In like a lion

Crocuses in the sun

"In like a lion and out like a lamb" is the old saying about March, and we've certainly had the lion weather this month.  There hasn't been as much very heavy rain as earlier in the year, though there have been some sharp hail showers, but it has been blustery for much of the time.  It does look as though the weather might be more benign from next week, however, so perhaps the second part of the adage might also be true this year.  Not that there haven't been some pleasant spring days; now and again we've had a day of sun, one of those days when the sun is bright and warm enough to remind you that spring is on its way, until you step into the shade, or the wind picks up, and you realise that it's not spring quite yet.

One day early in the month I even managed lunch outdoors (admittedly wearing full winter gardening clothes); I took a magazine to read, but in the end just sat and looked, and pondered, and planned.  A good opportunity to take stock of things, and to enjoy the garden in the sunshine.

There will be plenty more opportunities to give thought to the garden in the coming weeks, as we are all encouraged to shut ourselves away from the virus-ridden world.  No excuse not to get on with all those garden jobs when we can’t go anywhere else!

Over the past couple of weeks the garden’s insect life has been waking up.  There have been a couple of bees, a few hoverflies at the pulmonarias, a ladybird and a cloud of tiny flies over the lawn.  And last evening there was a bat feeding near the house, surely a sign that flying insects were about.  As for the birds, a blackbird has been carrying off beakfuls of moss, while her mate sings lustily from next-door’s roof; a thrush has been singing somewhere nearby, and a tawny owl calling from the trees across the road.  A pair of blue tits have checked out the nestbox (now protected with its outer layer of chicken netting, to keep the woodpeckers away), although a great tit was showing interest in it today.  A wren has been examining crevices in the dry-stone wall behind the veg plot, either for spiders to eat or places to nest, and the bottom-of-the-garden robin appears to have a mate.  There are also signs that our elderly, disabled pigeon Lefty may have found a new partner; he was sitting on the electricity wires by the holly tree, a favourite perch of his, with another pigeon one morning – there’s life in the old bird yet.

Pulmonaria by the wall

Ladybird out and about

The weather, and other commitments, have prevented me from getting much done in the garden.  The big apple tree has had a rough prune; there are more shoots that ought to be cut out, but I’ve already taken quite a lot off the canopy and don’t want to take more (20% is the limit) in case that prompts it to send up even more water-shoots.  I may let it be for this year, and take out one or two larger branches next year instead.  The buddleja is partly pruned - it’s always a lengthy job - and I have made a belated start on cutting back the big hazel clumps to let more light through to the veg beds.  

Last weekend I cut back the dead stems of the Big Yellow Thing (aka bupthalmum) and the Phlox ‘White Admiral’; that part of the garden always looks so much fresher once the old stems have gone.  When I tugged at the old bits of phlox, large parts of the rootstock came up; the clump was rotten in the centre, and actually I was delighted.  I’ve tried to dig that phlox up, without success, having pretty much fallen out of love with it, so this was an excellent opportunity to remove as much as possible.  The problem is that it’s too close to the Viburnum davidii, which, properly pruned (and not butchered as usually happens in supermarket car parks and the like), is a graceful, spreading small shrub that really needs a bit of space around it to show off its elegance, not to have a pushy phlox elbowing it in the ribs.  The phlox, when in flower, is the same height as the viburnum, so they do one another no favours so close – there’s no contrast.  And, although it’s white-flowered and so doesn’t clash with anything, it is aggressively white in a look-at-me sort of way.  Some of the clump remains, but at the far side of the old position; I’ll see how that looks in the summer, and remove the lot if I don’t like it.  I took a couple of pieces and potted them up, so I might put them elsewhere in the garden, or pass them on to the plant sale later in the year.

Primrose on the table

Also potted up were a few pieces of lily-of-the-valley, which is spreading under the apple cordons and into the veg patch paths; it really needs its enthusiasm curbing.  One piece is being forced in the greenhouse for early flowers (and it’s already in bud); the others are for donating to the plant sale.  Back in January I had dug up and potted a couple of bits of my Epimedium sulphureum, mostly for my own use elsewhere in the garden; they are nicely in flower (as is the clump in the garden), and they, and a pot of emerging pushkinias, have been put on the table outside the dining room window, joining a flowering primrose which was already in position there to provide some colour at close range.

The daffodils are mostly out – a welcome and cheerful splash of yellow – and some of the tulips are showing buds.

Indoors, the aubergine seedlings are flourishing, and tomatoes, peppers, chillies and some basil are germinating nicely; in the cold frame I have some lettuce seeds germinating.  It’s time to get seed-sowing properly underway, especially for edibles given that we might be glad of fresh food in the garden in a few months’ time if we’re still in lockdown!