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.

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Are you bored with snowdrops yet?

Tags

Colesbourne Park, Cyclamen coum, Galanthus 'Rosemary Burnham', Sir Henry Elwes, snowdrops, The Plant Lover's Guide to Snowdrops

A sea of snowdrops at Colesbourne Park

If the answer to the title of this post is yes then you probably won’t want to continue reading. I know, I know, you can’t get stirred for galanthomania at this time of year. But lets face it, flowery delights in February are a little thin on the ground, we’ve all had enough of winter and are a bit desperate to see some signs of life in the garden. That’s not to take anything away from the beauty of snowdrops but I do think they owe a certain degree of their popularity to the fact that they bloom so early in the year and there is little else to compete for our attention. For a period of about four weeks from mid-February to mid-March gardens with collections of snowdrops are at their peak and it’s hard to not be blown away by the spectacular sight of carpets of these nodding white flowers as far as the eye can see. In fact it can trick you at first glance into thinking it has snowed and that it’s not actually thousands of flowers. Colesbourne Park in the Cotswolds is our nearest snowdrop heaven. Our last visit, a few years ago, was marred by the discovery the camera battery had barely any charge left and, at the time, we didn’t have a spare. But I’m always happy for an excuse to return to a great garden.

Galanthus ‘Rosemary Burnham’

I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea to have plant labels dotted about and it does make photography a little difficult.  At somewhere like Colesbourne, which is displaying a collection of different varieties, it’s incredibly useful. In fact I’m increasingly finding myself scrabbling around in gardens hoping there’s a label somewhere so I can find out what a particular plant is called. It’s even more important with a plant where the distinctions between some varieties are not that obvious at first glance and perhaps, in the case of snowdrops, even after a few glances. I did hear several ‘they all look the same to me’ comments whispered among visitors as they passed by. I was of this thinking a few years ago when I was just happy to see clumps of snowdrops, but recently I have been slightly bitten by the galanthus bug. When I say slightly I mean I can spot and appreciate the differences between a collection of snowdrops now, but I’m not yet prepared to spend £25 on a tiny pot with one flower and a few leaves in it, let alone the £1390 plus £4 postage paid yesterday for one bulb of Galanthus plicatus ‘Golden Fleece’. My new-found interest has been ignited partly from some of the blogs I read, and partly from Naomi Slade’s book The Plant Lover’s Guide to Snowdrops and the recent talk she gave at the Botanic Gardens in Wales. It was fascinating to wander around Colesbourne on Saturday with my newly appreciative eyes spotting varieties I now recognized and tuning my eyes into the subtle and not so subtle differences between the various varieties.

Galanthus ‘Jaquenetta’

When you first enter Colesbourne the gentle slope and woodland area is a sea of white. These areas are planted with the common snowdrop Galanthus nivalis, the scented variety ‘S. Arnott’, ‘Hippolyta’, ‘Ophelia’ and ‘James Backhouse’. All have formed substantial clumps and are divided in the summer to increase their populations. The initial snowdrop collection was started by Henry John Elwes in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries but it was largely forgotten about until the current owners of Colesbourne, Sir Henry Elwes (the great-grandson of Henry John) and his wife Carolyn, started to uncover plants and build up the collection. We were lucky enough to have a quick chat with Sir Henry and glean a little bit of his expert knowledge. Apparently the best time to divide your snowdrops is in July. At this point in the year there is nothing to be seen of the snowdrops above ground as all the foliage has died back, so at Colesbourne they employ a basic system using coloured sticks. Yellow sticks are placed near the clumps as the leaves die back and white sticks are used to mark areas where there are, as yet, no snowdrops. Then in July they lift the clumps, divide them and replant. When I asked him what was the best method to introduce snowdrops into a garden he said it was with potted bulbs at this time of year.

A charming spring planter

Small groups of the rarer varieties are planted closer to the house, in borders, raised beds and planters. Displayed this way it’s easier to appreciate what makes them so special. My own favourites were the unusual ivory, green-tinged variety Galanthus ‘Rosemary Burnham’ and the green, frilly petticoated ‘Jaquenetta’ (see above photos). I loved the stone troughs that were dotted about with snowdrops planted alongside iris and cyclamen. Snowdrops can be tricky in containers but large ones like this trough would be worth trying.

