Some tinge of melancholy

Lovely as these autumn days on the heath;
the gorse is still as smooth as silk,
and the air fragrant.
...as though there were some tinge of melancholy
in its sweetness.
                                             Virginia Woolf

September border

the perfect September

All the months are crude experiments out of which
the perfect September is made.
   Virginia Woolf A Passionate Apprentice
   

September border

                      If August is 'a wicked month' (Edna O'Brien) then September is the 'morning after the night before month'. Borders are flushed with the tell-tale signs of over indulgence, leading inevitably to feeling a bit seedy!

Rudbeckias and Japanese anemones

The glorious perennials are, like many of us, past their best but determined to have a final flowery fling before accepting that the autumn of their days will unrelentingly make way for a steady decline into the somnambulism of winter.

cosmos purissima

Still no time 'to stand and stare'

Despite everything slowing down growth-wise, this is such a busy time in the garden. I no longer ruthlessly cut back perennials, preferring to leave most plants to die back naturally, ensuring safe refuge for many over-wintering insects and leaving most seed heads for the birds, but even so there has been lots of shrubs needing to be pruned and mountains of leaves to be raked and swept. 

 

 

Epimediums before the frost

The first frost last weekend took its toll, fortunately I’d already moved tender geraniums and dahlias into the cold greenhouse and tucked them in for the winter. I’ve spent most of my spare time this week planting spring bulbs in the borders – all now half price at B & Q – especially tulips which mustn’t be planted before November or they may suffer from wilt.

The Christmas hyacinths are already under cover in pots in the garage and I still need to plant small terracotta pots with iris reticulata. I saw some for sale earlier in the year. They looked so pretty and were so expensive that I made a mental note to pot some up myself.

 

Late-flowering clematis with honeysuckle

I finally made the decision to have a small holly tree removed and the space this has opened up is extraordinary. I’ve had a semi-circle of paving placed under the old apple tree and, following two useful outings to Egglestone Hall Nursery, quite a few different perennials are now in place in the left border. Daffodils, narcissi, tulips and alliums have been planted and there is still room for more plant-buying expeditions in the spring - can't wait!                                                                                    

Sad songs of Autumn mirth

Food for the birds

Putting the garden to bed for the winter is almost complete.

The borders have been tidied, the roses pruned and leaves raked from the lawn. The final garden bin of 2012 is full to overflowing. Tubs are full of winter pansies and primroses and under-planted with the spring promise of miniature daffodils and iris reticulata. 

Michaelmas daisies going over

The final garden task remains – the planting of tulips. I’ve not yet decided whether to plant them directly into the borders or, as friend Avril does, plant them in tubs. Experts recommend digging up tulips after flowering with a view to replanting the following year. I’m too lazy to do this and usually try to plant them quite deeply with the hope that they’ll survive another year.

Digging at the allotment is now complete and the Japanese onion sets have finally been planted. Spring cabbage, Durham Earlies, are surviving – just - hopefully protected from marauding rabbits by protective netting. Fingers crossed! 

Statuesque artichoke flowers at the allotment

The strawberry bed is finally weed-free and I’ve decided to concentrate on growing perennial flowers, rather than vegetables, in an area which is permanently dry - being affected by roots of the nearby ash tree - beginning with a white form of echinacea, courtesy of fellow allotmenteer, Chris.

Everyone agrees that this has been a dreadful year for growing and will result in substantial rises in the costs of vegetables in the shops. 

Make a New Year Resolution to grow your own next year!

Today I think

Autumn colour of quince leaves

Only with scents – scents dead leaves yield,

And bracken, and wild carrot’s seed,

And the square mustard field;

Odours that rise

When the spade wounds the root of trees,

Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,

Rhubarb or celery;

The smoke’s smell too,

Flowing from where a bonfire burns

The dead, the waste, the dangerous,

And all to sweetness turns.

It is enough

To smell, to crumble the dark earth,

While the robin sings over again

Sad songs of Autumn mirth.

                                     Edward Thomas

November

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no helpful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member

 No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds – November!

                                                                             Thomas Hood

When north winds do blow...

Madness! With a covering of snow at the end of October, albeit fleetingly, and now on this morning, 2^nd November – All Soul’s Day,  the day set aside by the church for praying for souls in purgatory – hailstones bouncing off the ground outside the French windows.

The clocks have gone back and the luxury of that extra hour in bed is almost forgotten as we head towards the dark days before Christmas. Many dread the dark nights and prefer to virtually hibernate until the days begin to lengthen. No longer having to turn out on frosty mornings or de-ice the car before leaving work for home, I can take advantage and appreciate the charm of the shortening days.

