Monthly Archives: April 2012

Where’s Spring?

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Early April was so hot and so sunny that I screened the south-side of the greenhouse with netting.

The nine automatic wall and roof vents cool it a little but it still gets terrifically hot in there.  Of course, as soon as I finished stapling the netting into place, the sun slid behind …

… dark cloud, temperatures dived and we had weeks of rain.  And rain.  And then … some rain.

But if the sun does ever peek out again, I shall be prepared.  It had grown too stifling in the greenhouse for me to sit and drink tea.  And that will never do.

In previous years, I have lost plants to late frosts (to which the Priory is prone) and so I am probably overly cautious in moving tender stuff outside.  The greenhouse is heated by a fan heater (the size of a small jet engine)  and the cosseted plants within are blissfully unaware of the wet, cold horror outside.

.

The auriculas have been blooming since March; as has …

… the lovely scented Pelargonium ‘Royal Oak.’

Last year I potted up a Pachyphytum oviferum leaf.  It doesn’t look much does it?  But it has doubled in size (and not just shrivelled up and died which some do) and it will eventually grow into …

… the weirdly beautiful, powder (or bloom) coated sugar-almond plant … or moonstones … or, as Jim calls it, the hemorrhoid plant.  How uncouth.

The lithops are stirring and beginning to gape as …

… new ‘leaves’ begin to emerge from between last year’s …

… though this one’s new growth is itself splitting, to reveal yet another new set of leaves.  Curious.

An interloper has found a home in one of the pots of sarracenia but I haven’t the heart to remove it; I love ferns.

Other sarracenias are flowering …

… but unlike the nondescript green flowers of last year, these …

… are a deep claret.  I have no idea why.

Most of the dahlias I potted recently are poking forth.  I find starting them off in pots gives them an advantage over the slugs – for when they are eventually planted outside.

After a recent visit to Architectural Plants (on yet another rainy day), there are new tenants in the greenhouse.  For the tropical border, I’ve bought a plant I’ve long hankered after – Tetrapanax papyrifer ‘Rex.’  This architectural, hardy exotic should reach 3-4 metres in height with leaves a metre across.  Goodness.

I also bought Arundo donax or Spanish reed – another 3 – 4 metre hardy big boy and …

… this not-at-all-hardy canna lily, Canna coccinea; relatively petite at about one and a half metres tall (though I’ve heard that it might struggle to get that high).

Now I need it to stop raining and for it to warm up outside.  I’ve got loads to do; the grass is still growing but the ground is too sodden to mow; I’ve got planting to do but the soil is gloop; I’ve got plants to harden off but the wind would rip them to tatters.  There has been so much rain that …

… water from the surrounding fields is still pouring into the grounds, filling …

The east pond. Normally the alders stand well clear of the water.

… the ponds to full capacity.  Thankfully, the emergency channel we dug three years ago  …

The flood waters haven't washed out as much duckweed as I would have liked.

… is carrying excess water out to the river – and away from the front door of the house.  Phew.  Thank goodness the South of England is officially in a state of drought.  Otherwise who knows how wet it might be.

Tending Trees Part 2

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I don’t know exactly how many trees I’ve planted during the past four years.  Not counting a hundred and seventy beech-hedge saplings or five yew-hedge ‘trees’ or any of the ‘shrubs’ that will attain tree-like status (photinias and cotinus for example), I guess about forty.  During the same period, we’ve felled perhaps a dozen dead or unwanted trees … but the Priory is still up on the deal.  And it’s a net increase which will only grow; I want to plant more.

I recently put in three Cornus controversa ‘Variegata’ which, as they can grow eight metres high, let’s call ‘trees’ shall we?

Digging into rain-sodden, heavy clay was a joyless, back-breaking task but one I was determined not to give up on.

Ten minutes later I gave up.

But, after a mug of Earl Grey, I came back and finished the job.  The Priory owner suggested planting them closely together and I think he’s right – they should look fine as a mature grouping.

In early 2009, I planted three Eucalyptus gunnii in the small copse up on the drive.  One, sadly, has died but the other two have romped away.  Indeed they have romped away too quickly.

Last winter, weighed down by snow or battered by strong winds, they would often kiss the ground and the root balls rock alarmingly.  They seemed to grow quicker than either their stems or their anchoring root system could cope with – so I decided to pollard them.  I do this to a gunnii in the gardens – to encourage the glaucous, round juvenile leaves.  But here I just wanted mighty, towering eucalypts with a far, high canopy – a goal that will now be delayed.

It’s not an elegant look, but they should soon re-spurt – and the roots and trunk will have time to grow sufficiently strong to support all that top weight.

Three or four years ago I stuck a neighbour’s pruned willow twigs into a pot and, even though they had been lying about for several days, they quickly rooted.  The willow was a corkscrew (Salix matsudana ‘Tortuosa’) and last year I planted it out on the east lawn.