Cyclamen coum

Snowdrops aren’t the only attraction to Colesbourne. They have incorporated other winter and early spring-flowering plants. I don’t think I’ve seen such large vibrant clusters of Cyclamen coum, the shocking pink flowers shouting out at you. There’s a growing collection of hellebores, gloriously scented winter honeysuckles and viburnum. It’s a magical spot. Apart from the gentle hum of visitors chatting, the valley in which the estate sits is incredibly peaceful and there’s a real feeling of modern life not intruding. This is an old estate with classic parkland, mossy stone balustrades and urns, and a tiny church. The lake, created to provide hydro-electric power for the house, is stunningly and ethereally blue. It’s believed the colour is due to the colloidal clay in the water.

Colesbourne lake

There’s still time to kick off the garden visiting season with some fantastic displays across the country of snowdrops and early spring flowers. I’d love to hear about your favourite gardens to visit at this time of year.

Whizzing by

Tags

Lemon verbena, planting out, Rosa Gertrude Jekyll, seed sowing, Spring

Alliums in May

I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that May is whizzing by all too quickly. I’m trying desperately, in amongst the general panic of too much to do-ness, to find time to stop and appreciate what is one of my most favourite times of the year. So I’m taking a quick pit-stop to write a bit about what May means to me.

May means:

– late night, torch-light fleecing at the plot

– an emptying greenhouse

– overflowing cold frames

– a car boot full of plants ready to be planted out

– the joy of the first alliums opening

– despair at discovering the first of many holes in my hostas

– forgetting AGAIN to do the Chelsea chop

– and, thereby resigning myself to a summer of staking and floppy plants

– pickings of stock Matthiola incana, the most intoxicating of scents

– panic that I haven’t sown enough and I’ve missed the boat for another year

– panic that I have sown way too much and where is it all going to go

– chive flowers in full bloom lining my fruit beds at the plot

– watering my plot at twilight to the sound of birds

– anticipation after spotting the first swelling fruits on my strawberries

–  too many weeds

– the first rose on ‘Gertrude Jekyll’

– the smell of my warm greenhouse

– the miraculous sprouting into life of the overwintered twigs in a pot otherwise known as lemon verbena

– and finally the exhaustion that accompanies all of this. Everything comes at once and it all feels a bit relentless, but then I see the burgeoning garden and I pick some salad leaves, and I know why I do it. This is what keeps me going – along with tea and chocolate of course. Oh!, and the distant glimmer of hope that I might be able to sit down at some point soon. I’d love to know what May means to you.

Have a fabulous weekend everyone!

 

 

 

 

Arboreal delights

Tags

Batsford Arboretum, Kennet and Avon canal, Magnolia campbellii 'Darjeeling', Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh

Magnolia campbellii ‘Darjeeling’

I don’t know if it’s this year’s fantastic spring weather we’ve had, glorious blue skies, warm sunshine and very little rain or wind (well up until this last weekend anyway), that has made me notice the trees so much more than before but boy have they looked spectacular. Autumn tends to be the season for trees, with us salivating over their autumnal colour as the chlorophyll production wanes and stunning oranges, reds and yellows light up the countryside. But what has struck me over recent weeks is the amount of colour generated by trees in spring .

We walked along the Kennet and Avon canal from Bradford on Avon towards Bath on Good Friday. Looking across at the hillsides it was remarkable to me to see purples, pinks and oranges alongside the zingy vibrant green I would normally associate with trees at this time of year. I don’t know why I haven’t really paid this much attention before. Then on Easter Monday we visited Batsford Arboretum in the Cotswolds. Again I was blown away by the colour. It wasn’t just the fading daffodils and hellebores or the emerging herbaceous perennials, the trees were more than holding their own. Blossom is the most obvious way trees announce themselves in spring and this has been one of the best years I can remember for such an impressive display of frothy tree flowers. The combination of such a hot summer last year, when wood ripened and flower buds formed, with the lack of rain and wind have meant trees have been dripping in blossom. My own crab apple tree couldn’t have any more flowers on it if it wanted. It looks like a giant candy floss at the end of my garden. It’s also one huge humming mass of bees feasting on pollen.

