Changeover

After the first frost it was time to bring in the dahlias from the pots and replace them with tulip bulbs for next spring.

A window of dry weather – a couple of days – between the rain and another brief spell of frosty nights allowed me to get outside and do just that.  The dahlias – now that the temperatures have risen and thawed out the compost so that I could lift them – had to be taken into the greenhouse with quite a lot of wet compost round their tubers; it’s easier to clean them when they’re dried off, but it means some fairly large bundles sitting on the floor in the meantime.  With temperatures of down to minus 3C forecast, I protected them with some old compost sacks on top; it dropped to just below zero in the greenhouse, and I hope the sacks will have made a little difference.

Most of the remaining compost was then removed from the pots, replaced with fresh and the tulips planted.  I haven’t bought quite so many bulbs this year, so only the two biggest pots and one smaller one have been planted up, leaving the others for whatever planting I can sort out next year.  For my own records – because I will have forgotten by the time they flower – the big pot on the patio contains pale pink ‘Foxtrot’, mid-pink ‘Margarita’ and purple ‘Ronaldo’, and the pot by the summerhouse is a mix of ‘Queen of Night’, ‘Cairo’, ‘Time Out’, ‘Ridgedale’ and ‘Negrita Parrot’ (Sarah Raven’s Ginger Snap Mix).  And there’s a smaller pot containing just my favourite ‘Doll’s Minuet’.  I hope that the ‘pink pot’ isn’t too pink; on reflection it might be rather bland, but we’ll see.

Felicia in the 'Doll's Minuet' pot

Last year I topped the tulip pots with some self-sown forget-me-nots from the veg patch, and (although I had a few reservations about how they worked with the shorter tulips) I’ve replicated that again this time.  If nothing else it discourages the birds from pecking at the compost and throwing it out of the pots.  I also used some pink-flowered felicia in the Ginger Snap pot and with ‘Doll’s Minuet’.  I got this plant (I think it’s Felicia fascicularis) from the village plant sale and was assured that it was hardy; I used it in the window-box, where it didn’t flower but provided some useful foliage.  When I came to clear the window-box and replant it for winter, I found that the trailing stems had rooted in the compost, so that I now have several plants of it.  Hmm, maybe that’s too much of a good thing.  Some of it was also in the big pot at the bottom of the garden, and it had also multiplied itself quite successfully.  We’ll see how it gets on with the tulips; if it turns out to be too enthusiastic a plant, I shall harden my heart and compost it!

The night after I planted up the tulip pots we had a hard frost; the felicia didn’t seem bothered.

Frosted forget-me-nots

The green woodpecker has been visiting quite regularly, digging into one of the ants’ nests in the lawn.  He has made a good-sized hole in the grass (it’s in the cowslip patch so that doesn’t matter too much) and spends long periods of time stabbing away, and presumably hoovering up lunch.

A winterval

We've just had a brief spell of winter.

The frosty nights that were forecast for the later part of last week turned out to be accompanied by an overnight fall of snow; not heavy, but a good covering of the ground, with temperatures barely above freezing by day and a degree or two below by night.  The remains of most of the tender plants, such as the cosmos, and the courgette plants, were sent to the compost bins ahead of this, and I also managed to pull up most of the surplus foxglove plants that had seeded out of what has become the foxglove and antirrhinum patch into the veg plot paths and were taking over.  While I was down there I noticed a few last antirrhinum flowers and, as they weren’t going to last long in the cold, I cut them and brought them inside to make a little posy for the table.

A few last antirrhinums

My main concern is for the dahlias, still in their pots.  You’re supposed to leave them until the frost has blackened the tips of the leaves, but they were frozen into their compost, which won’t be good for them.  I cut off the top growth, or what remained of it, and laid the stems across the tubers for a little protection, with some tattered bits of horticultural fleece on top for good measure.  The smaller pots were taken into the greenhouse, although temperatures in there also dropped to below zero, which isn’t ideal.  I haven’t been out in the rain to see what the damage is; fingers crossed that the tubers won’t be too frosted.  A pot of basil that had also been taken into the greenhouse to recover from an attack of greenfly is looking brown at the edges, so may be on the way out (and I hope that the greenfly are too).

The cold won’t have affected the winter honeysuckle, which is starting to lose its leaves (it’s always the last shrub to drop them) but is producing plenty of little flowers. 

