynamic Gardening by Matt Jackson.

Outwitting Squirrels by Anne Wareham

Outwitting Squirrels is actually the perfect book for this time of year – short chapters which can be read in bite-sized chunks. It’s a wittily written take on the gardening problems Anne has encountered over the years from pests and diseases to noise pollution and the weather. You’ll find yourself nodding in recognition, wryly smiling to yourself and laughing out loud. For example, “…midges are attracted to dark clothing, possibly HRT, gloomy, wet places and carbon dioxide. The cure, then, is to stop breathing and wear a white shroud.” Anne shares her tips in an honest and self-deprecating manner. It’s by no means a definitive guide to pests and diseases, but it never sets out to be. Perhaps a book to stash in your luggage for your summer holiday reading and a contender for the best gardening book cover?

The Irish Garden by Jane Powers

The Irish Garden by Jane Powers, the gardening correspondent for The Sunday Times in Ireland, is an epic work and clearly a true labour of love. At 400 pages this isn’t one for the suitcase and I’d be lying if I’d said I’d read it all, but what I have read so far I’ve loved. The book covers over 50 gardens across Ireland, all captured with stunning photography by Jonathan Hession. Jane’s research and writing are fascinating. I knew little about Irish gardens which is a real pity a) because my grandparents were Irish and b) because there are some stunning gardens which deserve attention. I was happy to discover I had at least visited one of the best in Ireland, Powerscourt, on a visit to Dublin several years ago. Dipping in and out of the book I have been most drawn to the smaller gardens and the section on edible spaces. June Blake’s Garden in County Wicklow is stunning, as is The Bay Garden in County Wexford. I loved the chance to see the garden of the Ballymaloe Cookery School and to read the story behind the Dunmore County School and the garden created with Gallic flair by its French owners. A book that is surely essential reading for anyone with an interest in the evolution of Irish gardening, garden history and for those plant lovers planning a trip to the Emerald Isle.

Lunar and Biodynamic Gardens by Matt Jackson

Biodynamics and gardening in tune with the moon are topics which have intrigued me for a while now. That’s as far as it has got though, so I was fascinated to read Lunar and Biodynamic Gardening. I have heard great things about biodynamics and lunar gardening, from this article by Mark Diacono to the story of a market garden in the Welsh borders which supplies top London restaurants. The author of this book, Matt Jackson, practices what he preaches using the principles in his own growing space. With over 20 years of gardening experience for the National Trust Matt describes his epiphany moment when he visited Tablehurst Biodynamic Farm in East Sussex. There are elements, the potions and tonics for instance, which will possibly take a certain suspension of disbelief for 21^st century sceptics, but the case studies and photos of abundant growth do a very good job of persuading the reader. Personally I’m not sure whether I’m sold on the idea or not. I certainly feel passionately about organic growing and about nurturing the soil which are fundamental tenets of biodynamic and lunar gardening. I also think that we’ve lost many connections with the natural world since the industrialization of agriculture and our move away from rural surroundings, and in our highly technological world it’s easy to dismiss ideas like this. For me I’d certainly love to visit somewhere that grows on these principles or, even better, try to follow the suggestions in the book to test it out for myself. Matt’s book is a good introduction to both ideas and perfect for a gardener who wants to dip their toes into this world.

Scent in the Garden

Tags

Narcisus 'Geranium', RHS Great London Plant Fair, Scent in the Garden, The Cut Flower Patch, Victorian Violas, viola cornuta

Tulipa ‘Verona’

I remembered it was time for the latest instalment in the ‘Scent in the Garden’ meme on Saturday afternoon whilst I was crouched in a very uncomfortable position sawing at the base of my Viburnum x bodnantense. I’m not sure why it came to me then, I’ve somewhat lost track of the days in recent weeks; perhaps it was the scent of the narcissi which jogged my memory. I’m a bit late to the post but it’s that time of year where a couple of extra hours each day would be useful in order to fit everything in – like pruning shrubs and writing blog posts. Anyway better late than never. Blog posts like this are a useful exercise in getting me to stop and actually look at my garden rather than letting the spring garden pass by in a blur. Spring for a gardener is a bit like the spin cycle on a washing machine – lots of frantic activity – before things then slow down. In between my seed sowing, pricking out, potting on and watering (who’d have though April would be so bereft of the synonymous showers) it would be a pity to miss these scented spring delights.

