Cutbacks in the lavender department

Freshly sharpened secateurs glinting in the sunlight, I approached my overgrown lavender in the front garden.  Loved by bees, but possibly not by mum's pushing pushchairs past its thrusting exuberances….

Today it was tamed back behind the railings with some judicious snippage and is now an even, lower growing hedge.  I never want to get rid of the flower heads, so tend to leave my lavender pruning until growth restarts in spring.  A quick haircut now, and it encourages the plant to grow more bushily and form that nice, dense, perfumed thicket which I love so much.

And what to do with my prunings?  Some are used as cuttings, in readiness for the next generation of hedging.  The current plants all started out the same way 10 years ago, so I don't think they've got too much longer before woodiness takes over completely and straggling sprawl sets in, so I need to get some replacement plants thriving to take their place in the next couple of years. The cuttings I took last spring are all looking happy in their pots and are bushing out nicely.

To take lavender cuttings, cut a 10-15cm length of non-flowering stem just below a leaf node, and strip off the bottom leaves.  Fill a small plant pot with gritty compost and push the bare stem of the cutting in at the edge (helps the cutting form better roots if it's at the edge, rather than in the centre of the compost).  One plant pot should accommodate several cuttings.  Water, cover with a clear plastic bag secured with an elastic band and leave on a windowsill or in a greenhouse.  Cuttings should root within about 6-8 weeks. You can tell when they have taken as new growth will appear at the top.  If you're not sure, you can always tip the pot carefully and slide the compost out to check if roosts are appearing.

As for the rest of my copious quantity of prunings, they've been used as mulch around my working area and the compost bins.  Never has the composting area smelled so fragrant!

You can never have too much lavender.  If you are lucky enough to have a south facing frontage, it is the most community-minded bit of hedging you could wish for.  Not only do the insects love it, the passers by never fail to comment on the menthol tinged fragrance at pruning time.  So generous is it when in flower, that I don't even object to the school children running their hands along it and yanking off the odd head or two to accompany them on their way to and from school.  Lavender smells gorgeous and its glory should be shared!

Wordless Wednesday - Autumnal

Rip it up and start again

….in the words of eighties band, Orange Juice.

Following my own advice, today saw me tearing out snapdragons which were covered in brown pustules of rust, making their leaves about as appetising as that description suggests.  They were still flowering, so I was sorry to deal them an untimely end.  Into the bag and off to the great compost heap in the sky… but not onto my own.

I've got to wait for the frosts to come and get the dahlias, and then I can clear the whole patch - could it be my tulip bed next spring I wonder?  Have recently ordered yet another load of bulbs - this time for a brightly coloured wedding in late May, so am looking forward to some zingy pings in the border.

I'm not using the raised bed for tulips again this year, not because it was unsuccessful, but because it has hosted them for the last two years.  It is therefore time to introduce incoming stock to pastures new (and to hoick out the old stock as flowering decreases after a couple of years).

I will probably use the raised bed to plant out the ranunculus which I've started off in the greenhouse - it could be the good spot for them as long as I can keep them watered as they like damp conditions. The bed may be a bit free-draining, left to its own devices.  The reason I've earmarked it is that in the absence of a large undercover growing space, the raised bed is probably the easiest patch in the garden to construct a mini-tunnel for - and the flowers will need protection from the rain if I'm to get a good crop to use at market.  I'm obviously turning into my dad as I squirrelled away the heavy-duty plastic which my new sofa came wrapped in, specifically for this purpose.  I may or may not show you my gimcrack construction, depending how hideous it is!!

After today's clearing and chopping session, my central border looks considerably bigger - not only is it enjoying temporary respite from ground elder, but it's also enjoying a bit more light as I've cut back the spirea shrub whose arching branches were gradually shading out an ever larger area.  I've reduced it by about two thirds by cutting out old branches from the base - this has left the remaining ones still with a graceful shape, but the shrub now has much reduced bulk.  Also took out some of the low hanging branches of the acer negundo which looms above it, so it feels almost airy and open - at least when compared with the leafy cavelike structure it resembled earlier in the day.

Planted the remaining narcissus and daffodil bulbs from my 25kg delivery in this rather shady patch - they should be up and out before the tree comes into full leaf next year, so should enjoy the benefits of being early season plants.  I'll probably dig half of them up by accident later, but as they're not too precious to me, it's a risk I'm prepared to take.

