Of mice and men

“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley” (often go awry), mused the farmer-poet Robert Burns after accidentally destroying a mouse’s nest while working in his fields.  One of my schemes this summer has been to save some of my own seed for sowing next (or later this) year; I’ve done a little of this in past years, but this summer I have deliberately left some of my plants to develop their seed-pods with this in mind.  I allowed my ‘Aquadulce Claudia’ broad beans to dry on the stems and left them in the greenhouse to dry off, along with a few other seeds.

Then, a week or ten days ago, I noticed that they had gone.  The well-laid scheme had definitely gone awry.  The broad beans had disappeared, some of my sweet pea pods were also missing, and the coriander seeds had been broken open.  A couple of garlic heads which had detached from their stems (the rest of the garlic is hanging from the greenhouse roof by the dry stems) and which had been left on a shelf to dry off had also been disturbed, one having gone completely and the other lying on the floor.  And two or three tomatoes on a stem which was propped up on the staging had been nibbled.  I also realised that some of the spring bulbs that had been stored in the greenhouse had been eaten; fortunately they weren’t in great shape anyway.

Plundered bulbs

There wasn’t much doubt about the identity of the culprit; I found mouse droppings on the staging as well.  We haven’t seen any mice for a few months; a vole has been visiting the patio occasionally, but voles are not adventurous and certainly don’t go clambering around greenhouse staging.  No, this was definitely a mouse.

Nothing to be done about the beans; I’ll need to buy seed for this autumn.  Most of the sweet pea pods are still on the plants, and I found more coriander that had set nice ripe seed.  These and other seeds are now drying off indoors, and other edibles in the greenhouse have been put out of the mouse’s reach (it doesn’t seem to have a taste for shallots, fortunately).  Burns took a philosophical attitude to his mouse stealing his corn, acknowledging that even a mouse had to eat and being prepared to share a little; I’m also generally lenient about allowing wildlife to do their thing, but I do draw the line at them colonising my greenhouse.  Once the tomatoes have finished fruiting (excellent crop this year, now slowing down significantly) I’ll give the greenhouse a much-needed clear-out and a good wash down with Jeyes Fluid, of which I’ve found a large stash during a garage purge; the smell should put any rodent off.  At the moment the tomatoes still have a few fruits on them, though two of the plants have finished and been cut down; the tangle of stems is now looking less dense.  The aubergines are harvested and either eaten or frozen – ‘Bonica’ ok, ‘Slim Jim’ interesting to look at but a bit tough, though maybe I left them too long on the plant – and the stems cut down, just awaiting a suitable moment for me to clear them out of the pots.  The two sweet pepper plants, having produced several small red peppers, have got second wind and flowered again, with another crop of fruits coming along, though I doubt if they will ripen beyond the green stage.  Other plants such as the hedychiums can be taken out for a day or two to allow cleaning to take place, and then put back in.

The greenhouse badly needs a clear-out in any case.  It does tend to accumulate stuff: pots and seed trays, obviously, but also lengths of fleece and polythene for mulching, bubble-wrap for insulation in winter, old compost sacks (very useful around the garden), cardboard for laying on ground to clear weeds, and newspapers, which are also useful to supplement the cardboard but also to cover the staging when I’m working so that any debris can be easily gathered up and thrown away.  Much of the cardboard and newspaper has just been used on the path alongside the long leylandii hedge; this then gets covered with the clippings that fall from trimming the hedge (a September job), thus controlling the weeds and encroaching plant growth on the path.  Needing more newspaper to complete this job, I lifted the last of the papers stored on the greenhouse shelving, and, in a shallow cardboard tray underneath, there was a little pile of shredded newspaper, and – the mouse.

Not quite as traditional as Burns’s mouse’s nest, but very snug all the same; dry and hidden, with a supply of food to hand.  Unlike Burns’s ‘tim’rous beastie’ it didn’t run away immediately, but considered its options for a moment and then scurried behind the seed-trays (but leaving its tail sticking out!); it may still be in there for all I know, but I’m afraid I threw its shredded paper away.  Not very hygienic in a greenhouse used for edibles.  It’s barely autumn yet, so the mouse has plenty of time to find and furnish a new home before the cold sets in, and the garden offers plenty of good places for it to shelter in – though I will need to take steps to stop it from returning to the greenhouse!

