Today has been a perfect June day. In fact, June is probably the best month for gardens in England, and when the weather is as perfect as it has been today, a garden is one of the very best places to spend time.
As the garden faces east, it receives the morning sun which, at this time of day, is slanting and has the effect of stage lighting. So, as the sun rises, successive parts of the garden and planting are in the spot light. I enjoy this performance from the patio, which is quickly in full sun light. At the bottom of the garden, the bamboo foliage is back lit, and then plants in the border, as captured in photographs on my Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gravelhill/. Quite rapidly, different plants and flowers take their cue and for a few minutes are centre stage. It's quite magical.
Sitting in the garden on a low chair also provides a new perspective, since the plants are much closer and instead of looking down at them, one is looking at them eye to eye. This is quite different from the viewpoint obtained when visiting most gardens, as such visits usually involve walking around and observing rather than simply sitting and enjoying (few gardens have much in the way of garden furniture). So, today has been a day for sitting and being on close terms with the flowers.
This morning they were joined by Betty's iris, which has put out its first flower. This is a deep 'iris' blue, adding to the blue geraniums that are also in flower. Although there are already plenty of plants in bloom -- notably the geraniums -- there are quite a few yet to flower, anticipation being one of the pleasures of gardening.
As is making use of existing garden stock. The lower part of the south, north facing border has become somewhat bare as the early spring plants have died back, and although the ferns are now well advanced, a couple of them have yet to produce significant new foliage. I didn't want to buy anything to fill the empty spaces, and was reluctant to plant more hellebores as the potted seedlings are destined to go to my son's garden when he moves in this weekend. Fortunately, at the top of the garden by the steps from the patio there was quite a large bergenia (elephants' ears) which was almost completely obscured by pots and acanthus. So, I dug it out, broke it up, and planted some pieces while putting others into pots to accompany the hellebores to their new home. Problem solved and money saved.
In fact, bergenia is one of those work horse plants which will grow in a wide range of conditions, doesn't seem to need any TLC, and can be split up and plonked in the soil and still thrive. In short, a plant that fully meets my criteria for a place in the easy care garden. After all, on a perfect June day, who wants to work in the garden? Today has been a time to sit back and enjoy it.
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 June 2010
Monday, 31 May 2010
My Garden Blog: What works?
Given the numerous constraints on what is possible in the garden, identifying what will grow and thrive and what will simply fade away has been hit and miss. The first experiment followed a substantial digging over of the south facing border, fertilizing and enriching the soil, and setting the scene for horticultural success. The grand plan included graduated planting, with several nepeta in the back row, fronted by verbena, and with hardy geraniums along the edge. Other plants included campanula lactiflora, penstemon, loosestrife (lysimacia vulgaris) and acanthus.
In the first season, the nepeta, evidently enjoying the refreshed soil in which it found itself, proved to be a bully. The other plants also thrived in varying degrees. The verbena provided the effect intended -- dots of bright purple flowers at medium height randomly along the border -- but the penstemon proved to be a disappointment -- they simply don't what the south border offers them. The geraniums, meantime, simply got on with things and in their various varieties provided colour throughout the season, with the indestructible Wargrave pink (gernium endressii) continuing to flower right into the autumn.
From this first season, I learned that best laid garden plans don't always work out. The nepeta certainly performed, but it simply took over the border. The next season, having no doubt exhausted itself the previous year, it simply sulked and virtually failed to appear at all, so it became a victim to a rapidly emerging principle: if it doesn't thrive, get rid of it. To some extent, of course, the principle is self fulfilling, since plants that don't thrive will usually die away, but some can take several seasons to do so, meanwhile occupying garden space which could be better employed by something else. So, I reckon that at the first signs of weakness, plants should be removed and replaced by something else with better prospects (or, if they will thrive in a pot, put them up.)
In the case of our border, this replacement also tended to take care of itself: the hardy geranium, more or less regardless of weather and season, seems to thrive, so what started out as a kind of mixed border has ended up largely devoted to hardy geraniums. Fortunately, they come in a wide range of types, growing habits and colours, the classic type being very similar to the cranesbill, which is the uncultivated form. Some have been acquired as gifts, so a long flowering variety which, if supported, grows to nearly a metre in height, is forever known in our household as 'Pauline's geranium'. It puts forth a small, intense raspberry pink flower, and these punctuate the mid border very effectively for most of the summer. They are also very robust and seem to tolerate drought, frost, snow, and pretty well everything that the weather throws at them.
