The wrong wildlife

Where wildlife is concerned, you need to be careful what you wish for.  As I’ve noted before, if you seek to attract wildlife to the garden, you can’t be too particular about what wildlife will turn up; you might create an ideal habitat for a hedgehog and end up with a rat instead.  Not quite what was intended; but that’s wildlife for you.

Woodworm work

Down at the far end of the veg patch, against the edge of the Dump, I have a line of part-rotten logs, originally intended as firewood but too old to be of use.  They partly fill the need for a dividing line between the two areas (the trellis that was originally there having long since fallen apart, you can see its remains at the top of the photo), and partly provide some ‘dead wood’ to attract insect life.  I was hoping for stag beetles, but instead I’ve got woodworm.  The other day I noticed that two of them had mostly disappeared in recent weeks, leaving not much more than the bark.  There were some woodworm holes, so it wasn’t too hard to work out what had happened.  Rotten wood is good for the hotbin; I broke some apart, to the requisite small size, and found a couple of fat white caterpillars, so I now know what woodworm larvae look like.  I would still rather have the stag beetles, which are at least endangered.  But the logs were put there to break down, so I can't complain. 

More puzzling is the apple conundrum.  We have a stash of cooking apples in the summerhouse, where they’re keeping quite well in the cool but protected conditions; I have cooked with a couple of them, but really they’re for feeding the blackbirds.  I’ve been putting them out on the patio one at a time, where they’re gratefully received by our blackbird pair.  One day last week I noticed that, although the apple had been fairly intact in the late afternoon, by the following morning it was gone.  Now, it’s not unusual for the birds to toss an apple into a corner, especially if there wasn’t much of the fruit left; pecking at the scant remains of an apple can cause it to wander off the patio, or a bird might deliberately take it away to eat it quietly out of sight.  But it’s unusual for a nearly whole apple to be moved away; these are big apples.  Anyway, I put a fresh one out; with the same result next day.  After a couple more days, I came to the conclusion that something was coming along in the night or early morning and making off with them.  I don’t know what; it would have to be a fairly large animal, with a big enough mouth to grasp the fruit.  A squirrel or rat wouldn’t be big enough, surely.  My money’s on a fox, and they do have a taste for fruit.  I’d rather save my apples for the blackbirds, so I’ve taken to covering the day’s apple with an empty flowerpot each evening and uncovering it again in the morning.  I hope the blackbirds appreciate the effort!

The 'right' wildlife, meanwhile, is busy doing what wildlife does in early spring.  The sparrows are holding moss-gathering parties, the robin is giving little presents of food to his mate and the pheasant is solicitously escorting his ladies as they pick up seeds under the feeders.  Lefty our elderly lame woodpigeon continues to come for his breakfast in the mornings, and has enjoyed a couple of leisurely soaks in the birdbath, lifting his wings one at a time to let the sun - and the warmth - get underneath, the very picture of contentment.

Lefty takes a bath

Multum in parvo

 

Oh dear ....

‘Multum in parvo’ – much in a little – seems to be the best description of the past few days’ gardening.  I keep finding a lot of (usually undesirable) things in too small a space, or I’m trying to fit a lot into cramped quarters.

There was a pot on the patio that was annoying me and needed tidying up.  It's a very small pot, containing a few Allium karataviense bulbs (one of which is the variety ‘Ivory Queen’, the rest the ordinary species, and the difference is apparent when they flower, but not too much).  An antirrhinum self-seeded in there a year or two (or three?) back, and the dead flower spikes weren’t doing anything for the look of the whole.  It wasn’t a particularly nice antirrhinum, a washed-out pink and yellow, and I wasn’t minded to keep it.  So, although it’s not a good time of year to be repotting alliums, I decided to tip the lot out and take a look. 

Oh dear.  The alliums were there, sprouting nicely, and so were a large number of what is almost certainly Allium nigrum, self-seeded from a nearby pot.  And the antirrhinum – or antirrhinums? – of course, and their roots were forming a dense, circling mass all round the lower part of the pot.  But there was also a foxglove, a small ivy plant and a bramble seedling, and a layer of moss across the top.  Rather a lot for a little pot.  I managed to remove the foxglove, ivy and bramble and much of the moss, and cut away a lot of the antirrhinum; but rather than disturb the Allium karataviense I decided to repot them, with the other alliums and some antirrhinum root, and do a full clean-up later in the year when the bulbs are dormant.

