Hibernation & migration

No posts since September, eh? A bit pants really, especially after the "Post it!" resolution in my end-of-year-one round-up :/

However, I have some excuses:

Not much to write about

The Autumn has been full of doing other stuff, like running away to gigs on the weekends (woohoo!) & learning Italian. I've not been out in the garden AT ALL.

We're moving...

Yes indeedy. Pretty serious stuff & lots to do. So I'll endeavour to post about that - which plants will we take? Which will we leave behind? What's the new garden going to be like?! It's all very exciting :D

So if you want to buy a 3 bed house in Bedlington with an awesome garage, a pizza oven & a lightly wrestled garden, check out hubby's rad 3D modelling skills & drop me a line. The house will be listed with an estate agent in the New Year.

How it's done

Last month my friend had a garden warming party. She's been in her new home for a year now & boy has she been busy.

The Layout

The North-facing front is paved parking so all the garden fun is out the back.

Previous owners added decking by the house to make the most of the Southern sunshine. The deck also organises the hefty level changes that come from living on the side of a hill. The staged drop to the main garden, combined with strategic boundary hedging, makes for a secluded spot, shielded from passing gusts & prying eyes.

Packed with treasure

I really struggled to get an overview photo that does the garden justice. This is a section from a Photosynth panoramic, hence the left hand bendy shed.

When my friend arrived a year ago, the main area was lawn with small edging borders and a couple of small trees, but it's all change now. The trees remain, jazzed up for the party with some beautiful glass globe tealight lanterns. But the changes are much more than a few cosmetic touches - the garden now has a series of distinct spaces, each with their own atmosphere - no mean feat in such a modest plot.

Moving left to right:

• Raised veg beds, on the deck near the house.
• Lounging seating area, also on the veg deck.
• Crafting hut terminating the veg deck (the bendy shed above). This doubled as the party's bar.
• Pond, in the back left corner - the latest addition.
• Pergola with chimenea, for evenings round the fire.
• Potting shed/glass house (right, above).
• Dining table & chairs on the right hand deck off the kitchen/conservatory.
  and finally, the star of the show
• Major central flower bed.

My friend used to work in horticulture so she's far more interested in a range of interesting plants than a monoculture. Up came the old central lawn, and in went the huge central bed. With a gravel edge and a winding bark chip path through the middle, you can get up close & personal with the planting, to weed or just to drool.

Here's some pics of my favourites - I have no idea what most of them are, so if you spot some familiar faces, please shout up!

Update

My friend has now kindly provided me with some names for the plants below. She's not 100% about them all, but hey, they'll be close enough & better than nowt!

Flowers

Thistle-type thing

Little spiky blue & silver thistle globes
Echinops ritro (globe thistle)

I've been looking longingly at thistles for a bit, but I hear they can be invasive - perhaps why this pale blue beauty is in a pot on the path.

Fiery daisy

There was a lot if buzzing in the garden but this clump of fiery daisies were particularly popular.
 

♪ Fire! (Do do do)... ♫
Helenium 'Sahin's Early Flowerer'

I love the flame coloured petals, surrounding a raised black pompom shot through with gold - just like glowing embers. Gorgeous.
 

Foliage

Freaky frenzy

The garden was packed with foliage of all shapes, all colours.

All the foliage
Sedum spectabile 'Autumn Joy'
Artemisia 'Powis Castle'
Cotinus coggygria 'Royal Purple' (smoke bush)
Philadephus 'Belle Etoile' (mock orange)

What fabulous contrasts here, so much texture cheek by jowl. Just blew my mind.

The gold leaf edge is brighter than this pic shows
Berberis thunbergii 'Golden Ring'

Fancy corn

In pots dotted around the garden & deck were these statuesque sweetcorn stems.
 

Fancy candy-striped corn
Zea mays (Japanese ornamental corn)

 

She picked up these as seeds on holiday in Canada. I've seen multi-coloured corn cobs before but not on the plant. Those bold stripes remind me of the seaside windbreaks of my youth!

 

Frosted fern

Lots of leaves were from the red end of things, but some aren't always the same colour. There were nice examples of leaves that change colour as they mature.

Candy-floss fern
Sorbaria sorbifolia 'Sem'

I love this kind of thing - plants with changing interest as they age & with the season; so useful in small gardens where everything needs to work harder to earn its keep.
 

Green grey shrub

Along with the reds, hints of silver were another recurring foliage theme.

A wall of silver green fluff
Euphorbia characias

This beast sits below the crafting hut and was taller than me. It's cool to have interest at eye level, especially something so bold.

An old friend

Also below the hut was something more full-on silver; something familiar:

We used to have one of these!

