Rain

We have rain. It started last Wednesday, a steady gentle drizzle that went on for hours, slowly soaking into the soil. Lawns which had been getting steadily more and more straw coloured are eagerly soaking it up. Now, there is a distinct green tinge to all of them, and the blades of grass are standing up straight. They look like soldiers, who on the edge of defeat were downcast and demoralised, and now are resolute and determined knowing that the tide has changed and that help is on its way. In short, the grass is looking a lot happier and healthier.

Since Wednesday it has rained a lot. This morning there have been heavy showers, with short spells of sunshine. Typical spring weather you might say, except that this is now June. Flaming June! When light dominates the days, when night is almost banished, when the sun rises in the north-east, climbs high into the sky and sets in the north west. There were some evenings in late May when even at 11pm the northern sky was a deep blue and far over in the west you could see the last lingering embers of the sunset, almost an hour and a half after the sun had gone. On such nights it is very difficult to think that in just six months time the picture will be extremely different. But if you live in the northern hemisphere, and on the same latitude as southern Alaska, that’s what you’ll see.

One of the things we often overlook in the UK is just how far north we are. We are further north than Japan, China, all of the USA with the exception of Alaska. We are further north than Toronto, Montreal, Seattle, New York and Boston. All cities in the US and Canada that we equate with cold snowy winters. The other thing we take for granted is the Gulf Stream that brings warm water across the Atlantic and which moderates our temperature. Climate change may well alter all this. There is of course another stream, the Jet Stream, which plays a major role in Britain’s weather; and brought us all the rain and windy weather over winter; and climate change is definitely playing havoc with the Jet Stream’s expected pattern of behaviour.

Right now though the trees, plants and grass are sparkling with rain-drops, although as I type another batch of grey clouds has come marching up ready to drop more water; and unlike January when I was heartily sick of the sight of it, this time I’m grateful. If it’s still raining like this in August then I may well think differently, but right now I’m looking at all the plants in my garden that are growing and thriving. They’ve had sun, almost too much and now those that have hung on, are getting water; and soil is getting softer and changing colour from a dusty clay to moist fertile blackness. Now, if the rain can just let up a little I can get outside and plant cosmos and lobelia, with no need to water them in!

What is Flowering in my Garden at the Moment

Today is the 30th May. Right now it is midday. It has been a very dry spring in the UK. I think it stopped raining in February and we’ve not really had much since. Both April and May have been very dry. The worry is that June, July and August, even September, will also be dry and then we’ll have a drought. This will be in complete contrast to the situation we had in winter where we had too much water. In December and January there were pictures on the television of rivers bursting their banks. In Yorkshire a temporary lake formed that was larger than Lake Windermere – the largest lake in England. I suspect it has gone now.

However, right now is what I’m going to talk about rather than looking forward. With luck we’ll get rain and knowing our luck it’ll turn up when the wheat is ready for harvesting.

For most of spring there have been two plants that have dominated in my garden: tulips and Aquilegia – also known as columbine and Granny’s Bonnets. I am a member of the Wakefield and North of England Tulip (WNET) society so have quite a lot of pots with bulbs in them. An example of which is in the picture at the top of this article. I also grow quite a lot of ‘Dutch’ tulips, which are simply your common-or-garden tulips. Not that these are particularly ordinary. There are about fifteen different categories of tulips and many many different varieties. But in the WNET society we call our tulips, English Florist tulips, and all the others get lumped in the ‘Dutch’ category. This year one of my favourite Dutch tulips has been ‘Ballerina’ a lovely lily-flowered tulip as well as ‘Flaming Parrot’, a ‘parrot’ type tulip. Some parrots look rather deformed and ugly but ‘Flaming Parrot’ has been rather spectacular and has flowered through-out most of May.

Aquilegia is abundant in my garden. Rather too much so, it self-seeds everywhere and pops up everywhere. Right now, I’ve got one plant growing up through a rose bush. If it wasn’t so pretty it would be a weed, but it has lovely flowers, I have ones that are deep purple with white inner petals, pink with inner petals of white, as well as ones which are all pink or purple. They have nice foliage and their seeds heads are very decorative as well. All told they give me a lot of joy for no work whatsoever. I can thoroughly recommend that style of gardening!

