May the 14th, 2011

The Eve of Easter 4

And I have been away from this blog since Easter Day.  Is it the cold, unfriendly spring that has deterred me from enthusiasm?

Goodness knows I have been constant in the battle with the weeds and coutch grass, but when I went out into the garden yesterday to fill small pots with contributions to a plant sale I was horrified - absolutely horrified!!!!  Everywhere I stepped the grasses and yarrow, the dandelions and Chinese Lantern were conducting a massive invasion, - and the violets were beautiful but calling for a bed all their own far off on the other side of the pasture as they encircled the roses and daisies and grew up between iris corms and just generally made the garden their own.....

If you take a quick snap of the flowers and the luxurious growth all those weedy things manage to duck down and make as if they are not there,  but real hands on gardening reveals all.  I'm sure they couldn't have all grown in the last few warm days, but I did think I had things pretty well under control, - sigh....

Ah well, here are a few pictures of the burgeoning greeness and I will cast a blind eye at all the happy little weeds and plants that are entirely out of place.

The gorgeous golden perennial alysum that spreads along the driveway near the steps.

A few bright cheerful red and white tulips

their more flamboyant yellow cousins, who returned rather sparingly this spring

lovely rows of bright blue grape hyacinth that encircle the beds of daffodils who are busy now storing up goodies for next spring, having put on a splendid display this year.

The flowering almond was fragrant and most exuberant, but  the blackbirds

feasted on Forsythia buds, and the shrubs are just now starting to look respectable,

 having leafed out quite beautifully.

And the pretty pink double tulips have begun to lose some of their vigor,

 and were smaller and more delicate this year.

each year is different than the one before it, or the one to follow it, and I suppose

that helps make gardening such a precarious adventure.

Will the roses survive the early bitter November winds, and the sudden cold snap?

Most of them did, but the lovely grocery store roses were blooming their

little hearts out when the cold came, and one is completely dead this spring.

The others are trying valiantly, but not sure the prognosis is that good.

I lost all the foxgloves (except for maybe one that might make it) but, although a disapointment, 

it wasn't a surprise.  The Canterbury bells that are coming into their

second year are developing lovely green skirts and will probably

bloom before June arrives.

Today, after we had taken plants to the sale and I had purchased a three or four pots

to bring home, we drove around by the old garden to inspect the Korean Viburnum.

It is about twelve feet high,  - has never been pruned since we moved away and

had to abandon it, and was in full scented bloom, enough to make one quite giddy with the perfume.

Unfortunately, no small runners that we could salvage, but I brought a bouquet home.

The lilacs are on the verge of full blossom at the old garden, - here the little one I planted has just one bloom.

I think it needs to move house!

I leave with a bleeding heart, but will be back soon!

April 24th, 2011

Easter Day

Daffodil time in the Garden

A few red tulips

Some fading Hellebores

The vibrant peony stalks

and the perennial alyssum  on the verge

of glorious yellow blooms.

Some visitors to the garden...

Still waiting for the hummingbirds and the orioles

their feeders hang in the curly willow with a welcome sign....

Everything has been watered, - the cutch grass has been engaged in a couple of skirmishes

Tomorrow the cloudy skies return

but the garden flourishes despite inclement weather

 and a late and fickle spring.

Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days,

Why the sweet Spring delays,

And where she hides - the dear desire

Of every heart that longs

For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire

of Maple buds along the misty hills

and that immortal call that fills

 the waiting woods with song?

Henry Van Dyke

The fad is all for doing things SLOWLY, and I think that Spring has cottoned on to this idea and is applying it to her visits to the Garden.  A little here, a little there, - sip slowly and savour it all; the leisure with which the rich red peony stubs emerge from slumber and the slow ballet of leaves, opening in tiny increments their glorious greenness.

It is so very awesome that it happens at all, and the very slowness reminds us not to take Spring for granted, but to relish every gift, every bright green blade and every pregnant blossom, - yes (sigh) even the cutch grass!!

An hour in the iris and peony bed this morning, with the shovel and the trowel, digging up great lengths of cutch grass.  I can't believe how quickly it takes over, - the narrow bed along the fence line, where two years ago the sunflowers reached high for the heavens and the bees and the birds gloried in their lushness, last year became a nursery for curly willow cuttings, and somehow made great patches of cutch grass welcome as well.

The Canterbury bells I planted last year are lovely, large rosettes, but the foxgloves are a dismal failure.  I will go early to Don and Anna's greenhouse and try to get some second year plants.  The one out of a dozen that bloomed last year was so beautiful, and I can't understand why I have never been able to foster the great elegant patches of this wonderful plant that is so prevalent in English gardens.  Is it because it is so dry here, - or did I not give them adequate winter protection?  They looked so promising in the fall, and now I search in vain for any small green shoots.  I won't give up on them, - perhaps they too are luxuriating in spring's slow march into May and will surprise me as time goes on.