Narcissus ‘Geranium’

There are so many forms of narcissi it would be impossible to have one favourite, but for me Narcissus ‘Geranium’ is certainly in my top ten. It has tall stems but smaller, more refined flowers than many varieties, with a dainty, snub-nose trumpet in vibrant orange. Most of all though I love its potent perfume – a real ‘knock your socks off’ whiff. Unfortunately my resident slugs and snails seem to be attracted to all my narcissi, including ‘Geranium’. So much so, many of them have been chomped to a raggedy mess. After the briefest of rain showers one night last week I went out on the first mollusc patrol of the year. After weeks of dry weather they were out in force and it was a real heart-sinking experience. Buoyed by the glorious weather and spring bursting forth I have been feeling quite perky and full of the proverbial joys, but having to pick big fat slugs and snails off the trumpets of daffodil blooms rather burst the bubble. Why do they slither and slime their way past weeds and leaf litter, crawl all the way up the daffodil stem to eat the flower? It seems like they are taunting us gardeners, it’s almost like they know how to wound us the most. There’s that point in a spring garden where everything looks fresh and new, untouched by the weather and pests, and I just want to keep everything looking so pristine and beautiful that I wish I could press pause. Then there’s the tipping point where spring perfection morphs into doily-like hosta leaves, tattered narcissi flowers and frost-induced mushy, brown magnolias and I sigh with resignation. Perhaps the slugs and snails might have a penchant for Chanel No. 5 and I could spray weeds to distract them from the daffs … It would be an expensive means of control, not quite as expensive as nematoding my garden for the summer though!

Tulipa ‘Verona’

Tulips aren’t generally thought of as being scented. I didn’t think so until I was researching The Cut Flower Patch. I’m eagerly anticipating the opening of Tulipa ‘Ballerina’ with it’s orange jelly-scented blooms but it’s ‘Verona’ which has been the first tulip to flower in the garden. A fabulously voluptuous variety with ruffled peony-like flowers in a deliciously buttery-cream colour. It doesn’t have a powerful ‘fill the air’ type perfume but, if you get up close, it does have a delicate sweet aroma. It lasts for ages too – providing a good four weeks of flower power. If you’re going to grow one tulip I can highly recommend this one.

Crab apple blossom

At last the crab apple has come into blossom; it’s later than it has been in past years. For the last week the tree has been studded with rose-pink buds. From the vantage point of the kitchen sink I thought something reddish-pink had become caught in the branches until I realised it was simply a huge cluster of flower buds. This weekend delicate white petals have started to unfurl, and with them a wonderful, underrated perfume. Underrated perhaps because it isn’t an overt aroma, the sort typically used in the perfume industry. For me, crab apple blossom perfectly captures spring in its scent – clean, crisp and fresh, like washing which has been dried outdoors in a gentle breeze. My crab apple in full bloom on a warm, sunny day fills the air with its scent, appreciated not just by me but also the bees which descend en masse to devour the nectar.