But as I write the tulips are now almost all dead-headed and the Aquilegias are going to seed. Other plants are lining up to take their place in the spot-light. Right now there is a rather nice pink peony about to burst into bloom, and there are two roses bushes that smell rather lovely. One is a pink rose (which we inherited so I don’t know the name). This is a climbing rose. It suffered in the winter as the bench that it usually climbed all over was destroyed by one of the many storms we had. I had to cut a lot back. But now it seems to have come back and is, whilst sprawling in a rather ungainly fashion, looking rather beautiful. Its flowers have a nice clean scent. The plan this year is to get some trellises and train the rose up them.

The other rose bush comes from David Austin. It is yellow and is called ‘The Poets Wife’ . I planted these in memory of my youngest sister, Katy, who passed away in September 2017. Katy told me that one of her favourite flowers were yellow roses, and I like to think she’d have loved these. They are a lovely colour and their scent is a mixture of spice and citrus. The fragrance though is not domineering, and has a rather uplifting effect.

There are also a great crowd of dahlias all sat in plastic pots, waiting for the tulips to move over so they can get in and start getting ready for their time. I also have some Cobaea scandens (Cup and Saucer vines) that are almost hardened off and will soon be planted out. And a calla lily, that is getting far too big for its boots (pot), and that is impatient to get into much larger accommodation.

In fact there is almost too much to write about. One of the stars at the moment is a clematis. I’m fairly certain it is ‘H.F. Young’ I bought this and ‘Maria Baesescu’ from Taylors Clematis. I planted both at the same time. I think Maria Baesescu flowered last year but perhaps she didn’t make it through the winter as I haven’t seen any of her flowers but ‘H. F. Young’ has most certainly filled the gap. I’ve just been out to the garden to check and whilst out there noticed that the deutizia is ready to flower. A fuchsia next to it is now a bee hostel and sadly there hasn’t been time to tell you all about the Ceanonthus (California lilac) which has put on a splendid show.  But now I’ve been out there it seems a crime to be sat indoors talking about gardening when I really ought to be out there actually gardening.

The Sound of Summer

I was talking to my son the other day about summer. He was telling me that he didn’t like summer because it brought flies and that in turn brought spiders (and he really doesn’t like spiders). He also didn’t like it because everyone gets hot and bothered. All of which I could understand and relate to. When I was younger I didn’t really care much for summer. It was too hot, it was usually dusty and when you wear contact lenses getting dust in your eyes isn’t pleasant. In August it was usually too humid and sleeping was difficult.

Now, though I rather like summer; in fact I don’t have a favourite season at all. I like each one and appreciate their merits. I love winter for its coldness, the dark nights and evenings in front of the fire being lazy and warm. I love spring for its promise of life, the return of the sun and all the spring flowers. I love summer for its long days of light, those days in late May and June when the sunlight stretches on and on, even when the sun has left the sky. And I love autumn for the leaf colour, the harvest and its sweet melancholy.

As a boy one of the things I did like about summer were the swifts. Where I used to live, near the centre of a small town, wasn’t particularly picturesque (it’s even less so these days) but it was on a small hill and from my bedroom window I could look over the rest of the town in its valley. On summer evenings I would watch the swifts in their endless flights and listen to their piercing shrieks. I would watch them and wonder and day-dream.

Now, as a much older person I still listen for the first swifts and still enjoy standing on summer evenings watching them dart and swoop through the sky, shrieking like friendly Nazguls. As spring turns into summer I keep an eye and ear out, listening and waiting for them. Last year I didn’t see many at all, only one or two, perhaps they too didn’t like the rain. This year I’m hoping I see more. My dad tells me he’s already seen some this year but this week as I was out cutting my hedges I happened to hear and see my first of the year. I’m looking forward to many more evenings, standing entranced by their acrobatics.

Blossom Day

Today is blossom day in the garden. The day when the flowering cherry in my front garden bursts into bloom, when there are so many bees visiting it that you can hear the tree buzzing! The day when the blossom smells as sweet as spun sugar. It is only fleeting though. The blossom will all be gone in a week’s time, and the scent of spun sugar may be there tomorrow but it will not be as strong as today.