Autumn leaves

There is still much to see and enjoy in the autumn garden and the leaf colour has been a joy. I’ve refrained from cutting back many perennial plants to aid wildlife cope with the deprivations of the winter garden but have been using some of the startling red stems of euphorbia fireglow and solidago for example as foliage for autumn flower arrangements. A few stems of honesty, aided and abetted by Chinese lanterns -  courtesy of friend Brenda -  need very few flowers to produce a pleasing splash of colour in the home. (Witness previous pumpkin arrangement).

 

Autumn colour in Auckland Castle park

Evening red and morning grey are the sure signs of a fine day

Sunset over Bishop Auckland roof tops

Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight,

Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning

Shepherd's delight

The old saying proved correct last week. The fantastic sunset over Bishop Auckland last Tuesday evening certainly did predict a period of fine weather.

Fuchsia and crocosmia

The welcome sunshine reinforced the autumnal tones of the borders and it was surprising just how colourful the garden looked – a veritable kaleidoscope.

Pink cosmos

The acanthus is a particular favourite of mine. Last year was a disappointing one as lots of glorious leaf colour was evident but no flowers appeared. I have kept an anxious eye on it for some weeks and my vigilance has been rewarded – what a stunningly elegant plant it is.

Acanthus flowers in the shady border

Said to cure gout and soothe burns and scalds, the leaf of the acanthus has been the inspiration for many decorative designs – especially on the columns of Greek temples - and it was a favourite motif of William Morris.

And the days go short when we reach September

So sang Sinatra in September Song and it’s certainly true.

The long light nights giving opportunities for reading or working in Pablo’s garden until late evening have now gone, compensated for by the ethereal light cast by the  harvest moon – which always reminds me of late artist and friend, Tom McGuinness, whose night time scenes were always illuminated by the glow from a McGuinness Moon.

 

Lucifer crocosmia

There is still lots of colour both to be seen and to look forward to in the autumn garden as, ironically, the hot area of the colour wheel is in the ascendancy – oranges, yellows and flaming red – Nature’s own bonfire which, with perfect timing, will burn itself out around 5^th November.

My song is half a sigh

Because my green leaves die;

Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying;

And well may Autumn sigh…

   From September by Christina Rossetti (1830 – 1894)

Don’t be too downhearted by Christina’s usual doleful verse. 

Bronze fennel and  apple mint

In Pablo’s garden we’ve still got Nature’s fruitful bounty to look forward to – the harvesting of apples and pears; the gathering of seeds for drying and growing on next year; dividing and replanting  perennials ; indulging in the produce from the greenhouse including the delights of jam and chutney making and the optimistic buying and planting of spring bulbs.

Keep gardening but, more importantly, as my grandfather always signed off his letters to me -

Keep smiling!

Sing a song of seasons!

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the Summer

Fires in the fall.

                      R.L. Stevenson

The wettest summer since 1912 and as I write, the coldest August night on record. I went to open the greenhouse first thing and the lawn was sparkling in the early morning sun. It appeared almost as if there had been a frost overnight – perhaps there had. Anything seems to be possible in this quirky summer.

Some plants are thriving – see the gunnera in Durham’s Botanic Gardens for example. Originally from Brazil, it thrives in damp conditions and the huge, umbrella-like leaves, followed by large flower spikes, are a potential wonder to behold, whereas, sadly, the leaves on some of the trees there are already beginning to turn a lighter green - signalling an early autumn. 

Passion flower

But, amazingly, the passion flower in Pablo’s garden is still in flower, despite being of a delicate disposition. Curiously also hailing from Brazil, it is so named because discoverers of this exotic plant likened its parts to representations of the crucifixion, particularly the central column resembling the pillar of the cross. The flower was said to remain in bloom for three days to symbolise the three years of Christ’s ministry, but in reality each flower only lasts for one day.

Shade under the old apple tree

The left hand side of the garden still has gaps for yet more and different plants but is showing pleasing colour. Even my despised geraniums are welcomed now for they add pleasing daubs to the back of the shady border. 

Pablo disgruntled at waiting forever for the sun to shine

A massive autumn garden tidy is called for but as the weather people are predicting an Indian summer, prior to the worst winter since the Thames froze over in the 1600s, I plan to decamp to the summer house and enjoy the autumn sunshine - glass of wine in hand and Pablo on knee of course.

Cheers!