Syringa meyeri ‘Josee’

My mission to add more scent to the garden was helped somewhat by a visit to the RHS Great London Plant Fair last week. It was a coincidence (honestly) that I happened to be in London that day anyway. It was my first visit to a London plant fair and I was impressed. I would have liked there to be more nurseries in the Lindley Hall but overall there was a good selection of plants and at reasonable prices. The big dilemma was how much I could safely carry and keep alive on the long journey home. Among my quarry were Syringa meyeri ‘Josee’  and Viola cornuta ‘Victoria’s Blush’. I adore lilacs. There are several ways I can get to my allotment but I deliberately walk the route which takes me past a huge unkempt lilac, just so I can have a quick smell of the intoxicating aroma. I’ve always wanted one of my own but I have been a bit put off by the size of many of the varieties. So the smaller, more compact variety Syringa meyeri ‘Josee’ took my eye. A height and spread of 1.5m will make it ideal for my already cramped garden. I’m a huge fan of violas, particularly the perennial varieties. These trouble-free plants have a long flowering season. A purple Viola cornuta lines my borders producing a low-growing carpet of foliage and for several months delicate scented flowers. Cut back hard in mid-summer it gives a second showing into autumn. It does self-sow in cracks and crevices but I don’t hold that against it. For such a little flower Viola cornuta produces a heady fragrance, best on a still balmy evening.

Viola cornuta ‘Victoria’s Blush’

This little beauty was on the Victorian Violas stand. Its pale pink flowers caught my eye but it was the scent that won me over. I could have left with more if I’d had another pair of hands, luckily though it’ll self-sow once established. As ever, it would be fantastic if you would join in this meme – posting on your own blog (leave a link here) or leaving a comment about what its scented in your garden this month. I’m really loving discovering new scented plants and celebrating all that is fabulously fragrant.

Out with the old – learning to be ruthless

Tags

Anne Wareham, Blackberry 'Waldo', Gardeners' World, Highgrove, hostas, Monty Don, Outwitting Squirrels

Blackberries

I’m not sure why I have persevered with certain plants but this is the year I devote my energies elsewhere. I’m currently reading the wittily written book Outwitting Squirrels by Anne Wareham (review to follow in the next few weeks). Two of Anne’s tips which I have taken to heart are ‘to be ruthless enough to throw out miserable plants’ and ‘to be brave enough to change course if something is turning into far too much trouble’. It seems simple advice but one many gardeners find hard to follow, including myself. For years I have admired the tightly rolled, spear-like leaves of hostas emerge in spring. For a short time their new leaves unfurl, pristine and beautiful, but this stage is fleeting. As spring merges into summer they become increasingly studded with holes, looking increasingly like lace doilies, devoured by the mouths of slugs and snails. My hostas have been grown in pots, hostas in the border would be like treating them as sacrificial lambs. I tried copper tape last year around the pots. It didn’t work. As it was sold specifically for that purpose perhaps I should have made a complaint under the Trade Descriptions Act. I noted with interest that Monty Don on last week’s Gardeners’ World suggested hostas which are attacked by slugs are stressed plants. There’s certainly something in a slug’s homing instinct for the runt of the litter and the weakest plant in the row, and perhaps my pot-grown hostas didn’t have enough food and water. I did look on with envy at his pristine, hole-free hostas just as I did when I visited Prince Charles’ garden at Highgrove and saw his immaculate hostas.

Hosta doilies

I have used organic slug pellets and they work to some degree, but I have seen slugs climbing onto hosta leaves from a nearby fence or from another plant, and it’s hard when my attention is on the more pressing needs of my young flower and vegetable plants to devote time to hand-picking slugs and snails off my hostas. So this year the hostas are going … well, they’ve already gone. No longer will I wince at doily-like leaves or feel the need to hide them when a garden photographer comes to the house. Oh the shame! The gooseberry has gone the same way. Not because it is beloved by pests but because it was the pest. I inherited it when I took on the plot along with at least four other gooseberry bushes. Doing the maths and coming to the conclusion there were only so many gooseberries the two of us could eat I decided to keep just one, and it was one too many. It’s the thorniest plant I’ve had the dubious pleasure of gardening around and this is someone who just removed a pyracantha from her parents’ garden. Every year I would curse as I tried to harvest the berries and weeding underneath it was impossible. There was such a heavy crop a few years ago coupled with a deluge of rain that the branches all sagged and the plant hugged the floor like an octopus spreading out its tentacles. Underneath it a carpet of wild strawberries had established itself which I could neither weed out nor eat because of the vicious thorns that were in the way. I could be tending another bed and bend down absent-mindedly forgetting what was behind me only to be spiked in the bum. I’d been mulling over getting rid of the damn thing for a year or so but after the latest encounter with a thorn in the finger its days were numbered. I made the most of a dry spell last week and out it came. It was odd though. As I made the first few cuts with the loppers I wondered if I’d done the right thing. Seems it’s hard for a gardener to kill a plant. Well, until it spiked me again…

