Priory Picture Post # 15

Mahonia isn’t the prettiest shrub in the land.  Indeed, when I’ve speared my fingers for the umpteenth time on it’s dead leaves, I tend to be even more dismissive of it’s charms.

An easy and effective way to prettify it, is to do as I do and nick an idea from someone else.

At Great Dixter they grow the trickily named Clematis x triternata ‘Rubromarginata’ over mahonia.

It is a generous flowerer, putting on a fine show from July through to now – the end of September. 


And unlike many clematis, it smells wonderful.  Even a rain shower won’t diminish a beautiful, strong, almond scent.
  oooOOOooo

Sorry.  I have had to start watermarking my photos – a step I’d hoped to avoid.  But I recently had the upsetting experience of finding one of my photos on another website and surprise, surprise my polite email of protest ignored.  I suppose I ought to be flattered and not just ANGRY.  
Hmm, The Angry Gardener – now, there’s an idea.

Summer’s Almost Over …

… and there is a nip in the air.  The trees, for the most part, are still green and holding onto their leaves.  Swallows and martins show off  and delight overhead; they haven’t started queuing up on power lines yet, anxious to be away.  But you can sniff something in the air.  And it’s not me.

The Priory Tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) – the biggie on the left. It will be a mass of yellow in no time at all

There is a crispness and clearness and cleanness that hasn’t been noticeable over the past few months.

The trees (mainly oak) lining the river

And it’s certainly colder too.  I delved into the back of my wardrobe and dragged out my big winter coat.  It’s black with big red patches and is smart and warm and wearing it makes me happy.  Might show you a photo of it one day.  Might not.
At the Old Forge, I gaze up at a dogfight sky, double check it’s not June 1940 and crack on with the mowing to keep off the early morning chill.
At the Priory, on a wet inclement morning, I hold a pint mug of scalding hot Earl Grey (a splash of skimmed milk, no sugar – obviously) and peruse the newly delivered bulb catalogue.  Pretty much all the Priory bulbs come from one supplier.  A bulk supplier called Peter Nyssen – and no, sadly I’m not on commission.  I do recommend them but my only gripe is that the catalogue has a dearth of pretty pictures to set my pulse racing.  I have to cross reference with the RHS encyclopedia and lesser (but better illustrated) catalogues in order to see what pretty, pretty flowers I might be buying.
I was going to be so strong this year.  So very, very strong.  Like iron.  Strong and immovable.  Like a rock.  I would not buy any bulbs.  No.  No way, Sergei.   Wasn’t going to happen.  Then, foolishly in a moment  of absentmindedness, I picked up the catalogue.

Since I started at the Priory I have planted the following (deep breath):

Daffodils – 2660
Tulips – 800
Anemone nemorosa – 200
Fritillaria meleagris – 1000
Alliums – 455
Crocuses – 900
Camassia – 200

Daffodil 'St Patrick's Day'

And a few other bits and pieces too (e.g. erythroniums, cyclamens) and, of course, there are the bulbs/corms etc that were here BM (before me).

Tulip 'Queen of Night'

So, as I had planted so very many bulbs, I had decided not to buy any more this year.  Enough is enough.   But then I picked up the catalogue and had a rush of E’s. Eremurus (the thought of them sends a shiver down my spine), eranthis (I walked 70 miles in the Lake District one February, saw these everywhere and was smitten), eucomis  (just the name makes me keel over).
The flesh is strong but the will is a pile of jelly.  Now, where’s my pen?

A Security Breach

Have you ever gone into a garden centre and asked for advice on ‘rabbit proof plants?’  Well, don’t bother because here’s the answer: there is no such thing.

A guilty looking rabbit in Margaret’s field

Behind the counter at the garden centre where I worked, we kept a folder.  In the folder were information sheets:   plants for shade, plants for sun, plants for chalk, plants for clay, plants for wet soil, plants for dry.  Plants that  need absolutely no care whatsoever and flower all year round wherever they might be planted.  (I made this last one up; the sheet didn’t exist though it was our commonest request).  And in amongst the sheets was one for “Rabbit Proof Plants.”  And for a year or so I peered over my glasses, referred to this sheet and doled out information sagely and wisely.  Just like a wise sage, in fact.