Spring acer colour

What I have noticed more than ever this year are the unfurling leaves of new growth. At Batsford, the collection of acers in the sunlight looked as good as any autumnal colour. There were beeches with their reddish-brown corrugated leaves and the pink-tinged horse chestnut leaves. I particularly loved the leaves of this Japanese horse chestnut bursting out like Beaker from The Muppets.

Japanese horse chestnut

Batsford has a spectacular collection of magnolias, from the dainty flowers of Magnolia stellata to the huge candy pink blooms of Magnolia campbellii ‘Darjeeling’. Magnolias can be amazing but lets face it they are at the mercy of the weather more than most plants. One badly timed frost and those pristine blooms can be turned to brown mush overnight, and that is it for another a year – the whole purpose of planting the tree in the first place ruined. Then along comes a spring with no frost and magnolias sing with their intriguing flowers. Magnolias are ancient plants, fossilised remains have been dated to 95 million years ago and there is something about them which means I can imagine them in a time when the planet was packed with dense vegetation and dinosaurs wandered around.

Malus spectabilis

Malus spectabilis really did live up to its name and smelt divinely of citrus. Perhaps a bit on the big size for the average garden though.

Batsford itself has a fascinating history. One of the largest private collections of trees in the UK covering 55 acres it is now part of a trust which looks to educate and promote understanding of trees. Batsford works with the Royal Botanic Gardens at Edinburgh to conserve conifers and is home to a collection of endangered Chilean conifers. They also work with Kew and other gardens to grow species on the Red Data List conserving threatened species for the future.

The landscaping that forms the present day setting of the arboretum was set out by Algernon Bertram Freeman- Mitford, grandfather to the controversial Mitford sisters, in the late 19th century. It was his friendships with 3 directors of Kew Botanic Gardens and his time spent in China and Japan working for the Foreign Office which were the inspirations for the beginnings of the arboretum. Today you can still get a real sense of the naturalistic style he wanted to create when he swept away the more formal landscaped grounds, and the artificial stream, statuary, Japanese rest house and clumps of bamboo all point to a passion for the Far East.

Algernon’s son inherited Batsford in 1916 and spent the First Word War living there with his family until the running costs of such a large estate became too much. The new owner Gilbert Alan Hamilton Wills, who became Lord Dulverton, was a keen plantsman but it was his son, Frederick who, on inheriting the estate in 1956, set about establishing an arboretum and planted many of the trees we can see today.

It’s quite a privilege to have enough disposable income to indulge your horticultural passion and create something on such a scale as Batsford but I’m very much glad they did.

For more information on visiting Batsford Arboretum.

Where to start

Tags

Lunaria annua 'Chedglow', RHS Cardiff Show, Suttons Seeds, Tomato 'Indigo Rose'

I’m never quite sure where to start when I have had a bit of a blogging break. I didn’t plan a hiatus. I rather like the discipline of writing a post every week and know from my attempts in the past to keep a diary how hard it can be to start writing again once you get out of the rhythm.

A virus sapped me of much of my energy for several weeks. I know something is wrong when the thought of going to the plot, or the need to spend some time in the greenhouse feels like too much of an effort and more like a chore than something I normally love. Work was pretty hectic too and the two combined to result in a stinking cold. There wasn’t much I could do but crawl into bed and stay there for a few days. Of course, I spent the whole time lying there thinking about how much there was to do. I would say if a gardener is going to go sick the worst time to do it is probably April. I could almost hear the weeds at the allotment growing as I reached for another tissue. Oh, and there was the small matter of having to prepare for the first photo shoot of my second book. I’m not quite sure how that bit happened but I find myself growing plants for another book and entering round two of my battle with the weather. Last year my panic was fuelled by the lack of any spring and the worry we might never have a summer. This year it’s all change with a spring of warm sunshine. Beautiful, and I wouldn’t swap it but it has been a bit of a nightmare trying to keep plants from going over.

Tricks of the trade – photo shoot day

With a bit of breathing space, now I have some photos in the bag, followed by a relaxing Easter break I thought it was about time I put fingers to keyboard and return to my neglected blog.

