Gardening Leave

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Cornish choughs, Cornwall, Garden Gate Flowers, Land's End, Mousehole, Sennen

Mousehole and Mallow

It wasn’t perhaps the best time for a bit of a break but the other week we popped down to Cornwall for a few days. Ideally I wouldn’t leave my plot, garden, greenhouse and ever-growing number of pots in late June, but it was Wellyman’s birthday and we both needed to see the sea.

The rigmarole of making sure everything survives whilst I’m away does sometimes make me wonder whether it’s worth it. I’m reluctant to ask neighbours and friends to look after the plants because I know that can be a bit of a pressure for some, especially if they don’t have ‘green fingers’ or it’s very dry and they have enough of their own plants to cosset. I did once leave lots of emerging seedlings in a friend’s greenhouse but slugs got to some of the plants. I felt bad for my friend who clearly had been worried about the whole thing. She’d rushed out to get organic slug pellets and I think had dreaded my return and having to break the news. Now that I need plants for photo shoots I’d rather leave it up to me, then at least I’ve only got myself to blame if they shrivel and die. It does of course mean trying to make sure everything will get enough water, and it’s surprising how quickly pots and plants on a sunny windowsill can dry out, even if you’re only away for 4 days.

Porthcurno

The prolonged dry spell we’d had prompted us to hunt out the irrigation system gathering dust in a cupboard, which we bought 8 years ago but never got around to using. It’s a straightforward hose with sprinkler attachments and timer on the tap. The fiddly bit is getting the water to soak into the compost and not to spray everything else – greenhouse windows, paving, me. We spent a few days adjusting the settings and initially massively over-estimated how long we’d need to leave the timer on. Bearing in mind the water only trickles out we thought 10 minutes would be about right. It turns out this would have drowned them and 2 minutes was more than sufficient. Pots were gathered together in a shady spot and given a good soaking, windowsill seed trays were given a base of sodden kitchen roll, and the plot and garden were treated to a mammoth watering session.

Ironically by the time we set off it looked like we needn’t have bothered with all the watering. It seemed we’d time our get away with the glorious weather coming to an end as we headed into mist and gloom hanging over Devon and I shivered in my shorts and tshirt. Wellyman, always one to put a positive spin on life, said at least I wouldn’t have to worry about the plants drying out…….

Breaking up the journey we called in to see the lovely Becca and Maz at The Garden Gate Flower Company near Fowey. We met through Twitter and it was lovely to meet them in the flesh. I’m very jealous of their flower farm perched on a hill with the sea only minutes away surrounded by beautiful flowers, incredibly photogenic outbuildings and their polytunnel. After a few hours of wonderful flowery-chat we left them to tend their roses and continued on to the fantastically named Mousehole, pronounced by locals as ‘Mauzal’. It’s a classic Cornish fishing village with whitewashed cottages, tiny narrow lanes and a pretty harbour. And what’s more the sun came out. With all the technology at their finger tips the weather forecasters could have only got our four days in Cornwall more wrong if they had suggested it would snow. As it turned out the predicted four days of rain turned into glorious sunshine from start to finish.

A detour to Constantine Bay, near Padstow, on the way home.

We got to marvel at glistening turquoise waters, white sandy beaches, watched gannets plunge into the Atlantic and were delighted by the seal which popped up at Sennen Cove just as the sun was setting. The water was so clear at St Ives we watched as a seal swam torpedo-like under water to join a group of surfers. We chased it the length of the beach watching it come up with crabs in its mouth. It would disappear for a few minutes and we would scour the surface of the water waiting to see its head bob up again. I’ve seen seals in the past but generally they have been from boat trips to specific seal colonies. Great as these are there’s something much more special about these chance encounters we had.

I have never been to Land’s End, mainland Britain’s most westerly point. We have been close enough before but I’ve always been put off by the visitor attraction which has sprung up on this spot. I’d rather celebrate the dramatic beauty of this coastline by enjoying the peace and tranquility of the place rather than spend it at a petting zoo or being treated to tales of Arthurian legend. Something made me want to see the actual Land’s End though and I’m so glad we did because whether you want to pay to see a 4D movie or stare out to sea for free there’s the space for both types of visitor to co-exist.

Land’s End

We took the coastal path out of Sennen and walked a well trodden path along the cliffs for a few miles. The view was spectacular with the Isles of Scilly just visible on the horizon and the Longships lighthouse a mile out to sea. Sea thrift was fading but wild carrot was putting on an impressive show and there were choughs soaring above us. A red beaked and legged member of the crow family this is a rare bird with, it’s estimated, only 250-350 breeding pairs in the UK . Colonies exist in North Wales and Scotland but it’s with Cornwall that this bird is synonymous, featuring as it does on the county’s coat of arms along with a tin miner and a fisherman. But for nearly 30 years, from the 1970s to the start of the new millennium, choughs were absent from Cornwall – the population whittled down over the centuries by trophy hunters and changes to their habitat until their were none. Then a pair, believed to be from Brittany, set up home in Cornwall in 2001 and successfully bred and choughs returned to Cornwall.

