Just a quick postscript to my last post - things are sprouting and flowering and all that. Here are just a few additional photos.
An old friend, always welcome; our white lilac, Madame Lemoine, is a lovely thing, but you have to be quick to catch it at its best - not quite in full flower yet, but the first heavy shower will wreck it!
Vigorous signs of being ready to go again - our Cotinus is a bit of a monster (in a very nice way)
The little red apple tree (with red blossom, and red fruit with bright red flesh) is looking good. The dry summer last year gave us quite a lot of apples, but they were small and as tough as conkers - I hope the wasps enjoyed them...
Appropriate alpines have been planted in the pockets in the old herb garden - I have a little spreadsheet which tells me what they all are...
...to keep the Professor happy, they are (from the far end round to the left): dianthus (Inchriach Dazzler); arenaria (montana); armeria (maritima Deep Rose); sedum (Cape Blanco); campanula (Blue Clips); oxalis (adenophylla); phlox (McDaniel's Cushion); Delosperma (Table Mountain); erodium (Bishops Form)
It's a year since we planted our brave new shrubbery on the site of the legendary Roland's Hedge (which was wrecked in a storm so long ago that I now can't remember which one). The flowering shrubs have come on well, so now we have reached the time for Phase 2 of the Roland's Hedge Memorial Project - the planting of the perennials.
I've been looking forward to this, with just a faint buzz of apprehension. Planning has been thorough - Matty the Heroic Gardener put together a monster plan - words and pictures - of what we should get, and where it should go. All colour-coded and touched in with felt-tips - how big, what colours, when do the flowers appear - all of that. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Planning is all well and good, but actually doing it is still a little scary. Well, it's been done - the days are accomplished.
I brought in a couple of loads of hardy perennials - for a week I kept them safely out of the wind, and watered them devoutly every morning
Then, last Tuesday, the great planting went ahead. At present, you have to look for the new wee fellows in among the shrubs, but it should all be a riot of colour when it gets established
We are still on a gentle watering every morning
We are keeping the gates closed at the moment - we have a history of passing deer coming in for a munch...
This is a further sub-project - we had some helleborus in pots at the top of the steps, and they took a beating during the recent monsoons and gales, so they have been moved to the old herb-garden. The flowers should be white, but are currently brown - let's see how this goes. Our herb-growing days are in the past, so some nice, tight little alpines will go in the pockets. The patio paving needs to be re-pointed - I regret this may have to be a forthcoming project too
We have a pieris (mountain fire) which was planted last year - they have a reputation for being easily discouraged by the cold, but it has done well. An interesting plant - the new leaf growth is red, which fades to green, so you get a good idea of how things are going
And, in tribute to my borrowed title for this post, here's a version you may not have heard before - Symphonic Joni:
I confess that I am more than a little shaken to realise that this late retrospective album of Joni's work (arranged and conducted by Vince Mendoza) was almost a quarter of a century ago. Next time, I promise myself, I'm going to try to pay more attention.
Invaded again. A couple of chickens from the other side of the farm steading were here today checking out our new squirrel-proof bird feeder, which may feature in a post soon. I went outside to discuss it with them, and they ran away. They are quick - not graceful, but quick.
As long as they stay away from the power cables...
A bit earlier than usual, the Whitebeam trees at the bottom of our garden are coming into berry, which is always a cheering sight. This year, understandably, they look a bit parched to me. Usually these things are at their peak in mid September, when sometimes we get raided by flocks of Redwings, who just hoover the berries and move on; this is mysterious when it happens - we never see Redwings at any other time, in fact we hardly see them when they come, since they huddle into the trees and get busy, very early in the morning. If we are up early enough we will certainly hear them, but they are hard to spot; you just have a vague feeling that you have been robbed.
Whitebeam gets its name, I am told, from the fact that the leaves are very pale on the underside, so the tree seems to shimmer in a breeze. Weißbaum
Elsewhere the new hedge plants at the front are starting to look worryingly autumnal. I have put in many hours in the early mornings, trying to keep them watered (no hosepipe bans here), but they do not look happy at all. Perhaps they will be all right.
Tomorrow will be a very heavy day putting fresh gravel down on the driveway. It was delivered last Wednesday, and once again I am astounded by the skill of the driver, manoeuvring an 8-wheeler in through our gate, which is tricky enough in a car. I am pleased to note that the spray that I put down on the gravel area about 5 weeks ago has removed all the weeds in preparation for the big day. It takes a while (much longer than the old stuff, now illegal), but quietly we get there in the end.
Border Aggregates of Kelso - good lads. I had ideas about doing the job in instalments this year, but it's £50 delivery whether you get one bag or a load, so here it is!
One of our neighbours, on the far side of the farm hamlet (maybe 200 metres away) keeps chickens. We don't see much of them, unless we go for a walk down there, but we can hear the rooster crowing in the morning, which is very pleasant and just as it should be. Nature's alarm clock.
For the last couple of weeks we have a rooster in our garden too. He spends most of the day here. There's not much to eat, though there have been a lot of windfall plums this summer, and he has no friends here. He does no damage, as far as I can see; he likes to sit inside our front hedge - I imagine the shade has been welcome in the hot weather; he stalks about the place looking vaguely belligerent, and he seems to drift away home in the evenings. It is noticeable that he gets here early enough to welcome the dawn each day, which certainly wakes you up if you are not used to it.
I also noticed that I can still hear a rooster crowing on the other side of the village when our new friend is here, so there must be two roosters. Hmmm.
I thought that roosters couldn't share a yard. A little inherited country lore and a lot of cartoon films have reinforced this belief over the years. Maybe that's what's happening? - perhaps he has been bested, humbled, chucked out (see what I did there?). Maybe he is sulking up here, or feels he has taken possession of a new yard (without wives). Perhaps, like me, he is here because he is a hermit. Maybe he is just happy here.