My September sown cornflowers are thriving in the greenhouse and the first of the temperamental larkspur seedlings were spotted on a watering inspection this afternoon.  I will, I will, I will grow larkspur more effectively in 2015. Repeat 100 times.  Just have to clear a few more areas in order to have somewhere to put them all.

Will leave you with a nice bunch of autumnal dahlias, picked this morning. All the more precious because they aren't going to be around for a whole lot longer as the nights get colder and frost creeps ever closer.  The 'f' word has been mentioned on quite a few recent weather forecasts, but has not yet put its tentacles into my urban garden.  Hooray for city living!

How does my garden grow?

The most common comment I get on my market stall is:

 "Marmite jars!  What a good idea!"

The second most common is:

"Your garden must be lovely."

I think seeing a stall full of cottage garden flowers, people are intrigued as to where they have come from.  So for those of you who want a sneaky peek into the Tuckshop Garden, walk this way.

Before….

When we moved into this house, the garden was wall-to-wall lawn, with a few trees, tired shrubs and lots of ground elder and conifers.  First stop, tree surgeons.  In with the chainsaws and down with the conifers.  Light reached the soil and things started to grow - as did the ground elder (and still does - grrrr).  With every passing year, the amount of lawn is reduced and planting areas extended - much to the disgust of my eldest son who has a passion for petrol-powered lawn mowers.

Some time after….

Even since this photo was taken, the planting areas have extended:  the expansive patio has now been reduced - a significant number of slabs have come out, and a largish border created in their place, further bringing the garden right up to the house.

It is a place of constant change - every season brings different flowers, and every year brings new areas coming under development, or old areas which had been left to their own devices getting a significant overhaul.  The one thing I've learned in my gardening life is that plants don't last forever.  And when they start to run out of steam, I'm afraid I'm quite ruthless.  Get them out, take cuttings or divide them where possible, and put something else in to fill the gaps.

Last week was spent culling all the aquilegia which put on such a lovely spring display.  But I know if I leave them in with their shapely seed heads rattling in the breeze, next year I'll have an forest of Granny's Bonnets nodding at me.  Pretty though that may be, I don't want the garden to be a mono-culture, so out with the secateurs and off with their heads.  And more often than not, out with their roots too to make way for some of my current crop of maturing seedlings  which are begging to be planted out.  It's the only way to keep things productive and to keep colour coming later in the season.

The tulips in my raised bed on the patio have been over planted with dahlias and sweet peas and these are now just starting to flower.  I'm so pleased I took the sledgehammer to this particular area of concrete as I now have something much nicer to look at out of my kitchen window.

  

I've got a tulip catalogue on my desk and a wish list in my head - so am already plotting and scheming about where I can make my tulip bed next spring, and what to use the raised bed for instead.  Tulips don't really flower brilliantly after they've been in for a couple of years, so the ones above are due for replenishment.  I always feel a bit guilty for abandoning flower stocks that have served me well, but getting them out gives me chance to put some goodness back into the soil with compost, leaf mould, manure and other such additions.  And as soon as the replacement plants start to flourish, I'm afraid I never look back!

So don't be afraid to overhaul scruffy patches, or be lenient with tired plants.  Prune them, split them or chuck them - but do these jobs in spring or autumn if you want them to regenerate elsewhere in the garden.

If you want to see more pictures of the garden, visit my Pinterest board.

This post has reminded me that I need to take some more photos of the garden as it is now - I've got lots of flower photos, but not so many of the garden as a whole.  Next project….

Disorderly conduct

I know as a grower of cut flowers I'm supposed to grow in rows.  But while my back garden provides most of my flowers, I'm still primarily a gardener and a garden is what I grow.  So rather than rows, I've got my usual scramble of patches and blobs - which mean that picking takes longer and I perhaps don't get as much out of the garden as I could in terms of harvests.  But the compensation is that I still can look out on a tapestry of flowers, which comes together as much from luck as from judgement and design.

Blue is the colour at the moment with swathes of bluebells in the shady dry patch under the trees at the bottom of the garden and forgetmenots squiggling their way through any other bits they can fling their seed into.  The vivid blue centaurea or annual cornflower is just coming into flower now as well and the irises will be the next thing to take over the blue baton in the flowery relay.