On the subject of bulbs, part of the clump of Galanthus elwesii, my earliest snowdrop, was dug up and some of the bulbs replanted into the ‘new’ bed by the patio, where they will be more easily seen; and more of them went into a pot, with the same end in mind.

There’s also a lot in our rather small pond.  It has needed clearing out for a long time, but when I noticed a blackbird hopping across the surface the other day I realised that something would have to be done.  Ok, it’s been dry recently, and the water level is low, but there is more weed, fallen leaves and mud in there than water.  It’s a job I’ve been putting off for far too long, and a messy one – but it needs doing!

The propagator - a lot in a small space!

Seed-sowing, under cover, has also been one of my recent jobs, and again it’s a matter of fitting as much as possible into as small a space as possible.  Tomato seeds have been brought indoors to germinate, but others are in the greenhouse: herbs, lettuce, peas, salad onions and salvia (blue clary) in the propagator, and lobelia and cosmos in a tray with glass on top (since they need light to germinate).  There are more seeds needing sowing, so more space will be needed!

The weather remained chilly, thanks to a north-easterly breeze, a few snow showers and a couple of slightly frosty nights, until the last couple of days when things have warmed up considerably, to the extent that today I found myself gardening in a long-sleeved T-shirt without any top layers and managed lunch on the bench outside.  However the forecasters have been warning of the possibility of an Arctic snap to come, so I haven’t been in too much of a hurry to plant seedlings out.  I’ll get the broad beans out of the cold frame and into the ground tomorrow, though; after some weeks of unseasonably dry weather, there is (finally) some rain forecast over the weekend, which should help establish them nicely.

A little more colour in the garden now: daffodils are slowly opening, primulas in sunny corners are blooming, and the little clump of Crocus angustifolius is making a colourful splash alongside the drive.

Back home

Home again after a month away, returning to a garden definitely more springlike than when we left.  We returned to a lovely warm weekend, with the wind from the south, but followed by a chilly few days with the wind coming from the north, including a couple of almost inevitable, but very brief, mid-March snowfalls.  The warm weather brought out some of the early insect life – a few bees and butterflies (a peacock, and a pair of brimstones).  The changeable weather doesn’t seem to have fazed the birds, who are busy pairing up and nesting (the sparrows in the ‘penthouse’ have nestlings already), and there is noticeably more birdsong than before we left; a thrush (mistle thrush?) was singing lustily in the holly tree the other day.  There was also a real rarity yesterday; a marsh tit has been around intermittently over the winter, and for the first time ever a pair of them turned up in the bushes.  I hope they nest somewhere near.

The snowdrops are going over, and the large daffodils not quite out yet, but the two tubs of miniatures are flowering brightly, as are the little ‘Tete-a-tete’s in the windowbox.  The potful of ‘Exotic Emperor’ tulips, now in their third year, is well in leaf (will they flower for a third time?); I left the annuals that were sown in there last year to self-seed, and one little marigold is already bravely peeping out from among the tulip leaves.

One little marigold

As always, there are jobs to be done.  Not only the usual big tasks at this time of year, such as pruning the apple tree and buddleja (and of course the weeding, or more precisely clearing of beds), but one-offs, such as the variegated euonymus by the pond.  This has always been an erratically shaped plant and increasingly encroached on by the lawn, and it always drops some leaves in the winter, but I’ve noticed that it’s looking decidedly thin; I wonder if it’s on the way out.  I’ve taken cuttings just in case; they’re usually fairly easy to propagate that way.

Looking decidedly thin

While we were away, a number of seed-trays and pots were left to take care of themselves in the cold frame, including the broad beans and sweet peas.  The former have germinated nicely, and survived any slug/snail/mouse attentions, and the weather was relatively kind for February, but the sweet peas aren’t showing anything much.  The beans should be planted out soon, but I’ll wait until the current cold snap is past before entrusting them to the veg plot.  There are also a number of sweet William plants ready to go out, but I’ll leave them for another couple of weeks; they’re fairly tough, but they might benefit from a little hardening off.  Likewise the rooted penstemon cuttings, which can be potted up towards the end of the month.

In the cold frame

February already

Pulmonaria in flower

Already into February; the garden is moving slowly forward, and the birds are thinking of nesting.  They may get a shock later this week as we are forecast to have frosty nights, but there have been a few sunny days and things are looking up!