It is growing nicely; the lawn here is often soggy.

In my first year, I planted an olive tree on a lawn just outside the gardens.  This was before I had fully realised just what a sharp frost pocket the gardens sit in.  The olive struggled valiantly for a couple of years and then, with a shiver, a sigh and a wistful longing for the warm shores of the Med, it died.  I replaced it (on what I still call the olive lawn), with a …

…  columnar Beech (Fagus sylvatica ‘Dawyck Gold’) – eventual height 15 – 20 metres! It seems much happier than the poor olive ever was.

These two flowering cherries ‘Kanzan’ are growing well too.

April 2011

The flowers are a little too pink and a little too fluffy for my taste.  But what could I do?   They were in a plant sale and incredibly cheap.  And the red leaves are undeniably handsome.

Recently, we had some uninvited guests (see … ‘Do Not Tempt Fate’) and actually, they behaved appallingly – killing two apple trees in the meadow; now replaced with ‘Katy’ and ‘Cox’s Orange Pippin’.

To keep out the deer, we did consider fencing the garden with six-foot high wire but, as the owner remarked, it would have given the gardens a POW-camp air – not a look we particularly wanted.   Option two was to individually protect the young trees on the meadow and I asked Rob the Brickie (not his real name) to build some wooden barriers.

I was worried that they would look too big and boxy, so Rob and I decided on ‘vase’ shapes to lessen their impact.  Over the course of several days, Rob made twelve of these.  Great to have him on board at times like this.

I’m very pleased with them; I didn’t want big wooden structures in the meadow but given that I had to, I am very pleased with them.  In time the timber will silver and become lichen encrusted and they’ll be rather stately, I think.

I should hate for all these fruit varieties to become anonymous; I wanted to label them for the future – for when me and my Blue Notebook have long gone.   So I had these brass plaques made and for consistency even the easily recognisable Gingko has a plaque.

The trees need to grow of course; up and above the timber cages.  But at least they now have a chance to do just that without the unwanted (and uninvited) attentions of fallow deer.

Tending Trees Part 1

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When I took the job at the Priory, I (naively) didn’t appreciate how much time and care the trees would require.

Each year, I arrange for any sickly, dangerous or unwanted trees to be felled and for dead, rotten and restricted  branches to be removed.

If  a smallish tree needs felling or a low branch removing, I’ll do the job myself; anything larger and I need to get in help.  This year, there were no trees to chop down (a good thing) but I still had tree-work that was either too high for me to reach (I have no head for heights) or beyond my skill level (hard to believe I know, but true).

On the drive, just before it turns and enters the gardens, is a large candelabra-shaped ash tree.  After a mighty storm in early February, a big, rotten section of one of its many stems, crashed to the ground below.  Peering up at this elephant-skinned giant, I could see that there was still a big length of trunk and two or three dead branches that needed to be removed.  (At this point, the drive is a public right of way and so the tree needed to be made safe).

The rotten trunk is to the right of the tree surgeon

So, at the end of March, I hired a local company (who I’ve used these past two or three years) to tackle this and two other jobs.  Jack (the tree surgeon) gradually reduced the rotten bole …

Another chunk of rotten tree-trunk falls to earth

… and removed the dead branches.

I also asked for advice on two of the big oaks on the east lawn.  We had spoken about them last year and I wanted him to cast a professional eye over them.

Here they are on the right.  They have sparse top growth, crumbling bark and plenty of dead branches.  Last year he told me that they were dying from the top down and probably won’t survive many more years.  He suggested that they may have been struck by lightning.

Unlike ash, oak is as hard as iron (-ish) and far less likely to shed branches; unless they are rotten.  After a quick inspection, he saw no need to carry out any remedial work.  These two oaks should be fine (and safe) until another check is carried out next year.

Reassured, we then moved on to job number two.  This was a quickie; just a simple lifting of the tree-crown (by the removal of two or three lower branches) from the tulip tree next to the house.

Before

We wanted to increase space and light for the amelanchier on the left and for the yew hedging beneath.

After

You can hardly see the difference which is how tree maintenance should be, I suppose.  Nothing too drastic.

But the final job was to be more drastic.

On the west lawn by the pond are six weeping willows and I had been asked by the Priory owner to have the crown of the largest reduced by about 25%.  I  was worried that such a big crown reduction, at this time of year, would look ugly, perhaps harm the tree and (despite being willow) that it wouldn’t re-sprout.

“Such a big crown reduction, at this time of year, won’t look too ugly, won’t harm the tree and (being willow) it will soon re-sprout,”  said Jack.  Huh?!?  I hate that mind-reading thing he does.

Once more aloft, Jack starts work while his assistant waits below.

And when they had finished?  Noticeable certainly – but more light for the house and for a pair of adjacent birches.

