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.

DSM_0134

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.

DSM_1028

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.

DSM_1080

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

DSM_1045

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.

DSM_1229

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.

DSM_1213

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.

DSM_0111

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. 

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.

DSC_4788

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.

DSC_4659

The frozen, slush-puppy east pond

DSC_5669

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

DSC_4663

My favourite oak

DSC_4677

and looking back again

DSC_4671

as I approach the old footbridge.

DSC_4680

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.

DSC_4681

The meadow fast asleep and (almost) imperceptibly snoring.

DSC_4687

Looking north over the west lawn to the meadow beyond with

DSC_4685

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.

DSC_5657

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.

DSM_9987

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.

The New Greenhouse

In the south-eastern corner of the Priory grounds, something’s been going on.

DSC_3941

Slowly, during the past few weeks, we’ve been growing a new cedarwood greenhouse.

Buying a greenhouse during the December sales secured us a 20% discount.  But buying a greenhouse during the December sales meant having to build the thing during the balmy months of January and February.

It has been a struggle for Rob the Brickie.  He started off by digging the footings, followed by …

DSC_4150 … a breeze-block base.

DSC_4151It was on this that he built the six course, brick wall.  Measurements and levels had to be repeatedly checked and very, very precise.  I told Rob how, as it wasn’t square and it was the wrong height, we had had to demolish the first wall built for the original greenhouse three years ago.  In retrospect, I shouldn’t have told him that – he did worry so.  Big time.  (He needn’t have – the greenhouse installers told me this was the finest base wall they had ever seen).

DSC_4154When the weather allowed, the wall grew.

DSC_4188On days when it was warm enough; on days when it was dry enough.

DSC_4706A cold snap delayed our plans by a fortnight and heavy snow prevented the delivery of the greenhouse panels; for several days the Priory drive was impassable to anything other than a four-wheel drive – or Shank’s Pony.DSM_8430But finally, a few days of fine weather allowed Rob to finish the wall, the cement to harden and the greenhouse itself to be delivered and installed.

DSM_8432

Here it sits in all its fragrant glory behind the original; rather like stationary railway carriages shunted into a siding.  Forever.  (We didn’t have the space to site them side by side).

DSM_8434Come inside and have a sniff – the smell of the cedarwood is intoxicating.  There is interior and exterior paving still to be laid, water and power to be connected and water butts to be positioned.

I thought for this coming season, I would continue to use one greenhouse open bed …

DSC_0372

May 2011

… for tomatoes and cucumbers.

DSC_0020

Pot grown sweet peppers – July 2011

And the other for aubergines and peppers; both sweet and chilli.  (I’ve already sown the seeds). You see, I have a yearning, a fancy for some ratatouille.  Yep, some rich, thick, garlicky ratatouille.  With crusty bread.  And perhaps a glass of wine.  Or two.

Come summer, pull up a chair and join me.  Just bring your own wine, would you?

Birdwatching

I don’t get a great variety of birds in my garden.

DSM_6904

Plenty of herring gulls,

DSC_0064and a family of charismatic crows.  Hardly exciting stuff, though we do get …

DSC_6665… green woodpeckers too.  These are regular visitors, feeding mostly on the ants that live in our dry, chalky soil.

But in comparison to the Priory, our garden is a bird wasteland.

DSM_8394

A Priory great spotted woodpecker keeps a wary eye on me

I’m not really a birdwatcher.  Not really.  I mean you wouldn’t call me a twitcher or even a birder – I don’t even take binoculars to work.  (At least not yet).

DSM_8045

A female mallard over-reacts to my approach on the east pond

Sure, I’ve always been interested in birds just not … erm, evangelical if you know what I mean.

DSM_8047

A male does the same – certainly breaks the quiet of the place

Not like a friend of mine, who is a little fizzy, shall we say, when it comes to birds.  It is simply impossible to go on a country walk with him.

DSM_7000

And in tandem

Every ten yards, he’ll stop, shush me (!), raise his ‘bins’ (binoculars to you and I) and spend several minutes trying to identify a tiny, brown speck fifty yards away.  Meanwhile, I’ll be sighing loudly, gazing immobile at the sky, kicking leaves about, lusting after a pint, curling my tongue into a tube or petulantly flicking acorns at his head.

DSM_7958

A chaffinch coming into land on a feeder

But since I started work at the Priory I’ve become much more aware, and appreciative of, the birds that visit or live in the gardens.  One might almost say I’ve become a bird anorak.  Almost.

DSM_7712It started on my first day; a hot, still and sunny July morning – spent weeding.  I immediately noticed just how much wildlife there was.  I was already in love with the place but all that ‘life’ added an extra depth of interest, a further layer of beauty that I was instantly drawn to and wanted to explore and encourage.

DSC_4351So, during my first winter, I built several nest-boxes.  Using left-over timber from compost bin construction and old roofing tiles, they were quick and easy to make.