I know this! It's a curry plant, so named cos it gives a fenugreeky niff when you brush past it. Ours is long gone, possibly due to over-zealous pruning on my part, but at least I now know who to talk to if I want to re-introduce it.
And I think I might.

2 stars out on Sunday

I was out having a bit of a tidy on Sunday & a couple of beauties caught my eye.

Japanese anemone

A light in a dark place

I bought it & planted it out late last year, & crossed my fingers. I had no idea if I'd put it in a suitable location. I had not a clue what soil type it preferred. Then we had a long cold Winter. & then a bit of the boundary wall fell off & landed on it. Talk about a rough ride.

But it's made it through all that trauma & has just started flowering under its own steam. Hooray! A late season glow in The White Corner.

Common frog

Can I go now?

I found this fella at the bottom of the raspberry canes whilst doing the annual tidy-up. Every year we spot a frog in the garden: sometimes in the compost; even in the greenhouse! This always confuses us as we don't have a pond...

After posing for its close-up, this healthy hopper headed toward the house. Aha! Hubby's hunch was spot on - there's a rainwater drain & soakaway in that corner, right under the raspberries. Suddenly it all makes much more sense.

& while we're on about the raspberries, The Alnwick Garden loop method for corralling long canes worked brilliantly. I heartily recommend it.

Happy birthday to me-blog thing

26th August was the 1st Anniversary of my 1st post. Coinciding with Summer starting to head for the door, it seems a perfect time to reflect, tho maybe not in South Park style, on what I've learnt.

1. Do structural work in Winter

There were 3 structural jobs I wanted to do this year:

• Stairs & terracing in Stinky Dog Corner.
  Achievement unlocked! (as the kids say)
• Seating semi-circle around the gravel.
  Well I bought the sleepers... That counts as progress, right...?
• Wall consolation & seating in The White Corner.
  Yeah well given how much the wall has moved this year, it'll have demolished itself by the time I get around to it.

The only reason Stinky Dog Stairs got done was cos I did it in Winter (it was snowing ffs, but once I got going I was fine).

Working in Winter has a bunch of advantages:

• I don't overheatKey factor for me as I'm a bit prone to heat stroke.
  Heavy work = Tired.
  Tired + Overcooked brain = Losing a limb.
• No plants to knack
  All the annuals have gone, all the bulbs & most perennials are underground, leaving only me, the shrubs & trees. There's a lot more room to manoeuvre, & a lot less to get precious about, so I can get stuck in.
  
  Later in the year, when everything's up & leafy & growing, it seems like the height of bad manners to turf 'em up & mess 'em about.
  Plus they sulk:

You moved me!

Right in the middle of my big dance number!

How DARE you!

Well tough titty, big boots,

I'm going to cry for the rest of the season

& every time you look at me

you'll know it was

All.

Your.

Fault.

• I have the time
  I like to be a busy bee but things quieten down during the shortest days.

All this said, it would be nice to do the heavy work in more clement weather, but I now know this is delusional thinking. Even if all the above weren't true, big Summer work just won't happen as...

2. Summer is for having a life

I like to do stuff. Lots of stuff. In the Summer there's generally more stuff on. Can't do it all. Weekends get packed out with exciting new opportunities, leaving only the occasional day here & there, maybe the odd evening, to get out into the garden & tidy up a bit.

But that's OK cos...
 

3. Mowing the lawn = instant makeover

Such a quick job, such a transformation.
Dead easy to pop out on a sunny evening & give the grass a quick hoove.
The sharp contrast with the wild & unruly the beds works beautifully.
Full of win!

Unfortunately the mower doesn't quite get
the grass in the path gaps

4. Power tools rock!

As well as the mower, there's my new best friend: the hedge trimmer. Truly, it is a sword of power worthy of Hattori Hanzo himself. Even removing the cover feels like unsheathing a katana of legend.

The hedge trimmer has transformed the biggest job of the year - the annual hedge hack.

In the dark days of yore, attacking the hedge was a gruelling marathon. At least 3 sessions of hacking with shears & loppers, and then several more stuffing the trimmings into bag after bag, garden waste bin load after garden waste bin load.

But not this year - 2 sessions, all done. Woohoo!

Admittedly not all this is down to the awesome power of Excalibur. The odd Spring confused the crap out the laurel. Its initial growth was badly burnt by the late cold snap & only now has it started to recover. But I'll take any assistance on this mammoth task. The laurel is tougher than old boots; it'll be back to fight another year. But this year, it did not claim the lion's share of my Summer garden time, & there are no words for how grateful I am.