In some ways being otherwise occupied has been a bit of a blessing. I do have a tendency to get a bit carried away with half-hardy annuals, sowing them too early. I always seem to forget, or choose to ignore the fact that they germinate and grow pretty quickly. By the start of May, I have windowsills chock full of courgettes, French beans and squashes romping away with nowhere to go because it’s still too chilly for them outside. I’m hoping my timing this year, sowing in the middle of April rather than at the start of the month, might be a bit more realistic and save me the headache of trying to accommodate the triffids reaching for the sun.

R A Scamp – Floral marquee RHS Cardiff Show

It’s a pity I can’t be more realistic about the number of plants it is possible for me to grow. The greenhouse, cold frames and windowsills are running at full capacity at the moment. But it’s impossible to turn away more plants. One day, a few weeks ago, an unexpected parcel arrived from Suttons Seeds. They had very generously sent me a sample of 3 tomato plug plants. I did groan a little initially, thinking where on earth was I going to put them, but it wasn’t long before I had mentally rearranged the myriad of plants I already have to be able to squeeze them in. I’m really looking forward to giving them a go. I have had pretty disastrous results growing tomatoes since I moved to Wales, with tomatoes succumbing to blight, and then last year, with the greenhouse installed they suffered at the hands of a bad batch of compost and shrivelled up and died. The tomatoes Suttons sent are a new variety called ‘Indigo Rose’. It’s a black-skinned tomato that is apparently packed full of the antioxidant anthocyanin. It’s a grafted tomato too which I have never grown before. The apparent advantages of grafting include greater yields and improved disease resistance. They’re growing quickly on my study windowsill at the moment. Hopefully it won’t be long before some space is freed up in the greenhouse so they can take up residence there. I’ll let you know how I get on and hopefully I’ll get some fruit so I can report back on the all important flavour test.

RHS Cardiff Show – Victoria Wade’s Norwegian garden

My cold shifted in time for me to make a trip to the RHS Cardiff Show. The weather couldn’t have been more spring-like and the show does have a feeling of excitement and anticipation of the growing season to come. The floral marquee looked spectacular with the incredible R A Scamp narcissi display winning best exhibit. The show gardens were much improved this year compared to last. I particularly loved Victoria Wade’s Norwegian inspired garden with its naturalistic feel.

Lunaria annua ‘Chedglow’

The highlight of the show for me was the discovery of this beauty, Lunaria annua ‘Chedglow’ on the Avon Bulbs stand. It’s a variety of the humble honesty plant with incredible chocolate coloured leaves and striking purple stems. I love honesty for cutting, both for the spring flowers and for the moon-like seed pods produced in summer and think this will be a stunner when arranged with tulips. I came away with a packet of seeds. As a biennial it won’t produce flowers until next spring but it’ll be well worth the wait.

 

 

 

The Great British Florist

Tags

British flowers, Mother's Day, The Great British Florist, Wiggly Wigglers

Great British Flowers

I love growing my own flowers but there is one downside – there’s no need for anyone to send them to me now. My mum does still ask if I’d like a bouquet for our wedding anniversary or my birthday but when nearly every room is filled with flowers throughout the summer it just doesn’t make any sense. I know, I know, as downsides go it hardly even registers on a ‘woe is me’ scale, so I’m by no means wanting any sympathy. However, when the lovely team at The Great British Florist asked if I would like to review one of the bouquets they are putting together for Mother’s Day I jumped at the chance.

I used to do yoga before I moved over to Wales. One day, mid-way through a class, the yoga teacher said she really missed going to yoga classes herself and she really must fit in a session sometime. It was a comment that stuck in my head because at the time it struck me as being quite odd. Initially, I didn’t understand what she meant; she taught yoga classes all week, how much more yoga did she want to do. It took a while for the penny to drop (it does sometimes). What she meant was that teaching yoga was very much different to being able to experience the full benefits of the class as a student and that even once you’re a teacher you still need to carry on learning. I know, you’re wondering why I’ve gone off on this tangent, I will be getting back to the flowers. It’s just that I think the yoga story is relevant to so much in life. It’s very easy to get quite fixed in our thoughts and habits with pretty much everything we do. Perhaps modern life makes this more likely, everything is done at such a pace so we can cram so much into our days that maybe we don’t have the time to stop and think and look at things in a different way. And this is where the beautiful bouquet which turned up yesterday comes in. Not only was it a really special treat for me, it’s good for the creative juices to see what other British flower growers are growing and how they put their arrangements together.