Allium christophii and foxglove - June 2011

Then I started work at the Priory and my expertise in rabbit proof plants evaporated in a puff of blue smoke – thanks to rabbit indifference and downright disregard to the ‘list.’  Poisonous plants such as foxglove …

Aconitum - September 2011 (a Doctor Who villain if ever there was one)

… and aconitum, plants with acid for sap (euphorbia) and unpalatable plants such as box and sedum were all attacked.  Not eaten you understand.  But bits bitten off and spat out or simply dug up for fun.   Tulip and allium flower stems cut off with one clean incisor bite and discarded.  The not eating of something somehow made it worse: if you’re going to destroy my plants at least have the good grace to eat the flipping thing.

The newly fitted rabbit netting, April 2009. It is less obvious now and more hidden by the beech.

You only had to stroll about the grounds to see rabbits grazing, rabbits playing, rabbits dozing, rabbits pulling faces at me, chortling and rubbing their tummies.  It was terribly demoralising.  So one of the first things I did was to ask that we put in rabbit proof fencing.  ALL ROUND THE GARDEN.   Hugely expensive but we managed to half the price by not burying the netting to a depth.  This is the traditional way of rabbit proofing a garden; about a foot of netting is buried underground to stop any bunnies tunnelling underneath.  However it is much, much cheaper and far, far easier to lay the netting out horizontally for 18 inches or so at the base of the fence and peg it in place. (In time grass and weeds grow up through the netting and hold it firmly in place).  Rabbit then runs up to fence, stops, thinks, “Drat” and starts digging – only to hit the netting at his feet and in a flurry of bad language, gives up and goes elsewhere.

The new post and rail fencing along the top of the riverbank. This was later rabbit proofed with netting. April 2010 (it went in later than the rest of the fencing. We'd hoped the river would stop rabbit incursions. It didn't).

That’s the theory anyway and it has worked very well.  Unless someone leaves one of the gates open in which case I roar and howl and drool spittle in rage, frustration and despair.

"Master rabbit I saw."

But  ….  I was walking about the gardens the other day, notebook in hand, making plans.  I like making plans.  “Plans maketh the man” as the saying (my saying) has it.  Plans for plants to be moved and plans for plants to be split, plans for plants to be bought and plans for world conquest and dominion, when I came across proof (incontrovertible proof) of rabbits in the garden.  Sure enough, when I hopped over into Margaret’s field and carried out an inspection, I found several holes in the  netting.

Unlikely as it might seem, rabbits can and do chew through netting.  No, I didn’t believe it either until I saw the evidence with my own two eyes.  So every few weeks, I beat the bounds i.e. I walk around the outside of the netting (in M’s fields) and inspect for any holes.  (Incidentally, in a book about the wonderful and beautiful gardens at Heligan, I read that they have seen rabbits CLIMB metre high netting fences.  Meter high!  I might as well pack up now and go home).

As if that wasn’t worrying enough I found this hole.  This hole is particularly odd.  Too big for a rabbit, I think and yet I don’t know what else could have made it.  Not a fox.  A fox would simply jump the fence – it wouldn’t bother chewing through the netting.  A badger?  Well, a badger might just barge through and make a hole like this.  But there would be badger damage in the garden, wouldn’t there?  And a  badger wouldn’t be stopped by my flimsy repairs and would carry on walking through the netting whenever and wherever he or she wished.  In three years at the Priory, I’ve never seen any evidence of badgers.  So I hang up my Holmes deerstalker and pipe and admit to being flummoxed as to what caused this.  Goblins?

Anyway, I patched up the hole and continued with my notes for plant re-jigging, since when it hasn’t been re-opened.  I can now look you in the eye, hand on heart and assert that the Priory gardens are completely rabbit free.
Until, that is, the next fence-climbing, netting-nibbling and, who knows, paragliding bunny gets in.

Flowering Stones

Over the past week, I’ve been keeping a beady eye on one of my lithops.

Very intently.  Because …

… it’s been gearing up to flower.

Each day I’ve willed it on,

urged it on,

cheered it on,

until, huzza!  It did the deed and threw itself open.

Welcome, my little lovelies, welcome.  It’s been worth the wait.  Sadly, it’s all for my benefit only as there’s no-one else in the greenhouse to appreciate them.  I thought therefore, I’d share them with you.

Meanwhile, all my other lithops (and there are quite a few) just sit there; nice and quiet but non-flowering. Great lazy dollops.