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