This they had to do in the summer of the drought -- 2006 I think. The classic herbaceous border, of which ours is a modest example, depends on a damp, temperate English climate. That summer we experienced week after week without rain, and this drought, combined with the heat (record breaking temperatures were recorded) and the tendency of the garden to dry out, thanks to the demands of the nearby copper beech, meant that only the really hardy would survive. This further reinforced my guiding gardening principle, and also led to finding out about drought tolerant plants.
With the advent of the web and the Web 2.0 world we now live in, obtaining information and advice on what to plants where is easy -- in fact, potentially overwhelming. Anyway, some web searches combined with a happy discovery identified the salvias as a drought tolerant species.
I had always associated salvias with the fire engine red flowers of an annual bedding plant much beloved of civic gardeners, and I remember my parents planting salvias 'for colour'. Annuals are a bother -- they have to be propagated or purchased and since they only last one season, have to be replaced. Derived from my leading gardening principle is the second principle: give room to plants which won't need to be replaced. So, salvias weren't at first something which I had considered for drought free planting, until I realized that the hardy salvia I had purchased as Wisely a year or so previously was one of the drought tolerant variety which , happily, matched both of my gardening principles.
Savlias are, of course, part of the great sage family, and come in a great range of types, from those which form small shrubs, to those which do well in pots, or indeed, both. So, the salvias have, along with the hardy geranium, become a garden staple, and because they don't form vast, vulgar banks of colour, fit into the fairly muted colouration of the border. They also have a long flowering life, so, as with some of the geraniums, such as Wargrave pink, they provide prolonged pleasure through the season. And, as their survival through last winter demonstrates, they tolerate weather extremes.
So, over nearly ten seasons, the garden has arrived at a point where certain plants are an integral part of the basic structure. Although this means that, in comparison with the classic mixed herbaceous border, there is a relatively restricted range of planting, at least I know from experience that what is there will cope with both the constraints of the site and extremes of weather. And, in any case, there is a range of foliage provided by other long haul inhabitants (such as the acanthus) as well as flower type and colour (loosestrife, salvias, geraniums) so that despite the limited range of planting, there's a surprising diversity of form and colour throughout the season. In short, a small scale success, which, above all, gives us a great deal of pleasure -- which, ultimately must surely be the point of gardening.
In the first season, the nepeta, evidently enjoying the refreshed soil in which it found itself, proved to be a bully. The other plants also thrived in varying degrees. The verbena provided the effect intended -- dots of bright purple flowers at medium height randomly along the border -- but the penstemon proved to be a disappointment -- they simply don't what the south border offers them. The geraniums, meantime, simply got on with things and in their various varieties provided colour throughout the season, with the indestructible Wargrave pink (gernium endressii) continuing to flower right into the autumn.
From this first season, I learned that best laid garden plans don't always work out. The nepeta certainly performed, but it simply took over the border. The next season, having no doubt exhausted itself the previous year, it simply sulked and virtually failed to appear at all, so it became a victim to a rapidly emerging principle: if it doesn't thrive, get rid of it. To some extent, of course, the principle is self fulfilling, since plants that don't thrive will usually die away, but some can take several seasons to do so, meanwhile occupying garden space which could be better employed by something else. So, I reckon that at the first signs of weakness, plants should be removed and replaced by something else with better prospects (or, if they will thrive in a pot, put them up.)
In the case of our border, this replacement also tended to take care of itself: the hardy geranium, more or less regardless of weather and season, seems to thrive, so what started out as a kind of mixed border has ended up largely devoted to hardy geraniums. Fortunately, they come in a wide range of types, growing habits and colours, the classic type being very similar to the cranesbill, which is the uncultivated form. Some have been acquired as gifts, so a long flowering variety which, if supported, grows to nearly a metre in height, is forever known in our household as 'Pauline's geranium'. It puts forth a small, intense raspberry pink flower, and these punctuate the mid border very effectively for most of the summer. They are also very robust and seem to tolerate drought, frost, snow, and pretty well everything that the weather throws at them.
