Monthly Archives: October 2011

Away Awhile Again

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The first frost has struck the Priory and the tropical bed wasn’t happy.  Dahlias were disheveled, discoloured and crumpled when I turned up for work (bright as a shiny new button) on Monday morning.

Hessian protected banana - left

I bundled all that dahlia top-growth off to the compost bins and wrapped up the banana (Musa basjoo) in hessian.  This is a hardy banana and doesn’t really need winter protection.  But, if you don’t wrap it up, it will be killed off to ground level.

The Tropical Bed - August 2011

If you do protect the ‘trunk,’  when growth restarts in the Spring, it’ll start from the top of the plant rather than from the ground.  You will, therefore, get a bigger, taller plant, year on year.  I’d already moved some plants to the safety of the greenhouse – after all the frost was hardly unexpected.  A red banana and ginger lily are already sitting toasty warm under glass.

Colocasia leaf with arum lilies to right

I also dug up my beloved Colocasia esculenta, potted it up and moved it indoors.  It performed pretty well this, it’s first, summer.  I did site it though up against a large clump of arum lilies and so it’s lovely big leaves were pretty much lost against theirs.  I’m such a klutz.
The dahlia tubers I’ve left in situ, under a thick mulch of leaf mould.  I do intend to lift and dry them in a week or two when I’ve got a spare moment.  Why not now?

Looking out over Margaret's frosty fields - yesterday

Well, I’m going away for a few days.  We’re off to the Cotswolds.  And then on to walk 60 or 70 miles through the Forest of Dean and along the Wye Valley.  Visit family.  Visit friends.  See some sights.  Drink some beer – obviously.
Now that that pesky, beautiful Indian summer is over with, it seems like the perfect time to go and do some walking – in the rain and mud and cold!  I do know how to have a good time.

Cheerio.

My Pond Leaks …

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… and I should like to fix it.  (That’s a phrase straight out of a 1970′s Hungarian/English phrase book; in the Socialising/Dating section).  But sadly, I don’t know how.  I have tried.  I asked Reg (his real name) to fetch his implausibly big digger and help me.  He dumped a huge digger bucket of wet clay on what we thought was the site of the leak.  It’s great being able to call on Reg.  As long as the ground is firm enough to support the enormous weight of his almighty digger, he can trundle into the Priory grounds and scoop out mud and oozy stinky stuff from the pond margins and ditches.  He can take away piles of waste soil (a by-product of having loads of new brick paving laid) and spread it on Margaret’s fields.  He can even dig new ditches – and has.  It’s like having a huge Tonka toy to play with. Or having a hotline to International Rescue (Gardening Division).

The west pond at full capacity - January 2009

And he can dump great dollops of wet clay on a suspected pond-leak – but it didn’t work.

April 2009

What we thought was the site of the leak wasn’t – the west pond still leaks.  Luckily the leak is quite high up on the bank (somewhere) so it only takes the water level down to a certain level (see above photo) and doesn’t empty it completely.  Still, it takes it lower than I would like.  And that means that after a prolonged dry period, like we’ve just had, it falls really low – like this:

The Priory boat, HMS Despondent, sits in a sea of mud and duckweed. Nice. October 2011

and this:

The lowest water level I’ve seen in the west pond.

and this:

Hardly a water level at all, actually.

Not so much a pond then as a sludge.  The West Sludge.  Still, I should be able to get over to the island without having to tug on my waders. “Soon, I will pull on my wellington boots and strim my island.”   That’s in the phrase book too.
It is, undoubtedly, curmudgeonly to wish for rain but – I wish for rain.  There I’ve said it.  A lot of rain.  I need days of rain.  It is only after a deluge that water pours into the Priory gardens from the surrounding fields.  Only when those fields are saturated does water pour into the east pond, and then, when that’s full, it pours into the ditch and then it pours into the west pond – until it’s brimming.  It will be really, really full for a while and I shall be pleased.  But, it will start to seep away again because my pond leaks and I should like to fix it.

Gunnera manicata

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Now that I’ve decided on gardening glasnost (see ‘To Make A Gardener Anxious’), I can tell you all about one of my less resounding successes.  (Plenty more of these to come).

A large garden, with expanses of water, The Priory was just screaming out for Gunnera manicata – giant rhubarb.  Growing two to three metres high and up to four metres wide, gunnera would sit well with the scale of the grounds and frankly, the pond banks are quite bare.  Besides, I’ve worked in gardens with it before and it is simply a jaw-dropping plant.  I mean, it’s just so flipping BIG.  And, most importantly, I wanted to be able to parade about the gardens with a gunnera parasol.

Just like this chap:

Image from heligan.com

So, back in 2008, I planted one on the bank of the east pond.   And then a year or so later, I planted another alongside the ditch that connects the east pond with the west.

The latter is doing alright.  This is it above (with my foot to give some idea of scale) and I’m expecting great things of it.  They take a while to get established …

And the original one?  Er, not so good.  Here it is.  It was doing as well as the other one – until last year.  In May 2010, as it burst into growth, I scraped aside its heavy winter mulch (they’re not hardy and need winter protection) just in time for a heavy, late, hard frost!  I’m such an idiot – I thought I was being helpful!  Didn’t kill it but seriously knocked it back.  Generally though, it doesn’t seem too happy in this spot and I think it might be a little too dry for it.  Might just dig it up, split it (it’s actually a big plant despite the size of its leaves) and relocate.

Never going to get a pretty parasol at this rate.