I've even got roses coming into bud and it's only early May.  Don't usually expect to see that until early June so it's a sign of how mild and warm the winter has been despite the wet.

My greenhouse is full and I've still got lots of things to prick out from their trays - planting seedlings into individual pots for them to grow on big and strong.  I love that job but never fail to be horrified when I realise how much more space they're going to take up.  Mind you, when I look at the hundreds of rudbeckia seedlings that have germinated so brilliantly, I quake at the thought of potting them up!  Only some of them are going to get done as I'd need to be a large scale producer to have the space for all of them.  Wonder if any friends would like some?  I'm sure some of my gardening clients might have space to rehome a few when they're a bit bigger.

Snails seem to be very happy in the garden at present and have munched through a fair number of my baby stocks and have been snacking on dahlia leaves in the cold frame.  It pays to check on the latter regularly as it is easy to get on the molluscs slimy trail and to locate and subsequently squish them.

Have also been purging the blackfly which have set up camp on my centaurea.  Sprayed the whole area with soap solution and blasted the plants with a strong spray from the hosepipe yesterday to force the aphids to release their evil grip on the soft stems.  The plant looked a little shocked initially, but has now regained an upright position and seems non the worse for its ordeal.

Centuarea - now free of pests.

Clearing out the dead things whilst sticking to the paths

Wet.  That's the only word which describes the squelchy state underfoot in my garden.

But yesterday the sun shone and although fearing I might be sucked into the bog that passes for a lawn, I nonetheless ventured out to remove all the brown floppy things that are slowly sliming into nothingness in the borders. Secateurs in hand I snipped.  Out went the black mouldering leaves on the lungworts, off came the rotten necks of gladioli and into the compost they went, along with the strawlike wisps clinging to the newly reshooting clumps of aquilegias. Luckily I have some solid paths to work from, so my compressing feet didn't have too spend long in contact with sodden soil or lawn and hopefully I've managed to do more good than harm in the garden by giving in to the urge to clear and prepare for spring's arrival.

All in all, things are looking tidier and closer to being ready for action come March, but I still have stretches of self-sown forget-me-nots to tame and small battle groups of creeping buttercup to repel from their new footholds in the borders.

Every time I look out of the window at my raised bed, my tulips seemed to have poked their noses a little higher through their covering mulch of compost and the snowdrops under the apple tree are readying their pearly globules, without daring yet to open.

Today heralded a trip to the garden centre (imagine my delight at getting two replacement springs for my secateurs for a quid!) and a couple of nets of seed potatoes for the allotment.  I hardly dare think how wet it will be in my plot at the bottom of the hill and just how rampant the buttercups will be after all this rain and my prolonged absence.  At the allotment however, I can't garden from solid paths and slithering around in the mud on towering platforms of clayey clods will benefit neither me nor the plot, so it will have to wait for drier times. Whenever they may be…..

Signs of life

It may be soggy, but the first signs that things are still living in the cold, damp world outdoors are now visible in the garden.  A relief to the prowling gardener, desperate for seasons to turn and for the next year of plants to begin.

I suppose an enforced hiatus in the gardening calendar affords opportunities to do other things.

Lots of cake stands have been made, and teacups drilled in readiness for spring bulbs and violas.  Also lots of fellow flower folk were met in Devon, and tips and experiences exchanged.  It also gave me the perfect excuse to visit a friend whose path, it transpires, I haven't crossed for 5 years.  Indeed, her once-child has now morphed into a very large adult since he was last sighted as a 12 year old….  Which just goes to show how quickly time flies. And soon it will be spring again, so I shouldn't wish time away.

But perhaps the most important outcome of the British Flowers meet was that I was bossed into writing a letter enquiring about the abandoned walled garden which still dominates my gardening imagination.
Those who told me that if I didn't follow up on it, I'd regret it or always wonder "what if…" were right, I think.  So on my return, google was searched and a letter was sent.  What next? Hmmm.

