Andrew from Dolton
List customization using the above LIST OPTIONS feature is an advanced feature available to premium-membership members and sponsor listings.
Some Scribblings on a Wet and Windy Day.
"The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size."
Gertrude S. Wister
It is now over a month since the shortest day, as the earth begins tilting forwards already the season starts to change. By this time there is almost an hours extra light in the evening than there was at Christmas and in the mornings it's lighter too; you can really notice that the birds are singing audibly louder with a sense of purpose. All along the stream in front of my cottage on the rich silty banks snowdrops are blooming with their icy whiteness and hazel catkins start concertinaing into golden lamb's tails. In the hedgerows honeysuckle shoots are beginning to sprout as are Rosa canina and Rosa dumalis whilst on Rosa arvensis they are still shut quite tight. Hellebores are stretching up but the only one fully out has the rather clumsy name of Helleborus orientalis Lam. subsp. abchasicus Early Purple Group; it has dusky light purple flowers and has been flowering since new year's day. Some roses still hold on to their hips. 'Scharlachglut' makes a big shrub, 2 metres high and wide; the hips are fat and round, the same colour as a pomegranate. Dwarf Rosa multiflora 'Nana' retains its orange/red pip like hips very prettily, nearby 'Mr Bluebird' also does so like wise. The shiny rounded fruits of Rosa virginiana are wider than they are long, bullet hard they hold on until well into the spring. Witch Hazels open now, they are cast iron hardy, what ever winter throws at them their spidery crepe paper flowers unravel with delightful scent. 'Pallida' is bright yellow illuminating the most drear and pinched winter day with bright cheerfulness. It has made a substantial plant now, repaying what was quite an expensive purchase (€40) for a smallish plant, but, after 11 years its has steadily grown into a significant shrub, 2m x 3m, repaying me back a hundred fold and now looks spectacular! I also grow plain mollis too with yolk yellow flowers and the superb red 'Diane'. In recent years many more varieties have come on the market but these three still hold their own and are difficult to surpass. There are also types with purplish flowers, but these in my opinion are just a little bit too much on the brown colour spectrum to be really effective winter flowering plants.
Certain roses are stirring. In a little border along the back of the house the miniature rose chinensis 'Minima' is sprouting as is it's neighbour 'Baby Faurax'. China roses in pots against a sunny wall already have growths 10cm long but they are protected under big sheets of glass, (old conservatory windows), that help keep the worst of the weather off them and some protection form late spring frosts, 'Old Blush' still carries a half opened bud.
The weather still has plenty of scope to deteriorate, heavy snow and hard frost are still easily possible but with every day that passes the likelihood grows slimmer and the duration shorter, after the next four weeks the worst will be behind us and a spring time of colour awaits.
In My Garden, January.
"Nature has undoubtedly mastered the art of winter gardening and even the most experienced gardener can learn from the unrestrained beauty around them."
Vincent A. Simeone
As I lie back in the bath, my skin becoming soft enough to pull the thorns out of my hands; very easily done with nail clippers. I have been training rambler roses. The pruning and cutting of these climbers can easily be done wearing gloves but tying-in the canes can only be done with the extra dexterity of naked hands. If you hold out your left hand side ways on (left handers do the opposite), hold down a piece of string on to the top of this hand using your thumb. Always use natural jute string, with three strand thickness, never nylon or cable ties. Wrap the string around your hand many times. Cut the piece of string on its final return to the thumb. Then, also at this point, cut right through all the whole bundle of string. You will be left with thirty or so 15cm long lengths of twine, the perfect length for trying in most plants. You can vary the length of each batch of pieces by opening or squashing together the fingers of your hand. It is a hack I learnt as a student in the rose garden at Wisley, many years ago, I've constantly used it almost every working day ever since. I always cross over both ends of the string behind each shoot before I tie-in anything, that way you have a little buffer between the stem and the surface of the wire or cane.
