Monthly Archives: June 2012

Slug Feeder

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This cool, wet “summer” has been fabulous for our slug and snail chums.  And I’ve learnt that I’m really good at something.   (What a relief that is).  I’m simply brilliant at feeding slugs.

I can grow a constant supply of slug food;  my repeated sowings of radishes and salad leaves have been much appreciated …

… as have newly planted out sweet peas, runner beans, marigolds, heleniums, salvias …

… and cannas.  All have been nibbled, munched, shredded or have simply disappeared.  And, of course, …

… dahlias have proven particularly popular.

Though I skip about the gardens scattering (organic) pellets to my left and to my right, it makes little difference.   The following morning all the pellets will have disappeared and the devastation will have continued.

So no, this hasn’t been a great year for gardening; too little rain, too much rain; sloppy soil, baked-hard soil: buffeting winds and pro-longed periods of cold.  And those sluggy, snaily things.  One might even say it has been a rubbish gardening year.  So I shall.  It has been a rubbish gardening year.

Still, in the mostly slug-free greenhouse, …

… my four cucumber plants and eight tomatoes are coming along …

… and it won’t be long before we have our first cucumbers.

I’ve bought an irrigation system for these bed-grown plants and it seems to work fine; watering away over the weekends.

In the rock border, the foxgloves are showing off nicely.  Each year I dig up self-sown seedlings, pot them up and then dot them about, aiding their further colonisation of the gardens.  In addition, I grow white ones from seed.

Some dahlias did manage to survive successive slug mauling; this is Dahlia ‘Smarty.’  No two flowers …

…are the same and unlike some varieties I grow (‘Fire and Ice’ springs to mind) this is a  resilient, vigorous plant.  (Slugs often ‘go’ for weaker or poorly, less robust plants).

Also in the rock border, amongst the ferns,  I’ve discovered polemoniums.  Never seen it before; never grown it; never bought any seed.  Its seed must have lain dormant in the soil.  Waiting.  Just waiting.  Either that or there’s a  guerilla gardener about!

 

At the rock border’s far end, and increasing year on year, is a clump of yellow loosestrife (Lysimachia punctata).  To the left of it is bergenia – which I moved here from another part of the garden.  Incidentally, I always cut off all the bergenia leaves in spring; this removes all the tatty, browned ones.

This was the bergenia de-frocked in April; looks a little startling but the new, fresh leaves soon emerge.

In one of the kidney beds, my Crambe cordifoila has flowered again.  Last year the stems collapsed, so this year I’ve given it a damn good staking – and it is holding up.  Oddly, the slugs don’t seem to bother it.

At the back of the kidney beds are Foxtail Lilies (Eremurus stenophyllus).  I’m hugely pleased with these  – the first I’ve ever grown.  But they were prone to slug attack too and from ten bulbs, only two or three have flowered.  Hopefully they will do better next year.

Also in one of the kidney beds is a lovely, understated plant: Gillenia trifoliata.  This pretty, little thing is one of the very few plants I took from my old garden when I moved house.  It doesn’t seem to be widely known or grown.  It ought to be both, I think.

On the west wall of the house is a marvellous (and huge) climbing hydrangea (Hydrangea petiolaris).  Last year all the flower bud was lost to frost.  This photo, taken a bit too late, doesn’t do it justice – the display this year was a good one.

At the back of the house, a very old rose (possibly ‘New Dawn’) fills the confined space with scent …

… and in the car-park, four Rosa ‘Ferdinand Pichard’ are getting established.  Planted bare-rooted a couple of years ago, they also have a superb scent.

On the rose tunnel, and flowering for the first time, is Rosa moyesii ‘Geranium.’  No scent but a beautiful, simple flower which later form large brilliant orange, flagon-shaped hips.  (Thanks to Francie for introducing me to it).

And finally, another plant which I haven’t grown before (put in a pot to protect it from slug-dom); the exotic looking Peruvian Daffodil, the Spider Lily or Ismene (Hymenocallis x festalis).  Rather lovely, don’t you think?

So, despite the best efforts of all those blasted gastropod molluscs, there is some flower in the Priory gardens.  With, I hope, lots more to come.

