About David Marsden

theanxiousgardener.com

Under Way

I’m rather behind with blogging and as it’s been a while since I posted any photos of the Priory, here’s a quick, excitable splurge; a brisk whizz about the gardens, showing some photos from the past few weeks.

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This steep bank below the greenhouses is one of my favourite spots at the Priory. It is no longer strimmed from early spring onwards and has rewarded us with primroses and anemones;

DSM_0164dog violets, a few daffodils and, earlier, crocuses.  A reward for doing nothing.DSM_1075Similarly, bluebells and Erythronium ‘Pagoda’ are spreading and establishing themselves in another patch of uncut grass.

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On the meadow, under the huge oak, primroses are on a colonisation quest.  Here the meadow grass doesn’t get so long as to smother them.

DSM_1077They have helped make up for the dearth of daffodils.  I have realised, too late, that a lot of the meadow is simply to wet for the latter.

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It is a sodden environment but the fritillaries at least appreciate it;

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which, as they are personal favourite, gives me smug pleasure.

DSM_1081Also out on the meadow the ten young fruit trees are blossoming, safe behind their deer barriers.  Apart from quinces, the garden fruit trees didn’t produce any fruit last year.  Not a plum, not an apple, not a pear, not a cherry, not a … well, you get the idea.

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I think this year will be better.

DSM_0048Where the drainage is sharper (like here on a sloping lawn beside the drive), daffodils have done better – though my bulb supplier, Philip Nyssen’s quality control seems a little lax*.  These are four pockets of NarcissusIce Follies‘ but, as you can see, a few of another variety have slipped in.  Should I be annoyed?  Should I rant?  Stamp my foot?  Should I rip out the interlopers?  Probably, but that seems churlish and mean-spirited.  They can stay,  I suppose.

DSM_1072On the east lawn where again the drainage is good (there is a ditch cutting across this shot) another introduction is doing well: N. ‘St Patrick’s Day.

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My all time favourite daffodil is N.Thalia‘ planted here on the east lawn and I’m pretty fond of

DSM_1079N.Pipit‘ too – doing moderately well on a drier part of the meadow.

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Under a large oak these doubles have been here for years.  Even if I liked them (which I don’t)

DSM_0112the flowers are too heavy to stand upright.  What’s the point in that?  Silly things.

DSM_1065The Priory has two Amelanchiers; this one planted too close to the tulip tree by the house

DSM_1073and another smaller one in one of the kidney beds.  Beautiful, huh?

DSM_1092And after last year’s rubbish performance the blackthorn on the river bank has put on a good show this year.  It is getting a little too large – I think next winter I shall lift its crown by a few feet and reveal the mass of wild garlic at its feet.

DSM_1230And finally a shot across the east lawn to the greenhouses – taken yesterday.  Which brings us up to date.  Phew.

Yep, the gardens are certainly under way.  Now, if I can just stay on top of it.

* An addendum.  Within hours of publishing this post, I had a very nice email from Karen at Philip Nyssen, apologising for the strays amongst my Ice Follies and offering replacements.  How gracious – though on reflection, I ought to apologise too. I should have contacted them as soon as the problem became evident rather than waiting almost four years before having an online moan. 

Angle Shades And A Competition

I spend a lot of time thinking about what my next post might be.  Especially when I’m mowing or weeding or doing some other mindless task – after all there’s no-one to talk to; no-one real anyhow.  But sometimes the decision is made for me.

Like the other day.  I was potting up some plants in the greenhouse (sempervivums, since you ask), bent down over my stuff-to-go-to-the-compost-bin-bucket and saw this:

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A handsome, largish moth – though it was only when I got home that I identified it as an

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angle shades; which is, you’ll agree, a fine name.  An angle shades moth (Phlogophora meticulosa).  I suppose I’d carried it into the heated greenhouse (hidden amongst my fascinating semp collection) and the warmth woke it up.

DSM_9712I tried feeding it on the only flowers I have in the greenhouse at the moment: Pachyphytum oviferum (it wasn’t keen) and

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pelargoniums (keener).  But I couldn’t tell whether it actually drank any nectar.

The larvae of the moth eat a range of herbaceous plants so I suppose I should’ve been wary of helping it.  But how could I not;

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it looked me so earnestly in the eye.

So I gave it a little sugar-water and the following day, when it was finally a little warmer, popped it out on the grass.  Their caterpillars feed mostly on nettle and dock – of which we have plenty.  As long as they stick to those we’ll get along just fine.

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Have you had an encounter recently?  With a creature that was a little unusual?  No, I don’t mean that kind of encounter; an encounter with a non-human creature?  Have you seen and photographed

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a mammal?

