A touch of spring

Mid-March, and spring feels not too far off.  The weather is tending to be rainy on the whole, with only the odd sunny and mild day from time to time, but the signs of spring are definitely here. 

This hyacinth was one of two little pots purchased last year to cheer things up indoors; after flowering, they were put outside while I dithered about where (and whether) to plant them in the garden.  Twelve months on they’re still there, and have overwintered in a disregarded spot behind the garden bench (which has spent the winter on the terrace); I noticed that this potful is again in flower and popped it on the garden table to be seen from the dining room.  It has a self-sown forget-me-not in its pot and needs a bit of tidying up, but it’s a welcome spot of colour. 

Also providing colour in the garden are the daffodils – those in the sun are now out – and the pulmonarias.  I really must move the latter, which are self-seeded and popping up at the back of the fruit area but deserve a better site.  And you have to look closely, but the violets at the bottom of the garden are also in bloom.

Self-seeded pulmonaria

In the veg plot, the mystery of the non-appearing broad beans seems solved.  It is indeed the squirrel’s doing.  The beans, sown quite deeply, are now starting to send up shoots; a neat row of little holes shows where the squirrel is digging them up and nipping the leaves off.  I’ve covered both beds with fleece in an attempt to protect the remainder, but I will have to sow another batch to compensate for the losses.  Meanwhile, I’ve made a start on spring growing by sowing some lettuce seed for germination indoors.

There has been a noticeable increase in the number of insects – mostly bumblebees but some hoverflies – flying from flower to flower (the winter honeysuckle and hellebores are favourites).  The birds have also started to collect nesting material in earnest; the female blackbird was gathering moss this morning, and two male blackbirds, one at the drive entrance and one down near the bottom hedgerow, or possibly in next door’s garden, have started singing quietly, by way of practising before the serious business of using their song to declare their territory.  The boundaries of the robin territories are still being defended; there was a four-robin scrap on the patio this morning.

One still outstanding March job in the garden is pruning the buddleja.  I thought of making a start on it this afternoon, but as I walked past I realised that there were two partridges sheltering behind the bush.  Usually they would sprint off at the first signs of human activity nearby, but these two just sat and looked suspiciously at me, and I let them be.

Blackthorn winter

 

From the middle of February, when we left on holiday, until early March, the weather has been mostly mild (for February) and dry; but the past few days have been cold and intermittently snowy, culminating in strong winds and rain today.  The snow here didn’t amount to a great deal – a couple of centimetres at most of wet stuff, although it was much worse further north.  Some news reports spoke of ‘unseasonable’ weather, but it’s not at all unseasonable; it’s what used to be known as a blackthorn winter, cold weather that coincides with the flowering of the blackthorn in the hedgerows, and it’s quite common.  The forecast for the next few days is wet but much milder, except for tomorrow night when temperatures are set to drop to minus 5C.  I had been planning a seed-sowing binge in the greenhouse, but I’m going to wait until that is past and temperatures start to rise a bit.

I’m pleased to see that my garlic and shallots, planted before we went away, are sprouting nicely; the broad beans, however, which I hastily sowed outdoors just prior to our departure, are showing nothing at all, which isn’t encouraging after a month.  I found one bean which had been dug up, and it was starting to sprout, so I’m thinking it’s not the fault of the seeds; I suspect four-legged intervention (the squirrel?).  I still have seed, so will do a repeat sowing. 

The snowdrops are still in flower, but close inspection shows that they are fading; there has been a good show of crocuses, though they have been knocked about by the bad weather.  The first daffodils to flower, the miniatures, opened their flowers once the snow had gone, and have put up with today’s wind remarkably well; the window box is looking good, with ‘Blue Pearl’ crocuses (now mostly gone over), ‘Tete-a-tete’ daffodils just opening and rosemary ‘Miss Jessop’s Upright’ still in flower.  The hellebores are also still doing well; the clump at the side of the house includes a couple of self-sown whites, which I always keep meaning to dig up and plant elsewhere but never get around to it.  And the winter honeysuckle, Lonicera purpusii, is also still in flower and attracting the occasional bumblebee; it’s a fine sight, even in the snow (centre in the photo above).

