Sour Grapes

I used to be very careless about labelling pots when I took cuttings or planted up seedlings.  It may be obvious what the plant is at the point of potting up, but in early spring when most things have died back I was left with no real idea of whether the thing was dead or not yet in growth.  Last year I labelled my pots, but not as well as I had thought.  So while I knew that certain pots were penstemon cuttings, I hadn't recorded which penstemon they were cuttings of - and I have two, the dark red 'Garnet' and the lavender-blue 'Sour Grapes'.  Seeing one about to flower, I planted it up in one of the big pots with some heuchera 'Palace Purple', dark purple osteospermums, a dark-leaved phormium (I think it's a phormium - it was a village plant sale bargain, unlabelled (!)) and - big mistake - a couple of orange dahlias.  It might have worked if it had been 'Garnet' as I thought it was, but it was 'Sour Grapes' - and it hasn't been a happy colour combination.  Actually it was the dahlias that were the mistake; they're certainly cheerful, and with the weather as it has been we need all the cheer we can get, but they don't sit particularly well with other flowers visible as part of the same picture.

They might have done better in the other big pot that I planted up, which is down at the bottom of the garden and where they could have made a big colour splash.  The colours down there have worked better, but the flowers are too small and don't make enough impact at that distance.  Memo for next year: go for big and bold down there. There's another 'Sour Grapes', a blue-leaved succulent (another plant sale bargain), a couple of blue and white bacopas and some sweet pea 'Tutankhamun'.  It's the first time I've grown the latter, and it's a striking colour - Himalayan poppy-blue - but it's not-quite-a-match for the penstemon, so they're not plants I would put together again.  The penstemon matches the bacopa very well, though; that's worth remembering for the future.

The plant picture is changing quite slowly at the moment.  The roses are mostly finishing, except for gallica officinalis which always seems to go on for longer, as are the foxgloves (and I've pulled up most of the purple ones, leaving the whites to seed).  The Big Yellow Thing (the seed it was grown from was labelled bupthalmum, which may or may not be what it's called these days), a monster with huge leaves and tall stems of untidy yellow daisies, is out, and the day lilies are about to flower too.  The senecio (is it still called that?) and cotton lavender are in flower, though really I prefer their grey foliage to the yellow flowers, which isn't a colour combination I care for much.  The real lavender is also out, and the pink poppies are everywhere; I'm weeding out the singles in the hope of keeping them double.  The peony has done nothing at all (some buds formed but never opened).  The crocosmia 'Lucifer' is showing buds, as is lilium henryii, but I'm not expecting either of them to flower immediately.  And the philadelphus may suspect that I'm planning to dig it out; it has produced one big, white, scented flower on a branch arching down to where I can see and smell it, just as if it's trying to show what it can do.  I won't be swayed.  It's going.

I don't think this is going to be a good fruit year; apples and plums are shaping up to be a small crop.

We're being told that the weather is about to change for the better.  It certainly can't get much worse.  There has continued to be little sun, much chill, some wind and a great deal of rain.  On Friday evening there was a tremendous downpour (we were driving home in it) which created some flooding on the roads; we used the least hilly of the routes into the village to avoid the riskiest areas but the water was still sluicing around like a river.  The common was flooded; the next day the long grass was still lying flat where the stream had burst its banks and flowed over it.  The roads are still full of patches of gravel and small (and not so small) stones washed out of the roadsides and driveways.

One of the male blackbirds was still taking food away at the weekend, and there are still some young sparrows being fed (and some adults still mating).  Other birds haven't been much in evidence, although at least one of the wrens is still around (heard rather than seen).  The partridges come from time to time, and the two male pheasants.  There was a dark-coloured butterfly around at the weekend (I couldn't get a good enough view to identify it); I've seen very few butterflies this year.  I hope some appear when the buddleia comes out, although they've declined in numbers here over the years and I suspect that this is going to be a particularly bad year for them.  On the positive side, however, we've had at least a couple of visits from a hedgehog, seen crossing the patio and disappearing into the very overgrown border in search of his supper.  I expect he has been enjoying the rain.

Bowsaw Massacre (conceptual stage)

As the plants are in full leaf and start flopping around with the weight of flowers and fruit (and get blown around by the wind), it brings home to me that the garden really needs thinning out.  I rather overplanted it with shrubs, which are now quite mature and in several cases rather larger than I anticipated.  Something has to go.  The viburnum carlcephalum, which as I've already mentioned is losing a large branch every year and is obviously diseased at the base, is an obvious candidate.  My initial idea was to take cuttings; but they couldn't be planted in the same place, and anyway, let's be realistic, it doesn't pull its weight as a plant.  It has a nice spreading shape, and the flowers (waxy white and scented) are lovely, but the blooms don't last long, either on the plant or as cut flowers, and the plant doesn't have much else to commend it for the rest of the year.  Right - it can go.  The mahonia 'Charity' next to it is looking dead, too; that makes a nice big space to do something else with.

The philadelphus has been a problem for a while.  Again, the flowers are lovely (I like scented flowers) but it hardly ever produces any, it's crowding out the winter honeysuckle and there's too much else competing for space in that bed.  If I can get at its base, it can go too.

Last weekend I decided, a little reluctantly, that 'Mary Queen of Scots' can also have her head chopped off (and the base too, again if I can get at it).  It's my earliest rose, hardy and a good do-er, but it has got much bigger than I envisaged, to the extent that it's taking over the side of the patio, and it's also suckering under the flagstones, which is not good.  I've also spotted a large ash seedling that is growing through it and I absolutely must get that out.  The birds will miss the rose; they use it as a perch while they check whether there's any food put out for them, or while waiting their turn for the birdbath, but removing it will make space for the choisya ternata behind, which should do them just as well.

Just need to find time to do all of that ....

The raspberries and gooseberries have been discovered by a couple of young blackbirds.  I don't begrudge them too many, but need to get in there and do some picking, weather permitting.  Most of the time, the weather does not permit.  It hasn't got any better, and there's no sign of improvement.  The lawn hasn't been cut for 3 weeks because it has been too wet; it's full of clover and daisies.  And a couple of trays of pansies which I haven't got round to planting out are starting to grow toadstools!

The blackbirds and sparrows are still feeding youngsters.  We've seen a few tits, but not too many; no sign of young ones.  And house martins and swifts, while still around, aren't in their usual numbers - it may be too wet for them.  Unusually, there was a skylark singing above the garden last weekend; they don't usually come so close to the village.  An encouraging sign the other day was three thrushes (there was a bit of a fight); they haven't been much in evidence since the magpies raided their nest.

Depressingly, the robins have started their autumnal 'tick-tick'ing.  We haven't had summer yet.