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Or a bird?

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or perhaps an insect?  Or whatever?  Something in your garden (though not necessarily – we don’t really have elephants or black vultures at the Priory); something that you haven’t seen before or only rarely?  Because those jolly nice people at Select Furnishings (and me) are holding a competition to win one of these:

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It’s an outdoor fire pit (in case you wondered), sells on their website for £139.00 and will keep you warm long after the barbecue has gone out.

If you’d like to win a fire pit, here’s what you need to do:

If you’re a blogger, just publish a post detailing your ‘encounter’ (with at least one photo).  You’ll need to put in a link to this Anxious Gardener post (in order that I know that you’ve entered) and somewhere in the article put in a link to Select Furnishings.  And that’s it.

If you’re not a blogger, don’t despair and wipe away those tears; you too can enter.  Just e-mail your post to theanxiousgardener@hotmail.co.uk including at least one photo and I’ll publish it here on the AG.*

Sorry but the competition is open to UK residents only.  I’m away for a few days next week so the closing date will be midnight 3rd May 2013.  Select Furnishings will choose the winner and I shall announce the result in due course.

Good luck!

* I may exercise some editorial control – but only after consulting with you.

A Look Back At Winter

What a long and cold, tedious winter that was.  Spring is arriving in the Priory gardens, but I thought I’d buck the seasonal blogging trend of crocuses and primulas and daffodils and subject you instead, for a little longer at least, to more snow and wintry scenes.  Sorry.  And then I promise, I will bid winter a long-overdue, “bye-bye, close the door on your way out and don’t hurry back” farewell.  In the meantime, here are some photos from January that I didn’t get round to posting.

DSC_4648From up on the drive, the Priory in its own snow-covered, frost pocket.

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Faulty guttering has a benefit.

DSC_4694The east lawn unsullied by a gardener’s footprints.

DSC_4689Unloved (by me) conifers looking better than at any other time of the year.

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The frozen, slush-puppy east pond

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with duckweed providing a splash of mint-green in a monochrome landscape.

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My favourite oak

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and looking back again

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as I approach the old footbridge.

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Over the bridge and into a corner of the meadow where I have planted a clutch of bamboos (to help hide a wooden, electric power post).  Partially flattened by snowfall, they sprang back when I brushed it off.

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The meadow fast asleep and (almost) imperceptibly snoring.

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Looking north over the west lawn to the meadow beyond with

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the beech-hedge arches behind me.

DSC_4690Apart from the occasional blackbird alarm call (and the crunching of snow under foot), the gardens were silent;

DSC_4750the surrounding fields and woods too.

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And then, briefly, the sun prised apart that sombre, silvery cloud and ignited the eastern sky.  (Oops – there goes my weekly purple prose allowance).

OK, there you go.  Enough already.  Snow, snow, ice, ice, cold, cold.  I think we can all agree that that is quite enough of winter – thank you very much. And anyhow, it’s time to get on with some gardening.

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But before I go, I’ll relent: spring flowers did eventually heed my drumming fingertips; both these drifts of daffodils are ‘February Gold’ – flowering here on 11th April.

The garden won’t be rushed.

Wainwright’s Coast to Coast … In Winter

Only it wasn’t winter.  It was March, almost Easter; supposedly early spring – a time, I’d supposed, of primrose lined paths, sparkling sunshine and hosts of daffodils.DSM_8996But in Northern England this year, March was decidedly still winter.

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Wainwright’s Coast to Coast is a tough walk; tougher still to complete in twelve days and tougher yet to complete with a forty pound rucksack on your back.

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From above Eagle Crag looking down into Langstrath, Cumbria

Start throwing in day after day of snowfall and walking into an unremitting, scouring Siberian easterly and it could be brutal.

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Climbing out of Borrowdale

Each day brought new trials and obstacles – from steep Lakeland passes to navigating through low visibility on paths covered in snow, following cairns buried in snow and looking for landmarks and way-markers hidden by falling snow.

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Pat in a ditch – won’t be the last time.

I didn’t walk alone all the time; I met up for several days with another coast to coaster (hi Pat).

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“Gee Ma, I sure is having fun”

We staggered up to Nine Standards Rigg together (the highest point on the Pennine section), blundering about in another whiteout and that ferocious wind;

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Pat trying to stay upright

a wind that got even stronger up on the Yorkshire moors; that horrible, relentless, flaying, snowflakes-in-your-eyes, difficult-to-stand-upright-in damnable East Wind.

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We did get one good day which helped remind me why I go walking at this time of year.

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On other days too there might be a fleeting moment of sunlight.

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Once or twice, I even saw that most inconstant and fickle of companions – my shadow.

