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!

 

 

 

 

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Still no frost

Tags

Christmas, Clematis, frost, Hellebores, Mother nature, Primroses, Spring, winter

November flowering Geranium

They said we’d have a frost on Tuesday. It was saying 4 degrees C when we got back from swimming at 9.30pm and it was a beautifully clear night. We were convinced that on Wednesday morning there would be the final act of winter decline in the garden. But no, there was no sign of a frost and there are still Verbenas flowering and Heleniums and Geraniums. It’s December next week. A part of me wants the frost to come to allow the garden its seasonal sleep. It’s just unnatural to have these plants flowering now. What will happen to them in the Spring? Will they have the energy to put on a show then or will they be too exhausted by this strange autumn we’ve had? A Spring without Primroses, well that would be unthinkable.

The other part of me however, the part that doesn’t really like Winter, wants this mild spell to last as long as possible. Cheaper heating bills, washing drying on the line and tasty lettuce growing on the allotment.

I love a snow covered scene, the chance to make a snowman and the beauty of a frost covered countryside. But the snow never stays looking crisp and even for very long, we rarely have enough snow (the past 2 winters being the exception) or the right snow to make a snowman and living in Wales there seems to be less frost covered countryside and more soggy foliage and muddy paths.

But the weather is one thing we can’t control, even though as gardeners we want to. So there is nothing else to do but wait and see what Mother Nature gives us. Who knows maybe I’ll still be picking stocks from the allotment at Christmas.

Having read this post I’ve realised it sounds a bit melancholic so to leave on a more cheerful note. I was reading through my gardening diary last night and was heartened by my entry on Tuesday 11th January 2011. It reads:’ I do get so excited when I see new life appearing in the garden. Snowdrops at the back are appearing and big fat hellebore buds. Scraped back some grit on the bulb pan and there’s a bud there too. So the baby irises should come up. Loads of buds on the Clematis. I don’t know why but I always worry the garden won’t actually regenerate in Spring. So I go around poking and pushing back the soil in the hope I will find signs of new life. I also found big fat Dicentras buds. Yey!’