The tree has been ready to burst into bloom for the last week. Each day I’ve watched the buds swell, and the last few days there have been one or two sprays opening. But today, the tree is covered in blossom, bees and to my surprise butterflies. It is March, and whilst we’ve had warm sunny weather these last few days, the nights have been cold. Nevertheless, I saw several Peacock butterflies feeding on the tree. Here’s one of them.

It feels like spring is here, and as I’m writing this on the 25th of March, perhaps it is. The daffodils have been out for a week or so, and the buds of tulips are swelling and ready to open. But spring-time in England can be fickle. Today has been hot sunshine but the skies are clear and tomorrow morning there will be frost.

When I was little one of the weather rhymes I learned was ‘March winds and April showers, bring forth May flowers’. I’m not certain if that is still strictly true but nevertheless the days are getting longer, the sun is higher in the sky and getting warmer and the world is full of life.

I am aware that my last sentence above may be particularly poignant for some people. I’m writing this after my Prime Minister’s announcement that we should avoid going out and maintain social distancing. This plague of coronavirus has struck Italy and Spain grievous blows and other countries will also suffer greatly. Life isn’t fair, and for those who have recently lost relatives and loved ones, my above words may well sound hollow. I feel though that it is important to notice the world around us and enjoy it whilst we can, it could all be taken away tomorrow.  God bless and stay safe and healthy.

My Favourite Plants

I have recently finished a distance learning course with the Horticultural Correspondence College (HCC). This consisted of eight modules, the aim of which is to prepare me for taking exams for two RHS certificates. The certificates are:

Principles of Plant Growth, Propagation and Development

and

Principles of Garden Planning, Establishment and Maintenance

I’ve got to say I’ve really enjoyed doing the work. It’s been interesting to learn more about plants and garden design. It’s been very useful to work at my own pace, and I’ve found myself looking forward to doing the course work.

One of the things it has given me is a deep appreciation for plants and their strategies for survival. Things that move can run away from danger, things that are rooted in the ground cannot. But plants are not helpless. Far from it. Their ability to regenerate from a leaf, a stem, roots or seed is amazing. Californian Redwoods can grow to be 240 feet tall, yet they start as seeds barely 3 millimetres, one eighth of an inch long. The seeds of some plants are so tiny that they resemble dust; and of course you get the other end of the scale with the coconut, the fruit of which will kill you if it fell on your head.

Getting back to the course and the RHS qualifications. I have now taken four exams, with four more to go. I took two exams in February and I’m hoping to take two more in June. Leaving the last two for next year. Studying for exams and trying to remember everything is never easy; also trying to anticipate what the examiner is looking for is also difficult.

One of the aids that the HCC gave me was a leaflet where I could write about my favourite plants. During my recent revision I wrote and read this almost constantly. This had the slightly un-fortunate result of turning me off some of my favourites. In some cases I don’t grow any alpines so I had to learn about these. In other cases I’m so used to common names that learning the Latin names was arduous. But I kept at it, and I learned a lot more about plants and trees, which surely is the whole point of the exercise.

Now, that the exams are over, I’m looking forward to getting some of these ‘new favourites’ and trying them in the garden. Two definitely spring to mind: Tulipa Sprengeri and Gentiana sino-ornata. These are both alpines and are quite stunning:

Tulipa sprengeri – Sprenger’s Tulip

Gentiana sino-ornata

The tulips flower in spring so I’ll have to wait to Autumn to get the bulbs for them but the Gentianas flower in autumn so I may well treat myself soon. They like acid soil, so the alkaline conditions of my garden won’t suit them BUT there are always pots and containers and as my wife’s favourite colour is blue then I see no reason why we can’t have two pots near the front door!

Hellebores

I have five types of hellebore in my garden but I’m not really certain what they are. There is a dark purple one, with a lovely yellow centre. A double-white flowered one, a single white, and then pink ones (that came from my Mum, who has an abundance of them). The first two were inherited from the former owner. I think the single white came from my Mum along with a lot of the pink ones. I’ve moved the purple and the double white from the back garden through to the front, next to the ornamental cherry. Moving them wasn’t too much of a problem. Make sure you take as much of their root ball as possible. I moved them when they were flowering.