Winter honeysuckle (Lonicera purpusii)

The wind has now turned to the west, bringing rain and slightly warmer temperatures; still single figures (centigrade) and with a chilly wind, but clearing all the snow and ice.  The forecast is for it to continue damp (or downright wet) and rather less cold.  The birds will be pleased with that; they’ve been enjoying our crop of cooking apples on the table outside the dining room window.

But despite the coming winter, there are signs of the spring beyond in the garden: catkins on the hazels, and - to my surprise - flower buds on the camellia that has never flowered.  Next year I may at last discover what colour the flowers are!

Hazel catkins

Camellia buds!

Sheltering under cover

Heavy rain and strong winds all day today.  It’s rare that our forecast predicts 100% rain all day, but that’s what we’ve got, so I’m staying warm and dry indoors.

The echeveria - tucked up under cover

The storm was forecast some days ago.  I had just read an article about echeverias, which had reminded me that, while some of them will withstand a little frost, they really don’t like wet.  My blue echeveria usually lives outside up against the patio windows, where it receives a little heat from the building, and is only taken into the greenhouse in the coldest months; with the rain in prospect, however (especially as the roof guttering is prone to overflowing just at that point), I took it in early and tucked it up under the staging.  We haven’t had any real frost yet, but wet is a deadlier enemy even to the hardier echeverias.

The weather has continued mild for the time of year, with a few summer/autumn plants still in bloom (the rudbeckia and little blue salvias, and even the last of the nerines and dahlias), but the cosmos is collapsing in a heap and will be pulled up and composted once gardening resumes.  Of the shrubs, Choisiya ternata is finally giving up, and Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’ flowered prolifically but is already fading; the winter honeysuckle (Lonicera purpusii) is still in leaf but is starting to put out its little, powerfully scented, flowers.  Mahonia ‘Winter Sun’ is blooming on regardless.  The temperatures are to drop later next week, with some frosty nights forecast, which will tip the garden into early winter.

Salvia 'Blue Monday' - still in flower

Yesterday I tackled the ivy that is growing up through the purple-leaved cherry tree (a survivor from before we arrived here).  The ivy has taken hold to the extent that it’s making a thick canopy at the top of the tree, and I want it out before it pulls the branches down, even if it means leaving some dying (and ultimately, dead) ivy foliage at the top.  The cherry is old and not in good shape, but I don’t want to lose it prematurely.  The ivy stems had all but fused with the cherry’s trunk, but I was able to prize some of it away and pull enough of it off to kill the top growth.  My efforts were watched at close quarters by the robin, who was rewarded with a lot of small insects that had been shelterng between the ivy and cherry trunk; occasional activity in the surrounding shrubs suggested that other birds had spotted this too, but it was the robin that enjoyed the feast.

Still bearing up

November sweet peas - 'Fire and Ice'

November has started mild, for the time of year; not particularly sunny, in fact often rather drizzly and damp, but with light winds from the south and temperatures up to the mid-teens (Centigrade) during the day.  I did bring out the gardening jacket one day, but generally it hasn’t been necessary.  And, though the winter-flowering shrubs are already in bloom, there’s still a sprinkling of autumn flowers about, and even the sweet peas continue to bear up.  There are also a few late antirrhinum flowers in their corner of the veg patch.

Still some antirrhinums

Down in said veg patch, the summer beans have been harvested, the remaining pods either eaten or left to dry in the greenhouse, and the plants composted.  The courgettes have been picked – although I found one overlooked fruit under the leaves; quite large if rather pale.  There are a few tiny fruits still on the plants but I doubt if they will grow to a usable size.  The row of carrots is gradually shortening as I pull them up for the kitchen, but otherwise it’s mostly cabbages, kale, leaf beet and lettuces (of which I now have too many – the plants that I had despaired of during the dry weather came back to life with the rain, and they and the ones sown as replacements will more than fulfil my needs).  There are also a couple of decent pak choi – the first time I’ve got anything out of these, as they usually end up being eaten by the slugs.

A pale courgette

There’s also a bed of leeks, but the plants, instead of being a nice upstanding crop, are flopping on the ground.  At first I thought that the birds had been flattening them, but now I suspect an attack of allium leaf miner, in which case they will be unusable and will need to go to the green waste bin.  Boo.

