St Vitus's Day

15th June was St Vitus's  Day and the rhyme goes

If St Vitus Day be rainy weather
It will rain for forty days together 


Farming lore also promises that 'If on 8th June it rain, that foretells a wet harvest, men sayen'

Dreaming of sunshine

The rain certainly has 'raineth every day', keeping snails and slugs very happy but the rest of us have been very unhappy indeed, including Pablo who kept going to the door, looking out and turning back. He dodged the showers by hiding underneath the cars and to compensate has spent most of June to date asleep.




Unable to garden, I have visited lots of garden centres, trying to decide which plants to buy with my  birthday garden tokens. Because I am able to buy plants, I couldn't decide what to chose and so chunks of the borders are still bare of perennial planting. I have added some pre-sown annuals - salpiglossis, nasturtium and cosmos and have scattered nigella, cornflower and various poppy seeds - but, like a child in a sweet shop, I still can't make my mind exactly what effect I want to achieve but I am enjoying trying to decide.

Finally, today, the rain stopped and the sun came out and Pablo got to spend time in the summer house.








 The garden has become a jungle - a  riotous mix and tangle of weeds and flowers.

Rampant shuttlecock ferns

The smell of new-mown grass - as husband Glynn, in common with most of the neighbours, dashed madly around the lawn, mower at the ready -  together with the glory of the welcome sunshine which lit up the rampant borders to perfection, almost made up for the long wet days.

iris sibirica plus various perennial geraniums

'What is one to 
say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfilment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade'

Gertrude Jekyll

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