Mixed miniature daffodils on the patio

Window box - daffodils and rosemary to the fore

Hellebores - mostly seedlings, including whites

In our absence the number of blackbirds in the garden seems to have dropped to a single pair, the others presumably being migrants who have headed off home for the spring.  I’ve been helping our residents by putting out the last two apples from our winter store to keep them going through the cold weather.  The two robins have also enjoyed them.  The fatballs have gone down well with most of the birds, especially the blue tits and long-tails, as well as the sparrows; the robins and blackbirds occasionally try to use the feeder, and the dunnocks and pigeons pick up what gets dropped.  Lefty and his lady have resumed coming to the patio for breakfast, although I think most of what I put out this morning was blown away before they could get to it; the plum tree pigeon pair are also still around, sitting and occasionally mating in the plum tree and sometimes venturing right up to the house as long as Lefty isn’t being too territorial.  The sparrows have started to collect nesting material, dropping bits of dry grass that blow around in the breeze.  There have also been three chaffinches active at the bottom of the garden; I hope there might be a chaffinch nest down there this year.

An obstacle removed

A return to the UK after 3 weeks in Norway, and it’s remarkable how much colder England feels – although the temperatures are fairly similar overall (similar to lowland Norway, where we’ve been for the past week, at least), the dampness here makes it feel chillier.  An early March update in the next post, but meantime here is what I was up to in early February.

The weather back then was ideal gardening weather - some lovely bright days with surprisingly warm sun and frosty nights.  It was a good time to tackle one of those jobs that had been hanging over me for ages; not urgent work, but necessary to get it out of the way so that other things could be done successfully.  To be precise, dealing with the tree at the entrance to the Dump.

The bottom of the garden has a copse of damsons, probably suckers from the plum tree that were allowed to get out of hand and are now small trees in their own right.  One of these grew at the entrance to the Dump corner (where the compost bins, lawn mowings pile and other unsightly garden stuff live), with enough space for access between it and the upright post that originally supported the trellis screening the mess behind.  Over the years, however, the tree started to lean, initially against the post but eventually getting lower and lower until I had to duck down to get in there.  With a wheelbarrow full of lawn clippings, this got tricky, and something had to be done.  The problem was not only having to cut through the trunk – which wasn’t particularly thick, but definitely a saw job – but to detach the top growth from the tangle of branches of the other trees around.

Before ....

... and after

So, out with the bowsaw.  In the end it was easier than I expected.  It took a fair bit of hacking to cut through the trunk, and then I just pulled the upper part of the trunk, branches and all, over the trellis and on to the lawn.  It came away from the other trees without too much damage.  After that, all the branches had to be cut off and larger pieces chopped up; these were heaped on the various woodpiles that I maintain down among the damsons to provide homes for the wildlife.   The trunk likewise was left on the ground in the Dump by the wall, in the hope that it will give shelter for beetles as it decays.  And now I can enter the Dump, with wheelbarrow if necessary, without bending down!

It's that time of year when robins seem to be everywhere in the garden; all outdoor work is accompanied by singing nearby, sometimes at very close quarters, and great interest in what’s going on.  While I was attending to the tree, the bottom-of-the-garden robin serenaded me until a couple of other robins turned up to try to chase him off, and a great deal of fast acrobatic flying through the branches ensued.  What seemed to be the same robin, unchallenged by his competitors, was still around the following day when I was planting out the garlic in the veg plot, an activity that generated a lot of interest from him, though I expect he was disappointed when I covered the bed with fleece (to stop the birds from pulling the cloves up).

Down on the edge of the damson thicket, I found a little clump of Cyclamen coum, in flower.  I didn't put it there; I'm guessing that mice, or ants, moved seed from the plants up by the pond, but it's a welcome sight nonetheless.  I just hope that the violets don't swamp it.

Cyclamen coum

The good weather meant that growth continued apace, even in early February; daffodils were showing buds, although experience says that they can sit around like that for weeks before actually flowering (and, three weeks later, I’m still waiting for the first bud to open, although it should be any day now).  Winter aconites were in flower, and in odd corners there were the first blooms on pulmonaria and primroses; and the little clump of Crocus angustifolius alongside the drive which always takes me by surprise.  Totally unexpected, though, were the several orchid clumps in the lawn, already showing well-grown leaves; the lawn, left unmown to let the wildflowers come through last summer and autumn and now looking very rough and turfy, is in need of attention, but I need to consider whether to mow over the orchid leaves or let them be!  Would it affect flowering? I don’t know!

Snowdrops, winter aconites (and leaves of unwanted geraniums!)

Daffodils under the plum tree

Pulmonaria, hiding by the wall

A primrose, also hiding in the grass

and Crocus angustifolius, bright and cheerful!

One of the many orchid clumps, already showing leaves in the lawn