This they had to do in the summer of the drought -- 2006 I think. The classic herbaceous border, of which ours is a modest example, depends on a damp, temperate English climate. That summer we experienced week after week without rain, and this drought, combined with the heat (record breaking temperatures were recorded) and the tendency of the garden to dry out, thanks to the demands of the nearby copper beech, meant that only the really hardy would survive. This further reinforced my guiding gardening principle, and also led to finding out about drought tolerant plants.
With the advent of the web and the Web 2.0 world we now live in, obtaining information and advice on what to plants where is easy -- in fact, potentially overwhelming. Anyway, some web searches combined with a happy discovery identified the salvias as a drought tolerant species.
I had always associated salvias with the fire engine red flowers of an annual bedding plant much beloved of civic gardeners, and I remember my parents planting salvias 'for colour'. Annuals are a bother -- they have to be propagated or purchased and since they only last one season, have to be replaced. Derived from my leading gardening principle is the second principle: give room to plants which won't need to be replaced. So, salvias weren't at first something which I had considered for drought free planting, until I realized that the hardy salvia I had purchased as Wisely a year or so previously was one of the drought tolerant variety which , happily, matched both of my gardening principles.
Savlias are, of course, part of the great sage family, and come in a great range of types, from those which form small shrubs, to those which do well in pots, or indeed, both. So, the salvias have, along with the hardy geranium, become a garden staple, and because they don't form vast, vulgar banks of colour, fit into the fairly muted colouration of the border. They also have a long flowering life, so, as with some of the geraniums, such as Wargrave pink, they provide prolonged pleasure through the season. And, as their survival through last winter demonstrates, they tolerate weather extremes.
So, over nearly ten seasons, the garden has arrived at a point where certain plants are an integral part of the basic structure. Although this means that, in comparison with the classic mixed herbaceous border, there is a relatively restricted range of planting, at least I know from experience that what is there will cope with both the constraints of the site and extremes of weather. And, in any case, there is a range of foliage provided by other long haul inhabitants (such as the acanthus) as well as flower type and colour (loosestrife, salvias, geraniums) so that despite the limited range of planting, there's a surprising diversity of form and colour throughout the season. In short, a small scale success, which, above all, gives us a great deal of pleasure -- which, ultimately must surely be the point of gardening.
Monday, 24 May 2010
My Garden Blog
Having pondered on whether or not to get involved in blogging, I've decided to give it a go. My real concern with blogging is finding a topic to blog about. After all, a blog about the blogger has a limited appeal. So, this thought came to me in the garden: why not blog about the garden?
I'm not a highly informed verging on professional gardener who knows all about soil characteristics, types of fertilizer, pruning regimes, and so on. I'm just a potterer who enjoys trying to translate some incompletely formed ideas about what I would like the garden to look like into tangible form -- and learning quite a lot of things not only about gardening, but about Life in General along the way.
The context: we live in a small terrace house in the side of Gravel Hill in Henley-on-Thames which, as its name indicates is in a river valley. We are on the west side of the valley, and our house faces east west, with the garden at the rear, so it receives morning sunshine. The housing estate in which we live was built in the early 1970s on the site of Paradise House, a Georgian mansion of no great architectural merit, but possessing grounds planted with specimen trees, most of which were preserved in the transition to a small housing estate consisting predominantly of terraced houses in a curious melange of suburban 'Georgian' and sort of modern styles.
Our terrace of four dwellings is in the middle of the estate (or 'Close' to be precise -- the estate is a cul de sac so there is no thru traffic). The gardens are roughly 60 feet by 20 feet, and those larger gardens at each end of the terrace contain one of the specimen trees, a pink horse chestnut in the southern one, and a huge copper beech in the northern one. These, and other remaining old trees -- they will all be around 200 years old -- provide a feeling of maturity to an otherwise characterless housing development.
However, for gardeners, these trees are a mixed blessing. Large trees provide shade -- potentially, an excess of it -- and they are water and nutrient hungry. So, gardening in their proximity is a bit of a challenge.