The snowdrops are now joined by the first winter aconites, and the pulmonaria, in its sheltered spot under the apple cordons and against the stone wall, is starting to flower too.  I managed to cut back the clematis down by the dump corner, a great tangled mass of stems around the honeysuckle; it actually came away fairly easily, and there were nice shoots low down that it could be cut back to.  The honeysuckle had a pruning while I was at it.  Underneath, the sedum (what is now called hylotelephium) has been tidied up; it's not in a good place there, much too shady, and some of it might better be moved to the old herb bed.

The sparrows are refurbishing their nest in what we call the Penthouse, the space under the eaves above our bedroom (we sometimes hear them hopping around when things are quiet in the early morning).  Bits of grass and the odd feather have been taken in there, and there has been some squabbling that looks like early mating.  A couple of pigeons have definitely been seen in flagrante, and a woodpecker was drumming for a mate one day.  The robins have been feeding on the patio at the same time, if not exactly 'together', maintaining a respectful distance, but it's only a matter of time before they pair up properly. 

The family of long-tailed tits comes regularly to the fatball feeder, and a nuthatch appeared there today.  The song thrush is still coming to the garden, enjoying baths in the pond, and it or its mate has been heard quietly singing in the lane.

A busy week

 

First hellebore flowers!

Some days spent working in the garden don’t seem to result in very much.  You go round the plot, doing a bit of cutting back here, a spot of weeding there, a few seeds sown somewhere else and maybe another little job too, and at the end of the day nothing much seems to have been achieved.  But most days last week were dry and not too cold, and I managed several tasks that have been hanging over me for some time, and getting them done makes me feel satisfied that I’ve actually achieved something in the garden.

In my last post I mentioned that I’d put some sweet pea seeds to soak.  They were duly sown in pots in the cold frame, with a good sprinkling of chilli powder to deter any mice that might get in there.  (Note to self: add more chilli powder to the supermarket shopping list!)

The old herb bed, which had been mostly cleared in the autumn, was top of the list for some work.  When the self-sown oregano was removed, I found a Stipa tenuissima plant that had sown itself there; I used to have one in the bottom bed but I think I’ve lost it, so I was glad to find its offspring and let it stay.  Otherwise the bed contains the rose ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ and some chives that needed cleaning up (some nasty creeping grass and creeping potentilla had got in there), and I managed to weed the row of chives along the path edge (still some on the other side needing to be tackled).  This bed is an ideal home for some tulips; apart from a few random survivors planted in odd corners, all my tulips in recent years have been in containers, and I wanted a few more permanent flowers.  I had kept last year’s potful of T. ‘Ballerina’, which is a bit more perennial than some, and I rather belatedly heaved them out of their pot and into the ground.  They already had some shoots, although I’m not sure these looked mature enough to flower this year.  ‘Ballerina’ is a bit of a risk, in colour terms; it’s orange, and Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ is pink.  I’m counting on timing preventing too much of a clash; ‘Ballerina’ should have exited stage left before ‘Gertrude’ makes her entrance.  If there’s an overlap, it ought to be brief.  I also planted a red tulip, T. ‘Pieter de Leur’, in the bed, and marked the location of all the tulips with a layer of wood ash, so that I'll know where to avoid when I put in further plants alongside!  They do now have the company of the anthemis which I moved from the ‘patio bed’ where it was too close, and too similar in colour, to the leucanthemum.  That has left a temporary hole in the patio bed planting, but the other plants will soon fill that.

Anthemis - and ash on the tulips!

The hole where the anthemis was

I also had some ‘World Friendship’ tulips, which I managed to add to the two old bulbs that I planted last year, along the terrace edge; they got a place-marker layer of wood ash too, although I don’t expect to be doing too much digging round there for a while.

On the subject of bulbs, I pulled up the (badly frosted) lobelia plants in the brown plastic tubs, and found that the miniature daffodils underneath were budding nicely; I hope the loss of the insulation provided by the lobelia won’t affect them too much.

Mini daffs shooting nicely

Thinking of bulbs in pots reminded me that I’d been meaning to repot the lilies (Lilium regale, mostly) that were sitting in too-small pots on the patio; they’re now housed in rather more spacious containers.

And before I left the patio, I got up a ladder and pruned the wisteria!  Another major job done.

Down in the veg patch, there were also things to do.  The two little alpine strawberry beds were looking in need of renovation; the plants start to fade after about three years, and it’s best to replace them.  Fortunately they seed themselves gently about the place, and there are usually replacements on hand.  I pulled up the old plants on one bed, put in some younger ones (thereby also weeding some of the veg bed paths) and mulched well with old compost saved from last year’s dahlia pots.  I’ll do the other bed when I can find the time.  Two rows of shallots were planted and covered with fleece to protect them from the birds, who seem to have been busy reorganising the garlic bulbs, which are coming up but not in the neat rows in which I planted them!