Blackberry ‘Waldo’ waiting to be planted

Its neighbour the blackcurrant has gone too. There were two blackcurrant bushes but it’s too much for us. We don’t make jams and blackcurrants need so much sugar to make them palatable that they tend to languish in our freezer rather than being eaten. Instead a blackberry bush will fit nicely into the space now created by the absence of the gooseberry and blackcurrant. I prefer fruit I can eat without the need for extra sugar – anything that I can scatter on my porridge is ideal. The tayberry, blueberries and strawberries are perfect for this and I think a cultivated form of blackberry will make an excellent accompaniment. Why grow a blackberry when there tend to be plenty to pick from the hedgerows? Foraged blackberries are often quite small and their quality is very dependent on the weather we have. A dry summer tends to produce small fruits with very little juice and a wet summer often results in watery fruits with little flavour. The benefits of growing a cultivar are bigger, juicier fruits and a stronger blackberry flavour. Hedgerow brambles are incredibly vigorous plants, as anyone who has tried to get rid of a patch of them will know. Many of the cultivated versions though are much better-behaved, and some can be grown in a relatively small space, especially if they are trained up against a fence or wall. We’ve chosen the variety ‘Waldo’. Choosing a thornless variety was essential after the problem with the gooseberry and the online reviews all suggest this is a heavy yielding cultivar with great flavoured berries. It takes a certain leap of faith to buy a pot with one unpromising looking stick planted in it and it’ll be next year before we get any fruit as a blackberry fruits on two-year-old canes. We managed one tayberry fruit in the first year of planting. The excitement at this one fruit was enormous and it was halved for us to both try. Perhaps we’ll get a tantalising taste this year too, if not this impatient gardener will have to wait until next summer for the taste of home-grown blackberries. I’d love to know if there are any plants you’ve decided aren’t worth the trouble or you’ve persisted in growing even though you don’t really eat them.

Scent in the Garden

Tags

Christine Walkden, Great British Garden Revival, sarcoccocca, Scented plants, Toby Buckland, Viburnum bodnantense 'Dawn', Viburnum tinus 'Gwenllian', winter flowering honeysuckle

Winter-flowering honeysuckle

A few months ago Sue at the blog Backlane Notebook suggested we start a monthly ‘Scent in the Garden’ meme. Being a bit of a fragrant plant lover myself I thought it was a fantastic idea.

For centuries scent was the most important characteristic of a plant. In the days before bathrooms and a plethora of lotions and potions to make us and the world around us smell good, the fragrance of plants was an essential way to combat the many whiffs and pongs that would have been a constant onslaught to our olfactory organs. Nosegays – small posies of scented flowers and foliage – would have been pinned to your dress or coat or simply held under your nose in an attempt to mask whatever unpleasant aroma was in the vicinity. I just love that term ‘nosegay’ – in medieval Britain it meant an ornament to please the nose. Nowadays we have Glade plug-ins.

Now I certainly don’t want to return to the days when the contents of chamber pots were flung out of windows but I do love the idea of embracing fragrant plants and natural perfumes rather than the artificial chemical air fresheners we have today. But, ever since plant breeders started crossing varieties to create fancier flowers and supposedly ‘better’ plants scent has been the feature most likely to be lost in the process. Perhaps as we have become cleaner our interest in fragrant plants has waned. Certainly many shop-bought cut flowers are scentless, and for a period in the mid to late 20th century flower form and disease resistance were higher on the list of priorities for plant breeders, particularly when it came to that classic of all fragrant plants, the rose. Why you would want a rose with no scent is a mystery to me.