Antwerp Zoo

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On a recent visit to Antwerp, we managed to drain our glasses, rise from the comfort of a café and go to the zoo.  I always like to visit a zoo on a city-break.  An art gallery or two, a cathedral or castle, a museum, a botanical garden and a zoo.  It is what I do.  The entrance fee was pricey at €22 each but the entry staff eventually managed to prise the cash from my clenched, whitened fist.  The place was teeming with keepers, caring for the healthy and (mostly) content-looking animals, so I didn’t really resent the cost.  Besides we were there for 4 ½ hours!

Here’s a little of what we saw:

A Snowy Owl (Bubo scandiacus), mesmerised by the wind blowing in the trees (and a dead mouse in its talons).  In the wild its distribution is circumpolar – a fact which I’m sharing with you just so that I can use that word.  Circumpolar, circumpolar, circumpolar.

Nearby a Great Grey Owl (Strix nebulosa), looked me in the eye, weighed my intellect … and found it wanting.  Captive GGOs can live to the good-ish age of forty – but much less in the wild.  And I might add that their distribution is also circumpolar.  Circumpolar, circumpolar, circumpolar.

Flamingos (Phoenicopterus ruber) feed on small organisms filtered through their bills; it is shrimp-like crustacea that cause such a preposterous, outrageous pink.  Zoos add a colour-enhancing supplement to their food.

The lions (Panthera leo) were dozing in the sun.  No real surprise that it is the  …

… females who do most of the hunting.  Up until the 1940′s there were still lions in the Atlas mountains of Morocco.  Now, except for a small, isolated pocket of the Asiatic sub-species in India, all wild lions live in sub-Saharan Africa.

This tiger (Panthera tigris) shows that, unlike other species of cat, it is perfectly happy in water.  Tigers are, of course, an endangered species and are now extinct in: Afghanistan; Iran; Kazakhstan; Kyrgyzstan; Pakistan; Singapore; Tajikistan; Turkey; Turkmenistan; Uzbekistan and probably, North Korea.  They have lost 93% of their historic range.

The Amur leopard (Panthera pardus orientalis) is critically endangered.  The total wild population is between 30 – 40.

Like fingerprints, the stripes on no two zebras are exactly the same

The Plains Zebra (Equus burchelli – the most numerous of the three species) are prey to both lions and hyenas; a lousy place to sit in the food chain.

Elephas maximus indicus

At a zoo you can smell the animals and, I have to say, I do like the smell of an elephant.  I’m the first to admit that it isn’t ideal to keep such a huge, majesty in a confined concrete enclosure.  But if children can get up close and personal to an asian elephant, is it a price worth paying to keep some in captivity?  (Elephants in captivity, that is – not children.  Although … thinking about it ….. ?).  Anyway.  The kids (of which there were dayglo-droves, as far as the eye could see) will hopefully form a lifelong affection for elephants.  As a four-year old at Berlin zoo, I certainly did.

Interesting elephant fact?  They are the only mammal that can’t jump!  Another one?  Having no thumbs, baby elephants suck their trunks.

Giraffa camelopardalis

Like zebras, no two giraffe’s coats are the same.  Interesting giraffe fact?  They have the longest tail of any land mammal – up to 8ft.

The hippo (Hippopotamus amphibius) has an unsavoury habit – which we observed with grimaced distaste.  While defecating, it rapidly flaps its paddle-like tail to spread its excrement over a wider area.  I didn’t bother taking a photo.

Hippos are very aggressive – especially when they have young.  Do NOT place yourself between a mother hippo and her baby.  Actually, it doesn’t much matter; hippos will  attack humans without any provocation.

They are commonly considered the most dangerous animal in Africa.

Far less dangerous, and previously unknown to me, were these South American Coati (Nasua nasua).  These two were particularly absorbed by a restaurant review in my copy of The Guardian.

I was equally fond of these Javan Langurs (Trachypithecus auratus).  The orange coloured one is a naturally occurring form.  The main threat to this species is habitat loss; the burning and clearance of forest for timber and agriculture.

Chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes) are always fascinating to watch.

As we share 98.8% of our DNA, there is much to recognize.  Interesting chimpanzee info?  I overheard what they were whispering about; but it was kind of private.

Western Gorillas (Gorilla gorilla) are also close relations of ours.  They share just under 98% of our genes.  That missing 2% must include the swimming gene.  They can’t.

How can anyone believe that we are not related?  He looks far more human than many humans I’ve met … or dated.