Not to say I am completely unscathed tho'...:

A bit of a poor effort by Emo standards

This? Yeah, well I sort of fell through the hedge.
Backwards.
yeah, yeah, laugh it up fuzzball...

I was stood on top of the wall, both hands on Excalibur. I needed to turn around.

When using the shears I'm happy to walk backwards, but when I have the trimmer out I prefer to see exactly where the cable is. 

As I was halfway through my pirouette, I started a slow fall backward... into a gap in the hedge.

Fortunately both hands were off the triggers so the blade wasn't spinning. Plus the hedge gap wasn't quite as wide as me, so I came to rest at a jaunty 45° recline. The ground level is much higher on the hedgeward side so I was able to stand.
In the hedge.
I felt like a pillock.
But it could've been sooooo much worse...

5. The hedge yields weird harvest

No hedge treasure during this year's annual haircut, apart from me, obvs.

The mug I once found in the hedge is a bit tatty so sits at the back of the cupboard & will do for decorating.

The lovely spotty pint glass was perfect & is now my regular garden refreshments glass. It makes me smirk every time I use it.

But it's not all treasure.

There's usually quite a lot of litter. To be expected really on an end of terrace.

The unripe apples were a disappointment - lobbed over the hedge & landing in the gravel with tell tale titchy teeth marks in them. Fortunately, & after a bit of a word, the kids didn't strip the tree completely bare, & 5 apples made it to full size... if not quite full maturity - scrumpers left us with 1, so we snaffled it ourselves.

A bit tart, & hopefully enough next year for a tart

But without doubt the weirdest thing to arrive over the hedge was the rat in a bag. Still no clue what the hell that was all about.

6. You tend vegetables

The flowers, fruit, herbs, trees & shrubs in our garden do a grand job of looking after themselves. Whether I'm out there or not, they carry on regardless.

I was keen to give more veg a go this year, & with hindsight I can see that I expected them to do just what the other plants do & get on with it.

But no. It was a endless round of sewing & potting on & watering & feeding... & I just could not be arsed. By mid-Summer I was proclaiming, loudly, to anyone who would listen & those who couldn't run away, that vegetables were needy. They wilted, they bolted, they got infested, they got nibbled, they got mangled. Jeez, what a bunch of lightweights!

Then I visited my Dad's garden & the truth slapped me in the face:
You get out what you put in.

I'd been expecting a free lunch, but we all know there's no such thing.

It's not been a total disaster though. A couple of tough buggers have soldiered on.

Courgettes

Still going strong, still flowering, still fruiting. The one veg plant that suits my inability to micro-manage.

Courgette flower in full pomp 

Radishes

They worked! First attempt with these this year & they're bright, fresh, crunchy & peppery. I'm chuffed to bits.

All shapes & colours from my mixed seed pack

Their location in the greenhouse might be unconventional but at least I could keep an eye on them, & the snails tend to stay out of there.

Borlotti beans

The snails definitely found the beans, but I'm surprised the damage wasn't more extensive.

Bit of a snail mauling in the middle there...

The snails first attacked while the pods were tender, so we harvested some beans then & Hubby steamed them whole, runner bean style.

At this end of the Summer the remainder have really taken on that trademark red colour, so hopefully we'll get beans too.

Onions

Yeah, not a great result here. In a variety of locations they've been universally terrible. These survivors are barely larger than the sets they started out as (20p off the right edge there for scale). But they've done better than their brethren, who are M.I.A....

Call them shallots?

The veg experiment has been interesting, but I think next year I'll look to expand hardy herb selection instead.

7. Seedlings compost is only for seedlings

The Greenhouse Guttering experiment has worked much better in Spring & Summer than it did over Winter. We had lots of salad leaves and tender herbs and things germinated very well in there... but they didn't last.

Hmm... row 2 looking a little dry there...

I finally twigged with the little gem lettuce: they were going well but after a little while they started to fade - literally. The colour started to leech from the leaves. Hubby was baffled. After a few days something pinged in my head: food. So he gave them some liquid feed & they perked right up again.

And then I remembered hearing that seed compost isn't like normal compost. It's finer plus it doesn't have as much nutritional content. So potting on isn't only about giving the roots more legroom, it's also about getting more scran into the soil.

8. Post it!

Not all the year's lessons are from out there. Some are from in here, in blogland.

Some posts have had a long gestation. I've still got Japan posts from Christmas sat in drafts. I have a phone memory card stacked with photos waiting to be processed. I have emails marked as unread so I don't forget to write about them.

All these posts sit in the back of my mind like gravel, grating away. They force "should" statements into my subconscious.

If I have a year 2 resolution, it'll be Post it!

It doesn't have to be perfect, but it needs to be out, or let go...