I have been enjoying the Great British Garden Revival series of programmes on TV and it has been fantastic to see scent playing a big part, with Toby Buckland championing scented plants and Christine Walkden campaigning for people to rediscover the carnation, a plant which has suffered more than most as a result of the global trade in flowers. So it seems like a great opportunity to seek out, to share and to celebrate all that is scented in our gardens. Sue and I hope you’ll join us each month throughout the coming year by posting about what’s filling your garden or allotment with fragrance. It doesn’t just have to be in your garden though, if you spot a deliciously perfumed plant whilst on your travels, you sniff out something in the hedgerows or you have an indoor plant filling your home with scent please feel free to share them too.

Viburnum tinus ‘Gwellian’

Winter might seem like an unlikely time of the year to be able to talk about scented plants but it’s surprising how many shrubs have evolved to flower at this time of year. It’s not easy attracting the small number of pollinating insects which might be flying around in winter, so to maximize their chances of grabbing the attention of a passing bee many winter flowering shrubs have incredible, intoxicating fragrances which will knock your socks off. One of my favourites is the winter-flowering honeysuckle. It’s a scruffy, unkempt plant for much of the year. It doesn’t have much structure other than looking like an unruly twiggy clump. Every year I debate whether to dig it out. Then it had a stay of execution when we started to think about moving as I didn’t want to have to replant the gaping hole it would leave behind. I’m also a bit sentimental about it. My winter honeysuckle was taken from a larger plant in the grounds of the college where I studied horticulture. A fellow student, Peter spotted a stem which had bent down and where it had touched the ground it had rooted. He dug it up and gave it to me. It’s all the more sentimental as Peter died a few years later.

Then, of course, every winter the plant does its thing and I’m smitten all over again. Tiny, delicate ivory flowers with strikingly yellow stamens appear along the woody stems, looking like miniature summer-flowering honeysuckle flowers. And the fragrance is just beautiful. I spent Sunday afternoon in the garden tidying up dying and soggy foliage to reveal the spring bulbs poking through and the honeysuckle perfume which hung in the air was such a treat.

Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’

You might say, ‘What’s the point of fragrant flowers in winter, it’s too cold, too wet or snowy to venture outdoors and appreciate them’, but a front garden filled with scented flowers will greet you every time your return home. Even a container planted with Christmas box (sarcoccocca) placed by your front door will raise the spirits on a January day. And, of course, you can always pick a few stems and bring them indoors to enjoy the perfume in the warmth.

My own January fragrant plant count includes Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’, Viburnum tinus ‘Gwenllian’, Sarcoccocca and the winter-flowering honeysuckle, which isn’t too bad but I would love more. In particular, I covet a wintersweet (Chimonanthes), although I’m dismayed to hear it can take up to eight years from planting to flowering. One of my quests is to fill my garden with as many scented plants as possible, so I’m hoping that if you’ll join in this meme I’ll be able to uncover lots of perfumed gems to add too my plant wish list.

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!

Up the Garden Path

Tags

Chelsea show gardens, garden design, Garden paths, hard landscaping, reclaimed bricks

My garden path

I have spent quite a lot of time this year assessing my garden, noting what has worked and what hasn’t. If we move I want to learn from my mistakes, if not there are aspects of the garden which most definitely need an overhaul. Surprisingly for someone who considers themselves a plant lover the path we added to the back garden is one of the most successful, and perhaps one of my most favourite elements. I don’t tend to like garden designs which are heavy on hard landscaping. Often show gardens at Chelsea leave me feeling cold because the expanses of sleek and sharp paving are too large in comparison to the areas devoted to planting. That’s not to say though that I don’t appreciate the importance of paths, walls, terraces and patios in a garden but it’s all about getting the proportions right. In my mind the hard landscaping is there to provide the backdrop to what should be the main stars of the show – the plants. So often though vast expanses of paving have replaced plants altogether. Over the last few months I’ve been reacquainting myself with the language of house selling. I know when I see the phrase ‘low-maintenance gardening’ in estate agent blurbs it tends to mean no plants at all and an awful lot of pink paving slabs.