DSC_4343

An old blue tit egg – I left it out on the grass. I’m sure it made a tasty (if rancid) snack for something or other

At this time of year, I clear them all out (removing the odd dead baby bird, unhatched eggs and any nesting material) and make a tally of those used during the previous season.  Out of eleven boxes, seven were nested in last year – a take up rate that matched last year and one I’m pretty happy with.  (Though my tawny owl box was a tawny owl no-no; looks like mandarin ducks used it again).

DSC_4349Father Christmas was kind to me; as well as a robin/pied flycatcher ‘box, I was given two bat boxes.  There are bats at the Priory – I’ve seen both pipistrelles and a (dead) brown long-eared bat but these will be the first roosting boxes to go up.

DSC_4397Within an hour of fixing one to an oak it was investigated – though not by its intended tenant.

DSC_4373The robin/flycatcher box is now up on one of the large oaks.  Looks like a perfect grey squirrel (damn and blast them) baby-bird-chomping-station to me but we’ll see.

DSC_4298

Goldfinches visiting a few weeks ago.

As well as building nest boxes, I also started feeding the birds.  We currently have six feeders (all protected against grey squirrels – damn and blast them).  And we get a good selection of visiting species.DSC_5118All the usual suspects of course; blue tits and …

DSC_4812… their larger cousins, great tits (there goes another big spike in my viewing figures; thanks to the Google searches of teenage boys.  Sorry lads.) …

DSM_7517

… and my favourite of the three; the shyer, less ostentatious coal tit.

DSC_6815More common and less retiring than I thought, long-tailed tits flit in and out of view regularly.  I generally hear their high-pitched, repetitive call before I see them.  I never see a single bird; they always appear in small flocks and it this insistent calling that helps keep the group together.

DSC_5863During recent snow,  a dunnock pauses before dropping to the ground to feed on the spill beneath the feeders.

DSC_4725I’d always supposed nuthatches were fairly rare but I see them daily.

DSC_6382 A male blackbird in a hurry.

DSC_5738And a female heading for the apples I’ve put out.  But these apples always disappear way too fast.  I suspect crows carry them off.  Either crows or grey squirrels (damn and blast them).

DSC_6195A song thrush flits away towards shrub cover.  Tempting to use words like frolicking in a scene like this but finding enough food in snow doesn’t leave much time for frolicking, I fear.

DSC_6371I’m a bit obsessed with robins.  They are constant companions and so darn photogenic, I can’t help it.  But I make no apology – it is my blog after all.  Anyway, it’s probably an infatuation I’ll grow out of … but I suspect not.

DSC_6370They are robust characters, battling with one another for the rich territory that is the feeding area.  And this one is an adept master of millet-seed-balancing.

DSM_7973The other day, I was photographing goldfinches …

DSM_7868

… when I noticed two different yellow finch-like birds.  And quite honestly, I am not entirely sure what they are.  I think (after lots of page flipping and internet clicking) that they are siskins.  The top one a juvenile male and the lower …

DSM_7833

… a female.  But I would welcome confirmation (or correction) from all you birdy types out there.  Needless to say, I’ve never seen a siskin before (and perhaps I still haven’t).

Shortly after I took this photo, I heard one shrill blackbird alarm call and all the birds disappeared!  Just like that.  The garden had been full of birds and their tweets and trills but suddenly there was just total silence.  What on earth?

DSC_6068

I turned round and looked up into the large greengage tree and, for the space of five seconds, a sparrowhawk glared down at me.  I fumbled with my camera, frantically trying to focus on the eyes rather than on all the intervening branches and managed to click twice.  Then he vanished. My first sparrowhawk shot!  Not quite the one I hoped for but it’s a start.  And I know he’ll be back.  Because once I started feeding and encouraging small birds into the garden, I also created a target rich environment for a sparrowhawk; I also started feeding and encouraging them.

Yep, he’ll definitely be back.

Keeping Busy, Keeping Warm

The grounds of the Priory can be a scary place when the wind gets up.

DSC_3691Even the largest trees twist and sway alarmingly; creaking, groaning and occasionally hurling down dead branches.  Generally, I think of trees as benign stalwarts but in high winds, I keep a wary eye on them and avoid walking beneath those shuddering arms.

DSC_0047Afterwards, I collect all the branch and twig litter and barrow it off to the bonfire site.

20130114_111702Except for bigger, heftier branches.  These I haul off to the ‘Nissan Hut’.

DSC_0102 This is one of two that we have and is, I think, a 1940′s construction.  It isn’t a building of great beauty (though not without some charm), and as it is gently crumbling, we did consider demolition.  But its roof is asbestos and professional removal would have been prohibitively expensive.  One day, when one of the huge oak boughs above crashes down, we will have to dismantle it, but in the meantime I’m glad we kept the ‘hut.  DSC_0104It makes a fine, temporary log store for wind-fallen and pruned branches, as well as any felled trees.  It is a dry place to work when it is pouring with rain or …

DSC_4699

… snowing.  With the radio on, one might even call it cosy.