By-the-way, roses don't have thorns, they have prickles. A thorn is a modified stem and usually is still a living part of the plant, just look at the younger branches of a blackthorn or a hawthorn tree. A prickle has evolved from hairs on the stem and they gradually dry out and harden as the shoot matures and ripens. The prickles are to help roses climb, or rather hook on to other plants and heave themselves up higher and enjoy more sun. They offer very little protection from browsing animals, anyone who has ever had deer in their garden will know that roses are the first plants they'll strip bare of any new shoots.
One of the roses I was tying-up was a member of a group known as the "mauve ramblers", Rosa multiflora hybrids that were mostly raised in the first part of last century. The colour of the flowers ranges from mauve to almost indigo, at times they can show the truest tints of blue as any rose flower. Dark purple and violet 'Bleu Magenta' thornily embraces the shell pink 'Debutante', an inspiration from the National Trust's garden, Mottisfont, in Somerset. Please consider 'Debutante' instead of 'Dorothy Perkins', it has flowers scented like primroses and are presented in a far more elegant way than the brash blousiness of Perkins. Another combination I find most satisfactory is 'Aschermittwoch', ('Ash Wednesday'), a hybrid between a wild sweet briar rose and a deep pink hybrid-tea. It is not everyone's favourite as the flowers are a pale greyish pink, described by some as looking like "poorly nourished flesh". Its companion is called 'William Lobb', not strictly a climber but it makes a rather lax bush that works well with some support. The flowers are deepest magenta-purple and lavishly scented. It is also a moss rose which means its stems are covered in masses of hairs and fine prickles which when rubbed leave behind the most delicious resin scent on your fingers. The two flowers, dark and pale compliment each other, highlighting the contrasts of both the different colours.
Outside the warm secureness of my bathroom it is bitterly cold, the rain lashes and the wind howls. To most rose growers scratches and prickles are not an issue, all we see are the flowers to come in summer time. I feed the birds with leftover Christmas biscuits, at the windows my cats stare owlishly out.
© AndrewtheGardener 15/1/18
In My Garden, November and December.
"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it,
the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show."
At seven in the morning a full moon shines out over a silvery garden, we've now had the first proper Dahlia slaying frosts. This coldness strikes a chill as harsh as the frost itself into the hearts of summer only gardeners. Killing off the last dregs of summer it's now time for winter work to begin in earnest and to draw up plans for the coming new year.
An exciting tree has just been delivered with a peculiar name: +Laburnocytissus adamii. The "+" denoting a chimera or graft hybrid. In the 1820's a Parisian nursery was growing standards of purple broom by grafting it onto a Laburnum stem, the two species are very closely related. One of these was broken and damaged but from where the union of the two plants had been a curious shoot grew with foliage half way between the laburnum and broom. I have to say it makes a rather unattractive tree, the growth is like a somewhat shrubby laburnum and the flowers an unpretty muddy pink. However there are other coloured flowers too, about 20 percent of the tree remains pure laburnum whilst a tiny amount of purple broom also thrives as wiry stemmed tufts amongst the branches. Twelve years or so ago there were various gardens opened in the village as a fund raising event for charity. A very new incomer to the village at the time I became disoriented and ended up in a wrong garden, just off the village square. In this garden was the most spectacular Adam's laburnum in a perfect flush of full flower, by far best specimen I'd ever seen (an exceptional crimson hawthorn next to it too), in the half dozen or so open gardens this was without doubt the most interesting plant to be seen that afternoon.
After a promising start today the sky soon clouded and a grey lid of gloominess spread across the heavens, it was not long before there was steady and heavy rain. I detest working in these conditions as it's very bad for the soil if you keep tramping about all over it when it is wet. I changed tack and bought baskets of logs inside instead and my lemon tree too. Lemons are one of the hardiest of citrus fruits but even so its time spent alfresco can be somewhat of an ordeal in my garden with night time temperatures even in summer too cool for its tastes.