When the estate came onto the market, a number of the original owners (of whom there are about two remaining, one being one of our neighbours) were retiring professionals. And some of these were very keen and knowledgeable gardeners. So, when we moved in here nine years ago, we inherited some mature planting, some of which was either straggly and unkempt, or had really reached the end of its life cycle. Among these was a fine tree peony, of which more another time.
The gardens are fenced, and down the northern fence, there has evolved a miscellaneous mixture of shrubs and ivy (of which more another time, too). The northern side is south facing, and so it's the only part of the garden which stands much chance of receiving sunshine. It's also in the lee of the copper beach. The southern side is north facing, so represents a challenge since anything planted there will have to survive on a limited sunshine diet. Again, a gardening challenge.
The middle section is lawn. As I'm not a lawn enthusiast (except when other people are responsible for its upkeep!), this has been left pretty much to look after itself. This is in contrast to the approach of our neighbours. Our northern neighbour, Patrick, has the responsibility for maintaining the protected beech tree. But this same tree means that achieving a thriving lawn is pretty well impossible. Our immediate southern neighbour, Pamela, although quite a keen gardener, had her plot paved over, with space for a pool and a south facing border. So, she is lawnless. Finally. Rumen, the guardian of the pink horse chestnut ('One of the reasons we bought the house', he says) is a lawn enthusiast, and has just had a new lawn laid to replace its moss ridden predecessor.
So, that's the context. More to follow in subsequent blogs
I'm not a highly informed verging on professional gardener who knows all about soil characteristics, types of fertilizer, pruning regimes, and so on. I'm just a potterer who enjoys trying to translate some incompletely formed ideas about what I would like the garden to look like into tangible form -- and learning quite a lot of things not only about gardening, but about Life in General along the way.
The context: we live in a small terrace house in the side of Gravel Hill in Henley-on-Thames which, as its name indicates is in a river valley. We are on the west side of the valley, and our house faces east west, with the garden at the rear, so it receives morning sunshine. The housing estate in which we live was built in the early 1970s on the site of Paradise House, a Georgian mansion of no great architectural merit, but possessing grounds planted with specimen trees, most of which were preserved in the transition to a small housing estate consisting predominantly of terraced houses in a curious melange of suburban 'Georgian' and sort of modern styles.
Our terrace of four dwellings is in the middle of the estate (or 'Close' to be precise -- the estate is a cul de sac so there is no thru traffic). The gardens are roughly 60 feet by 20 feet, and those larger gardens at each end of the terrace contain one of the specimen trees, a pink horse chestnut in the southern one, and a huge copper beech in the northern one. These, and other remaining old trees -- they will all be around 200 years old -- provide a feeling of maturity to an otherwise characterless housing development.
However, for gardeners, these trees are a mixed blessing. Large trees provide shade -- potentially, an excess of it -- and they are water and nutrient hungry. So, gardening in their proximity is a bit of a challenge.
When the estate came onto the market, a number of the original owners (of whom there are about two remaining, one being one of our neighbours) were retiring professionals. And some of these were very keen and knowledgeable gardeners. So, when we moved in here nine years ago, we inherited some mature planting, some of which was either straggly and unkempt, or had really reached the end of its life cycle. Among these was a fine tree peony, of which more another time.
The gardens are fenced, and down the northern fence, there has evolved a miscellaneous mixture of shrubs and ivy (of which more another time, too). The northern side is south facing, and so it's the only part of the garden which stands much chance of receiving sunshine. It's also in the lee of the copper beach. The southern side is north facing, so represents a challenge since anything planted there will have to survive on a limited sunshine diet. Again, a gardening challenge.
The middle section is lawn. As I'm not a lawn enthusiast (except when other people are responsible for its upkeep!), this has been left pretty much to look after itself. This is in contrast to the approach of our neighbours. Our northern neighbour, Patrick, has the responsibility for maintaining the protected beech tree. But this same tree means that achieving a thriving lawn is pretty well impossible. Our immediate southern neighbour, Pamela, although quite a keen gardener, had her plot paved over, with space for a pool and a south facing border. So, she is lawnless. Finally. Rumen, the guardian of the pink horse chestnut ('One of the reasons we bought the house', he says) is a lawn enthusiast, and has just had a new lawn laid to replace its moss ridden predecessor.
So, that's the context. More to follow in subsequent blogs
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