The Ten Minute Gardener – Book Review

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I was asked a week or two ago to write a book review by those lovely folk at Transworld Books.  Even though the request came by e-mail, I still found myself  looking idly over my shoulder (Mr Bean like) to see who they might be asking.  But, it was me and a few days later, I received copies of The Ten Minute Gardener’s Fruit, Flower and Vegetable Diaries by Val Bourne.
The author writes for various publications, including: The Telegraph, Saga Magazine, The Oxford Times, Homes & Gardens and RHS The Garden.  Sadly I don’t read any of these; not one and so consequently I hadn’t heard of Val Bourne before.  The books are ostensibly aimed at the novice but also seek to teach the experienced gardener certain techniques, facts and tips to follow throughout the gardening year.
Each of the three books gives a  variety of tasks and jobs that need to be done each month.  So, for example, in the Flower Diary for April there are six tasks: cut down dogwoods and other winter stems, cut back penstemons and Mediterranean plants, divide and propagate perennials, cut back buddlejas, destroy slugs and snails and divide erthroniums.

The Flower Diary - August entry

The tasks have detailed instructions and are accompanied by ‘Did you Know’ fact boxes, ‘Secrets of Success’ boxes and ‘Organic Tips.’  (Anything that blows the organic trumpet is a good thing in my view).  The writing is clear and concise and delivers all that you need to know on the subject in hand.  These aren’t diaries in the conventional sense; you’re not going to want to leap into bed and read them cover to cover.  (Not like snuggling down with Monty Don and his ‘The Ivington Diaries,’ which despite intending to read in tandem with the unfurling of the year, I ended up snaffling in a few short days).
No, you will want to dip into Val’s books all year round and be reminded of what you need to get on with.  (I intend to move some herbaceous peonies and  made a casual, mental note to check when would be the best time to do this.  Then I happened to glance at jobs to do in October, in the Diaries, and saw ‘Divide and Move Peonies’ – mid October. Sigh – another job leapfrogs to the top of The List).  I shall leave my copies in the greenhouse at the Priory and regularly check, over my morning cuppa,  what’s next on the imminent list – and what I’ve forgotten to do.
It was unfortunate that in checking a pet interest of mine (the making of leaf mould), I did find a mistake* but generally I was very impressed with these books and one line in particular struck a chord:  “If you have a rose that’s a martyr to (black spot), don’t spray.  Dig it up.”  I instantly warmed to Val on reading this.  I fail to understand why gardeners persist with growing varieties of rose that need spraying with noxious chemicals; chemicals that state quite clearly on the label that they kill bees.  As if honeybees haven’t got enough problems.  For goodness sake just replace it with a more resilient variety – there are plenty to choose from.  Good for you, Val.

As a little gripe, I would say that it would have been nice to have had some illustrations.  The covers are adorned with beautiful  woodcuts (I’m a sucker for a good woodcut) and it would have been nice to have had some of these inside the books.  (There are next to no pictures).
But that is just a little gripe.  These are great little books, packed full of handy hints and information, with wipeable covers for muddy fingers and batting strongly for the organic team.  What’s not to like?  Ask nicely and you may get a volume or two in your Christmas stocking.  Er, no.  Not from me; from your loved one.  Ask me again next year, when I know you a little better.

*  The Flower Diary for October states:  “Certain leaves are slower at producing leaf litter: these include hazel, beech, oak and hornbeam.  Others (like sycamore, horse-chestnut and lime) are much faster.”  The two leaf groupings are actually the wrong way round; oak and beech break down relatively quickly.  I don’t like to be pedantic but as a self-professed anorak-wearing-leaf-mould-making-geek, I simply can’t help myself on this occasion. 

To Make A Gardener Anxious

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I always try to show the Priory off at it’s best.

By posting photos of it looking (hopefully) alluring and interesting and

beautiful.   It seems impolite somehow to do otherwise.  It is, I think, a very special place and I started blogging, partly, in order to share it’s charms with others.  Of course, by framing views of the gardens in a certain way

A self sown Nicotiana sylvestris - September 2011

it is easy to cut out the dandelion or dock, the fading flower and withered stem.

Hamamelis -  August 2011
And concentrate on the pretty stuff.   The easy on the eye stuff.  But that isn’t true to life is it?  And it is a deception I’ve become increasingly aware of and a wrong I will now start righting.  There is plenty (such bountiful plenty) of things wrong with the gardens at the Priory, that it seems dishonest not to write about and photograph them.  So to start off what I initially thought would be an occasional series (but now realise will appear often and run and run), here’s the first post on things that make me sad, annoyed, anxious or just a little depressed at the Priory.

The East Pond - August 2011

No, not the ducks.  I really like having mallard at the Priory (and this is a fine re-enactment of a battle-cruiser squadron at the Battle of Jutland, May 1916.  Though number four is looking to be court martialed).  No it isn’t the ducks, it’s the duckweed.
The East Pond – August 2008
When I started work at the Priory the ponds were clear of it.  Now, whether it’s been carried in on the breast of a splash-landing duck or surreptitiously introduced by my gardening arch-enemy, it smothers both ponds.

The west pond - August 2011. Looking verdant and very duckweedy

I can’t imagine that the ponds have never had duckweed on them before.  After all, the east pond has been here for hundreds of years – the west pond is modern.  Maybe it comes and goes like the tides.  Maybe the nutrient levels in the water determines whether it flourishes or not – I suspect so.
Perhaps it’ll disappear and once again I’ll see the sky when I look down into the water.  I can’t believe that will happen but perhaps it will.
August 2011
Maybe I ought to just concentrate on the pretty stuff after all.  And just pretend that the not so pleasing things in life aren’t happening.  Easy to do.  After all – you would never know.  Would you?  But I would … and, to be honest, there is such a rich vein to be tapped of all that is wrong at the Priory, that I can’t possibly ignore it any longer.  Besides, often it’s the things that haven’t turned out right or that have died or that have simply perplexed that are the most interesting.  So yes, this is a series that will run and run and run.