Flopping leeks

Another unfortunate bit of gardening was my attempt to dig up the white-flowered buddleja seedling in the drive.  I had thought that this would be easy, and I that I would be able to pot it up for planting in a more suitable location.  Not so; in a single season, it had put down a thick and strong root into the soil below the gravel, and immediately what had started out as a Desirable Plant for the garden turned into a Serious Weed needing removal.  It took a saw and some effort to get it up (and there's still some root in the ground, so I hope it doesn't regrow).  There was actually a smaller seedling alongside it, and I managed to get that out with a few small roots attached; it has been potted up and placed in the propagator in the hope that it might recover from the shock.  (But I still don't know where I would plant it!)

Fungi are still appearing in the lawn, and the ash tree stump by the drive is sprouting a splendid crop of them, quite decoratively.

Fungi on the ash stump

The green woodpecker has visited several times; it has located the ants' nest in the cowslip patch and spends much time feeding on them.  A blackcap is still around, enjoying a bath from time to time.  And the pheasants continue to hide in our garden when the shooting starts; we had twelve of them, a mixed party of males and females, the other day.

A pheasant invasion!

Sowing and potting

Cool and rather showery since the last post, and not much has been done in the garden; but yesterday I had a sowing and potting-up day in the greenhouse.

There’s still a sweet pea flower showing in the pot against the back wall, though it’s not particularly photogenic and won’t last long.  This year, after planting out the seedlings that were sown in late winter, I sowed some late seeds into the pot to provide a succession of flowers, and that seemed to work well; there were flowers in there for a long period, even though some of the plants suffered from under-watering over the dry summer.  I’ve now sown seeds for next year into small pots in the cold frame, and will try to remember to keep them watered; I think last winter’s failure was due to the pots drying out.

Sage and euonymus cuttings

I also tackled the several pots of cuttings taken in summer and earlier this autumn.  Some have already been divided up and potted on; the green and purple sages are doing well in their little pots, but I had left the cuttings of the variegated sage ‘Icterina’ until now.  It's a relatively new plant for me.  For a few years I had wondered about it – the yellowish colouring can look rather sickly – but having acquired one at a village plant sale a couple of years ago and having planted it out in the patio bed, I’ve decided that it can provide a nice contrast to green-leaved plants.  And, since there are plans afoot that may mean that that bed will have to be reworked, I had taken cuttings to ensure that I wouldn’t lose it.  The cuttings of the variegated euonymus which had been attacked by a scale insect infestation – taken in case of terminal decline of the parent plant – have also produced roots and have also gone into little pots, as have osteospermums and wallflowers, and two Photinia ‘Red Robin’ cuttings.  They are all set out in front of the greenhouse; I must remember to keep them watered and protected, if necessary, from excessively cold weather.

The euonymus cuttings were interesting; they seem to have produced most of their new roots near the top of the cutting rather than at the bottom.  I've never seen that before.

There are other cuttings about which I’m less certain.  You might think that signs of new growth on a cutting are a sure indication of its having rooted, but no, they seem to be able to keep growing without having produced any roots at all.  How do they do that?  The safe sign is roots poking out of the bottom of the pot.  There are cuttings of winter savory and Dianthus ‘Mrs Sinkins’ that are looking decidedly peaky but have the merest beginnings of growth on them, so I’m leaving them over winter to see if any roots appear!

A party of up to seven male pheasants has taken to strolling around the garden, probably sheltering from the local shoot (they have worked out that they’re safe here).  They particularly like hanging around under the seed and fatball feeders, and scratching about in the grass for dropped food – which is usefully scarifying moss out of the area.  I wonder if I can get them to do the whole lawn?

The bachelor party

Changing seasons

Back after a break in Scotland, to a garden on the change from autumn towards winter.  But the Choisiya ternata (Mexican Orange Blossom) thinks it's spring and is flowering its socks off!  Little does it know that I have plans to cut it back (severely) next spring; it's much too big.

Choisiya ternata - in full flower in late October!

The windowbox, however, was definitely in late autumn mode and in need of replanting for winter.  I had started planning for this a few weeks ago; the narcissi 'Tete-a-tete' had been started off in pots for transplanting, and various self-sown pansies around the garden had been dug up and potted on in preparation for this job.  I already had pots of the early-flowering snowdrop Galanthus elwesii and little rooted cuttings of Rosemary 'Miss Jessopp's Upright' (last year's windowbox plants had dried out irretrievably over the summer), and on a whim I dug up a couple of self-sown pulmonaria plants to fill out the space (we'll see if that works).  The result is a little bare but will do for the time being.  The summer planting has been dealt with; annuals composted and perennials potted up for next year.