A good morning’s work then.  Three jobs done, loads more firewood for me to chop next winter, plenty of waste for a big bonfire (always a joy) and a metre high mound of wood chippings.  And the trees on the estate made safe for another year – fingers crossed.

Wild Places, Wild Flowers

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April is a busy month for gardeners and the sheer amount of flower can be a little distracting.  Plants are elbowing through to the fore, hurling themselves into flower and screeching, “Me, me, me.  Look at me!”  And very pretty it all is too but I do wish (a little) that they would just calm down a bit.  I find myself whispering, “Very nice, but just take it easy, OK.  Slow down pal, slow down; there’s plenty of time.”  As distracting as it is, I want the show to run and run.

But realising that they won’t take a blind bit of notice, I continue to edge and dig, mow and plant; all the while taking time to enjoy the spectacle.  Even plants that I wouldn’t have planted myself, such as …

Forsythia in bloom. A neighbour's cottage at The Old Forge.

… forsythia, are looking mighty fine in this, their lime-light moment.

There is a forsythia up against the house and under a window at the Priory.  Seems an odd place to plant one as, once the main event is over,  it is a dull shrub.  But, with an underplanting of forget-me-nots, I have no plans to remove it.  Yet.

Something I would have planted (had there not already been one) is Magnolia stellata.  Such perfection is rare on this particular little tree but the absence of late, hard frosts this year has left the delicate blooms unblemished.

Tulipa bakeri 'Lilac Wonder'

I must stress that, actually, I have planted some stuff myself (this is important; it’s my job).  Here Tulipa bakeri ‘Lilac Wonder’ flowers against a backdrop of fresh crocosmia leaves.

Primula denticulata with the first Peacock butterfly of the year - 28 March.

And beneath a young fig tree, a clutch of primulas attract an early visitor; always gratifying that I have helped to attract wildlife.

But as much as I would like to claim credit for all the beauty in the gardens, sadly, I can’t.  One of my favourite areas of the Priory is a bank, running down from the greenhouse to a drainage ditch.

I strim it once or twice a year but certainly not in Spring when, after the crocuses are over,  it is speckled with primroses, the odd daffodil, wood anemones and cuckoo flowers.

Primroses (Primula vulgaris) grow throughout the estate.

Here forming a carpet (or at least a rug) in the wild-flower meadow,

here popping up in the lawn and …

… here self-seeding themselves into places they really shouldn’t.  But, bad as such behaviour is, I can’t always bring myself to root them out.

Usually I’m unimpressed with pink but, while I still prefer the common yellow primrose, I do rather like some of the variations; such as this one.

Viola odorata

Even more widespread than the primulas are wild violets (Viola odorata).  A visitor to the gardens was really quite excited when she noticed the white form …

White Viola odorata

… as she thought them quite rare (though a quick internet search seems to dispute this).  The white violas don’t mix with their common-or-garden cousins; remaining haughtily separate and aloof.  We have several patches of them along the drive and by the river-bank.

Cardamine pratensis

The Cuckoo Flower or Lady’s Smock (Cardamine pratensis) is common in these ‘ere parts, lining hedgerows and field margins, and is now spreading into the meadow; which pleased me no end.

Under three large oak trees, on the east lawn, is another area of grass which I leave uncut until the autumn.  Chiefly because later in the summer it is home to a small colony of …

Dachtylorhiza fuchsii. June 2011

… Common Spotted Orchids (Dachtylorhiza fuchsii) which I wish to encourage (obviously) but also…

… because of a growing spread of bluebells and …

Erthronium pagoda

… a little something extra that I have added:  Dog’s Tooth Violets (so-called because of the shape of their bulbs).  I have planted three different varieties but only this one, Erythronium pagoda, has deigned to flower.  The un-mown grass is also home to a steadily increasing number of wood anemones (Anemone nemorosa).

I’d like to say that their gentle, perfect spacing is down to me.   But that would be a lie.  I know how tricky naturalised planting is to achieve and it doesn’t come any better than this; careful where you tread.

I first noticed wood anemones as a twenty-one year old visiting Rievaulx Abbey in Yorkshire.  Coming from the city, I had no idea what it was but, thinking it gorgeous, plucked one to press within my angsty journal – for later identification.  Now almost thirty years later, the pressed flower is still in my angsty journal and, remarkably, perfectly preserved.

Up on the drive, where it passes through Margaret’s wood, anemones grow much more abundantly.  They have erupted in number since the  trees were thinned a couple of years ago and sunlight now washes the woodland floor.

Caltha palutris

In the water margins of the gardens, I have added Kingcup (or Water Marigolds if you prefer; either way: Caltha palutris) and, unsurprisingly in this perfect habitat,  it is thriving.