Stunning ranunculus

Anyway enough of me rambling, let’s get to the flowers. I’m aware when I talk and write about British flowers that not everyone has the space to grow them themselves or is lucky enough to have a flower grower local to them. But there is another alternative – mail-order. I’ve been a bit worried about mail order flowers in the past and whether they will survive being transported. Well I had no complaints about this bouquet. The substantial, sturdy box had clearly done its job as the flowers emerged looking beautiful. Rather than being packed in water, a water-soluble gel is used instead. This keeps the flowers fresh and contains plant nutrients and it won’t leak if the box is tipped over. I had chosen the vibrant Mother’s Day bouquet which came packed with scented narcissi, irises, lilies, freesias, ranunculus and alstroemeria. It was lovely to catch the intoxicating scent of the blooms as I lifted the bouquet out of its box. And the real joy – they’re all grown here in Britain. 

The two busiest times of the year for flower sales – Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day come early in the growing season. I’m sure a lot of people are completely unaware that it is possible to buy such a varied choice of flowers grown in this country at this time of year, even I was impressed with the selection. There was plenty of foliage too, a mixture of eucalyptus and bay. The £50 bouquet is huge and was enough to fill two good-sized vases. If I hadn’t been having one of those days I would have divided the material up into lots of smaller vases and put them all around the house. I’m pretty sure I could have had a posy in every room. There’s also a smaller £35 bouquet, the choice of a pastel-coloured arrangement and other selections throughout the year, if they are more to your taste and pocket.

The only tiny problem I had with the bouquet was the one sheet of plastic sheeting that was wrapped around the base of the flowers – all the other packaging is recyclable. There is, of course the necessary practicality of needing a watertight material in which to keep the flowers fresh while keeping the cost of packaging to a minimum. As Heidi from The Great British Florist explained, it is a balance trying to keep the flowers in tip-top condition whilst keeping the costs of packaging to a minimum, maximising the amount of flowers they can include in a bouquet and maintaining their environmental ethos. Considering all of this, it’s remarkable that the flowers come with so little non-recyclable packaging. I arranged a bouquet for a friend recently that was purchased from a high street florist and it came with a mountain of unnecessary and non-recyclable packaging.

The Great British Florist is part of Wiggly Wigglers, the company which became known for its worm composting products. Based at Lower Blakemere Farm in Herefordshire they grow some of their own flowers and the rest are bought in from specialist British growers across the country. The farm is run with caring for the environment and wildlife at its core. If you’d like to find out more about this idyllic place take a look at The Great British Florist. And, if you would like to order from them for Mother’s Day or throughout the year then here’s a link direct to the floristry section.

Thank you to the team at The Great British Florist for their gorgeous bouquet.

Muck and Magic

Tags

hops, mulching, sheds

Heavenly hellebore

Who’d have thought that several weeks ago when we were being deluged with rain we would end up being treated to such a beautiful start to March; the clearest of blue skies and a gentle warmth to the sun. I’d be happy enough with this sort of weather in the height of summer let alone at the beginning of spring. Of course, spring can have a sting in its tail. Few of us need reminding of last year’s weather with a surprise cold snap dragging on well into June. Lets hope for growers and farmers alike that spring eases gently into summer this time around.

The prolonged period of dry weather has been perfect to get out and tackle all those jobs which were starting to mount up. I know this will sound a bit odd but one of the jobs I most look forward to is emptying the shed. After spending all winter barely being able to get into the place it’s a relief to free it of its winter clutter. There tends to be a point around mid-February where I’ve given up all hope or pretence of being able to keep the shed tidy. Visits to the shed involve little more than standing at the door and shoving in whatever needs storing in there as best I can. Wellyman might occasionally be wandering around looking for something and say, ‘I think that might be in the shed’. There’s a hopeful look on his face as he contemplates going to look for whatever it is until he realises the folly of this idea and its rediscovery will have to wait until spring. It’s all been made worse this winter because of the torrents of rain. When we had the brick path in the garden put in for some unknown reason the builder sloped the path down towards the shed. It’s not a steep slope, in fact it’s barely perceptible. The result though is even just an average amount of rain simply washes down the bricks and settles on the concrete floor of the shed where it refuses to drain away. This winter the floor of the shed was one large puddle from December until the middle of last week. Still considering the impact the storms had on so many we have got off incredibly lightly.