9. A diary, for me

When I started the blog, part of my motivation was to show the world that gardening is far more hit & miss than the experts would have us believe. But the way it's panned out, this blog is more like my gardening diary. It definitely feels like it's of more use to me than you. Does that sound rude?

Half way through the year I realised that to be useful to others, I'd have to be posting like clockwork & running around social medialand driving traffic to the site. Advertising to only my Facebook mates doesn't really get the message out there.

But frankly, what a chew on. It's got "time swamp" plastered all over it, & I already spend much longer writing about gardening than gardening.

Having said all that though...

10. Folk are actually interested

I've had some really nice comments about things I've written over the last year, & that's been unexpected. I'm frankly astonished that anyone takes the time to read these witterings.

& I love the stories it brings out of you. You tell me what you're up to & we all get to learn from each other. & that's great.

So thank you for taking the time. I'm really touched.

Who's the Daddy?

How did I get into gardening? As with many things, (my height, my love of Monty Python & Queen, & my colour blindness) it comes from my family.

My Mum & Dad are both keen gardeners & my Dad is King Of Veg. I think for him it started as a combo of financial necessity & sanity break, but over the years his dedication & ability have become legendary amongst family & friends.

I was recently at my folks for my Dad's birthday party, so I took some pics to show you all, & to show myself that, whilst veg plants are needy, if you look after them they will look after you.

Maximise the space

Dad's garden is bigger than ours (veg plot of... erm... about 12m x 15m I think) but he also cannily makes the most of what he's got.

Runner beans up front,
courgettes in the compost at the back,
& blackberry management over the fence

Runner beans

I used to help my Dad put up the runner bean canes in early summer. One year, we could hear my Mum laughing all the way back in the kitchen. What? Turns out that whilst I was still shorter than my Dad at that point, my legs were already longer than his. Seems it wasn't only the beans that were climbing...

Courgettes

On holiday in Switzerland the other year, we saw folk growing pumpkins on top of the cowpat compost heaps. Apparently they love the heat and aren't bothered by the high nitrogen levels that would burn many other plants. So it was interesting to see Dad doing the same this year with his courgettes. I've not seen him do this before - always learning, always evolving.

Blackberries

Brambles are so invasive. There's a large bush that runs along the edge of the arable farmland to the South of my folks' garden. Many people are amazed that Dad tolerates this invasive bully of a weed on the other side of his fence. But blackberries are tasty, & Mum makes a mean apple & blackberry crumble, so why not manage them? Fair point.

Banter

My Dad & his neighbours have an annual veg competition. It's run along the lines of an RHS show, & by-and-large to those guidelines, but it's mainly about the banter: year after year of wind-up, gloating, goading, snooping... they love it.

Onions

There are many categories the growers can enter, but the 2 onion classes (Heaviest 3; & Heaviest Single) are the ones they all want to win.

Biggest Onion is the blue riband event at the street growers annual show 

The 50p is to give you some scale... & that's one big onion.

Beetroot

Dad's been growing beetroot since the early days. He & Mum used to pickle jar after jar, but over time they stepped away from the vinegar & we all started to appreciate the fabulous natural taste of the beetroot itself.

The beets are looking canny hefty too

Since he's been competing, Dad has split his sewing. His primary concern is still tasty fresh veg, so that still makes up the majority of his plot. But he now sews competition varieties too, alongside the kitchen ones.

However, his fellow competitors agree that growing for size alone misses the key point veg growing - great taste.

Tomatoes

One of the 1st taste categories they introduced was Tastiest Tomatoes. Last year I know lots of folks suffered terrible tomato times, but we've had plenty of sunshine this Summer so I hope everyone else's look as juicy as these:

Soooo many tomatoes

The toms get pride of place in the greenhouse, although there is room too for capsicums & cucumber.  Rather than plant these guys straight into the ground, the pops them in large containers instead. He's also rigged up an irrigation system, with each plant getting its own dedicated little showerhead. Certainly seems to be working.

Pest management tips & tricks

Brassica row: Cabbages, sprouts & purple sprouting

As we were chatting, one of my Dad's friends asked for advice on how to get such great cabbages. He had 2 tops tips.

Rhubarb for club root

Once you have the club root fungus in your soil, it can be nigh impossible to remove. This usually means the end of your cabbage growing capers, but Dad said he had recently received a top tip that was working for him: chop stems of rhubarb into the bottom of the cabbage trench. Reading the RHS page, I wonder if the rhubarb changes the pH of the soil? Worth a shot I guess.