The word Meerkat comes from the Afrikaans meaning marsh cat.  Meerkats (Suricata suricatta) don’t live in or near marshes and they aren’t cats.  Badly named as they are, they are NOT endangered.  Yay!

Through thick plate-glass (too dark for photos), we watched underwater Grey seals (Halichoerus grypus) cavorting at great speed and agility; wreathed in curtains of silver bubbles and obviously playing.  Just playing.  A boy, his face lit up, turned and looked up at Jim with a huge grin and said, “Wow.”  (Flemish for “wow”).

If zoos can excite and engage young children and instill in them a love for and appreciation of the wild wonder of the world then perhaps, just maybe, the next generation will make a better job of preserving it than we have.  I have to hope so – as there seems little chance otherwise of saving that which is endangered.  Certainly the obfuscating talks at the 2012 Earth Summit in Rio, seemed more concerned with preserving the profits of corporations and maintaining unfettered, infinite economic growth, than with preserving the habitats of the Javan Langur or the Amur Leopard.

Caracara

While we would all want zoo animals released ‘out there‘ into the wild (and not in glass and metal cages), in so many instances ‘out there‘ is where they become bush-meat; or trinkets; or rugs and wall-hangings; or spurious drugs; or trophies to idiocy.  Until that is no longer the case, zoos must continue their breeding programmes and maintain gene pools and teach the young (and the old) how very precious and irreplaceable our co-habitants of this planet are.

I Turn My Back For Five Minutes

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We’ve been on a city-break to Antwerp.  Thought I’d better scrub up a bit first, so I had my monthly bath a couple of weeks early, scoured (most of) the ingrained grime from my hands and scraped (most of) the soil from under my fingernails.  I even had a haircut, a shave (radical, I know), changed out of my gardening trousers, stood them up by the washing machine and pulled on some new clothes.  Barely recognised myself.

Antwerp was sunny and warm and friendly; we sat at pavement cafés, sipping coffee and one or two (!?) cold beers and people-watched.  The only stress?  To see how much we could possibly get through at a fabulous €20 a head, eat-as-much-as-you-like Japanese restaurant.  (I suspect they’ll review their pricing policy after we waddled out, whimpering in gluttonous pain).

On returning home though I had a worrying text from Nick* (who helps me on some of the jobs at the Priory, such as mowing the meadow and cutting the hedges).   He wrote that a tree had come down during the stormy weather last weekend (which had missed Belgium completely).  But he didn’t say which tree it was, only that it had done so with several people about; my heart sank at the thought of one of the big ash or alder having ker-plunked into the east pond; or (no, please, no) one of the signature oaks, keeled over; shattered and splintered across the lawns.

Thankfully it was a Robinia pseudoacacia which, of all the trees, I was most ready to sacrifice (except for some of the conifers which, if tottering in high winds, I might have given an obliging nudge).  The Robinia had had sparse leaf and even sparser flower during my time; it always looked a little gaunt and a little sickly standing above the car park.  Though it never occurred to me that it was in danger of toppling over.

Amazingly Nick (who took the above two photos), Margaret (the farmer), Jo (the cleaner) and Reg (of the mighty digger) had all just arrived, parked and gone into the house.  When Nick came back out shortly afterwards, the tree was down – having narrowly missed Jo’s car.  Could have been a lot worse – if the robinia had come down a few minutes earlier it probably would have bonked someone on the head.

The beech hedge was surprisingly OK; a little crumpled and the beech arch a little dented.  And Nick earned himself a gold star by sawing and tidying up.

Otherwise the storm left the gardens fairly untouched; though some of my foxgloves (planted in a stretch of young beech) have taken a bow.  How gracious.

*Nick (his real name) is ‘Tim’ in some earlier posts.  This anonymity lark can get so confusing.

Finally

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The Priory is a grand, old Dame and I love her dearly.  But will she be rushed?  She will not; she’ll put on a show in her own good time – thank you very much.  Despite my whines that everybody else’s gardening blog was awash with pretty flower pictures, she blithely ignored me and pulled on yet another layer of green .  And then another layer (after all it gets cold down in this valley), with nary a flower in sight.

It is only in the past couple of weeks, that she has, at long last, languidly fluttered her verdant petticoats and given us a glimpse of her summer charms.

And so now (suddenly) there are flowers at the Priory (phew); here are some of them.

The south wall of the house has a dependable honeysuckle – covered in blooms and delicious to sniff.  And sniff again.