Renovated strawberry bed

The apple cordons have their annual prune in July, but I also like to go over them in winter, when the lack of leaves means I can see more clearly what needs to be removed.  I also decided to take steps to halt the onward march of the lily-of-the-valley, which is encroaching on the apples; so a good layer of cardboard was laid over that end of the lily-of-the-valley patch, with some organic matter (old grass clippings and a little old compost) on top and black plastic over that, well weighted down.  The latter is a necessary precaution, especially as the forecast was for more gales over the weekend; the gales did indeed materialise, although not as severe as further north, and the plastic is still in place!

Can spring be far behind?

Just past mid-January, and the weather is still reminding us that it’s winter, reasonably enough.  But there are already signs that the natural world is looking ahead to spring.

The past few days have had a definite chill about them, and today (forecast to be ‘thick cloud’) a late-morning mizzle developed into fairly steady light snow that was too light and too wet to lie, but was definitely wintry.  The birdlife came in search of food; a blackbird spent much of the day attending to the remains of an apple left out on the path, and the family of long-tailed tits came and went repeatedly on the fatball container, right up to supper-time.  The dropped scraps from the fatballs also went down well with the blackbird.

Blackbird and his apple

Fatball feeders in the snow

It wasn’t weather to be outside gardening.  I had spent time yesterday going through my seed stash, organising it into ‘dates to be sown’, and found some cabbage seed that can be started off now, as well as a few sweet pea seeds.  (The autumn-sown sweet peas have not done well, with only two seedlings appearing, so it will be up to the January sowing to make any display this year.)  The older sweet pea seeds have now been put in water to soak and plump up, in the hope that they’ll germinate, while the cabbage is still waiting for me to brave the temperatures in the greenhouse and get sowing.  Otherwise, gardening was limited to watering the (indoor) orchid.

Two trays of ‘Aquadulce Claudia’ broad beans have already been sown in module trays and left to germinate in the greenhouse propagator.  The propagator no longer works, but the lid will keep hungry mice off the seeds until they’ve sprouted.  I’m still in two minds about what to do with them when we go on our February holiday; much will depend on how far on they have grown by then.  Options will be to plant them in the ground (and risk mouse depredations) or leave them in the cold frame to grow on.

Despite the birds’ cold-weather feeding frenzy, they are now starting to turn their minds to spring.  A sparrow was toying with a dropped feather the other day, as if it was thinking that it might be useful in days to come, and today two robins were showing signs of a slightly uneasy friendship, at least feeding within a few feet of each other and not displaying aggression.  The real sign of spring will be when they can pair up to jointly chase off other robins.

Less welcome garden visitors have been a pair of magpies; they’ve been about in the background in past years, appearing from time to time, but this winter they’ve been here most days.  They’re bold birds and major predators of smaller birds’ nests, and we chase them away whenever we can.  Reasonably enough, they seem very wary, and fly into the trees at the first sign of our presence, but there’s a limit to how much chasing we can do.

Frozen fingers

After the murky weather leading up to New Year, 2025 started with a week or so of chilly weather, including some snow.  It didn’t last long in these parts, but there was a good deal of ice, and the bright, clear weather brought freezing temperatures at night.  The greenhouse temperature dropped to minus 2.9C.  Patchy snow on the ground and ice – not good gardening weather.  But there’s always plenty of other things needing doing, so I took the opportunity to defrost the freezer; another frozen fingers job.

Cold weather always means birds coming in search of food: Lefty, of course, as well as sparrows, dunnocks, blackbirds, fieldfares, chaffinches, bullfinches and tits of various sorts.  A wren managed to get into the porch, presumably looking for a warm roost for the night, and had to be extricated.  A song thrush also appeared, taking advantage of a sheltered (and therefore unfrozen) spot by the patio to root around for grubs.  I hope it stays around for the Big Garden Birdwatch later this month.

The New Year flower count was reasonable: winter jasmine, winter honeysuckle, mahonia ‘Winter Sun’, viburnums, rosemary, snowdrops, some campanula, the vinca in the front wall, meadow grass, and two ‘one-off’ flowers surviving from the autumn, a solitary wallflower and a stem of brunnera.  Fuchsia ‘Hawkshead’ just about made the count, but the flowers were really too far gone to get more than an honourable mention.