Any suggestions on the psychology of poultry would be welcome. He isn't a problem at the moment (though sometimes he does get sworn at in the mornings), and I am sort of assuming he will go away later in the year, but I have no valid reason to think this. He is quite a big, impressive looking chap, to my unpractised eye anyway. I would rather have him as a friend than otherwise.
There is drinking water for him; I'm reluctant to start putting food out for him, in case all his relations arrive. Should we be doing anything for him?
Since I have a few quiet days, and it really is getting pretty warm out in the garden, I am having a few sessions on the Dining Room table, rolling dice and seeing how some rules scribblings shape up. This week's mission is to add a set of tweaks to my WSS rules to make them work for the ECW. Things are going all right at the moment.
I was out this morning at 06:30, to water our new plants. There is no immediate likelihood of a hosepipe ban here - this county has more than enough water, but I like to get it done early just to be on the safe side, in case the environmental vigilantes are on the prowl. The timing also allows me to go outside in pyjamas and dressing gown (and straw hat, and gardening boots) - one does not have to look one's best. At that time of the morning, I can also enjoy the singing of the blackbird and the song thrush in residence, since they sit on top of the tallest tree on the other side of the lane and attempt to shout each other down. Excellent.
The inside of our front hedge has a line of extra bushes embedded in it, which give a lot of additional colour at different times of the year; I should have taken a decent close-up, but you can just about make out that the Fuschia is in full flower at the moment
This one is an immigrant - this is my neighbour's sweet pea, which is growing through the fence, so we can enjoy it too
One of our recent arrivals is a Prunus named Bonaparte. No new growth at the moment (it shows up bright red), but young Boney is doing a brave job standing to attention in the hot, humid conditions. All the new shrubs have now had their leader shoots pruned, to encourage them to bush out. Bushing out is good
***** Late Edit *****
Completely separate topic - I've been looking at some specifications for a possible new car, and am keen to make sure that the luggage carrying capacity is better than my current vehicle. I'll certainly find some more details online, so am not unduly concerned, but I am astounded that the manufacturer specifies the capacity of the boot (trunk) in litres. Interesting.
Two obvious questions present themselves:
(1) What possible use is this? Unless I convert my luggage into a liquid, and pump it aboard, I can't see that such a figure helps very much.
(2) What on earth do they think their customers intend to carry?
I was up early to do some gardening; it's a beautiful day here. One has to be grateful, after all my grimacing at the relentless grey of Winter. I watered the new plants, stripped down and reassembled the line-strimmer, finished off tidying up the lawn edges, and did about an hour of pulling coarse grass and baby sycamores out of the gravel driveway.
Some excitement across the lane; the stables here are putting on their annual pony-cart driving festival, and some of the early arrivals were getting in a little practice in the Old Walled Garden opposite my house. This area is now just pasture for the stables, but long ago it was a market garden. The stone wall surrounding it dates back to about 1760.
First arrivals: horse-boxes, RVs, horse-boxes with built-in accommodation. This place will be jammed by Sunday - visitors and competitors come from all over, including That Europe
9am practice; considering the visitors must pay a lot of money to attend, the professional trainer in attendance is surprisingly blunt in his appraisal of their efforts! Different world
Anyone who has seen my wargames will recognise this as a woodland hex (which will offer protection from light artillery) with, in the foreground, an enclosure hex (which won't, electric fence or no)
Buddleia just coming out. The butterflies will love this, later in the year...
The Long Bed in our garden where the hedge blew down; more new plants - lots of Hebes, a Choisya, a Philadelphus, a Deutzia - all have to be watered daily in the dry weather
Our beloved white lilac is coming into blossom...
...there are even some leaves on my new beech hedge plants...
...though the original section of the beech hedge is about a week ahead, just to show the young'uns the way
It is done. New plants all installed and watered on Sunday.
It was a nice, sunny day for planting
Just as a reminder, here's a photo taken the day before planting; this is the long bed where the big hedge was flattened by Storm Babet, back in 2023, and was subsequently removed by Michael and the Tree Men. The mulch is all ready, as you see
And most of the new plants went in here. The aforementioned Bonaparte is just to the left of the yellow Forsythia - of small stature, but standing proud. The apparently dead twig in the right foreground is a Weigela, which is expected to be "a riot of colour" in a couple of months
Next to the old fence (which must be 50 years old, but hasn't been seen much until the hedge fell down) the new plants look a bit on the small side, after all the excitement, but I am assured they will grow. That's what it says on the label. The two Photinias against the fence should each get to be 6 to 8 feet wide, which is why everything is spaced out. A lot of thought and discussion went into colours and target sizes. Next up will be some Hebes and shorter things, for ground cover. It was suggested that we might pressure-clean the fence, but I suspect that the moss is holding it together, so we swerved that idea
One of the shrubs was destined for a different bed, next to the back lawn. This is a Pieris japonica 'Mountain Fire' which should be really beautiful when it gets going. This one needed some peat and some fancy compost to make sure it is happy in its new home
In case anyone is alarmed, the gardening blog posts should calm down a little now. I could, of course, publish details on the blog every time I cut the lawns, but that's getting a bit like Facebook. If anything significant happens, I'll put something in here. One of the happiest living things in our garden now is a robin, who made great friends with the new gardener, who was obviously here specifically to dig up lots of fresh worms. Every time I step outside, the robin appears, waiting for me to do something useful.
Spoiled, I reckon. Dig em a hole and they want a handful of dried mealworms. [By the way, dried mealworms smell delicious - like roasted peanuts...]