However, without taking on any further land, I've still managed to increase my growing space, having spent the last few dry days digging over the viburnum-vacated patch and grubbing out the ground elder.  I was moaning in a previous post that the black plastic had failed to make an impact on this pernicious weed, but now have to revise my opinion.  Once a fork is jabbed into the snaky rooted mass to dislodge it,  the ground elder can be teased out of the beautifully friable compost layer that has accumulated on top of the plastic. And when the elder is removed, the plastic can be dragged back to reveal dry, diggable soil (a contrast to the adjoining soggy mass) and this can then be stripped of the somewhat desiccated roots which snake across its surface in their quest for light and moisture. Sadly, I've learned through bitter experience, that without a chemical blitz, ground elder is for life, not just for Christmas, but at least this way I get to remove a lot of it in one big purge.  Enough to have a new 10 foot square growing space at any rate.

Newly vacated

Death to the dominators...

I can tell, just by my quest for a photo of this spot in its previous state, that it was a fairly nondescript, unproductive area, as there is barely any record of it for the last couple of years.  Look forward to planting it up in a few months time and letting my seedlings get their roots into this fantastically compost enriched soil.

All I want for Christmas is…. no viburnum beetle

It's not every week that the predominant question asked by my teenage son is:
   
"Mum, did you find a pick axe today?"

He has had a bee in his bonnet about it since last weekend when he and his father decided that they'd take on the gargantuan task of removing my much lamented viburnum tinus 'Eve Price' from the spot where she has kept sentry over the compost bins since we moved here several years ago.

But sadly, like the rest of us, Eve has got a bit smelly and moth eaten in her old age, thanks to a heavy and ongoing infestation of viburnum beetle. A younger, sprightlier and much smaller golden variegated holly is waiting to jump into the space she has long filled with such vigour.  The only issue has been actually getting her to release her grip on this patch of long uncultivated soil.

Under a foot of accumulated compost and ground elder roots lay a sheet of thick black plastic which had obviously not fulfilled my purpose of keeping the ground elder at bay.  Instead, it formed yet another layer of resistance in the great removal operation and had to be surgically sliced apart with spade edges and gardening knives.

Eve was lopped, sawn and generally maltreated but refused to cede her ground.  Trenches were dug around her, and battle was waged against her tenacious roots, to minimal effect.  Hence the repeated question of my son, on returning from school  every night this week.

And what young teenager would not get a glint in his eye when his prayers for heavy garden weaponry were answered. Friday yielded a sturdy mattock/pick axe combo which aforementioned son and husband have wielded with much gusto this morning.  And alas, poor Eve, she is no more - apart from a very significant uprooted stump now waiting for disposal at the recycling centre.

Just the ground elder to deal with now, before planting my juvenile holly. And a further viburnum to go in order to remove the last dwelling places for my stinky beetle friends.

Let there be light

Autumn is always a good time to evaluate the garden - what went well, what earns its space, and what poor specimens have been selected for the chop. Literally.

Whilst prowling the flowerbeds, plotting where to plant the 100 narcissus bulbs desperate for a home, I decided I could regain quite a bit of at least temporary space by giving the thuggish cherry laurel hedge a rather drastic trim.  Should buy me enough time for the narcissus to put in an appearance at any rate.

And so the pruning saw was wielded with vigour and it felt like the flower bed breathed its thanks for the increased light levels.

The new look hedge and the old version, side by side. Has to be done in stages just to deal with the mountains of pruning generated.

The drastic haircut in all its glory. Euphorbias are on their final warning as well.

Not content with that bit of culling, I progressed to hoiking out some of the bulky euphorbias which, lovely though they are, do not get cut for bunches due to their poisonous sap. Out out vile irritants. Likewise large angelicas, of which I have plenty, and which self seed prolifically.  Likewise foxglove stumps which really should have been uprooted months ago, but kept sprouting mini flower spikes and earning reprieves which metamorphosed into an extended holiday.

Pulling things out also reveals where all the weeds and slugs are hiding, so they were all dealt with unkindly too.  Clearing done, all the bulbs then went in.  Now I've just got to find space for all my alliums. Which patch shall I target next?

I also spent half an hour of today's dry weather gathering in all my dried seedheads to furnish me with wreath making ingredients for the forthcoming festive season.  Better to collect and store them somewhere dry now, before the weather can destroy their delicate forms.

On my way back from school this morning, I saw someone else had been seized with the same hedge-trimming mania and a coniferous one was being drastically reduced.  Cue visit with plastic bag to gather up trimmings.   The result:

The first wreath of many over the next two months.