Redesigning our garden back in 2008

One of the reasons why hard landscaping is so hard to get right is partly down to the cost. When we move into a house we often inherit someone else’s taste which doesn’t match our own, but budget often doesn’t allow full-scale change. Most of us have other demands on our money when we move, so digging up a perfectly serviceable but interestingly coloured patio isn’t top of our priority list, particularly if there’s an even more interestingly coloured bathroom to be removed. And so gardens end up with a hotchpotch of hard surfaces which read like a potted history of the DIY centre. In years to come Time Team archaeologists will be able to stratify our gardens – crazy paving – 60s and 70s, coloured paving slabs – 80s, the remains of decking – 90s.

When we moved into this house we inherited an expanse of inoffensive concrete slabs for a patio but the only way to get to the shed was across a patch of grass. In hindsight this blank canvas was fantastic but I spent that first winter cursing every time I slid my way to the shed to collect logs for the wood burner and trod muddy footprints across the kitchen floor. A garden path moved up the priority list pretty quickly. In fact it ended up top-trumping the new bathroom.

The garden and path in 2008 just after it had been laid

There was a lot of graph paper used to come up with the final layout of the path. It needed to provide access to the shed primarily but also to the space behind it – that place where old compost bags reside and the stumpy remains of plants which have seen better days. It also needed to provide the demarcation for the new borders. Beds need to be in proportion with the height of the boundary behind so they should be the same depth as the height of the fence or wall. There was also a tricky part of the garden, a shady spot under the crab apple tree. Grass hadn’t thrived there. Rather than the path go nowhere we decided to make this into a semi-circular terrace, although terrace is perhaps too grand a term for somewhere so small.

I knew what material I wanted for the path before we even moved in. I have always had a thing for old, reclaimed bricks. I wanted any path we created to look like it had been there for a while and old bricks are perfect for creating this lived-in, established look. New landscaping materials just don’t age very well. Even new bricks don’t have the depth of colour and quality of Victorian versions. The idea that we were reusing something too, rather than buying a new material appealed.

A maturing garden

From the kitchen window I look out on to the path every day and I love it. It has served its practical purpose of providing access to the garden, but has done so much more than that. It has defined the planting areas. In late winter and spring the path lets me get close to the tiny bulbs which line the path. By May voluptuous geraniums and alchemilla tumble over the edge. There comes a point in June when the plants take over and I have to shimmy my way through. Never once do I think about cutting these plants back – I love the exuberance they create. In autumn the path is festooned with leaves from the acer and liquidambar. As winter arrives the herbaceous perennials die back and the path is visible in its full glory providing structure. I’ll idly watch blackbirds scoot about eating fallen crab apples as I wait for the kettle to boil. The free-draining sandy gaps between the bricks where they were bedded in provide the perfect conditions for grasses and primroses to self-sow in among the crevices, which I then prick out and pot on. Then there are the mosses which have colonised the shady part of the garden creating a green carpet. A couple of bricks have cracked due to frost but I even like this as it again gives the garden a feeling of age.

Tumbling plants

Ultimately the path has become the backbone of the garden and I love it.

Is there something in your garden or on your allotment which has transformed the space?

P.s. I know, I should have taken more photos of the ‘before and after’. I trawled through my photo archives in the hope I’d taken more, but I hadn’t. It’s funny how blogging has changed my ideas about recording what I do with the garden. It won’t happen again!!!