I was staying in Barbados seven years ago and every evening at my hotel bar from half past five to half past six they held an "attitude adjustment" hour. The bar and restaurant were right on the beach with the sea lapping up against one side of it. Two drinks for the price of one soon creates a high spirited ambience in any bar, but here at around a quarter past six a hush gradually descends as the customers begin looking around and orienting themselves towards the west; the sun has started its descent below the horizon. Dawn and dusk are very short events on the island with only a brief period of change between afternoon and night, the rapid transit from bright sunshine into darkness. For fifteen minutes or so conversation is reduced to muted tones as everyone stands in awe to admire the beauty. One especially fine occasion; reds, purples, oranges, vermillion, enough to have driven Turner to tears, sticks in my mind. I was sipping on a spectacularly well poured gin and tonic and musing that life was very good indeed, I noticed a pip within the slice of lemon. I wrapped this inside a napkin and took it back home to Devon with me. Two plants germinated from it, slugs ate one, but the other survived and is over two metres tall now. Citrus seldom make good plants grown from seed, growing too vigorously making a thorny tree then fruiting poorly. Nevertheless the leaves have a wonderful peppery lemon fragrance when rubbed in my fingers and the little tree reminds me of blessed times in The Caribbean.
Thank you to the people who give me so much positivity and encouragement for my writing in The Diary; mid-winter cheerfulness and a very happy 2018 to you all.
© AndrewtheGardener 12/11/17
In My garden, October.
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns."
At the entrance to Halsdon Woods and opposite my cottage by the stream ash saplings are presenting the first signs of Chalara, ash die back disease. This could be as devastating to ash trees as Dutch elm disease was to elms fifty years ago.
In the 1990's I partook on several plant collecting expeditions to Romania. Back then to enable you move plants from one country to another a visit to the relevant Ministry of Agriculture department was required. Before leaving the country of origin the plants were inspected and once they were pronounced free of any disease or pests they were given a phytosanitary certificate. On returning home you entered customs via the red channel declaring the plants and appropriate certification; any plants without correct papers were almost without exception destroyed. You were then only permitted for six weeks to grow the plants in a designated location isolated from any other related plants until the Min. of Ag. had inspected them again.
Around twenty years ago restrictions were lifted allowing plants greater freedom of movement making export and importing a far simpler process. Since that time many more pathogens and undesirable creepy crawlies have found their way onto our shores, every year new troubles are reported and gaining a toe-hold here. Perhaps one good legacy of Brexit will be a return to more stringent plant hygiene and pest control.
My mother was highly intelligent and particularly artistic, able to execute and complicated tapestry or intricate knitting pattern. She was always keen to start some new project, her mind ever active in perusing new crafts; weaving, spinning, dyeing, ribbon work and sewing, as if she wanted to thwart the declining dexterity in her fingers and hands before they became as useless as the rest of her body; she had M.S.. On days out we would often collect stuff we found, sheep’s wool and fir cones, maple seeds or the little furry acorn cups from Quercus cerris, the turkey oak for various creative projects she was planning. On one outing to a stately home whilst walking through the magnificent stands of Weymouth pines, Pinus strobus, we collected cones from these trees, elongated, pale tan coloured and covered in horrid sticky resin. My mother had great plans to do something artful with them. They however stayed in their bag for years in a cupboard in my bedroom, later during a tidying up session and amidst cries of “I’m keeping those!” they migrated up into the loft. And it was here that I found them many years later buried in the clutter of thirty years habitation and storage a sad souvenir of happier times. I was clearing-out the house prior to moving away to Devon. The cones were crushed and broken, shrivelled and useless however at the bottom of the bag were hundreds and hundreds of rounded dark grey seeds.
I planted a handful of these seeds in a pan that was placed inside a cold frame and left for the winter. Seeds are best stored in a constantly cool atmosphere so I had not expected anything to germinate after so many roasting summers and freezing winters in the attic. But, like wheat from a Pharaoh’s tomb two seedlings germinated. One was lost during the move to Dolton but the other grows very happily enjoying the cool wet summers in this part of the country, it has grown almost five metres high now, and this year for the first time it is now baring cones of its own.
© AndrewtheGardener 10/10/17