With the purple ones I know the hole I put them in wasn’t deep enough really, so I mounded up with soil as much as possible and hoped for the best. This wasn’t ideal but they’ve been moved a few years now and seem quite happy. In fact this year they’ve flowered really well. In their new position they get lots of sun (in theory when its not raining) in spring, but once the trees come into leaf then they get some shade. This is especially true for those that are closest to the cherry.

I also have one that has speckled purple colour on white. It looks similar to this Harvington one and its entirely possible that’s what it may be. This particular fancy one has had a tough life. It languished where I first planted it, seemingly irresistible to slugs although I’ve never seen slugs eat any of the other hellebores. I then lifted it and stuck it in a pot, where it recovered and grew quite happily for a number of years. But as is the way with things in pots, especially in the north west, the rains came and came, and bloody came and never sodding stopped. And everything in pots got thoroughly wet through. Moss and liverworts started growing quite happily on the surface and whilst the hellebore still kept sending out leaves and flowers I thought it really ought to go in the ground. So it has. Next to a large bay tree near the front door. At the moment there is one tiny flower on it, and several shoots, and most importantly it seems to have been left alone by slugs.

I like hellebores. They are relatively un-demanding. Just keep an eye on them when you are passing, removing diseased leaves, they can suffer from leaf spot as well as aphids. I’ve controlled aphids by washing the leaves in mild soapy water, take care doing this as the leaves of some hellebores can be surprisingly sharp rather like a hacksaw blade! The aphids can make a horrible mess with honey dew, which gets sooty and makes the plants suffer. Whilst it might not look appealing getting your hands in amongst this, there is a certain grim satisfaction in fighting back against the aphids. Cut the worst affected leaves off and put in the green recycling bin. Since I’ve moved the hellebores to the front garden they seem to have been healthier, so far any way.

The flower of the hellebore compliments the snowdrop. Both droop downwards, to protect the flower from the rain, and whilst this means the gardener has to actually go and lift the head up to appreciate them I rather like this. Not everything in life has to be convenient and the more things that get us up off the sofa and away from the laptop the better. And speaking of which I better go. It is my wife’s fiftieth birthday tomorrow and we’re going somewhere fancy for Sunday dinner!

What is growing in my garden at the moment

Weeds! I’m fairly confident in making that assertion but it’s not all moaning about those plants that will crop up whether you want them or not. Take for example dandelions (Taraxacum officinale). I have an immense fondness for dandelions, probably because it’s got my name in it, but as I’ve got older I really admire their doggedness. Dandelions are irrepressible and will grow in your garden whether you like it or not. And a field of dandelions in full bloom is as beautiful as anything in my humble opinion. But they don’t stay in bloom. Soon they set seed and their leaves are rather tatty looking. However, when they flower there is something about their cheerful ‘Here I am again!’ that makes me smile. I try to remove their seed heads so I don’t get quite over-run by them but the wind will blow when I’m at work and the seeds will drift and settle.

There are though other things growing, plants I’ve had a hand in as it were! In my front garden there is an ornamental cherry and underneath it there are snowdrops, hellebores and the green shoots of daffodils. Also columbine (Aquilaria vulgaris) is growing. Around the corner near an un-happy looking skimmia there is a small clump of iris reticulata; and nearby a small bed I made last year. This mainly has Ajuga reptens (Bugle) in it but it also has plenty of tulip bulbs, which are now growing strongly. There is also cyclamen growing and primroses.

Speaking of cyclamen, these grow happily in my hedgerow. I think they are slowly spreading year on year. I hope so. Near the hedgerow I can see lime green shoots of hemerocallis (day-lillies). Maybe this year I’ll get a better display than previous years. We’ll have to wait and see.

By the way, you may notice a lot of Latin names being thrown around. I’ve been studying for two RHS qualifications and I have to learn the Latin, so the more I use it the more it sticks and starts to make sense. I’ve always thought that it was a bit snobbish to use the Latin and a way to exclude others ‘not in the know’. However, it does have a use. A good example is the blue-bell. Scottish bluebells are not the same as English bluebells. The Scottish bluebells are also called Hare bells and their Latin name is Campanula rotundifolia. English bluebells have the Latin name of Hyacinthoides non-scripta. Similar looking plants from different families.