And, of course there were plants but I think I’ll save those for the next post.

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Frost, Fields of Gold and a Dodgy Mussel

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Cornwall, fields of daffodils, Padstow, scented narcissi

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

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

Cornish fields of daffodils

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

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

A Blogger’s View

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Bill Bryson, Cornwall, David Day, Good Gardens Guide, NASA, Norfolk, Troublesome Words, WiFi

I seem to be spending more and more of my time in front of my computer these days. Increasingly for work but also, of course, for blogging. Catching up on other blogs yesterday evening, I was struck by the thought of the people I have got to know ever so slightly via their blogs over the last year, and I wondered what they were looking at whilst they were composing their posts.

David Day painting – the view from my computer

I don’t actually have a view from my desk, it’s positioned in such a way that I’m staring into a corner. It does little to inspire but I suppose the upside is I don’t get distracted. Last year we finally got round to buying a painting to go above the desk. A painting of a local scene in really muted colours which captures the dark brooding hills and farmland around my village in Wales. The artist, David Day, used to be an architect and I love the buildings and the way he has drawn them with a flattened perspective. This style is more prominent in some of his other works. I just fell in love with this painting though. The sheep, the farmer, the white farm buildings and the looming form of the Skirrid, the hill in the background will always make me think of this part of the country, no matter where we live.

I often find myself drifting off and staring at it. In a very small way it connects me to the outside whilst I’m in front of the computer. We’ve had the painting nearly a year now and even though I see it pretty much every day I haven’t got sick of it.

Joining the computer on my desk is a peace lily. With yellowing leaves and crusty leaf tips it has that slightly unloved look most house plants seem to have, certainly in my house anyway. I haven’t managed to actually get this plant to flower since I bought it which is disappointing but not unusual apparently. So often the conditions in our homes aren’t suitable for the plants we grow indoors. Still I don’t mind too much, it adds a splash of greenery and it was voted by NASA as one of the best plants to grow to clean the air. A plant particularly useful for sticking next to electrical equipment as it can absorb the small levels of radiation given off by computers and also chemicals such as formaldehyde, given off by paint and soft furnishings.

There’s a selection of books including a bashed and battered dictionary that has seen me through A’ Levels and university, this has sat on many a desk and bookcase over the years. It isn’t the most comprehensive of word collections but suffices; I probably use the thesaurus more. An out of date Good Gardens Guide that my dad gave me, which is a useful reference guide and Bill Bryson’s Troublesome Words sit on the desk too. I first read the latter a few years ago and loved it. I’ve always been a huge fan of Bryson, an American writer, who has become an honorary Brit. Known mostly for his travel writing, Troublesome Words is one of his very early books written when he was working as a sub-editor for The Times newspaper. Inspired by having to use the English language and its glorious disorderliness every day he wrote this book to answer some of those questions that even the most educated get wrong. Peppered with some quite cringing examples of grammar and spelling misdemeanours by journalists, his book highlights the problems most of us encounter with our own language. Whether to use flaunt or flout, is there anything wrong with splitting an infinitive and whether you can start a sentence with ‘and’? After taking it out from the library again this year I decided I would buy myself a copy. I knew of a little second-hand bookshop in a town we were visiting whilst on holiday and thought I’d pop in. I couldn’t quite believe it when I saw it sitting on a shelf in the shop and for the bargain price of £3. For anyone who likes writing and language I can highly recommend it.

And finally, sat on the far corner of the desk is a collection of natural stuff, shells, pine cones and pretty stones picked up on walks. They remind me of particular places, my favourite beach in Cornwall, a woodland walk in Norfolk. Again these connect me to the outdoors even though I’m writing away on my keyboard. At the moment they have been arranged by Wellyman to sit on top of the router. He is trying to achieve the optimum range for the WiFi and has moved it about in an attempt to discover where this is. At the moment it seems it’s at the end of the desk with shells perched on top. I don’t think these are adding anything to the signal though.

I dream one day of having a view from my desk, maybe of my garden or of the sea. I’m sure I get more work done without one though. I’d love to know a little bit about what you see whilst you’re writing your blog.

A Glorious Eden – Part 1

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biome, Cornwall, Eden Project, rainforest

I was quite keen on my recent holiday in Cornwall to have a complete break from gardening but the temptation to squeeze in a garden visit was just too hard to resist. The county is rightly famous for its gardens, from the woodland and spring gardens of Caerhays and Glendurgan to those able to grow exotic plants such as Tresco and St. Michael’s Mount. One of my favourite places though is the Eden Project. It’s a place that divides many; I know some who think it is a little too much like a theme park. I love it.