Windowbox ready for winter

The birds seem pleased to see us back, with the birdbath refilled (the weather was mostly dry in our absence) and feeders replenished.  Over the summer we've had a pair of chiffchaffs about, and at least one of them seems still to be here; there has been a pair of blackcaps too, but I expect them to head south for the winter.  The fieldfares are here already, and probably the redwings too, so we don't expect to have many hollyberries to save for Christmas; the berries were ripe as early as mid-September and the birds will polish them off soon.

Holly berries in mid-September

The remaining eating apples still on the cordons have been picked and stored; we have plenty, but a great many have been eaten by the wildlife while still on the tree (and the pears too).  Usually it's insects and birds, but most of the damaged ones have teeth marks on them - the squirrel? or a rat (they're a fact of life in the countryside)?

A munched apple core - who's the culprit?

Something has also been rearranging the mushroom compost spread on some of the veg beds, and nibbling my radicchio plants; I had hoped that the latter would be too bitter for the wildlife to eat.  Ah well, if you attract wildlife to the garden, you can't expect it to necessarily play by your rules.

Nibbled radicchio, despite the twiggy protection

There are still a few small courgettes, and the French beans have a last few tiny pods, curled up against the chill, in addition to the old, larger pods left for seed; I need to pick and dry those off soon.  Another job will be to weed out the large number of foxglove seedlings that are colonising the bottom part of the veg plot; some years ago I put a few plants in there and since then their progeny has rather taken over.

Curled-up beans

Too many foxgloves!

In the greenhouse, the tomato plants have been cut down and the last fruits brought indoors to ripen; I've also taken the opportunity to pull up the yellow antirrhinum that has been flowering in there for a couple of years now.  It will have seeded sufficiently to come back next spring, and indeed I may have to do quite a lot of weeding to keep the numbers manageable!

I also have autumn-sown seedlings of annuals for an early showing next year: the blue salvia, marigolds and corncockles.  But the orlaya, also sown at the same time, has done nothing.  That plant really doesn't like me; it's supposed to respond well to autumn sowing, but I've never had anything from it.

Salvia, marigolds and corncockles - but no orlaya!

The lawn has been mown twice this autumn, and is already looking a little long although the weather is probably going to be too wet now to do it again.  There are more toadstools in the grass.  Fungi seem to have had a bumper year everywhere; in Scotland we saw an amazing variety of them.

Three types of Highland fungi ...

... and some more on a fallen log

Pink and orange

Autumn is always thought of as a time of golds and russets.  There's certainly gold (orange and yellow) in my garden at the moment, but the main colour, such as it is, seems to be pink.  Pink and orange is not a colour combination that I favour, though fortunately there are few places where the two appear close together; and in the softer light of autumn, the colour clash doesn't seem quite so garish. 

Nerine bowdenii

The nerines are starting to flower; they're flamboyant blooms, lipstick-pink and parading their finery at a time of year when most plants are winding down or fading away.  Nearby is a pot with a few last orange marigolds, but those are tucked away in a corner and not very visible from most angles.  

Cosmos bipinnatus 'Dazzler'

Another strong pink in the garden is the bed of Cosmos bipinnatus 'Dazzler' which has bloomed strongly for a few months now and is still providing some cut flowers for the house; I've managed to save seed from it to sow again next year.

Dahlia 'Bishop of Canterbury' - I think!

Dahlia 'David Howard'

The dahlias are recovering from their rather dry summer (pots insufficiently watered in the heat!) and are gradually starting to flower again.  The pink one which I think is 'Bishop of Canterbury' - although online searches suggest that 'B of C' is a rather variable variety so it might not be - is dominating the patio along with D. 'David Howard', which is a nicely soft shade of orange.  The two get along not too badly together.

Orange-berried pyracantha

Rudbeckia

As I've said before, this has been a spectacular fruit year, and the firethorn (pyracantha) on the north wall of the house has berried profusely - orange, of course.  And the yellow rudbeckia is also in full splendour.

The 'pink and orange' combo is at its peak in the berries of the spindle tree, Euonymus europaeus 'Red Sentinel'; the seed cases haven't opened yet, and only the pink outer is visible, with the orange berries still tucked up inside.

Spindleberries