Greening up

Winter honeysuckle

March has been on the cool side, often turning chilly towards evening, though there have been no real frosts for a couple of weeks now; we’re still waiting for any proper warmth, but the natural world has suddenly decided that it is spring, as if it had just been waiting for the equinox.  Over the course of a very few days I noticed that some of the deciduous shrubs had put out their new leaves.  One of the earliest shrubs to leaf up is always the winter honeysuckle; it has flowered well this winter, pumping out scent and attracting the early bees, but now the flowers are being superseded by the bright green leaves.  Like so many of the shrubs in the garden, it has outgrown its allotted space, developed much old wood and layered itself; if I can find the time, I need to get in there with the saw and garden fork to sort it out.

Other plants that have started to green up include the gooseberries – bare and brown one day, and almost the next, bright green – followed quickly by the other soft fruit.

I’ve been doing some manual ‘greening up’, of the lawn near the greenhouse.  It has had a few bare patches for a while now, the result of my intermittent attempts to weed out some of the creeping potentilla, an innocuous-looking little plant which has a tap-root up to 30cm/1ft deep and throws out long runners through the grass and into the flower beds, if allowed.  My attempts to curb its enthusiasm aren’t having much success (and are leaving their mark on the lawn).  Then last year we had to have the drains relaid, and the lawn still bears the considerable scars from the work.  Next week we’re having some hard landscaping done, including a small area of hardstanding next to the summerhouse; as it happens, that area, currently part of the lawn, has some of the most weed-free grass in the garden, and it seems a pity to have it dug up and carted away by the workmen.  I’ve been lifting turves from there and trying to bed them into the bare patches by the greenhouse.  There’s still a short stretch needing to be done – I’ll have to find some more decent-quality lawn elsewhere! – and I suspect that the newly laid area is going to be rather lumpy and uneven for a while, but it does look a little better than it did.

The other predominant colour in the garden at the moment is yellow – the daffodils are at their peak, and the doronicums are starting to bloom.  I’m still waiting for the little daffs in the window-box to flower, though the ‘Blue Pearl’ crocuses are doing a good job of brightening up the window.  And yesterday I was stopped in my tracks half-way across the garden when I caught the scent of violets on the breeze; the sprawling and untidy patch of violets in the bottom border is in bloom.  It’s amazing how such a tiny flower can pack such an olfactory punch.  A small posy is now on the table indoors.

'Blue Pearl' crocuses in the windowbox

A posy of violets

The birds are also moving into full spring mode.  The sparrows and robins are collecting nest material and taking it into the long hedge, where the blackbirds already have a thriving nest; Mr Blackbird has been gathering little worms and grubs to feed their first nestlings (he particularly appreciated my lawn-digging).  One, and possibly two, coal tits have been about; we occasionally see one on the seed feeder, further down the garden, but this one has discovered the fatball container and has been coming to the patio to bathe.  I hope they’re nesting nearby.

And on our weekly shopping trip yesterday we saw blackthorn flowering in the hedges, and the first lambs in the fields.  The weather is forecast to be on the chilly side for a while yet – the proverbial ‘blackthorn winter’ – but spring is definitely coming!

Plants in the wrong place

A weed, of course, is a plant in the wrong place.  There are quite a few plants in the wrong place in the garden, including this lovely little clump of miniature daffodils, currently brightening up the far corner of the vegetable garden.  I forget when and why I put them there – probably for lack of any other suitable spot at the time – but they’re not weeds, and I'm happy for them to stay there.

Sally Nex, writing in the RHS magazine this month, has taken a novel approach to weed removal.  She has reclassified her weeds as ‘wildflowers’, and all of a sudden – a weed-free plot.  Having a very wildflower-y lawn, I can go along with that; our lawn isn’t a model of perfection by any means, but it is never treated with chemicals, is very colourful between mowings, and boasts a fine colony of cowslips and three species of orchid, which we mow around.  Some of the lawn weeds, especially couch grass and creeping potentilla, make a nuisance of themselves by creeping into adjacent beds, where I try to deal with them as best I can; but not all of my ‘plants in the wrong place’ are actually wildflowers.

Take the alpine strawberries (variety ‘Baron Solemacher’) and the oregano.  Both are definitely ‘plants’ not ‘wildflowers’ – I introduced them into the garden – that took to growing prolifically in the veg plot (and elsewhere).  I like both plants very much; as well as being useful in the kitchen, they’re attractive to wildlife, especially the oregano, which is enjoyed by butterflies when in flower and by goldfinches when seeding.  They used to pop up uninvited in places where I never intended them to grow, and I allowed and even encouraged them since they were highly desirable plants.  Things came to a head when they colonised some of the veg plot paths, and I found myself walking on the veg beds so as not to trample them.  Something had clearly gone wrong there.  When I considered why I was taking this lopsided view, I realised that I was tolerating them because neither plant had a dedicated place where they were supposed to grow: the strawberries did have two very small beds in the veg plot (one of which had fallen out of use), but since the berries are very small, I needed more plants elsewhere to produce a decent crop, and the herb bed where the oregano was supposed to live had not really worked out and had been repurposed for other plants.  Both have been weeded out of the paths, and I’m now considering dedicated quarters for them in future.