DSC_0111Using an axe is obviously warm work but, perhaps surprisingly, so is wielding a chainsaw.  Perfect cold-weather work and lots of it too.  Once chain-sawed or split, I take the logs to another outbuilding containing old pigsties.

DSC_4355This sty holds all the logs I’ve cut/split this winter: a stack five foot high, fifteen long and five rows deep.  We have quite a backlog (!) of firewood, so these logs won’t be burned for three or four years; more than enough time to season.

I don’t think we shall be cutting any trees down at the Priory this year, but at the Old Forge, I’ve felled half a dozen dead pines.

DSC_4588Call me over-cautious, call me timorous but working alone with a chainsaw and on a slope, this is about as big a tree as I will tackle.

DSC_4592Cut up, mixed with hardwood and seasoned, the pine will eventually be used on the house woodburner.

Incidentally, if you’re unsure which wood burns best, the following poem is a good starting point.

‘Song of the Forest Trees’

Logs to Burn! Logs to Burn!
Logs to save the coal a turn.
Here’s a word to make you wise
when you hear the woodman’s cries.

Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
Hornbeam blazes too;
If the logs are kept a year
To season through and through.

Oak logs will warm you well,
That are old and dry;
Logs of pine will sweetly smell
But the sparks will fly.

Birch logs will burn too fast;
Chestnut scarce at all;
Hawthorn logs are good to last -
Cut them in the fall.

Holly logs will burn like wax,
You should burn them green;
Elm logs like smouldering flax,
No flame to be seen.

Beech logs for the winter time,
Yew logs heat as well;
Green elder logs it is a crime
For anyone to sell.

Pear logs and apple logs,
They will scent your room;
Cherry logs across the dogs
Smell like flowers of broom.

Ash logs, smooth and grey
Burn them green or old,
Buy up all that comes your way
Worth their weight in gold.*

Holly and ash do indeed make fine firewood and may be burnt ‘green’ – though you shouldn’t have to.  Ideally, season all firewood for a year or two.  Personally, despite the above, I find Sweet Chestnut burns well – perhaps they mean Horse Chestnut which I haven’t tried.  The poem doesn’t mention willow or alder; the Priory has plenty of both and when dry and seasoned, they too make excellent firewood.  Burning too much conifer can lead to a build up of resinous tar in your chimney and increase the risk of a chimney fire.  And you seriously don’t want that.  If you’re ordering a load of firewood, do ask what sort of wood you’re buying: rather a mix of oak and ash than, say, leylandii!  And order only from a recommended, reputable supplier.  A friend of mine didn’t and had a huge tipper-load of sopping wet logs dumped on her driveway.

Anyway, back at the Priory, I also keep warm by tending to the …

DSC_4184… seven large compost bins.  I turn the contents regularly, though when I built them …

DSC_4172… I hadn’t foreseen how much rainwater they would hold and how that would turn the surrounding ground into a quagmire.  Definitely, welly work.  After a few minutes pitch-forking, I’ve already removed two of my statutory five-layer, winter clothing.

DSC_4570Whenever, I turn compost there will always be a robin close by.  Always.

And living in the compost …

DSC_2611… is a fine, big, fat toad (November 2012).  Feeding on my worms, no doubt.  I occasionally get mole hills beside the bins too – it seems allsorts of creatures covet my lovely worms.  Frogs and toads in the compost would explain why a grass snake (Natrix natrix) has taken to hanging about – (filmed last summer).

Beauty isn’t he?  And a big ‘un.

As I’m jogging about the estate, doing star jumps, staving off frostbite, I keep an eye on Margaret’s sheep.  Occasionally, after heavy rain I’ll see a ‘cast’ ewe, ie one on its back and unable to right herself.

20121217_081733

Her ‘friends’ are supremely un-concerned by her plight

Sorry, not a great photo – I used my phone as it seemed discourteous to leave the poor thing feebly waggling her legs whilst I ran for my camera.  Once tugged back upright, she was fine and wobbled away without so much as a thankful nod or glance.  Left alone, wet, and particularly pregnant, ewes are often unable to get on to their feet and can die; a soaked fleece is very heavy!  So if you see a cast sheep, do help out.  It won’t thank you but the farmer will.

DSC_4224I’d never seen this before.  Like an oxpecker on an impala, this magpie is feeding on parasites.

DSC_4227Initially, I worried it was pecking at the ewe’s eyes.  But no, it was just gently probing about for ticks and grubs.  It also spent some time diligently probing the ewe’s bottom – I’ll spare you that photo.

DSC_4230 Happy magpie, happy sheep.  Such a simple, symbiotic, Serengeti-ish, Sussex sylvan scene.

Warms my heart.

* Reproduced from ‘Learning to Live in the Country’ by Kathy Jones