Another Marsden introduction (and mentioned in a recent post) are Fritillaria meleagris.  I boasted then that there were hundreds of this handsome charmer dancing across the meadow … but only posted photos of single flowers.  So were proof needed …

Ranunculus ficaria

Lesser Celandine (Ranunculus ficaria) is endemic at the Priory and (very annoyingly) infests some of the formal borders.  But here in the meadow, it may do as it likes – and does.

Nearby is a swathe of wild flowers that, were they not already well established, I certainly would have planted.  Along the river bank, on either side of the post and rail, is a heady, salami-scented expanse of Ramsons or Wild garlic (Allium ursinum).

Allium ursinum

So far only one or two have flowered but …

… when they all do, it is quite a sight.  And smell.  The sight I’ll share, in due course. The smell?  Er, garlicky.  Go sniff a salami; you’ll get the idea.

Prunus spinosa not yet in full spate.

And providing the shade that Ramsons love?  A large bank of Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa).  I certainly didn’t plant this but I did save it from being felled.  The chap who put in the post and rail fencing wanted to clear it (would’ve made his job much easier).  But I fought its corner and the thicket was reprieved.   I’ve been delaying publishing this post for a few days now, as I wanted to show you the Blackthorn at full throttle; unfortunately though, that is still a few days off and (as a good friend has just pointed out) it has been a while since I last posted.  So …

Looking over Apeldoorn tulips to the Blackthorn. April 2011.

… we must make do with this photo from last year.   It is a magnificent, completely over the top, distracting performance – which I love and never tire of.  I’m so glad it wasn’t chain-sawed.  Aren’t you?

Planning for the Tropical Border

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In between mowing and planting and fretting, I’ve been cracking on with the tropical border and the two completely new beds (see – ‘Busy, Busy, Busy’).  I finally finished cutting the turf (on either side of the path) for the two new beds;  rock hard soil didn’t make this task any easier and yep, I’ve hurt my back.

Looking a little like an oil-tanker, it needs more work as I’m not happy with the shape – it needs to be ‘curvier’.  (Incidentally,  these beds don’t extend all the way along the path, as this is the only access to the east lawn for the ride-on mower and quad bike).

With the new beds cut, the next job was to transfer two or three inches of top soil from the tropical border to the new beds and begin preparing the former.

The new tropical border is close-by the path.

Next job?  Barrowing several loads of very well-rotted manure in from out on the drive.  Next job?  Barrowing several loads of compost in from the ‘bins.

I've been asked to leave the roses in situ - though if all goes to plan they will find themselves smothered by the new tenants. And also, looking at this photo, I'm thinking, "We're going to need a bigger bed!" It needs to be deeper.

And then?  Digging it all over – before it gets a final compost-mulch top-coat.  Thankfully, I still have loads of compost available.

With the hard work mostly done, I thought I had better make a start on getting some plants ready to go into this new tropical/exotic (call it what you will) border.

First up, were various dahlias that I dug up last autumn; dried, wrapped up in newspaper and squirrelled away.  I checked them twice during the winter (to remove any rot) and, on unwrapping the other day, found that they were in fine fettle and raring to go.

I also had my box of Precious Things; an order from Peter Nyssen and various other bits and bobs that I’ve picked up recently.

I’m particularly excited about these ten Lilium pardalinum which, with luck and a fair wind, should reach two metres in height.

Great to re-use some of the large number of old pots hanging about the place.

Quite a lot of time spent potting then and er, I might have overdone it on ‘Bishop of Llandaff’ dahlias.  I’m a bit embarrassed at how many I’ve got (though I can use them in other parts of the garden too).  I’ll say the number quickly and then we’ll move right on, OK?  OK.  Ready?  Here we go … 29.

I recently bought these rather lovely Melianthus major.  Not a plant I’ve grown before but I’ve been itching to get my sticky mitts on one (or two) for a while.

To augment dahlias, cannas and lilies, is my over-wintering collection of Echium pininana – grown from seed last year.  I lost one over the winter but these seven seem healthy enough and have continued to grow these past few months.  Indeed, every time I’ve moved them, I’ve had to prise their pots from the soil below.  In the above photo there is also red banana and a variegated ginger.  In addition to all these, I have some ‘Musa basjoo’ hardy bananas and …

… a colocasia.  I know the latter should probably have had a rest period over the winter but last September I dug it up, popped it in a large pot of leaf mould and put it in the (heated) greenhouse.  It’s a little tatty (hence the close up shot!) but it can go back out soon with a head-start.

A lot of plants then but this is a big new border – and the old tropical bed needs plants too.  I’ll let you know how it all turns out … unless, of course, it is an unmitigated disaster, in which case you will hear nothing more.  Zilch.  Nada.  Nowt.  Instead, I’ll concentrate happily on daisies in the lawn, dandelion seed-heads, frogs and back-lit oak leaves; the usual AG fare.  But my silence will speak volumes and you’ll know, you will know, that the new tropical border looks absolutely rubbish.