One of my latest weeding jobs has been removing them from the raspberry patch.  Crawling around under the raspberry canes and trying to winkle out the weeds hasn’t been one of my favourite jobs, so it doesn’t get done every year, but this year it has suddenly become easier.  I’ve noticed in recent seasons that the raspberries are not doing as well as they once did, and this year about half of the canes haven’t produced any stems, leaving big bare patches in the bed.  The plants were in the garden when we came here, 30 years ago (already!), and I’ve been considering replacing them for a while, so I think the time has come.   My plan is to let the remaining canes fruit and then to dig them out, clear the whole bed, and replant, with a mixture of the traditional summer-fruiting and the newer autumn-fruiting varieties.

I’ve now cleared the part of the bed with no surviving canes, removing the weeds as I went.  Both the couch grass and the horrible potentilla had made inroads from the lawn into the patch, but not very seriously; it was mostly the oregano and alpine strawberries that needed to be dealt with.  They actually work very well as underplanting for raspberries; they don’t get in the way of the canes, they suppress weeds by covering what would otherwise be bare soil and, being edibles, they’re a sensible planting in the fruit patch.  I may well reinstate at least the strawberries when I replant the bed (the oregano can be a bit too invasive and is less easy to dig out); a few of the plants I removed have been temporarily bedded in a spare corner for that purpose.

Actually the further half of the raspberry bed has been out of commission completely for a few years, and that also needs clearing.  There’s a lot of ivy, but there’s also a large clump of Iris foetidissima.  I’m tolerant of the iris, because the un-showiness of its flowers is offset by the fine shiny leaves and the bright orange seeds in winter, both good in flower arrangements and cheering in the garden.  It is actually a real native wildflower, but it mostly appears in gardens because someone has planted it or because it has seeded in from another garden.  So is it a ‘wildflower’ or a ‘plant’?  Either way, it is going to be removed; it’s happy to grow in deep shade and in poor soil (and does so elsewhere in the garden), so having it in a sunny(ish) place and in good soil is a waste of a good garden situation.  (Thinking about it, that’s also true of the alpine strawberries.  Maybe I need to consider further.)

In the meantime, there is now some clear ground in the patch which can be put to good use for temporary planting.  As usual, I’ve been overenthusiastic about sowing lettuce seeds: six varieties, and because I can never bring myself to believe that most of the seeds will germinate, I have far too many seedlings coming through.  Some of them might find themselves in with the raspberries in due course.

Lettuce, just starting to germinate

Dogwood dreaming

Crocuses on a sunny day

After a mostly dry spell, often pleasant by day but sometimes frosty at nights, we’re now having the March winds, accompanied by light but persistent rain.  The wind is not so good for the crocuses, blooming now, and badly timed for the first small daffodils coming into flower, but the garden will welcome a bit of wet.  Although there are jobs to be done in the greenhouse, it’s a good time just to look out of the window and dream.

With the buddleja and apple tree pruned, I’ve been tackling the dogwood.  (For my American readership, I should explain that this is not your beautiful East Coast flowering dogwood – which I’d love to have in the garden, but it doesn’t do well in these parts – but the one grown for its coloured stems in winter.  It’s Cornus alba ‘Elegantissima’ to be precise, and though it does have flowers, they’re much less showy than yours.)  You’re supposed to cut it to the ground in late winter to encourage the bright new stems for next winter, though of course that means sacrificing the show of variegated foliage, which is lovely.  But I haven’t been good at pruning it for a few years, it had sent out great long shoots which arch down to the ground and root there, and as a result it had turned into quite an extensive thicket.  So, out with the saw and back down to the ground, mostly, leaving just a few taller shoots to provide foliage interest in summer.

With all the top growth removed, suddenly I have more garden to play with – and a lot more open space.  Rather too open, actually; it’s now looking rather bare, and the patio is feeling rather exposed.  The patio is to be relaid at the end of the month, and a new path put in leading off towards the long hedge, so I’ll leave it for the moment and tackle the area once the new landscaping is in place.  In the meantime – time to dream, and plan.

The first job, after a spot of weeding, will be to decide which bits of the dogwood to leave in place.  At least all the layerings that have been formed allow me to choose which to keep and which to dig out (in theory – some of them are immoveable!).  There are other plants in there to be kept, noticeably a couple of roses which have become really leggy after a few years of being sat on by the dogwood, and I was surprised to find a clematis.  This will be C. viticella ‘Etoile Violette’, which I planted a good many years ago and thought I had lost – but I’m sure I didn’t plant it quite where it’s now growing.  It must have layered itself too.  And now it no longer has a plant to climb over! – so I’ll need to create some sort of interim support for it.

(I could, and probably will, lash up a tripod of long buddleja prunings for it to climb up, at least for this year.  Last year I did something similar in one of the big pots on the patio, as a support for the ipomoeas, but I failed to tie the stems together firmly enough.  It was strong enough for the ipomoea, but I didn't reckon with the sparrows using it as a launch pad from which to bounce onto the fatball container, and it looked in a very sorry state by the end of summer.)