DSM_9001 But too soon we were slogging it back up into the snow line, freezing cold and blizzards where visibility was down to thirty yards and we were navigating by compass.

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Wading through snow, uphill with a rucksack is very tiring.  (Should you have wondered).

On most of the 23 mile day’s march from Richmond to Ingelby Cross, there was no snow.

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No snow, just mud.  Lots of mud.

I saw plenty of wildlife including hares, deer

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One of two I saw

and red squirrels (though you’ll need a magnifying glass to see it);

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dippers in the Swale

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and red grouse on the Moors.

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On St Bees Head, I saw two birds I’d never seen before – guillemots

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and razorbills.

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And I also saw, of course, the free-flying macaws of Kirby Stephen.  Surreal, huh?  (The Guardian explains why).

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Stonethwaite, Borrowdale

I stayed in charming villages and hamlets,

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The Hermitage, Shap

at some excellent B&B’s (special mention goes to Jean at The Hermitage, Shap, Matt at the Keld Lodge, Keld and John at The Manse, Reeth),

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The Lion Inn, Blakey Ridge

and collapsed in warm, gemütlich pubs that, frozen as I was, had me weeping in gratitude on arrival.

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North Yorkshire Moors Railway, Grosmont

I saw splendid man-made things

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Localized frozen sea spray

and weird,

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alien things.

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There were cruel steps and stiff climbs,

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Squeeze stile, Swaledale.  Might as well just put a sign up – “No Fat Thighs Beyond This Point.”

gates, kissing gates, stiles, ladder stiles and squeeze stiles beyond count,

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and those seemingly infinite, arctic North York Moors;

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moments of “I can give up now and be home in time for tea”

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and others of “Marvellous. Simply, Bloody Marvellous.”

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But mostly I immersed myself in walking across a beautiful England, conquering one cooked breakfast after another, carrying all that I might need, wondering what I might have for supper and

DSM_8935 looking about me

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and staring.

(As it isn’t a nationally designated path, way-marking on the C2C is non-existent in places.  Thankfully, people have improvised – bottom right requires a Geordie accent)).

Apparently 10 000 people from all over the world start the C2C each year – how many complete it, I don’t know.  Pat and I (and all the B&B owners and various walkers and others I met) didn’t know of anyone who had walked all of it this year and we were the first of 2013 to sign ‘The Coast to Coast Book’ at

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(Left) Pat and his wife, Sue at The End

Wainwrights’ Bar, Robin Hood’s Bay.

As well as signing The Book, tradition dictates that you dip your boot into the Irish Sea on setting out from St Bees and dip it again into the brine at RHB.  Tradition also requires that you pick up a pebble at the start, carry it all 200 miles and

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Me hurling

then hurl it into the North Sea – a bit pointless really but actually quite satisfying.  Unfortunately, as Pat did neither of these latter two requirements, I had to declare his C2C effort null and void.  Strict I know – but tradition is tradition.

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Do I regret walking the C2C at this time of year?  During the coldest March since 1962?  Nope, not for a moment.  It was physically the most challenging … er, challenge that I’ve ever done; the total cumulative ascent is equivalent to climbing Everest (according to my guide-book).  It was Northern England showing off at its wildest and rawest.  The satisfaction of completion was immense and, significantly,  Pat and I had the paths, fells, moors and mountains mostly to ourselves.  A rare honour.

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Heck, I even got to see daffodils.

Do I rate the C2C as the second best walk in the world (according to one survey of ‘experts’)?  Well, I’ve formed an opinion but I’m not going to tell you what it is.

Walk Wainwright’s Coast to Coast yourself and see what you think.

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A more detailed account of this walk appears on my other blog – ‘The Walking Gardener’

 

Time For A Walk

Each year, during late winter or early spring, I go for a walk.  A lengthy, solo walk.

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I decide which long distance footpath I want to do, work out the miles I’m going to walk each day, pre-book all my accommodation and buy my train tickets.

This year, I’m walking Wainwright’s Coast to Coast; a 200 mile tramp from St Bees on the Cumbrian coast to Robin Hood’s Bay on the North Sea.

The path crosses three National Parks:

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the Lake District,

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the Yorkshire Dales

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and the North York Moors.

I’ll be staying in thirteen different pubs or bed and breakfasts, walking for twelve days and covering, on average, sixteen miles a day.  I had hoped for warm spring sunshine, blue skies and daffodils

Lakeland Fells - February 2010

Lakeland Fells – February 2010

but in the last few days the Cumbrian fells have been smothered in snow. So I might be back a little sooner than planned.

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At least, walking alone, I won’t suffer unprovoked ATTACKS from Jim.

See you in a while.  Dave