Catkins

No time to garden proper this past week as two new arrivals have made their appearance - Estella and Portia - 8-month old sisters, from a cat rescue. We've forgotten what a handful young cats can be but, although only being here 7 days, they've already made a niche for themselves and wormed their way into our hearts. They are really nice with each other and, despite having lovely new beds each, prefer snuggling up together.

Their personalities have already made themselves known; Portia is extravertly friendly and likes nothing better than trying to eat my breakfast porridge, whereas Estella, the more introvert of the two and much more reserved, is really slyly mischievous and has already tried to climb up the chimney. Fun and games yesterday when the vet arrived to give them their first injections and worming. Blood was drawn - both Jean's and mine - and Estella took the huff and spent forever lying above the cooker hood, refusing all coaxing to come down.

Today, however, all seems forgotten as they vie for food and attention.

I can't wait until they're allowed out into Pablo's garden but fear for the birds..

Estella musing

Portia reflecting

A cure for melancholia?

A cure for melancholia

The hellebores are performing really well throughout the garden – both in dry shade and full sunshine. One of the oldest cultivated plants, Pliny said that the daughters of Proteus, King of Argos, were cured of a mental disease by drinking the milk of goats fed on hellebore. In the seventeenth century, the roots were dried and ground to a powder, to be taken like snuff for the relief of headaches and moods of melancholia.

Rather than such drastic measures, I recommend ensuring that last season’s leaves have been removed to allow the full beauty of the flower heads to shine through and the new leaves to unfurl. We cannot but fail to be uplifted by the unassuming glory of these plants. They lower their heads modestly but, by merely tipping these demure flowers on the chin, intense pleasure can be gained, once their magnificence is revealed.

I often snip two or three stems to bring into the house. (Dipping the stalks in boiling water for a few seconds clears the stem and ensures that they can absorb water freely). The elegance of the flowers is best enjoyed by placing the vase at eye level for the flower heads obstinately remain standing shyly downwards.

Self-healing horticultural medication at its best!

Enjoy. Gillian

If I could plant one tiny little seed...

‘If I could plant one tiny little seed in the garden of your life’

The wonderful weather at the weekend encouraged me to clean out the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden. I loathe the smell of Jeyes Fluid but it is recommended for getting rid of over-wintering bugs. The worst task is removing all the assorted pots and general rubbish that has accumulated the previous summer. Then I had to control my husband, Glynn, from lighting the sulphur candle. Pointing out that the automatic window opener was working in the sunshine, thus ensuring that the cleansing smoke would drift straight out of the window if lit! He managed to restrain himself until dusk.

All done and dusted

The next morning, all duly disinfected, I began the task of replacing pots and seed trays – all also now clean and ready for the new growing season.

If I could plant one tiny little seed

Then the exciting task begins of choosing which flowers and vegetables to grow. I order seeds via the allotment association but am always tempted into buying more flower seeds whenever I visit the University Botanic Gardens on the outskirts of Durham City – which I do regularly. There, a dedicated of team of ‘Friends’ spend time each week methodically counting out seeds into tiny brown packets which are then neatly labelled, ready to be bought by seed-aholics like myself, for a small donation. The ‘Friends’ do a great job in supporting events and funding developments at the garden which are always a joy to visit, even in the depths of winter. Tubs of delicious crocus greet the visitor on arrival and thousands of daffodils are beginning to show colour amongst the grass.

Purple crocus in my border

Perchance Next Spring...

It is always a time for sadness when the early snowdrops – such a longed-for sign of hope after the dark winter days – begin to fade. I usually take consolation in re-reading a verse poem entitled ‘In the Garden’ contained within an old volume,  ‘Our Book of Poetry’, which must have been published in the 1930s as it was originally owned by my two older cousins who delighted in reading aloud to me from it.

Image from my old volume of poetry

I eventually became the proud possessor of the crumbling volume and it has pride of place on my bookshelves to this day, despite its pages being yellowed and splattered with my dirty fingerprints. 

‘In the Garden’ is very much of its time as it tells of a meeting between the last snowdrop(female) and the first crocus (male)  who, despite being the newcomer, takes centre stage and insists on telling his own story.

C Good morning, pretty lady!

S Good morning, gentle sir!

C ‘Tis very sweet that we should meet

    When springtime is astir!

S I watched you peeping upward,

   I watched you as you grew.

C Did you my dear? Upon my word

    I call that kind of you.

   You seem a gentle creature with beauty all your own.

   Pray tell me how it comes that you

   Are growing here alone?

S  I am the latest snowdrop.

    My sisters all are fled.

C  And I the earliest crocus bulb

     To blossom in this bed.

    Then shall we not be friends, my dear?

    And, as I love to talk

    I’ll tell you how I came to shine

   So gaily on my stalk.

S Do, sir!

And so on he goes, full of his own importance, until he finally comes to the end of his tale and suddenly realises his new friend looks most unhappy.

The last snowdrops

C  Nay, wherefore droop your dainty head?

S  Sir, you have come too late!

   My star is set, my day is done,

   My beauty on the wane:

   Yet, who can tell? Perchance, next spring

   We two may meet again!

                                                           Marie Bayne

Happy gardening!
Gillian 

   

Pablo's Garden Diary

I live in an Edwardian house with a large garden. The garden was 100 years old in 2011 and although the layout remains much as it was in 1911 I have tried to impose my own style in the garden without destroying its historical design.

Pablo is a much more recent addition although, at 17, he is very much the elderly statesman who supervises and approves, or not, changes he has overseen in the garden.

This garden diary will record changes and developments, in words and images, during the next twelve months as I work on improving the herbaceous borders and introduce more colour and variety throughout the year.

I also grow various vegetables and fruit in my allotment garden which is half a mile away. I hope to share allotment gardening and favourite recipes with you throughout the year.

I hope you enjoy visiting my garden.

 Gillian