We visited Eden just 2 months after it had opened back in 2001 and it was a truly inspiring sight. The scale of the crater, once a china clay pit and the plant biomes took our breath away. Of course, it was all very new and the landscaping and planting was in its infancy but it was possible to see the genius behind the idea. Now some 11 years later the plants have grown and so too have the ideas and ambitions of the project.

Rainforest Biome

For me the tropical biome is the place I make a beeline for. It really does feel like you’re walking through a rainforest. OK, there are nice paths and no creepy crawlies but for the vast majority of us who will never get the opportunity to visit the real thing this is probably the closest we’ll ever get to the heat, humidity and tropical planting of this important and fascinating habitat.

Unknown beauty

Unlike a botanic garden, Eden doesn’t give all of the plants labels. Any information boards and labels focus on the key species that they want to point out to visitors, plants that we might already have some relationship with through food and drink and that are vital for creating a sustainable future for the planet. Sometimes it would have been nice to be able to find the name for a plant, like the stunner in the photo above but I think it’s a good decision to not have bits of plastic everywhere which I think would detract from the experience.

Education has always been at the core of the Eden Project. A visit isn’t just about admiring some pretty, exotic plants, it’s the opportunity to see coffee, pepper, rice, cashew nuts, bananas, and so much more, growing here in the UK. Humidity can be over 90% in the rainforest biome and my camera was struggling to cope, steaming up every time I took the lens cap came off. So apologies for some of the photos, well I suppose they convey some of the atmosphere.

50 metres up on the Rainforest Lookout

A new introduction to the biome is a lookout suspended 50 metres above the ground giving visitors a bird’s eye view of the rainforest. Neither of us are great with heights but I’d already expressed the intention to climb the 80 steps, that reached out over the giant palms, to the platform suspended from the ceiling. It didn’t look THAT high up as we made our way through tropical island, West African and South American vegetation. As the path climbs up the slopes within the biome the heat and humidity builds. I was still fairly confident as I set off towards the lookout. Wellyman had initially decided to stay behind but it wasn’t long before I was clinging onto the handrail as my legs turned to jelly. There was no denying that the view was spectacular but the swaying of the steps was really disconcerting. It didn’t help that some people were just strolling up there as if they were walking to the post box. By this point Wellyman had joined me, determined to at least try to get out to the main platform. We did, eventually, make it and Wellyman even managed to take photos. I, on the other hand, was a little too busy saying ‘oh my God’ over and over again too really appreciate a) the achievement and b) the scene below. I certainly couldn’t work in the canopy bubble, a contraption used in the rainforests by scientists to study the higher levels of the trees. Here at Eden it is used by staff when they need to prune or check for pests and diseases as it can reach the highest parts of the biome.

Canopy Bubble allows staff to look after the highest parts of the rainforest

It doesn’t feel a sterile place, as local bird and insect life have found their way inside. Some blackbirds had discovered the ripe papayas in a tree and had worked out how to get at the juicy, sweet flesh. And, as we were leaving, I spotted this out of the corner of my eye.

Now I’m no expert but I think it might have been a gecko. Not so sure how it has made its way here but it was still a treat to see.

For more information about the incredible Eden Project.

Seedheads and Skeletons

Tags

Cornwall, Forest of Dean, hogweed, south west coat path, toadflax, valerian

Seedheads of sea thrift

I do love autumn, the mellow colours, misty mornings, bowls of soup, fruity crumbles, woodland walks and the smell of leaf litter but it’s been a struggle this year to embrace the changing seasons. A holiday by the Cornish coast last week went some way towards easing me into October though.

Some glorious weather gave us the opportunity to walk the coastal path where brambles were laden with fruit. In previous, warmer, summers the blackberry crop has ripened much earlier. Two years ago we were bramble picking in mid-August in the Forest of Dean with the whole crop gone a month later; the contrast this year is quite remarkable.

I’m always quite amazed at just what will grow in such an exposed location. At the extremities of the British Isles the north Cornish coast often bears the brunt of Atlantic storms and much of the ground is either rocky with little topsoil or is made up of a significant amount of sand. Summer flowering plants, such as the umbellifers wild angelica and hogweed, had died leaving behind the skeletal forms of stalks and seedheads. Bleached  blond by the sun and salt-laden wind they looked beautiful against the blue sky and golden sand.

Wild carrot seedheads

There were the seedheads of wild carrot curling back in on themselves and those of the common ragwort, rusty brown in their final stage of maturity.

The fresh green of spring and the vibrant pinks, blues and yellows may have been replaced by faded, muted tones of browns and beiges but I rather like these forms left by these wild flowers, such as the papery pom poms of sea thrift.