Spray for cabbage insect pests

Dad knows I'm not keen on traditional chemical pest treatments so asked me to cover my ears as he said it. The butterflies even found my kale seedlings in the greenhouse this year. It must be a massive pain in the arse to clear all the eggs off every leaf of every plant by hand. We each make our choices, but I know the chemical path is not for me, & given how lazy I am, I guess I won't be growing any cabbages any time soon.

Carrot crèche

Dad will admit however that chemicals aren't always the answer. Sometimes a physical barrier is the best defence, hence the fleecy play pen for the carrots.

Carrots play pen

As you might know, carrot plants are quite pungent little things - if you ruffle the leaves with your fingers they give off quite a strong scent, and the carrot root fly can smell that from a long way away. However, they fly low to the ground. So, if you wrap them in fleece like this, you both reduce the risk of creating carrot perfume clouds as you wander around your plot, and you have a physical barrier that stops any of the little miscreants getting in to punch holes into your lovely roots.

New kids on the block

Part of the fun of gardening is trying out new stuff, & there are several plants Dad grows now that he didn't when I left home nearly 25 years ago.

Corn

I love the look of sweetcorn plants. They're fabulous - statuesque, unusual & tasty too. All good.

No elephants to measure corn height against

Dad has 2 rows, this one was by the greenhouse sheltering from the wind. This is exactly what our neighbour did the other year - a row of corn between his greenhouse & the stinky dog cage.

Rainbow chard

Dad has tended to grow quite traditional fare, but after his asparagus success I think he's really starting to think outside the veg box. Mind, this one might've been Mum's idea...

The yellow stems of the rainbow chard

Sunflowers

Flowers?! In the veg garden?! My, things have definitely changed...

Bringing all the bees to the yard

I think I remember Dad saying these had been started with the grandkids, but it has to be said that the row of sunflowers makes a lovely line of sentinels marking the boundary between Mum's flowers & herbs & Dad's veg.

Grapes

Mum & Dad love a Summer holiday in the Med, & who can blame them. It was understandable too that they would want to bring a bit of that sun soaked gorgeousness back home with them.

This Is England. I kid you not.

The vine is on a pergola over a patio that gets sun all day long & catches the sunset too. It's also against the neighbours' tall boundary wall, so the bricks catch what heat there is & feed it back to the vine as the day fades.

The vine has taken quite a few years to get established, but there are some things you just can't rush.

If you do just 1 thing...

As you might imagine, it was lovely to wander around taking snaps of Dad's garden, remembering old stuff, checking out the new.

Some of Dad's oldest friends were at the party, & one of them is just getting into veg gardening. Dad's advice?

"Talk to people."

As it's been since before the dawn of our species.
The oldest ways are the best, eh?

---

Update

Cos this post was about family stuff, I sent the link to family folk. My Aunt has an allotment & today she sent me a photo of her Patty Pans. I do like these spacey squash varieties, & given how well the courgettes grow in our garden, I think I'll add these to my Spring seeds shopping list.

My Aunt's visitors from Outer Space

---

Update #2

I saw Dad recently. After berating me for "sharing his secrets" with you, I got some of his results from the annual weigh-in:

• Heaviest 3 beetroots - Won!
• Heaviest 3 carrots - Won!
  It helped that the favourite, & eventual overall winner, left his carrots at home...
• Final position overall - 3rd

Every year there's some controversy - a bit of drama is all part of the banter for them.

Where's the champ?

This year's overall winner wasn't present when the results were revealed. Why did he miss his moment of glory? Because the local football team had a match the same day & he was determined to be in front of his telly for kick off.

Let me get this right - you spend all year growing outstanding veg for competition day, & then sack it off for football, which happens every weekend for half the year? Boggling. But then, this guy wins the overall prize most years, so maybe he just sees it as a foregone... Bit of a slap in the face for the other guys tho'.

The best cucumber?

Dad says his cucumber was his best submission ever for that class. Then seeing the competition laid out on the judging table, he though his was a shoo-in. But no! Another won & Dad feels robbed.

I asked:

Did you ask for feedback on why you didn't win Best Cucumber?

No.

Why not?
Is it cos you're sulking...?

Yes.

Did I mention Dad was 65 this year?

Ants' aphid farm in the apple tree

A few years ago, hubby planted 2 apple trees on the strip of no-man's land on the other side of our monster laurel hedge.

Our apples are your apples

To head off any local difficulties, we diplomatically (& grandiosely) declared it a Community Orchard, & mailed short explanatory notes to all the neighbours to say that the apples were for all.

Over the following weeks we had some nice comments in passing, but we knew the 'hood was down when some kids knocked on the door asking if they could bury their deceased pet gerbil under the trees.

Working together

The apples are different varieties, Bountiful & a Russet, but they are from the same pollination group.

