Unexpected guests

A common theme in magazine articles throughout the run-up to Christmas is what to do about ‘unexpected guests’: what to cook for them, and what to buy as presents, should any of these inconsiderate beings descend on you over the festive season in need of food and demanding gifts.  I can’t say that such ‘unexpected guests’ have ever arrived on my doorstep at this time of year (and they might get short shrift if they did), so I pay little attention to this advice, and certainly don’t buy things on the off-chance that they might appear.  But this Christmas we’ve had a few unexpected visitors in the house.  None of them has required feeding, nor would any of them have thanked me for a pair of gift-wrapped socks, in fact they have needed very little if anything from me.  All are insects, and much less troublesome than the journalists’ (probably imaginary) human guests.

I was sitting in front of a cosy log fire in the sitting room one evening this week when something suddenly started fluttering around.  It was a peacock butterfly, seemingly a little bemused by its surroundings.  Peacocks hibernate in winter, normally in crevices in places like sheds, and I don’t know how this one got into the house.  Its chances of making it through to spring indoors wasn’t great, so I scooped it up and put it out into the front porch, which is enclosed but unheated and has plenty of suitable hibernating places; I hope it survives there.

Shield-bug (at the base of the flower)

Our current orchid (phalaenopsis), which has flowered spectacularly this year, has one last bloom on it (another spur is showing a good display of buds, still to come).  This final flower is fading now and will soon drop off.  The other day, I bent to examine it more closely (to see if it was time to pull it off) and found a shield-bug sitting there.  Like the butterfly, it had probably been lured from its wintering quarters by the heat of the room.  It had disappeared by the next day, I hope back into its hibernating place.

We had neighbours in for drinks on Christmas Eve, which necessitated a move from the cosy sitting room into the slightly more spacious lounge, and for the first time this winter the fire had to be lit in that room.  When D started preparing it he found in the chimney a papery sphere, a little larger than a golf ball; we assume it is, or has been, a wasp nest, because two wasps also appeared at the same time.  One wasp escaped outside, while the other is still hanging around the room and has currently taken up residence above the window-frame, where I hope it will stay.  The nest is quite a work of art; perhaps it’s the wasps’ Christmas present to us!

A Christmas present?

The 'outsiders'

After a dry summer and early autumn, November and December have been quite wet; not many good gardening days this past week, although I have made a start on clearing the weeds beyond the far side of the patio.  Standing at the window and looking out at the garden, my eye is taken by the big Viburnum davidii by the pond.  When I say ‘big’, I mean about 2.5 metres (8-9 feet or so) across.  It stretches out across part of the pond, which the birds like because they can bathe (water level permitting) out of sight under the branches, and the foliage cover (it’s evergreen) also helps stop that part of the pond from freezing in cold weather, so they have drinking water on icy days. 

The big Viburnum davidii

However, the bush is much too big and needs to be cut down to size, but the problem is how to do that.  Its manner of growth is to produce foliage at the branch ends, so all the leaves are on the outside, with nothing inside.  Just shortening the branches would result in bare wood; the branches will have to be cut out in their entirety.  I’m not sure that would leave much; I doubt if it re-shoots from old wood.  It might be possible to reduce the size a little by cutting back to the slightly shorter side-shoots, but I think the only realistic remedy might be to take cuttings and re-plant.  It would be a pity; it’s a handsome shrub, with lovely corrugated leaves.  And the birds like to use it as cover.

The other ‘outsider’ is the big hebe between the patio and the pond.  It too is handsome but getting too big, and while it looks good from one side, it has what I can only call a bare backside; there are definite woody patches at the rear, only partially masked by the ivy and other weeds in that part of the bed.  It has the same growth pattern as the viburnum, and is unlikely to look good after conventional pruning for the same reasons.  I have taken cuttings of it, and am growing two of them on, but it’s a very slow grower and it will be some time before the cuttings make any sort of impact.  Other plants will have to fill the gaps in the meantime.

The hebe: front ,,,

... and back

Other plants: well, given it’s mid-December, not much is looking its best at the moment.  There are very promising buds on the hellebores, and the early snowdrops – Galanthus elwesii – are already about to bloom.  I potted up some bulbs earlier in the year, and they are doing nicely; one has a good-sized bud which should open very soon.

Signs of spring in the ground - 

- and in the pot

Christmas tree

 

Not a conventional Christmas tree!

A vase of nerines, which has been brightening up the porch for a good couple of weeks now, had finally faded and needed replacing by something a little more attractive; but early December isn’t the greatest time to look for cut flowers in the garden.  There isn’t a lot of colour out there, other than the big apple tree, which is still festooned with bright red fruits; it isn’t a conventional Christmas tree, but it does look rather festive!

Viburnum tinus

In the end a few stems of Viburnum tinus, nicely in flower, had to suffice.  I have two, one given by a friend (variety unknown, with white flowers) and ‘Gwenllian’, with pink and white flowers and blue berries.  While foraging for blooms of the latter, I had to squeeze past the remains of Rosa altaica, the Central Asian wild rose.  I planted this many years ago because Gertrude Jekyll spoke well of it and its single white flowers, and it is a lovely thing when in full flow; but what Gertrude didn’t say is that, like all wild roses, it doesn’t flower for very long and, while there is a hint of a second flush in late summer, it’s a rather fleeting pleasure.  It’s also very, very prickly and – worst of all – it suckers.  I’m minded to try to get it out, but I suspect that will be easier said than done.  As it's at the back of the shrub border I keep forgetting to prune it; perhaps this winter I'll prune it very, very hard ....

The forecast for today was for showers, but in fact it was almost entirely dry and I got on with deadheading and cutting back some of the other shrub roses.  At the side of the house, Rosa alba semiplena (brief but beautiful, and scented) and Rosa dupontii (also brief and very pretty, but of untidy growth) were cut back hard; the latter is going to be taken in hand very severely this winter, and I won’t mind too much if it succumbs.  

There hasn’t been much gardening over the past few days as the weather has been rather wet, and there’s a storm forecast for tomorrow.  I did manage to replant one of my little strawberry beds.  As I said back in July, several of the plants in there had died in the hot weather and the space had been used as a temporary home for lettuces; these were removed after the first frost and some compost added to the bed.  Alpine strawberries are uncomplaining little plants once they are established, but they don’t take to transplanting very well in dry weather; so, with a wet day forecast last week, I set to on the day before, moved some self-set seedlings into the bed, watered them well, and left the rain to do the rest.  They seem fine.  The other strawberry bed – they are a matching pair – probably ought to be replanted too as the plants are quite old, but they’re not such a pressing case and can be left for the time being.

Replanted alpine strawberry bed

The visiting birdlife at the fatball container has been joined in the past few days by a marsh tit, busily stocking up on food, although the temperatures have been fairly mild for the time of year.  There are even a few berries still on the holly - a more normal sort of Christmas tree.