I was surprised to see some plants still flowering. Valerian in its pink, red and whites forms must have one of the longest flowering periods of all herbaceous perennials. In my own garden, it flowers from June through to the first frosts, generally at some point in October but in the mild maritime climate of Cornwall it flowers earlier and will continue into November.

Toadflax

Primrose yellow is not really a colour I would associate with autumn but this is the prime time to see toadflax, Linaria vulgaris, and its snapdragon/aquilegia hybrid-like flowers. The blooms are designed just like antirrhinums with a bottom lip-like flower part which lowers when an insect such as a bee lands on it, allowing the insect access to the pollen and nectar inside. Bees are attracted to this part of the flower by the deeper yellow, sometimes orange, markings guiding them to where the sugary rewards for pollination are to be found. The back of the flower has a spur just like those found on aquilegias.

In amongst the sand dunes were the seedheads of sea plantain and sea spurge still flowering, relatives of plants we’re more use to seeing in our garden borders and lawn, these varieties have adapted to the coastal conditions. Sea plantain, in fact, is often found growing in salt marshes and is one of few plants that can cope with such high salinity.

Conditions may be tough for plants along the coast but occasionally there was a reminder of one of the great benefits of living on this southern tip of Britain. The lack of hard frosts here and the generally milder air drawn up by the gulf stream allows for a wider range of plants to be grown and whilst many flowers are fading in my own garden they are still blooming profusely here in Cornwall. As the path dipped down out of the prevailing wind we came across this shot of colour from these nasturtiums sprawling across the bank of this little slipway.

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who wished me a great holiday. It was good to switch off. Of course, it takes a while to get back into gear after a spell away, well it does for me. Once the pile of washing and ironing has diminished I’m looking forward to catching up with all your blogs again.

Time for a Break

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Cornwall

There comes a time when a break from the plot and garden is needed. It’s time for the wellies to have a rest, along with their wearer. (Although after this week’s torrential rain I may need to pack the wellies, *sighs*). I need to see the sea, to feel sand between my toes, to indulge in some seafood and cream teas and clear away the cobwebs. Wellyman has finished his third year of his OU degree, so the laptop will be put to one side and the mobiles switched off and I’m going to take a bit of a break from blogging too.

Cornwall, here we come!

Garden Review – The Lost Gardens of Heligan

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Cornwall, Heligan, Lost Gardens of Heligan, Tim Smit

A garden by the sea and with not one but two large walled gardens for growing fruit, vegetables and cut flowers. Could Wellywoman ask for anything more?

Set in beautiful countryside looking out to sea with a microclimate that allows a wide range of plants from around the world to thrive the Lost Gardens of Heligan are an amazing place to visit. Add to this the fascinating story of their decline and restoration and it is hard to imagine another garden that offers its visitors so much.

We have just returned from a few days in Cornwall and our third visit to Heligan. Our previous visits have been in Spring but this time we were greeted by fabulous blue hydrangeas, exquisitely scented citrus blossom, bountiful brassicas and dazzling dahlias.

Heligan was the estate of the Tremayne family and was at its peak in the late Victorian/Edwardian period but, as for many estates, the First World War triggered Heligan’s decline. Nature began to take over and the gardens could have been lost forever if they hadn’t been discovered by Tim Smit and a friend whilst on a walk in 1990. Their vision, passion and hard work and that of many others has meant that Heligan once again thrives.

The top part of the garden includes the restored walled gardens that supply produce for the cafe and shop. Here you can see the Peach House, the Pineapple Pits and the Melon House and walk into an old tool shed that feels as if the Edwardian gardener has gone for some lunch. Surrounding the productive gardens are the Pleasure Gardens which include an Italianate Garden.

Bountiful Brassicas

At the bottom end of the gardens are beautiful woodland walks and an impressive jungle. Walking through the jungle you wend your way down a valley, past a series of pools, enormous trees, bamboos and gunnera. The luxuriance of the foliage really does create a jungle feeling but without awful humidity and creatures wanting to bite you!

Jungle Garden

Joining the two sections is an area which shows how Heligan and the wider estate are being managed with wildlife in mind. A wildlife hide allows you to see footage of the barn owls that nest there. It’s also possible to sit and watch birds on some feeders. We saw a sparrowhawk, like a blue flash, swoop at a group of chaffinches and goldfinches.

Throughout the gardens are information panels showing old photographs from its heyday and pictures showing the state it was in before the restoration started.

The visitor facilities are excellent. It’s always a disappointment to go somewhere and find that these let the place down. The cafe at Heligan is great value, with locally produced food and the shop, too is well stocked, with a particularly good book section.

Heligan isn’t about cutting edge design or trendy planting schemes. It is less about gaining inspiration for your own garden and more about being absorbed by the magic and history of the place. For more information visit www.heligan.com