I brought in a dozen daffodils to put in a pitcher with some forsythia branches, - the few that weren't denuded by the mischievous blackbirds.  And some small daffodils and lenten roses to make a small bouquet for the table.

We are still under a pewter sky and as I look toward the Cawston Bench I see the tops of the hills are shrouded in what appears to be a small snow squall.

Slow indeed!!!!!

Spring, Spring, Spring!

Two months I have been watching for signs of awakening underground, and now, finally, the garden shows sweet green shoots and lovely clusters of small tender leaves, no longer hesitant and shy, bur prepared to take the stage and join the dance!

These beautiful bright shoots are heart warming, although not very photogenic.  Still, here is a picture of a pussy willow catkin, and the scarlet maple, pushing its swelling buds and delicate branches even further skyward this year.

This morning I added four great wheelbarrow loads of stems and twigs, dried flowers and soggy leaves to the compost heap, and gloated over the dark rich loam at the bottom of the pile.

I have been reading Diane Ackerman, - Cultivating Delight, a natural history of her garden.  It has given me so much pleasure.  Her intimate knowledge, her awareness and the marvelous turn of phrase and captivating descriptions, not only of the flowers that live in her garden, but all the other delightful creatures that inhabit it as well.  What draws me to her even more is our shared love of Abraham Darby, that lovely peachy, apricot rose, fragrant with the most appealing scent.

 And here she is amongst the lilies

My morning inspection of all the roses was most satisfying - the Abraham Darby seems to have survived the winter in good health, judging by her swelling buds and vibrant stems, as have all the others lovelies.....

 Such a gorgeous rose.....

I must go now and  light some candles

Tonight we observe 'Earth Hour" and turn off all the power between 8.30 and 9.30.

What shall we do by candlelight!!!!!!

January blahs

Here is January again, - the remnants of Christmas keep us going the first week or so, but when you arrive at the middle of January there are definite signs of the blahs that low clouds and misty greyness do nothing to banish.

A mild day seduced me to linger outside after filling the bird feeders.

I had brought the camera out, in foolish expectation of maybe poking around and finding the Hellebores sending up even the tiniest little bump of promise. Only the spring flowering shrubs, - the forsythia and the flowering almond - show any signs of sap rising, although across the fence the neighbour's peach trees have taken on a lovely amber hue.

I wander down into the orchard where the occasional tree bears a forgotten apple, plump with fermented juices, ready for a spirited Saturday afternoon spree when the starlings discover them.

I examine the curly willows for any sweet spring swellings, but they sleep on, and along the fence line the naples yellow of the fall grasses glow in the intermittent rays of sunshine that peek out through the clouds.

This little apple spur is the only hopeful sign I found of rebellion against January's miserable countenance.

Back in the garden I looked for anyathing that might be photogenic, watching for waving arms and whispers that say 'pick me, pick me'  but they were few and far between.  A wisp of weed, throwing a faint shadow on the snow,  the tracks of the troop of quail that come for morning goodies,

The bird chalet sits vacant, awaiting the return of any small birds it might appeal to as housing.

Behind the frosted windows of the big bathroom/solarium the geraniums and the last of the paper whites still bloom.

and inside the first of the amaryllis with their seductive sepals and brilliant scarlet satin  lighten up the darkness of January.

 If tomorrow it is still mild I will call for a drive through the valley to see what other signs of spring there are along the lanes and around Ginty's Pond, and I will continue to keep an eagle's eye on the garden, searching for little bits of green and swelling buds.

Early November Garden

November 3rd, 2010

A touch of frost this morning, but not enough to damage any of the annuals, - the cosmos and the nasturtium keep blooming, along with the last of the roses and a magnificent display of chrysanthemums.

An Abraham Darby rose has passed through all its splendour, but still it's tattered  petals cling in amongst the leaves after three weeks of blooming.

Two years ago this rose barely survived the winter storms, but has come back beautifully.  With the prospect of another cold winter we will certainly do our best to protect it from the winds, hoping for a thick blanket of snow before the frost comes.  I would be so sad to lose it.....

Here is the garden as we came to the end of October, a glorious month.

The whole blooming canvas, and some of its parts.

The garden is a delight, but when we cast our eyes to the far distance we see the

whole valley in a gold and russet glow, and down in the orchard

the trees arch across the aisles and create a cathedral effect

that is beautiful, peaceful and holy.

Before the rains come it is time to pile on the mulch and look forward to next year's beauty
(for which I am so grateful)