Back to what is growing. Near my front door I have several pots. Most of these are growing tulips but there is also iris reticulata and crocuses. There are crocuses in my front lawn. Rather sorrowful as they seem to flower when the weather is at its worst. There was one year when we had a week of glorious sunshine in February and these crocuses looked splendid. Right now after a few days of strong winds and rain, and with snow flakes falling, they look a bit battered and fed-up.

Other crocuses are growing their tips showing yellow and purple. They are not yet in bloom. I’m hoping that when they do, the weather will accommodate. Neat to them, just poking through the ground are the tips of Narcissus ‘Tete a tete’ and Snake’s Head Fritillary (Fritillaris meleagris).

Spring isn’t yet here but one day there will be warmth in the air and the world will feel new-born.

11th January – the Snowdrop

Although we send Christmas cards depicting snowy scenes and give each other calendars, where the photo for December is invariably snowy, scenic and frosty; it is rare to have snow in December. Not unknown, just not something you can count on. December was mainly mild and up till now, January has continued in a similar vein. We’ve had a few days where the thermometer has dipped below freezing but by and large mild weather.

This comes at a price of course. The mild weather is due to the jet stream, which has been pretty much pointing directly at the UK for the last eight or nine months; or at least it feels like it. Week after week has seen wet and windy weather. This morning is no different, the wind is roaring in the chimney, the trees and shrubs are bending in the wind, looking like old women hunched up and complaining about it all but there is one thing that January brings that December doesn’t. The days are beginning to lengthen.

One of the more grim sayings in weather lore is ‘as the days get longer, so the cold gets stronger’. This is particularly true in the UK. Winter is not over yet, not by a long chalk, in fact its only getting started. Get through February and you can start dreaming of spring but although we’ve had hot sunny weather in March and April, I’ve also walked past six foot high snowdrifts in May. Winter clings on like a terrier, refusing to let go.

In the garden though the lengthening days are bringing about change. The shoots of the humble snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) are poking above ground. The new flower buds of the hellebores (Helleborus x hybridus) are also visible; and looking out of the window I can see that some are flowering. You might say the snowdrop is the herald of spring but ‘the champion of winter’ might be as equally an appropriate title.

Snowdrops are simple flowers and un-assuming but tough. Their flowers are held to their stems by slender threads and you wonder how they can survive the harsh gusts of wind but they’ve adapted to winter weather and they thrive. The heads hang down (like hellebores) to shelter from the rain. Any pollinating insect that is out and about can climb into the ‘Snowdrop Inn’ and get out of the wind and cold. No dining al-fresco here, shelter and  good food!

Snowdrops are close to my heart because they remind me of a special day I spent with my youngest sister, who sadly passed away almost two and a half years ago. One cold February day we went to Rode Hall , which has superb displays of snowdrops. It was cold and the wind was cruel but Katy was like the snowdrop, beautiful, uncomplaining and just getting on with things. Now, when I see snowdrops I see Katy, and I remember how glad we were to get indoors and enjoy a cup of tea and cake but also the time spent, laughing about everything and nothing, exploring the gardens and enjoying the displays of snowdrops.

 

 

Thursday 2nd January

The alarm went off about 6.30 am, and whilst I did not throw my phone across the room, I did not exactly greet it with much enthusiasm. At the moment it is very dark at 6.30am and when I set off to drive to the train station it was still dark although the sky over in the east was beginning to pale.

This morning was dry and therefore much less gloomy than it has been of late. Last year, 2019, was exceedingly wet in the UK. I live in the North West of England, an area well known for its rain and wet weather but last year was very wet even by our own usually soggy standards. In fact, I’m fairly certain that the Cullens from the Twilight Saga were seen eyeing up potential places to live!

However, the last few days of 2019 have been dry and sunny, in welcome contrast to most of the year. The ground though is still sodden and I guess most plants are by now thoroughly sick of the wet. All these few days have done is allow a few things to dry out, ready for the next soaking.

I saw this morning’s sunrise from the station platform, where it was greeted with song by the birds, and much muttering from the commuters staring forlornly into the distance.

I’m going to try and write at least once a week. My intention is to write about the re-design and work on my front garden.