Blossom on the Russet

We planted them, then crossed our fingers, & are chuffed to bits that they have indeed successfully cross-pollinated each other in the last couple of years:

Not actual size, but with any luck these Bountifuls will get bigger

Aphid ant farm

We were out this week inspecting the fruits & checking for damage, we spotted that the Bountiful had a lot of aphid action:

Houston, we have a problem...

Then I saw the ants... slowly the cogs of my brain chugged round... & I remembered: don't ants farm aphids for their honeydew?

This may sound insane, but in the ongoing discussion about what separates mankind from the beasts, the answer is: far less than we like to think. A couple of answers I was given as a child have been overturned since my school days:

• Opposable thumbs
  From pandas to opossums, opposable digits are enjoyed across the animal kingdom.
• Using tools
  Some apes use twigs to fish for ants. Otters, elephants & crows are all in on this tool use action.

Actually, these first 2 were overturned sometime before I was school age, but that was the 70s so many of the books were older than the building. Fortunately, we now have QI, BBC4 & the Internet to sort out the mess.

• Farming
  Some ants farm fungi & some farm aphids.

Earlier this year I saw some stuff on TV about ants farming fungi, and I read about ants & aphids the other week, in Surely You're Joking, Mr Feynman.

The Fantastic Mr Feynman

I'm a bit obsessed with Richard Feynman at the mo: the fab docudrama on the Challenger Shuttle enquiry; the documentary the BBC screened with it; the enthusiasm for Feynman that Robin Ince showed when we saw his show The Importance Of Being Interested.

Right from when he was a nipper, Feynman was interested in all kinds of stuff. Even as an adult, he would keep his microscope's eye piece in his pocket, so he could spy upon interesting small stuff when going about his day.

His Dad told him about ants & aphids, & then one day he saw it for himself:

"So here was this aphid and sure enough, an ant came along, and patted it with its feet - all around the aphid, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat! This was terribly exciting! Then the juice came out of the back of the aphid. And because it was magnified, it looked just like a big, beautiful, glistening ball, like a balloon, because of the surface tension...

"The ant took this ball into its two front feet, lifted it off the aphid, and held it. The world is so different at that scale that you can pick up water and hold it!... Then the ant broke the surface tension of the drop with its mouth, and the surface tension collapsed the drop right into his gut. It was very interesting to see this whole thing happen!"

p93 Surely You're Joking, Mr Feynman

Well we didn't see what Feynman saw, but every aphid-rich leaf had at least 1 ant...

Ant siesta

I went & checked again lunchtime today, to take photos, but no ants. Maybe they were hiding from the midday sun.

But when I went & checked again in the evening, there they were:

Ant farmer, bottom right of the leaf... honest

Plan of attack...?

We speculated that, if the ants are farming, then presumably that means protecting the aphids from predators. A quick Google brought up a BBC clip showing a group of ants fighting off a ladybird.

So it's no use going to the aphids. I guess we have to target the ants first. I feel really bad about this but, for the health of the tree, something might have to be done.

I've had a dig around online for advice, but am struggling to find a consistent answer - I don't want to nuke the place.

Any suggestions, folks?

Update: All this might be academic if the local kids don't stop ripping the fruit off. I guess this lot were too young to get the memo... :(

No Lilac flowers this year, then...

As the whole of Spring packs itself into just a couple of weeks, I'll stick my neck out & say the Lilac is not going to bother flowering this year:

Lots of green, but no lilac

Its compatriot 3 gardens over is in full pomp right now, but there's no flower buds on ours at all.

I suspect this is the result of another dodgy pruning incident :/

I know that Lilac is pretty robust - I've hacked it back pretty hard in the past with no real bother, but I don't ever recall having a no show like this.

But last year I did my usual thing of pruning it when I could be arsed, rather than when it should be done, & I guess sometimes there's a price to pay.

A bit of online digging indeed suggests that Lilac is best pruned immediately after flowering, so I'll keep an eye on the neighbours' blooms & give ours its annual haircut when theirs goes over. Won't be long now, which is handy as all that green is making a bid to dominate Stinky Dog Corner.

Ah well, fingers crossed for next year.

New Lilac on the block

And talking of the future, the white Lilac root cuttings from my mate have made it through the Winter:

Go little cuttings!

Yay! More residents for The White Corner. However, now I've learn about Lilac's bullying ways, the plan is to plant it on the other side of the wall, on the Council land. Not only will this complete the hedge, but it'll return that area to similar form of a few years ago:

When we moved in, The White Corner had 2 Conifers & a Lilac running along the bottom wall. But as they grew bigger & bigger, they started pushing the wall over. So a few years ago, we had a tree surgeon take them down & grind out the stumps. Our mate rebuilt the wall, & I've been slowly replanting the area since.