More welcome wildlife visitors in the past couple of weeks have been a pair of little warblers.  In the past I’ve identified these as willow warblers, but I’m coming to think that they may be chiffchaffs, which are visually almost identical (and commoner).  I heard a song one day which I think was a chiffchaff’s.  There are at least two of them, coming quite regularly to the patio to bathe, catch insects and generally hang out on the fringes of the groups of sparrows.  They’re lovely little birds; in the past we’ve had sporadic sightings but never regular visits like this.  I hope they hang around for winter.

A ray of sunshine

A large seedling has sprung up underneath the birds' fatball container.  Initially I didn't pay it much attention (it's a weedy spot, and another weed in there wasn't going to make much difference); there is a sweet rocket plant nearby, and I took it to be just another seedling from that, as the leaves are similar.  The other day it occurred to me that sweet rocket leaves are mostly in a basal rosette, whereas on the seedling they are up the stem; and a closer look showed that at the top of that stem is a single, fat flower bud.  It's a sunflower, and a better sunflower than any that I've ever grown deliberately, despite being in a rather shady spot.  It must be the offspring of a seed that had dropped out of a fatball and wasn't picked up by the birds - remiss of them, as sunflower seeds are usually their favourite! 

An unexpected sunflower

It will be a few days yet before the sunflower flowers, but in the meantime a ray of sunshine is coming from one of the gazanias that I grew from seed; only one of these has flowered so far, but it's a bright, sunny yellow, providing a cheery note when the blooms open.

A sunny gazania

I've been bringing some cheer indoors with a vaseful of 'Bishop's Children' dahlias, whose bright and slightly clashing tones and open faces have been providing smiling colour outside and in.  Being single flowers they're attractive to bees, and when I picked this bunch I had to encourage a couple of honeybees to go elsewhere before I could take them inside for arranging.

Dahlia 'Bishop's Children'

In fact I'm becoming more and more fond of the Children; they're making a better display than any of my other dahlias (except perhaps 'Cafe au Lait', whose flowers are so large that they always make a statement).  It may just be that they were planted out earlier than the rest; we'll see how the others do in a couple of weeks!

As far as the real rays of sunshine are concerned, we've had a few more in the last week or so, and the forecast for the next couple of days is for warm and sunny weather.  After that, they say that the tail-end of the Atlantic hurricanes might start kicking in, and that might be the end of the summer weather ....

A triffid

August is continuing to be more autumn than summer.  We’ve now had two separate gales and some heavy rain and persistent showers; we’ve moved on from saying that it’s ‘good for the garden’, that stoically British approach to wet weather, and are wishing that it would stay dry for longer between the showers.   It's on the chilly side too, and the central heating has gone back on.  The rain is certainly encouraging plant growth, though plants are moving into that late-summer stage of flopping about untidily, partly because I haven’t staked them well enough.

One of the most rampant growers in the garden at the moment is the winter squash plant.  Only one of the seeds I sowed germinated, but the survivor seems to be trying to make up for the failed seeds by sending stems out in all directions.  I’ve never successfully grown a winter squash before and, although I knew it had the potential to be large, I hadn’t quite anticipated how much ground it would cover.  Comparing that particular bed when newly planted up with how it looks now, I can see that I was much too ambitious; besides the squash, I put in the three courgette and twelve radicchio plants and sowed three types of French bean (fortunately not all of these came up).  The two ‘Defender’ courgettes were supposed to be tied to the tall stakes and grown upwards, but one of them is growing away in the opposite direction and I haven’t managed to corral the other one into its intended position.  The radicchio have done quite well, but twelve is far too many – and they’re being buried under the squash leaves, so some of them have rotted away.  It remains to be seen whether I will actually get any squash to eat; there are flowers on the plant, but I'm not sure how many have set fruit.

The young plants newly planted - the squash is in front of the left-hand courgette

The bed as it is now - the squash romping away towards the camera

This particular bed was one of the ‘no-dig’ ones that was mulched last summer to get rid of the weeds, and this has been quite successful, with only a few stray strands of couch grass creeping in from the edges (these have been trowelled out), and there’s no doubting the soil fertility! 