Going to seed

The July flop is happening and the earlier flowers are going to seed.  Where the slow starting annuals have got going, they are bursting buds and showing some welcome colour.  I have fallen back in love with Nigella (the love-in-a-mist variety, not the TV chef), having grown it from fresh seed this year and getting the gorgeous pastel blue shade back.  My self-perpetuating, self-seeded stuff always seems to come up faded grey/white, so its nice to see the blue ones again.

Their delicate sculptural seedheads are just as pretty as the flower itself and they are fabulous for cutting for bunches.  Want MORE. Greedy.

Elsewhere, seedheads are featuring largely in the borders and on the worktop. The fat black cerinthe seeds are still being gathered in quantity and the fine umbellifers of ammi are still proving useful for cutting - shape, but no pollen now!  My main border has still got plenty of height, but not enough colour.  The knautia is doing its annual seed-chucking exercise in a bid for complete domination next year but it is going to get a thinning, so doubtless friends will be glad to receive its potted up offspring into their gardens.

                           

                   

I've got lots of shape, but not enough colour and am desperate for my cosmos 'purity' to get going to add a bit of flowery interest.

In the righthand border where I hoiked out the rambling rose, the dahlias are doing their stuff and are producing lots of flowers at the moment, loving these alternately hot and wet conditions.  Yesterday my  in-car thermometer read 34.5 degrees, but today is warm, cloudy and damp. Good growing weather - time to start taking cuttings of my herbs and lavender methinks and make the most of this propagating climate.

Is there life after ammi?

The midsummer hiatus is happening again - my early summer lovelies are going over and the later perennials have not yet got into their stride.  The ammi has finally flopped, smothering its neighbours in the border and I am beady-eyeing its drying flower heads, waiting for the moment when I can collect oodles of seed to sow in September for next year's crop.  It is definitely a flower I want lots of 2014 as it such a brilliant filler and looks fantastic with virtually anything.  It's only slight drawback is that when the flowers are very mature, they make the surface of any arrangement look like you've been holding this year's AGM for the Homepride flour graders convention.

Frothy ammi with sweet peas and mallow

The kitchen worktop is starting to host a collection of plastic pots containing cerinthe seeds at various stages of desiccation - so expensive to buy, but every plant that grows will provide you with ample quantities of black nuggety seed for to keep replenishing for several seasons. I'm going to have another go at September sowings for that as well - last year came to nothing, but I don't think I'm going to take 2012 weather as any kind of benchmark for normality.

It has been brilliant to have heat and dryness this year - makes me feel like I've emigrated!

The dahlias are flourishing in the current conditions, and sedums are fleshing up well to provide a glaucous counterpoint for bright flashy red 'Witteman's Best' in summer bunches.

I can tell that summer is in full swing, as the lavender hedge at the front of the house in sprouting into gloriousness, and my candelabra-style light fitting downstairs is sporting several bunches hanging upside down to dry, ready for arranging in lean times later in the year.  The statice that I sowed in late spring is just starting to come into flower, so I must remember to cut and dry some of that for autumnal arrangements too.

My roses are totally crispy and require constant deadheading, so I have to bid them farewell and await their second coming in autumn.  It really makes me feel like the year is whizzing by to know that their first show is already over.

Excuse the dangly wicker pig's legs in the top part of this shot. I know them well, but they even had me bewildered when I first studied this photo!

What is going to replace the ammi in the next wave of flowers?  It has played such a big role in the borders, that I'm going to feel a bit bereft without it.  You'll just have to watch this space to see what comes in to fill its boots - and so will I, as I'm really not sure what can follow in its wake at the moment.

Wordless Wednesday. A happy scramble.

Where's the splash?

Dry borders - how long is it since I've had those?  Well, they are back for the time being and the water butts are starting to run dry.  A light shower this morning refreshed the garden slightly, but the ground could still do with a bit more of a soaking. I never thought I'd ask for rain again after last year, but here I am.... Hope I haven't jinxed the summer now.

Busy busy busy in the garden - keeping on top of weeds and pests - will be looking to stock up on organic 'Growing Success' slug pellets at Gardener's World Live at the NEC this  Friday - my local garden centre no longer stocks them and I'm underwhelmed by the other organic alternatives available.  Slugs are tucking into my dahlias in spite of coffee grounds and wool pellet barriers. Devilish beastlies.