It was all quite a change for that bed as it's gone from deep shade to full sun, so some long term residents haven't survived all the drama. And we do miss the huge Lilac that was on the end - not only did it screen us from the street, but it always put on such a great Spring show.

Hopefully the new white Lilacs will grow up big & strong, just like the old one, and will have a bit more room to do it in too.

Aquilegias guard our snailbait Strawberries

You can't see them, but there are Strawberries under this sea of blue:

The Strawbs are under there somewhere...

In normal gardens by normal gardeners, Strawberries are planted out in the open, so they can convert maximum sunshine into sugar & yumminess.

Following conventional soft-fruits-together logic, ours are with the Rasps, planted just in front of them. But some Aquilegia were living there first which means the Strawbs are frequently dwarfed.

So the other year, I had a fit of trying to do right by the low lying soft fruits; do things efficiently & by the book, rather than let things slide & forcing the plants fend for themselves as usual.

Let the sunshine in

Once the Aquilegia had finished flowering, I cut them right back to the ground so the Strawbs could have their moment in the sun.

& the result? Were we forced to eat Strawberry ice cream every meal just to get through the mammoth surplus?

Of course not. Total disaster. A snail-wrought devastation of that year's harvest.

So what the smeg went wrong? I'd done the right thing - how could it possibly have gone so badly?

On reflection I think a clue lies in one of my over-used phrases of the moment: "Your mileage may vary". It seems this is the pinch of salt I should take with standard gardening guidance.

How my mileage varies

Part of the reason for this blog is to document the weirdness I've experienced with gardening. I am after all the woman who has failed many attempts to successfully grow Nasturtiums - the plant so allegedly fool proof they're in the kiddies seeds section, next to My First Watering Can & the Ladybird Sand Pit. My gardening success is on par with chance.

But these days I'm beginning to look beyond the glossy photos, gorgeous cinematography & my "shiny! shiny!" plant-lust. I am starting to hear a little more clearly the caveats with which the journos pepper their stories:

...likes acid soil...

yeah, it might help to know where our soil is on the pH scale. I've read that self-testing kits are useless, but do folk really pay to get their soil tested?

The alternative to testing is the "what already grows well?" rule of thumb. We have a happy Rhododendron, we have heathers too, & a history of conifers, so I'm guessing we're on the acid side.

...tolerates partial shade...

so would actually prefer full sun...?

...is fully hardy...

I'm here to tell you that fully hardy for Northumberland is not the same as fully hardy for Kent.

...Bay is not fully hardy in the UK...

Well the one we have, & the one my Aunt has in the Midlands, & the one in the grounds of Moorbank Botanic Garden clearly missed that memo.

The appliance of science

So how does this rambling ranty diversion relate to the beleaguered Strawbs? Good question! Let's apply some science:

How were previous harvests?

Fine.
A bit of snail damage,
but plenty of fruit for us all.

What was different that year?

Pruned the Aquilegias.

Any other changes?

Nope.

Hypothesis?

The leafy bases of the Aquilegias
in some way hid the Strawbs
from the snails.

Is this sounding a bit crazy?

Yep, but what else is there?

Have snails got great vision?

Or is it a scent thing?

Do we need a "Why?" yet/at all?

Spose not. Yet.

Shall we test the hypothesis?

Let's!

Do you talk to yourself like this all the time.

Yes.

What of it?

Weirdo...

Plan becomes action

So last year, I largely left the Aquilegias alone.


Peek-a-boo, I see you...

They flowered, they set seed. I trimmed back the seed stems before their heads burst cos, as pretty as they are, we have plenty. But I left the leaves alone, allowing them to die back at their own pace.

The result?

Good harvest! The pollinators had no problem finding the Strawberry flowers but the snails barely found the fruit, & the fruit didn't seem to need direct sunlight to ripen.

Yay science!

Will the same method work 2 years in a row? Well the 1st fruits are starting to set right now, so we'll know really soon...

Aquilegia all round

The artists commonly known as Columbines; we have loads of 'em.
They seem to love our garden & we love them for it.

For me, they bring it all to the yard:

• UK native.
• Popular with pollinators.
• Early out of the ground in Spring, so keep the weeds down.
• Happy in any location.
• Self seeding, so you don't have to bother with propagation faffage.
• Perennial, so each plant will flower year after year.
• Lots of colour choice. We have pale pink:
  

  

  Always makes me think of a long ballerina skirt...

  
  through blues:
  

  

  Multi-tasking: Taking blog photos whilst lounging in the sunshine

  
  to deep purple:
  

  

  The bright yellow centre parts contrast fabulously
  against the deep purple flowers

  
  
• Solid colour or with contrasting trims.
• Facing up or heads bowed:
  
  

  

  Facing down & facing up;
  solid colour & banded.