It requires little attention; just a light clip after flowering.  The scent is best experienced very early in the morning (or in the evening) – so if you get the chance, fill your lungs.

The one surviving tree peony flowered a week or so ago.  Two out of the three original little trees died last year.  They were old and had been strimmed (yep, true) in their poor blighted lives, so I’m quite surprised that they survived as long as they did.  This one has a big blousy flower which is always welcome.  But they last such a very short time (three or four days) that I shan’t be so very sad if this one gives up the ghost too.

I prefer the longer flowering herbaceous peonies …

… of which there are several; including this one up against the house (pre-dates my time so no name, I’m afraid).

Erysimum ‘Bowles Mauve’ is a fine stalwart, flowering all summer long though not always surviving the winter.  Luckily, cuttings take easily.  Isn’t the lichen covered wall lovely?  Least I think so.

I’ve planted fourteen clematis around the gardens, including …

… C. ‘Westerplatte’ and this beauty …

… Clematis koreana ‘Blue Eclipse.’   Perfect, delicate flowers that stutter on through to July after its first flush of flower in April/May (certainly the latter this year).

Because there was already a large bank of rhododendrons, I swallowed a bitter, lifelong aversion to the things and planted four more of them.  I’ve become a bit of a convert (as I have with so many plants which I used to dislike) and particularly wanted (and hunted down) the above; R. ‘Sappho.’

I’ve added many other shrubs to the gardens including the marvellous …

… Viburnum plicatum ‘Mariesii.’  Three years ago, I put in a small plant on the west lawn by the pond.  It has tripled in size and eventually, its many tiered form will be four metres across and ten feet high (bit of a metric and imperial mix there for you – I like to be even-handed).  Can’t wait – at maturity they are a stunning spectacle.

Alliums and nepeta dominate the long borders.  Gosh, isn’t it blue?  Though that will change as the season progresses.  Really it will.

And what I call the Eve bed (it has a standard Viburnum tinus ‘Eve Price’ centre) is shaping up nicely; what with its box edging and …

… heuchera in fill; the latter hasn’t completely filled the space yet.  (A young Kerria japonica is to the left).  The box hedge is new-ish and hasn’t yet been tightly clipped.

The rock border is plumping up nicely with Viburnum opulus ‘Roseum’ in flower (top left) and …

… aquilegias and silene all a-jumble.  Foxgloves will join the mix soon.

At the far end of the rock border are hostas …

… which I have salvaged from other parts of the garden and …

… planted here, where the soil is moist all summer (and boggy in winter).  They seem content.

Now that we’ve drifted away from flowers to those green petticoats, I have to mention the beech hedge.  The Priory is most certainly female but the beech is not.  He’s a great big …

lumbering, shaggy beast marching along the southern and western garden perimeter.  Having tugged on his summer overcoat …

… he does dominate the garden.  For which reason, I am so very grateful to the unknown person/persons who had the foresight to plant him.

In 2010, I planted a fifty foot double line of beech saplings (thirty odd plants) in front of the gate on the west lawn.  I’ve lost two of them so far but thankfully have a small stock of replacements to hand.  In time, they will shield the house from prying eyes out on the public footpath.

Out on the meadow, the 200 Camassia quamash which I planted in autumn 2010 have flowered.  Last year there were perhaps a dozen blooms but this year they have begun to make more of an impact in various small patches.

But there is always something in the garden to bring you back to earth with an uncomfortable bump.

One of a pair of standard hollies I planted by the house (with another V. roseum in the background).  One is hale and hearty and this one?  Well, it’s not.  Gardening, eh?  So very fulfilling and then the Gardening Gods turn around and slap you across the face.  Just to remind you who’s boss.

oooOOOooo

It is only too easy to frame and crop photographs to present the image one wishes to portray.  To counter that, I thought you might like to view a shortish video clip of part of the Priory gardens.  It hopefully will give you a better ‘feel’ for the place.  You might want to turn off the sound – I do drone on a bit, well a lot actually:

I’d like to hear what you think.  Not about the shakiness of the camera or the lamentable (lack of) script but whether the gardens are how you imagined them; especially those of you who may have read about the Priory for a while.  Is it how you imagined?  Bigger, smaller?  (Not that the clip shows all the grounds, by any means).  I make no secret of how I feel about the place but, as it gets so very few visitors, it would be interesting to get your views.