March is for Marie Curie daffodils

Daffodils  at Durham's Botanic Gardens

'Daffodils grew among the mossy stones on which some rested their heads as on a pillow, the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind, they looked so gay..'
                                                                                        Dorothy Wordsworth

The glory of the daffodil cannot be underestimated.

Neither can the work and dedication of Marie Curie nurses  who provide end of life care for those who need it. March is Marie Curie's major fund raising month and the Marie Curie daffodil has become associated in the public's mind with Marie Curie Cancer Care almost as much as the poppy is with Remembrance Sunday.

Promenading in Saltburn - complete with daffodils!

I am proud and delighted that the recently-formed Bishop Auckland Marie Curie Fund Raising Group have raised £3,500 from collections at local supermarkets during the month of March. This will buy 175 hours of nursing care for the people of Bishop Auckland as all money raised locally goes back into the local community.

Thank you all

Calling all angels

Every blade of grass has its Angel

That bends over it and whispers ‘Grow, grow’  

                                          The Talmud

Step inside the crocus

The lawn has had its first cut of the year and already begins to take pride in its appearance, despite still needing to have its edges trimmed and sharpened.

There is such a lot of tidying of the borders needing desperately to be done. Already the first garden bin is full to over-flowing. My back aches just thinking about it.

Narcissi

 Friend Elaine has delivered a margarine carton full of frog spawn and the blue tits have discovered the nesting box nearest the kitchen window.

The intermingled smells from the flowering daphne and winter honeysuckle combine naturally to rival the best that Jo Malone could ever produce – and all for free.

It is such a glorious time of the year - full of so much promise.

The days are lengthening and the catkins are alive to the sound of early birdsong as I know to my cost, being woken to the sound of them leaping from wardrobe to wardrobe before 6 a.m. each morning!

When in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before anyone is awake, I go for the time being into perfect  happiness. In this hour divinely fresh and still, the fair face of every flower salutes me with silent joy that fills me with infinite content, each gives me its colour, its grace, its perfume and enriches me with the consummation of its beauty.

                          Celia Thaxter An Island Garden 1894 

The glory of neighbour Robert's Van Gogh-like tree full of blossom

 

A Woman's Hardy Garden

 For female gardeners on 
International Women's Day

I always think of my sins when I weed.
They grow apace in the same way
and are harder still to get rid of.
                                                   Helena Rutherford Ely
                                                    A Woman's Hardy Garden 1903

Pablo's Garden

A quick pick-me-up

For me, January is always the most depressing month of the year but, statistically, February is the month when most suicides occur. 

The grounds of Redworth Hall

To overcome that February feeling I recommend a walk in a garden – almost any garden would do – but if you’ve time take a quick drive to Redworth Hall near Shildon to see the snowdrops and aconites and you’ll find your winter blues disappear. I guarantee it.

 

Snowdrops and aconites

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St. Paul rather than St. Patrick

 It's been such a dull and wet day today, 25th January - St. Paul's Day as well as St. Patrick's -  that I thought we all needed cheering up  (In the 17th century a dull St. Paul's Day was considered an omen of war and disaster).

viburnum

A walk in Pablo's garden during a lull in the rain soon convinced me that all is not lost. I was amazed and heartened by the growing promise in the borders and the variety and kaleidoscope of colour to be seen.

skimmia

The winter so far has been kind to our two furry friends - Portia and Estella - and  we're quite curious as to how they'll react to the  snow when it does arrive. They are not fazed by rain at all. Pablo would twitch his whiskers at the open door and then turn back into the warmth. These two seem to relish going outside regardless. Only strong winds seem to bother them and then they hover at the window, waiting to be let in.

The hellebores are beginning to come into bud and I really need to cut back last year's leaves to allow the flowers to be seen in all their glory. They are such worthwhile plants and I intend to extend my collection this coming year. 

dying ferns give winter colour

 
I didn't tidy the borders at the end of  last year - deliberately leaving the dying foliage as shelter for wildlife. There is still beauty to be seen in these perennials which have retained some of their autumn colour even in the depths of winter.

I have been trying over the years to include plants that give not only winter colour but that are scented. Christmas box, winter flowering honeysuckle and witch hazel respond well to winter sunshine and I've finally managed to track down a plant of wintersweet which produces yellow flowers along its stem but is best known for its delicious perfume. Obviously my shrub is only tiny so I'll have to wait some while before I can relish its delights. Can't wait.

Future promise

 

 

A possible dearth of kingfishers

14^th – 28^th December were known as the Halcyon Days, a time when the gods ensured calm weather so that the kingfisher - whose old name was halcyon - could hatch her young in peace.

Christ mas tree at twilight

 With the wild and wet weather lately there's bound to be a shortage of kingfishers in 2014, sadly.

So, little opportunity to garden as the weather hasn't allowed and preparations for Christmas have had to take precedent. 

Christmas is always a good excuse to have lots of flowers in the house. The cats have enjoyed investigating the arrangements, knocking the cards down from every possible surface - accidentally of course - and have even helped open presents, especially Estella who has a penchant for paper.

Christmas swag

One can't enjoy gardening and not be an optimist. Winter jasmine and verbena are in full flower and primroses and hellebores are showing the promise of colour to come. Lots of spring bulbs are already making their presence felt and I've had great fun thinking about which plants to buy next year to fill a space previously occupied by a small topiaried holly tree which has gone to the great compost heap in the sky.

Here's to good gardening in 2014
 

A thought to carry into  2014

 

Quince jelly

For the very first time ever, my six year old quince tree not only flowered but produced fruit this summer. Looking very much like contorted furry pears, I duly picked the golden fruit as directed - in early autumn - with a mix of anticipation and delight.

Quince tree with fruit

The slightly furry fruit smells delicious and on Gardeners' Question Time some while ago garden expert Pippa Greenwood confirmed that she often had a bowl of quinces in her study, simply to scent the room. None of the team were enthusiastic about cooking with quinces alone and recommended adding them to apple recipes to enhance the flavour.

Some years ago I was given a Christmas present of a set quince jelly, known as membrillo which was usually eaten as an accompaniment to cheese. So, last weekend, armed with a substantial trug full of quinces, I determined to have a go at making quince jelly for myself.

Trug of golden quinces

What a palaver!

The fruit had to be peeled - not an easy operation given the shape of the quinces - then quartered, another difficult operation  as the fruit is so hard that my fingers were quite sore after all were finally prepared. They were then boiled for more than an hour to soften the flesh and left to soak in the cooking liquid overnight.

Liquid and chunky flesh were then poured into a jelly bag and left for hours to drain. I had to resist the temptation to help the process along by squeezing the pulp as this would have resulted in a cloudy jelly.

Estella's helping paws

Then, for every 17 fluid ounces of liquid, 12 ounces of sugar had to be added to the pan together with the juice of one lemon, the sugar dissolved and then the syrup boiled for 10 minutes until setting point had been reached.

For all that time and effort I ended up with 6 quite tiny jars of a glorious orange-coloured, clear liquid.
Admiring my handiwork the next morning I tilted a jar, only for the liquid inside to list sharply - the syrup hadn't set firm after all. Disaster!

Nothing daunted, I had to empty the syrup into a clean pan and boil all briskly again, adding the juice of another lemon for good measure. This time all went well. I did have a wonderful, membrillo-like solution which smelled delicious with a fragrant honey flavour, tempered with undertones of summer.

Summer captured in a jar

Sadly, my six jars had dwindled to four, with a small amount left over in a fifth jar. That one will have to be mine. The big decision now is how to decide which of my friends will be fortunate enough to be given a taste of summer in the depths of winter. Will it be you?