One of the neighbouring beds (at the back in the photo) is the Hill, which hasn’t been the success I was hoping for.  The top soil layer is too thin – in both senses – and dry to grow much in, and the slope over the top has made it impracticable to pile good soil or compost on top.  It has been mostly empty this year.  There are obviously still gaps between the branches underneath, as holes occasionally appear and it looks as though some wildlife is living down there.  I’ve been walking over the top in the hope of compacting it, but the mid-layer of twigs, brushwood and old grass clippings is still holding up quite strongly and makes it strangely springy underfoot.  However treading it down seems to be working as the Hill is gradually subsiding and is now no more than a low mound, and I should be able to mulch it heavily this winter with little risk of the topping all sliding off. 

The dahlias have stood up well to the wind and rain, and the ‘Café au Lait’ ones in particular have come into their own in the past week.  With their pinkish-white colour they’re not an obvious pairing with the orangey-red ‘Bishop’s Children’, but together they’ve made a striking little vaseful for the table.

Dahlias - 'Cafe au Lait' and 'Bishop's Children'

August - isn't it?

It’s August.  The calendar says so, and certainly for the first couple of weeks we had fine, warm, dry summer weather, including some properly hot days; it’s not often that the temperature gets above 30C here.  Inevitably this was followed by thunderstorms, and although not cold it is now mostly wet, with some strong winds today and no lasting improvement in the forecast.

Blackberries in the hedgerow

Early in the month, though, even before the weather turned, it was starting to feel a little unseasonable.  The euonymus europaeus (spindle) leaves were starting to turn reddish, a reminder that autumn isn’t that far away; and in the hedgerow opposite the house, blackberries were already ripe.  Surely that’s a sign of September rather than August?  The first apples (‘Discovery’) were also very early, dropping from the cordon at the beginning of the month, which is some weeks earlier than usual.  Some of the flowering shrubs also seem a little confused; Viburnum ‘Dawn’ is already in bloom (although it does sometimes produce flowers in autumn, it’s really a winter-flowerer), and Mahonia ‘Winter Sun’ definitely doesn’t know what season it is.

Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'

Mahonia 'Winter Sun', in August

Small tortoiseshells, basking in the sun

The wildlife does seem to know about the seasons.  Spiders are starting to proliferate indoors, always a sign of approaching autumn, and the August butterfly boom is underway; no painted ladies this year, but lots of small tortoiseshells on the buddleja and sunning themselves on the nearby woodpile, as well as red admirals and various whites, but sadly few peacocks - though a fritillary turned up yesterday.  Some interesting moths, too.  The birds have finished nesting, although the sparrows are still feeding what must surely be their last brood.  The patio robins and the blackbirds are moulting; we haven’t seen many juvenile blackbirds this year (sadly one succumbed to a window strike, and was buried under the new euonymus, of which more in a moment), and no young robins, but a young goldfinch came down with its parents one day.  At one point we had four young woodpigeons, all feeding together on the lawn, but they seem to have dispersed.

A rather pretty moth

Dahlia 'Bishop's Children' series

Dianthus 'Siberian Blues'

As so often in August, colour in the garden is mostly coming from the dahlias, particularly the ‘Bishop’s Children’ which were planted out before the others.  Among the other pops of colour is a little pot of seed-grown Dianthus 'Siberian Blues' which I planted up a couple of years ago; it isn't my idea of blue, but it's a small bright spot among the patio pots.  The sweet peas were blown off their supports by the wind that swept in ahead of the first thunderstorm, and as they were already starting to go over I’m leaving them to set seed, in the hope of saving some for next year.  As for the brachyglottis, whose demise I forecast in the last post, its fate is probably sealed.  Just after I posted last, a kind (socially-distanced) visitor brought an attractive variegated euonymus as a present.  There was a suitable spot for it alongside the brachyglottis, and like the brachyglottis it’s just the thing to provide a contrast with the surrounding green foliage; so in it went, and in due course I’ll remove the brachyglottis and let the euonymus take over its role.  It seems to have settled in happily, and with some statice providing a spot of temporary colour in front it looks rather good. 