Had to risk planting out my delphiniums - hope at least some of them will make it to join the two grown up plants which have emerged from last year's efforts. The glorious thing about growing from seed is that you can plant in drifts and big groups as you get so many plants from your packet - it would be hideously expensive to do this if buying pot grown plants from a nursery.

The borders are really growing tall now and the roses are starting to open and waft their luscious smells around the place.  A few bright heads of knautia are bobbing, deep pink, in the sea of foliage, and sweet williams will soon start showing colour in their sea anemone flowers and add to the show.

 I love June for flowers - it's often the best time for my garden.  I shouldn't judge it quite yet as things have not really exploded, but I'm a bit concerned that things are getting too subtle again. So much so that I'm pleased to see the shouty oriental poppy which is going bang in the main border.  Need more eye-jabs of colour to liven things up a bit at the moment.  When the yellow rose comes out, that should add a bit more contrast to the pinks and blues - Christopher Lloyd gets his contrasts right in my book - can't be doing with restricted colour schemes really - too boring.

Desperate for a splash of really vibrant colour to set the borders alight.  Greedy gardener.

More along the lines of that orange t-shirt and poppy burst please.  Flowers are coming. Must learn to be patient.

All grown up

The boing moment may have happened a few weeks ago, but now the garden is well and truly into its stride.  The plants seem to have been plotting a surprise party for my return from holiday, despite the hail which was apparently hurled at them in my absence.

On my photo safari this morning, I was spoilt for choice as marshmallowy peonies purred for attention, and ruffled granny's bonnets (aquilegia) nodded coyly towards the lens.  Blue centaurea appeared neon in the post dawn light and dog daisies prepared to sprawl across the borders.

Greenfly peeped round rose buds and cowered from the squishing fingers which loomed towards them whilst slugs crawled along lugubriously, content in the morning dew. RIP slugs (evil cackle).  A snail doing early morning calisthenics on a dried stalk was plucked to meet its final crunch.

Gaps are filling, things are sprouting, clematis is smothering the old pear tree with a twisty tangle of pink-frothed vines and all is well in the Tuckshop Garden. It's good to be back!

Wordless Wednesday - Refreshing.

The Ruthless Gardener wanders

Decided I'd take you on a quick tour of the garden and made a little video to show you the borders as they are at the moment. 

In my previous incarnation in trade publishing, I used to be known as 'slasher' for my curt editorial tendencies, and listening to my commentary, I can see that this trait has now translated itself to the garden. I didn't realise how many plants are on a yellow card until I heard my multiple pronouncements of imminent death.  It's always good to keep plants on their toes though - once they stop performing or become pests, get them out!  It also gives you room for more new ones....

So, if you are sitting comfortably, then we'll begin. (Don't know why this especially boring shot shows in the preview, but I'm learning all this video mularkey as I go along)

Wordless Wednesday. Going, going, gone.

 

Everything's coming up tulips

At last the tulips think it is time to put on a show. Despite the fact that those I thought were going to be late flowerers, and white, have turned out to be early by this year's standards, and primrose yellow, I'm still pleased to see them.

 They look like ostrich eggs on the end of their long stalks, and glow bright yellow from within. So even though they are not the classic white beauties I was promised, I'm quite happy with my lucky dip.  As they are not 'Floridale', as labelled, I wonder what variety they actually are? Answers on a postcard please....

8/5/13 - STOP PRESS: I've just been looking at various websites and I think they are Floradale Ivory - a late Darwin hybrid tulip - so maybe I just didn't read the description very well!

My zinc tub is rather restrained in its palette of tulips so far - very peachy and apricot in its present incarnation.  I know that I planted Perestroyka, Apricot Beauty and Abigail in it, so am having to go back to the saved packets to identify them as they emerge.  The pointy bulbs will definitely be Persetroyka and I'm pretty sure the smaller ones are Abigail.  I think I prefer more punchy colours in this pot though, so may have to rehome these in the flower bed later and have another go with more melodramatic ones next year.

 In the flower border, the established residents are still putting on a show, even though they have been in there for a long time.  Their blooms are definitely smaller than they used to be, but still worth having.
I think these orange 'Ballerina' tulips are still one of my favourites - so in your face and shouty!