Sheila May
May is the time of year I am excitedly dashing out to the hotbed in the greenhouse each day watching the HPS seeds I sowed in April for signs of germination and growth.
A late April star plant from the pond, Caltha palustris, with shafts of Iris pseudacorus ‘Variegata’ poking through.
As this is a March piece, I shall show you two of my quintessential spring flowers that are stars in March – the violet (Viola riviniana), and here, the primrose (Primula vulgaris) – their freshness brings joy to my heart
A star plant at the beginning of February 21 is the Winter Aconite, Eranthis hyemalis, coming up in the orchard grass under an apple tree
Happy New Year to you all. The photos in this article are all from New Year’s Day 2021, when it was VERY VERY frosty (unlike this year when it was very mild and very wet!)
I was egged on to take the secateurs to our yew by my friend Mary who was visiting one September. Unlike all the shapes above, I originally intended to make a spiral, as we had hoped to do to our box pyramids in pots either side of the front door when we lived in London.
The second article I ever wrote on this blog was to tell you about planting our mixed native hedge along the 40 meter long orchard boundary in December 2014, and this article is to tell you about its growth in the subsequent years, and its current status.
As this month ends in Halloween, I thought I would get you in the mood with a couple of my scary garden monsters!
This summer has been “mixed” weather-wise for us on our Chalk Hillside. We had the hot dry early spring-time as during the first lockdown last year. April into May we remembered the lessons from last year.
I was concerned that these Papaver Somniferum variations (which remind me of 1950 bathing caps) would not be good for polinators, but as you can see, I needn't have worried
Before we could replant the top half of the subshrubs and bulbs border this winter, we had to remove the giant in the bed. Removing the Lavatera cachemiriana was such a big decision, and it was such a big plant.
Plus - how to side shoot tomato plants.
Moving on this month to the part of the ‘L’ shaped bed that runs from the Gunnera manicata bed path to the decking steps above the groynes, and therefore directly above the tiny shade border I talked about two months ago.
Over the bank holiday weekend I had been crawling round various plants in the garden trying to get an “in-focus” shot in stiff easterly winds which have plagued us for most of April to show you this month’s star plants, when I got caught face down by my newish neighbours who asked if I was taking an art shot.
Because the Golden Hop (Humulus lupulus 'Aureus') is so rampant, I planted shade-loving winter plants directly beside it - a dusky pink Helleborus orientalis seedling and a Harts Tongue Fern (Asplenium scolopendrium)
I planted the Irish primrose Primula vulgaris ‘Carrigdale’ in my border – it flowers for a lot of the year – last year one of the clumps in a pot was in flower by the end of January though the clumps in the border waited a few weeks to flower
The first snowdrop garden I ever visited was Hodsock Priory on the borders between Nottinghamshire and South Yorkshire during the 1990’s. They especially open round half term to allow people to walk through the formal gardens and down to the woodland where there is massed planting of Galanthus nivalis under beech trees:-
During the second lockdown, as I said last month, lots of the autumn colour in the garden was more noticeable from berries hips and seedheads than from leaves
When we talk about autumn colour, it seems to me to either be talking about spectacular leaf colour on trees; or late flowering plants such as herbaceous perenials that feature in Piet Oudolf’s prairie planting schemes, or tender perennials such as dahlias, cannas etc.
I started the three articles on gardening in lockdown showing you the shoots of Echinops ritro ‘Veitch’s Blue’ just coming through in the first week of lockdown, so I shall finish by showing you it in beautiful flower on 23 July as we were coming to terms with “the new normal”
A star plant from the last day of May – the beautifully scented honeysuckle, Lonicera periclymenum ‘High Scentsation’. This honeysuckle was stunning this year, huge flowers and the scent hung on the still, super-heated air for metres in all directions for several weeks
Gardening has a rhythm of its own irrespective of what is happening in the wider world – the seasons change; certain plants come to the fore or go over; certain jobs have to be done at certain times. We have been very grateful to have our garden to occupy us during lockdown.
If you want to actually develop an area of wildflower meadow rather than just leave a bit of lawn to grow a bit longer than usual, then you will also need to try and reduce the vigour of the grass because it is such a successful plant that it outcompetes the wild flowers.
After the excitement of Chelsea week in our wildflower experiment of letting our grass grow last month, this time we are moving into June to see what comes up in our lawns. This is what is happening in mine – how are your lawns looking?
Following on from last month where I reached around St George's Day in terms of what wild flowers were coming up in my grass as I let it grow longer, this month I will carry on from the last week of April and see what grows.
If you are working from home, homeschooling children, or having to take care of all aspects of your own life without your usual support network, you might not have even more time to mow your lawns (or if you are like our elderly neighbour you might run out of petrol for your mower and be reliant on others to get you more). Why not let the grass grow?
On the spring equinox – 20 March – as the schools were shut indefinitely; my sister, step-mother and mother had all entered 12 week shielding in locations far far from me; our daughter was in lockdown in her care home and our son and family was also social isolating as our youngest granddaughter had been sent home from nursery that week with a high temperature I went out in the beautiful sunshine into our garden in a very worried, stressed state.
Whilst as you saw last month I spent January reviewing our vegetable and fruit production, obviously this is a wet weather/darkness type of job. As with all gardeners, as soon as I can after the Christmas/New Year festivities I am itching to get back into the garden to start the big winter clear up.
When we moved here we inherited an orchard of mature plum, pear and apple trees. It was our intention to also grow a lot of vegetables to help us eke out our income and stop us blowing our savings and for many years we only ate fruit we grew ourselves, and continue to grow and store vegetables for our whole year.
Continuing on from last months’ blog article regarding this particular bed in our garden I will start with my favourite plant in this border - Rosa glauca, planted centrally to the bed. I just love this plant – its glaucous grey leaves, its delicate single pink flowers so fleeting and so enchanting against the leaf colour, and then its cinnamon coloured hips that gradually change to deep red as the autumn progresses.
Opposite the Acer walk I talked about recently in the gravel garden is the grandly titled Shrubbery. This is a rectangular bed that has the steps down through the gravel garden on one side, and the boundary fence on the other