Euonymus 'Bravo', with statice

The plum tree has started to shed its leaves, as it always does after fruiting (quite a good crop this year), and the wind has brought down much debris from the other trees too.  Some serious tree-pruning is being arranged with a local tree man!

Yellow

Like many gardeners, I find myself tending to concentrate on colour when thinking of plants.  I’m trying to focus more on form, and especially quality of foliage, which has the greater year-long impact in a garden, but I can’t ignore colour entirely, especially regarding strongly-coloured plants.  I don’t avoid any particular colour – I’m becoming more tolerant of vivid, and even clashing, ones – but I am still wary of putting yellow and pink together.  However there’s yellow, and there’s yellow – and when the garden was going through a short yellow phase a few weeks ago, I found myself musing as to why I found some yellows more difficult to live with than others.

Cosmos 'Xanthos'

Soft, pale yellows are no problem.  Cosmos ‘Xanthos’, which has become a favourite annual for my pots, sits quite happily with all sorts of other colours.  This year I have it in a few pots alongside dahlias, even the purplish ‘Ambition’ (though the white and purple osteospermum isn’t an altogether ideal companion; and I’m wondering if it was a step too far to include the orange-red tithonia in the mix.  I’ll find out when the tithonia flowers, which it will do shortly.  But that’s likely to be a clash between the dahlia and the tithonia, not with the yellow cosmos). ‘Xanthos’ is a gentle yellow that goes well with most combinations.

Phlomis with Knautia 'Red Cherries'

Earlier in the summer, the phlomis made a good show.  It’s also quite a pale yellow, though stronger than the cosmos; and although there are some red/pink colours nearby there’s no clash, possibly because the phlomis also has so much green about it that it tones down what is already a soft yellow.  There’s at least one seedling from the phlomis near the parent plant, and I think I’ll use it to establish another clump, as it's a good do-er of a plant and makes a fine statement in a border.

Antirrhinum 'Sonnet Mixed' -

 - and from another angle, with dark red penstemon behind

Some of my mixed antirrhinums are yellow, of a rather strong lemon hue.  I’m not sure where some of them came from; they may have self-seeded from last year’s ‘Bizarre Hybrids’ plants.  Others are part of this year’s ‘Sonnet Mixed’ seedlings, which I didn’t have very high hopes for but which are actually a welcome splash of colour in a pot on the patio.  If I’m being picky, I would say that their colour mix is a little too blandly cheerful; they might have benefitted from a stronger contrasting colour in there, and another year I might put them in a pot with the dark red penstemon (here in the pot behind) to tone things down a little.  I don’t have a problem with these yellows, even in combination with the pink antirrhinum in the same pot.  It’s the really bright golden yellows that can be a bit dominating.

Achillea 'Gold Plate' (with Erysimum 'Bowles' Mauve')

Even then, it’s not all of the golden yellows that I find difficult to live with.  I’m quite happy about the brightly-coloured Big Yellow Thing (aka bupthalmum), even though it flowers at the same time as the sugar-pink rose (R. alba ‘Koenigin von Daenemark’) behind; I’m not sure why that doesn’t offend my colour sense but the clash doesn’t last long and perhaps it’s because the eye tends to be distracted by the BYT’s huge green leaves.  BYT is also popular with butterflies and bees, which is a plus point.  Likewise, I like the Achillea ‘Gold Plate’ which dominates the bed outside the dining room window, although I must remember next year to give it the Chelsea Chop in May to reduce its height (and to stake it more firmly to stop it sprawling out over the lawn and exposing the bare base of the plant).  It also has good foliage, and it’s a long-lasting cut flower (it even dries for winter use).  To complement it, I’ve planted a pale yellow-flowered anthemis (I expect it is ‘E.C.Buxton’ though I got it unlabelled from a village plant sale) nearby, as the foliage is not dissimilar to the achillea’s.

Brachyglottis

No, the yellow plant that I still struggle with is the one that used to be called senecio and is now brachyglottis.  I grew it primarily as a foliage shrub, for its fine grey leaves; it’s the only plant I’ve ever grown from a stolen cutting, taken because I thought the foliage was particularly fine (it was part of a commercial landscaping, so I didn’t feel too bad about it).  The silver flower-buds look lovely, but the bright yellow flowers don’t go well, to my mind, with the grey foliage, and to make matters worse they die badly; cutting off the browned old flowerheads (which don’t go well with the foliage either) is a tedious job, especially as it’s now a big shrub.  It is on my list of ‘must do something about this’ plants – but there are so many of those, it’s a question of when I can get round to it!  I think complete removal might be on the cards.