My spring garden

It makes such a difference having a run of several dry days making it possible to get sooooo much done. Seeds have been sown and are germinating nicely, roses have been pruned, the garden and allotment weeded. Grass paths at the plot have been edged and green manure cut back and dug in. The autumn raspberries were pruned, although it was a mistake to forget my gloves. Once I was at the plot though I couldn’t be bothered to walk back home to get them, I knew I’d probably end up making a cup of tea and not coming back. So I went ahead with the pruning anyway … gingerly. I was grateful for the stretchy long sleeves of my old jumper which provided a degree of protection but not enough if my scratched hands the following day were anything to go by.

My spruced up allotment

Then there was the mulching. I still find it hard to believe when we live in an area surrounded by farmers and stables that the allotments can’t get hold of a good source of manure. A lack of tow bars and trailers on our part and an unwillingness to deliver by the those with the muck have led to a stalemate and an empty manure patch. Last year, I finally found a source of rich, dark, crumbly green waste soil conditioner – it’s just a pity that it’s in the next county and a 40 minute round trip but I’ll take what I can get. We collected and distributed on to the allotment beds nearly 2 tonnes of the stuff. It’s surprising how much of it we needed. Another trip would have been ideal but with the green manure and some of our own compost looking like it’s ready to be used we should have enough muck, for now at least.

As winter fades there’s always a part of me that wonders if some of my plants will reappear. And when they do it is quite magical. It’s new plants I’m most worried about. I planted two hop plants at the allotment last year and did think the incessant rain might have seen them off. It’s hard to beat the feeling when you spot some shoots appearing from the ground or big fat buds swelling on a plant you were worried might be dead. I’m pleased to report the hops have survived as have quite a few plants I grew on the plot for the book which I completely forgot about. I like surprises like that.

My New Year

Tags

Anemone coronaria, Devon, RHS Lindley Library, scented narcissi

Scented narcissi

I feel like I’m slowly emerging from hibernation. The weather isn’t perfect, in fact it’s raining again today but there has been a taste of spring over the last two weeks which has tempted me outdoors. It’s the last day of February today and technically the last day of winter but, as is quite typical for this time of year, the seasonal transition has brought some of the coldest weather so far. There’s a saying if March comes in like a lion then it’ll go out like a lamb and vice versa. Every year I mean to keep some sort of record of whether this has any real basis – I always forget. I hope the snow and frost predicted for this weekend count as March coming in like a lion and we’ll all be basking in spring sunshine by the end of the month.

The lengthening days and the warmth in the sun have given me enough of a spur to start tackling jobs in the garden. I had one of those days last week when I didn’t plan on doing anything in particular, just a bit of cold frame re-jigging, but before I knew it the patio was a sea of pots as both the cold frames and greenhouse were emptied entirely, staging was removed and there I was giving them a full-blown spring clean. I didn’t realise how dirty the greenhouse had got until I had finished and it was now sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine.

Seedlings

This sudden burst of enthusiasm had been prompted to a certain extent by some weekend seed sowing and the realisation that space was already a bit on the tight side. Reorganisation was needed. It’s already looking like another one of those years where my plans far outstrip the space I have to carry them out.

It’s always a pity when good weather is so limited to spend a glorious day inside when there’s so much I could be doing outside, but my trip to London and the RHS Lindley Library last week had been planned for a while. Still, if I was going to be indoors on a sunny day there can’t be many better places to be. It was my first visit and it was garden book bliss. I was there doing research and got through quite a few books in my limited time but I had only scratched the surface of what was on the shelves. I can’t wait to go back there again.

A few days by the sea in South Devon at the start of this week gave us a much needed break. It was a pity to hear from the owner of the bed and breakfast that people had cancelled their planned breaks because of the recent storms. There were places where there was visible storm damage, sand bags, trees uprooted and plants burnt to a crisp by salt-laden winds but, in general, it’s remarkable how unscathed most places were. For areas so dependent on tourism it’s incredibly important to support the local economy and the best way to do this is go there on holiday. I don’t know why I’m always surprised at how much milder it is in the south-west. In the sheltered little fishing villages and coves there were scented narcissi in full bloom already. I have the same bulbs on my cut flower patch and even though it has been a mild winter, with hardly any frost, it’ll be another month or so before mine flower.

