Eggstraordinary

I didn't notice at first.  I had wandered down the garden to check for any damage from yesterday's gales (a few bent daffodils, one prostrate broad bean plant, nothing serious) and it was only on my way back to the house, past the greenhouse, that my eye was taken by something on the standing area outside the greenhouse door.  There were two eggs lying there, smaller than a hen's egg, larger than a pigeon's, about the size of a plum.  And one of the pots standing by the door, a small terracotta pot with a viola in it, was lying on its side (just visible at the top of the photo).

It must be one of the hen pheasants who have been visiting, chaperoned by the cock, in recent days.  I found a single egg in a large pot on the patio a couple of summers ago, apparently abandoned, and I surmise that pheasants aren't necessarily particularly careful parents.  My guess is that she tried to use the pot as a nest, or at least a landing pad for the eggs as they were laid - pheasants think nothing of walking on the top of small pots - and, when it tipped over, she ran off.  The eggs were cold by the time I found them this morning, so there was no longer anything to be done.  I hope she has a more suitable nest somewhere to hatch any other eggs she might lay.

Identity crisis

The aubergine and red pepper seedlings are already coming along nicely, but now it’s time to get the tomatoes started off.  I have a few seeds of each of three varieties in a little seed tray (formerly a soft-fruit punnet from the supermarket – a bit of plastic re-use), topped off as so often recommended with some vermiculite, and germinating on a radiator indoors.  I haven’t been using the vermiculite for a while, and I now remember why.  This particular bag of the stuff was used to top off some pots in the autumn, for lettuces and the like, which then started to sprout grass seedlings; it was only when the first of my ‘tomato’ seeds to sprout came up with single seed-leaves (indicative of grasses and bulbous plants) rather than the two leaves that most plants, including tomatoes, have, that it all came back to me.  Close examination of the surface of the seed-tray revealed more grass seed lying there.  How did the grass seed get into the vermiculite?  The bag was opened in the greenhouse and hasn’t been outside since, I don’t store grass seed in there and I don’t allow seeding plants in there either.  I assume it was contaminated before the bag was sealed, but I can’t prove that.  At least the grass seedlings are easily identifiable as such and can be weeded out at the very earliest stage; it’s just a bit of a nuisance.

My tomato seeds were carefully sown in three little strips, each strip with a label identifying the variety.  I’ve said before that I’m not good at labelling.  One of the big pots on the patio has leaves coming up that are definitely tulips, but there’s nothing to tell me which variety (I hope it will become obvious when they flower); there are also some crocuses in there and I had at least put in a label for them (they’re ‘Blue Pearl’).  I also noticed that the pot containing the Gladiolus nana ‘Nymph’ corms still had the label saying ‘Crocus’ (well, the corms look a little similar when dormant), but fortunately it’s very clear that the shoots coming up in there are much too big; I’ve reused the label to mark where a single, purple and white Dutch crocus has put itself, so that I can move it to a better spot later on – but, true to form, I have forgotten to replace it with a label saying ‘Gladiolus’!  (And I realise, belatedly, that I ought to have put them under cover for the winter, shouldn’t I?  We’ll see if they suffer as a result.)

The pots seem to be filling nicely with the leaves of the tulips and other bulbs that I planted in them.  One newcomer is Muscari latifolium; my previous experience of Muscari is of M. armeniacum, the common one that spreads like bad news and which is still trying to come up in one of my borders even after being weeded out.  It’s attractive but becomes too much of a good thing.  In comparison, M. latifolium is a much beefier plant, with chunky leaves (in retrospect, the clue is in the name: ‘latifolium’ means ‘with broad leaves’) and very dark flower-buds; I’m looking forward to the buds opening.  The bulbs flowering so far are the mixed lot of miniature daffodils (mostly ‘Tete-a-tete’ but also a ridiculously frilly little daff which I’m gradually becoming fond of, despite its being too top-heavy) and, separately, Narcissus ‘Elka’ paired with some blue-purple violas, a lovely combination.

Narcissus 'Elka'

Muscari latifolium

March has also been having something of an identity crisis, varying between March winds, April showers and, last weekend, January snow (mixed with sleet, hail and thunder, all together).  The snow only fell for about half-an-hour, but quite thickly, and there was a patchy covering on the lawn until the next day’s sun melted it.  The main theme this week has been wind with a mix of rain and sun.   The bird activity is definitely spring-like, though, and even with a gale blowing yesterday there was a song-thrush singing lustily somewhere.  The birds are flocking to the feeders, presumably getting into peak condition for breeding; a pair of long-tailed tits have joined the sparrows and blue-tits on the fatballs, and a female chaffinch has been clumsily getting to grips with the peanut feeder when the woodpecker isn’t there.  A robin – not one of the pair who come to the patio, though I think this singleton does sneak food from the patio when the others aren’t looking – has been defending the area around the gooseberry bushes, buddleja and woodpile, and I’m wondering if he (or she) is thinking of nesting in the latter.  That might make for some lively territorial battles with the other pair!