  
  
• Many many flowers to a stem.
• Attractive seed heads.
• Distinctive foliage.
• The dome of leaves continue to offer ground cover long after the flowers have passed.
• Tap rooted so fairly easy to lift, & by that I mean:
  
  • It doesn't tie itself up with the neighbours;
  • You know when you have it all.
• Easy to identify at all ages.
• Easy to weed when young.

You just can't lose.

Update

I forgot something: Snail & slug proof too!

The Alliums popped!

Aren't they just gorrrrrrrgeous?

Baby, you're a star

I just love the über geometric nature of Allium flowers - big pom poms on sticks. Every time I look out into the garden or the yard, I see one of these purple starburst globes. Just beautiful.

Reality check

Allium bulbs are always quite pricey so with 3 flowers up I assumed I'd only bought 3, & was well chuffed with what looked like a 100% outcome. However, part of the point of this blog was to keep a record of what I'd actually done rather than rely on my flaky memory. A quick skip back to the post about planting up the Spring bulbs shows I actually bought 6 bulbs... That seems about right - a 50% success rate is much more normal for me ;)

I wonder what happened to the others? I wasn't going to go to the faff of emptying out the pots, drying the bulbs, potting them back up again in Autumn - it's what's usually recommended but frankly it sounds like work creation to me. However, once everything has died back I might get my CSI on & try to solve the Mystery of the Non-Exploding Alliums.

 

And what of next year? All the Allium bulbs I've had in the past have flowered for 1 year only, unlike the Daffs & Tulips which (mostly) come back & back & back. As much as I love the result, I'm too tight to contemplate splurging a wad of cash on loads of Allium bulbs every Autumn. 

I wonder how hard it is to grow them from seed? Hmm... a little bit of online digging unearths Monty's Gardening From Berryfields book, & page 101 suggests dividing bulb nodes in Autumn. Cool. I can do than. The RHS Allium page backs this up, & goes further to suggest that seed propagation is a bit trixy, & should be done the same year, if at all. Food for thought.

New tech toy

To change the mood a little: Regular readers might spot that the split screen photo at the top of the post is a new development. 

I've wanted to do some composite pictures for a while, after my mate over at the Oakwood Soaperie had posted some lovely examples as part of her Christmas promotional run.

So I had a look for a photo collage app (which is made trickier as I always always read collage as college) but all the examples seemed as tacky as hell. I really should've paid attention when she told me which app she used...

But yesterday's Allium photos were just begging for split screen treatment so I thought I'd have another look - 6 months is an Ice Age in App-land.

After a bit of rootling around the AppStore, I plumped for the well rated Framatic Pro (which I keep reading as Fragmatic - what is wrong with my eyeballs atm?!!). It was on offer... for free.

The app is a bit pop-up-happy at the mo, plugging its many many in-app purchases, & the tasteless framing options are all still there, but if I keep it simple I can avoid their worst excesses. 

The downside is that if I want to do photo tweaks, such as centre focus, I have to do them in Snapseed first. So there's a real danger I'll spend far too much time photo editing & not enough writing. Need to keep an eye on myself there or I'll end up in the no-post hole again.

Maybe 49%

But enough of the tech, let's get back to the stars of the moment - the Alliums.

 

50% success is not entirely accurate as there has been one small glitch. For some reason, one of the flowers broke its neck:

Oopsie...

I've no idea what happened here. The stem looks withered, so I suspect lack of water rather than external damage - outside force would've snapped it, surely...? But then the reading I've just done about propagation says they hate to be waterlogged, & there's a distinct risk I've over-watered - I always struggle to get that right.

Gotta say though, I'm impressed with how this flower is hanging on in there. The head went over at the start of the week, but the little flowers that make up the bigger globe are still maturing. Good effort that man! Still doing the business when critically injured. What a trooper.

A glamourpuss that keeps on delivering in a crisis? My kind of plant.

Death of a bumblebee

Beautifully bright & sunny today, so I nipped out & mowed the lawn. When finished, I lifted the lid to remove the cuttings collector box thingy & spotted this little fella.

Not going for a little walk.

Not having a little nap...

Oh dear. No idea how he got in there. I certainly didn't mow over his head. I wonder if he got sucked in through the air intake on the back of the mower...?

 

The bees are having a tough enough time without this sort of accidental insecticide.

Sad times :(