Surviving - just

The Mediterranean-like warmth of the last few days has been a pleasure but has caused much pain in Pablo's garden. The borders are so dry that in some parts of the borders autumn is almost upon us. 

Area behind the greenhouse suffering in the heat

Many flowers have already gone over to producing seed for next year's promise and the holly tree has decided to speculate on more dry weather to come by shedding some of its leaves in anticipation. 

Perhaps we now need to emulate the great Beth Chatto and seriously consider utilising a Mediterranean style of planting which uses perennials that thrive in hot and dry conditions, often surrounded by areas of gravel?



Or maybe not.
Despite much of the expected colour at this time of year having been bleached by the unremitting sunshine, some plants have come into their own and have produced stunning flowers for the first time in the  garden.

Eryngium courtesy of Chris from the allotment

The tiny pond area has been an ocean of calm and cool despit the paucity of yellow flag iris this year.
But oh where are the frogs? I have only ever seen one and he vanished immediately I spied him (or her).
I trust the terrible twosome haven't been dabbling paws in the water as they've been spied near the neighbour's pond, looking longingly at the goldfish.

An tiny ocean of calm

June is busting out all over

For me, June is the most exciting month in the garden...

Come honey bee, with thy busy hum,

To the fragrant tufts of wild thyme come,

And sip the sweet dew from the cowslip’s head,

From the lily’s bell and the violet’s  bed.

Looking towards the summer house

                                                     Anon

There are more family birthdays in June, including my own, which might have always influenced my preference, but I always associate the month with expectation and promise and, above all, burgeoning perfume in the garden.

Acer among the euphorbias

 The spring bulbs have gone to ground to regroup and prepare for the growing traumas of the following year to come. The borders are beginning to bulk up with perennial planting, which helps impede ubiquitous weeds. The spring shrubs, flowering over, are concentrating on colourful leaf production and annuals are starting to poke their heads tentatively above the soil’s parapet.

In the herb garden, various sages, chives, rosemary, marjoram, oregano, mints, and the dreaded lemon balm are thriving. One of my favourite herbs, lovage, is growing apace and, with its celery-like flavour, is a welcome  accompaniment to meals when used as a vegetable in its own right; it does also make a  wonderful soup, much beloved of the Romans. I wouldn’t be without it in the garden. Angelica doesn’t linger long but friend Terry Ferdinand has promised me sports from his garden so I will try again!

Marigolds beside the pond

In the greenhouse, tomatoes, cucumbers, chillies and sweet peppers are now potted up and ready to face the growing challenge and the promise of coriander, rocket and a mix of delicious basils make mouth-watering progress.

The allotment seems to delight in encouraging perennial weed growth, despite regular weeding forays. Even so, beans, peas, salad crops, early potatoes and rhubarb are almost ready to harvest. Seeds of beetroot and white turnip, are showing promise and purple sprouting broccoli, leeks and celeriac are being nurtured, prior to planting out. 

The glory of white tulips

I can’t wait for the roses in my literary rose bed – Jude the Obscure, The Lady of Shalott, Brother Cadfael, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Tam O'Shanter and William Shakespeare, to raise their lovely heads and join with sweet peas – aptly, for Pablo’s 1911 garden, the symbol of Edwardian England - to join with me to celebrate the delights of the June garden.

Pity about the rain – but the sun WILL shine - after all it is flaming June