Pheasant in the snow

- and in the sun, with two lady friends

Temptation

Daffodils and Lonicera

One of the pleasures of returning from a couple of weeks in snowy Norway is that the UK looks very green and springlike by comparison, and this year the very mild February weather (which hit Norway as well as here) really made for a spring homecoming.  For our first week back, the sun shone, warm at times, and the plants responded accordingly.  Usually our first daffodils open around mid-March (assuming we don't have a Beast from the East like last year) and it's unusual to have any in flower in time for St David's Day, but this year the front-garden daffs were in bloom before the end of February.  A few of them looked good in a vase with some leafy honeysuckle stems and some winter honeysuckle (Lonicera x purpusii); the latter is in full flow, a splendid show, providing lots of sustenance for the big queen bumblebees and their smaller relatives who were tempted out of hibernation by the warmth.  (The cut daffs are now fading; sadly they don't die attractively, unlike tulips which look elegant and silk-like even in their death-throes.)

The winter has been dry until this weekend (when we are having Storm Freya with gales and rain), and I was able to get on with the most urgent gardening jobs.  It was unusual to be able to garden in February without a jacket, and with gloves only necessary for protection, not warmth!  The temptation is to cast caution to the winds and put the semi-tender plants outdoors, but there's still March to get through, and although the forecast is for wet and windy weather rather than ice and snow, a warm week in February is no guarantee of an early spring.  So the to-do list was the usual late winter jobs: pruning the big apple tree and the wisteria (just in time, as the mild temperatures were causing them to start breaking dormancy; there are already buds on the damsons showing colour), planting the shallots (and I did risk putting a few lettuce seedlings alongside them, with a fleece covering for protection and to stop the birds from pulling the bulbs up), and making a start on pruning the buddleja.  There are also a few roses still needing tidying up; they're already putting out leaves.  I also managed one task that I'd been meaning to tackle for a couple of years now, renewing the capping stones on the dry-stone wall at the further end of the veg plot.  They were not very stable to start with, and some of them were crumbling while others had been dislodged by pheasants and next-door's cat scrambling up the wall; there were also some stones below that needed to be replaced.  I was able to find just enough stones to make a moderately decent job of it; they should last a few years anyway (next-door's cat permitting).  It was a job that needed to be done in winter, before the lily-of-the-valley that grows in front of that stretch of wall started to shoot - as it was I think I crushed a few emerging buds.

Rhubarb 'Timperley Early'

The veg plot still has plenty of leeks to dig up, and the garlic seems to be doing well.  The broad beans are already in flower, and the 'Timperley Early' rhubarb is living up to its name - first harvest this weekend.

Helleborus x hybridus

Besides the daffodils and winter honeysuckle, the pulmonarias, hellebores and crocuses are also in flower.  The Tommies (Crocus tommasinianus) beside the summerhouse were looking good until a heavy rainshower the other day which flattened them; the more robust 'Blue Pearl', 'Cream Beauty' and the big purple ones ('Remembrance'?) survived a little better.  I used to have some bright yellow Crocus angustifolius but I don't know what happened to them as they haven't appeared for a couple of years.  (Note to self: the 'Blue Pearl' crocuses in the front garden have been swamped by the snowdrops and are barely visible; if possible they should be moved elsewhere.)  The snowdrops were going over by the time we returned from holiday; although they looked quite good from a distance en masse, close to they were really past it.  I found half-a-dozen to make a posy with some sweet violets but they only lasted for a few days.  There was a nice splash of colour in the greenhouse, where a clutch of 'Cream Beauty' crocuses were in bloom; they had been inadvertently dug up when I rescued the last mesembryanthemums from the window-box and I had assumed that they were 'Tete-a-tete' daffodils (which was stupid of me, as the daffodils were planted much deeper and the bulbs are much bigger).

Crocus (probably 'Remembrance')

Snowdrops and sweet violets

Crocus 'Cream Beauty'

The wildlife has responded well to the good weather.  Besides all the bees and hoverflies, several ladybirds have been sunning themselves - a welcome sight, as I saw very few last year - and a pair of brimstone butterflies and a peacock have also been in the garden.  The birds have been very active, although there are fewer blackbirds than before; I suspect some were migrants which have started returning home.  A couple of blackbirds and a song thrush have been singing, and Lefty our lame pigeon and his mate have been picking up nesting material.  I was thinking of cutting down the bare stems of the Big Yellow Thing (bupthalmum is its proper name), which are left over winter for architectural value and so that birds can eat the seeds, but a goldfinch was feeding on them the other day so I'll leave them a little longer.

Temptation of another sort: a few days ago, our local male pheasant was spotted stalking around the greenhouse trying to peer in through the windows (although the bubblewrap inside would have prevented him from seeing much).  I didn't worry too much about leaving the door open on mild days as the big sheet of bubblewrap that hangs in front of the door was flapping about in the breeze and I thought that would deter him from venturing in - but when I went to put away my secateurs after tackling the buddleja yesterday, there was a panicky flapping about inside.  I stepped aside and let him scramble out and run away, leaving some shredded bubblewrap where he had tried to fly up in his fright, and a scent of Pelargonium 'Lady Plymouth' where he had trodden on the overwintering plants, but otherwise without any damage.  Given the speed with which he made off, I don't think he'll be tempted to try that again!