A sea view

I picked the first posy of flowers from the allotment yesterday – a handful of Anemone coronaria, and there are primroses galore in the garden so I have a few small jars of those dotted about the house too. With seedlings appearing in trays on the windowsill and packages of seeds and bulbs arriving through the post it all feels quite exciting. For me this is the real start to the new year.

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

On the plus side

Tags

Geranium phaeum 'Lily Lovell', Lathyrus vernus, Lia and Juliet's supper club, painswick rococo gardens

Dicentra spectabilis alba

Writing my blog has shown me how much my mood is affected by the weather. It’s a fairly obvious observation that we feel happier when the sun shines and glum when it’s grey and wet but somehow seeing how I write over the course of the year, my choice of subject matter and how these reflect the weather outside has emphasised just how much it impacts on me. I had the pleasure of meeting the lovely Sejal again on Saturday night. A fellow attendee at Lia and Juliet’s supper club in Bristol she also reads my blog and it was interesting that my preoccupation with the weather and, in particular the amount of rain we get in Wales had been noted. Of course, my last post will have done nothing to change the perception that I am obsessed by the weather. So I thought I should try to redress the balance a little and write about the plus side to all the rain we’ve had in the last week or so. And I promise that’s the last time I mention the ‘r’ word, in THIS post at least.

The garden has become lush with leafy, green growth at last. I love this time of year when the plants fill out. The crab apple in full blossom, followed by its leafy canopy and the acer in the far corner of my garden screen the fence, neighbours’ out-buildings and houses. The garden starts to feel enclosed once again and I no longer feel like I’m on display to the whole world as I potter about. There’s a point where the change in the garden is quite sudden and it always takes me by surprise. One day I’ll be stood, looking out of the kitchen window and think ‘wow when did that all happen?’

Lathyrus vernus

A wander around brings a few squeals of excitement as plants I had completely forgotten about have reappeared like my Lathyrus vernus for instance. I first saw this at Painswick Rococo Garden in Gloucestershire flowering in late March and thought it was a lovely little plant. Last year I tracked one down but when it didn’t seem to be poking through the soil I feared I might have lost it. But fear not, it must have just been biding its time through the cold spring and it has emerged with its delicate purply-pink flowers.

There’s also been the discovery of a small patch of red campion by the side of my path. I’ll admit I do have a tendency to forget which plants I’ve bought and what I have put where. I do envy people who have an encyclopaedic knowledge of their plants, especially when their garden stretches to acres but it isn’t something I’m blessed with. I’m convinced, however that I have never purchased a campion plant so its appearance is an intriguing but welcome addition to the shady border.

There’s reacquainting myself with favourite plants. The pure white hearts of my white dicentra which would normally be going over by now dangle above the foliage of geraniums. The white and purple forms of viola cornuta which edge my paths and self-sown aquliegias that have popped up all over the place. I’m also eagerly anticipating the new plants added to my back border. I finally got around to removing some of the astrantia that had taken over but wanted to keep a soft, feeling, almost hedgerow-like and so have planted some foxgloves and wild carrot in there. They are still a while off flowering but should look good by mid-June.

The espalier apple is looking good and has timed its blossom opening perfectly with the crab apple so that pollination should be ensured, just as long as the bees can brave the cold. There are fewer forget-me-nots than I would like. Even though they self seed I would normally sow some extras in June or July for the following spring but I forgot last year. So I’m making a note to remind me when I come to sow my biennials in a month or so.

Geranium phaeum ‘Lily Lovell’

Geranium phaeum ‘Lily Lovell’ is just coming into flower. I love its rich purple colour which stands out so much more now that we have painted the fence. I love the contrast between the purple flowers and the bluey-green background. It doesn’t have a long flowering season but is out just long enough to grab any available light before the canopy of the crab apple casts its shade on this corner. It has been a bit on the chilly side recently to linger in the garden but if I shuffle the plants around in the greenhouse I can linger in there with a cup of tea and appreciate my spring garden at last.