With the unwanted parts of the dogwood removed, I will need to make some careful decisions about planting.  The patio needs a feeling of enclosure but without actually being hedged off; the dogwood provided quite a dense screen in summer, and I want something rather lighter in texture.  Some of its stems will still be fairly tall, but I'd like some ‘see through’ plants in there as well; perhaps some of the Gaura lindheimeri that I grew last year in the bed round the corner.  They were lovely, little white flowers dancing in the breezes, but a bit too white when set against the soft yellows nearby and they looked out of place, so they're due for a move.  (White can be a difficult colour in the garden; it clashes with nothing, but doesn’t go with everything; a pure white alongside an ivory, for example, just makes the ivory look dirty.)  The gaura might do well in there, especially as the bed will now be sunnier than before, provided it tones with the dogwood foliage.  There is also some sweet rocket self-seeded throughout the bed, and also aquilegias – both with good low-growing foliage below taller, but temporary, flower stems.   Add some foxgloves too?  The edge of the patio will be tricky to get right; I’ll need to resist the temptation to go for only low planting there, otherwise it will look like a mini-hedge gone wrong.  Something substantial, but not too bushy, could be in the line-up: I’m thinking of a daphne at the moment.

In the meantime, the sparrows have been deprived of one of their favourite perches; the dogwood was next to the fatball container, and was where the small birds sat while waiting their turn to feed.  I ought to put in something for them to sit in (other than the tripod!).

Self-seeded Cyclamen coum

The landscaping work won’t disturb too many plants, at least not plants that I care about (there are plenty of weeds that will be removed!).  I hope the little Cyclamen coum that have self-set alongside the side path (which is to be relaid) survive; they’re not meant to be there, but they’re very welcome.

20%

The two big spring pruning jobs – the cooking apple tree and the Buddleja davidii – have been done for another year, helped by several dry days.  Both plants pre-date us in the garden, and I have to say that neither is ideally positioned in the garden, but they are where they are, they’re much too mature to move, and I have to make the best of it.

The apple tree was a lot smaller when I laid out the vegetable garden, close by.  I didn’t really appreciate just how much shade it would cast as it grew bigger, and neither did it occur to me how far the branches would spread (particularly when fruiting; the apples are big and heavy and pull the branches down low); they are now reaching over the edge of the veg plot, right at the point where I put the main entrance/exit.  The positioning of that was part of the geometric design, but not very practical; in recent months I’ve been going in and out by stepping on one of the outer beds rather than ducking under the apple tree, not ideal.

20%?

So when I started pruning this year, the first cuts were made to remove two branches that had been threatening to poke me in the eye whenever I emerged from the veg plot by the proper path.  There’s more that can be done to improve matters, but not this year.  It’s not advisable to remove too much wood – no more than 20% - from an apple tree in one year, otherwise it responds by sending up ‘water shoots’, long spindly shoots that reach for the sky and get too tall to cut back; I’ve done that in the past and don’t want to go there again.  As it is, I’m still trying to get rid of the last batch of water shoots, some of which are completely out of reach, and the only solution is going to be to remove entirely some of the branches that they spring from.  So staying within the 20% becomes a matter of judging what to take out and what to leave for next time.  How do you quantify 20% of an apple tree?  What does 20% of an apple tree look like?  I think I may have overdone it this year, so I hope the remaining 80%, if that’s what it is, doesn’t get too upset.

Last year I checked the tree regularly for unwanted buds appearing on the big branches and rubbed them out, which seems to have reduced the number of spindly shoots, so I must remember to do the same this year.  While pruning this time I took the opportunity to remove any badly placed buds as I came across them; at least then they won’t add to next year’s 20% of removed wood!  There’s too much congestion in the tree as it is.   I’ve mentally earmarked a few branches for removal next year (memo to self: take out the topmost branch pointing towards the greenhouse, and some of the northeastern side).  But the 20% rule is always going to constrain how much I can do at any one time!

This year – or more properly, last year – the tree seems to have held on to quite a lot of undeveloped fruitlets, which I’ve had to knock off.  I don’t think I’ve seen that before, and I don’t know what has caused it – or what to do about it.  There certainly was no shortage of (good) fruit.

The buddleja is always a time-consuming job, not only because it’s so big but also because of all the prunings to be sorted and disposed of.  Some of these make good stakes for use around the garden, but I always keep too many of them.  The plant is very old, very woody and very large (and why on earth was it planted so close to the gooseberry bush?).  At least there is no problem about percentages of wood to remove: you remove the lot, cut as low down as possible.  In the case of this plant, that’s about waist-height, because over the years all the growth has created a woody base with a hollow centre, and nearly all the shoots come from the top of that.  This year I’ve tried to remove those shoots on the outside edge of the trunk; they tend to grow outwards (rather than straight up), which causes the plant to spread out too much, and those stems flop out over the lawn (and usually break off when caught by the wind).  We’ll see if that works.

Buddleja before ....

.... and after pruning

It’s that time of year when a wander round the garden often reveals something new in flower: a lone cowslip in this case, flowering in a corner by the summerhouse.