One reason for keeping it, at least for the time being, is that it helps hold back the tide of comfrey which is sweeping across that part of the garden.  There’s not much that deters the comfrey, but old brachyglottis does seem to be doing the job – or perhaps it’s the thick ivy that has grown up inside the shrub.  I’ve noticed that even couch grass is reluctant to colonise areas where ivy grows; there must be something about root competition that keeps other plants at bay.

Euphorbia characias

Another ‘must do something’ plant at the moment is Euphorbia characias (which also has yellow, or yellow-green, flowers); there’s a large self-set clump at the side of the house which has finished flowering and the old flower heads need to be cut off before they set even more seed.  It’s a handsome plant, but there is only so much that I need in the garden.  Again, it’s a plant grown for its form rather than its colour.  I think the message from all this is that, ultimately, it’s the form and foliage that matters, rather than the colour.

Flight

After a fairly cool few weeks - the central heating went back on - a warm sunny day last week was the trigger for several ants' nests to fly.  It wasn't just here; apparently there were so many flying ants that day that they showed up on the weather radar.  Two separate nests on the patio swarmed that afternoon, as did some of the ants in the greenhouse; the blackbirds and sparrows were delighted, gathering them to feed to their youngsters.  They even ventured into the greenhouse to feed, though not all of them found their way out easily; the female blackbird and one of the sparrows got trapped between the glass and the dense tomato plant foliage, and some panic ensued before I could shoo them out of the door.  More ants have swarmed in there in the days since then, and the male blackbird in particular has become quite accustomed to popping in for a look.  Apart from that, there have been very few intrusions into the greenhouse this year; the only other known visitor was in the spring, when a goldfinch must have got in through an open roof vent (the door was closed) and couldn't find a way out until I opened up.  I haven't even seen a toad or frog in there this year either, though they could be hiding among the compost bags that the tomatoes are planted in.  We did have a tiny frog in the grass outside the greenhouse one day, and a very much larger toad lurking in the firewood behind the garage.

Tangled tomato plants

The tomatoes this year form quite a thick screen across that end of the greenhouse.  There are seven plants, of three varieties: 'Gardener's Delight' of course is an old favourite, though it has lost its AGM and I'm not sure it's as good as it once was, and 'Harzfeuer' I've grown successfully for a few years now, and quite like.  The third, 'Cocozelle', is also an AGM cherry tomato, and the fruits are lovely and sweet, but it makes huge growth, reaching the roof and sprawling over everything else!  The result is a total tangle, but they're fruiting well this year, and I'm not complaining, even if the visiting birds find them impenetrable.

The male blackbird, who is quite trusting of us, is still feeding at least one youngster, but he stopped singing about three weeks ago, as did the robins.  A song thrush still strikes up from time to time, but otherwise that phase of the year is past.  Visitors to the bird feeders and patio are almost entirely the regulars - sparrows, dunnocks, blackbirds, starlings - especially in the past few days, when some youngsters have dropped by - robins, though less frequently, and blue tits.  The occasional woodpecker, including youngsters, comes to the peanuts and sometimes to the fatballs.  And woodpigeons, of course; Lefty is gathering sticks again, so another nest must be in progress.  The male pheasant was around for a week or so, resting up quietly in the long grass behind the fruit bushes; he and I startled each other several times when I didn't see him and accidentally got too close.  He may have started moulting, as his tail was looking rather ragged.

Also in flight the other day was the red kite; the field behind us was mown, and he was obviously in search of an easy lunch, swooping quite low.  Another, smaller, raptor was checking out the bottom of the field, either a kestrel or possibly a female sparrowhawk - I couldn't tell at that distance.

Butterfly numbers have started to pick up, gently.  I've only seen a single peacock this year (a couple of days ago); but there are plenty of large and small whites, especially around my brassicas!  Yesterday I disturbed a lovely magpie moth which was hiding among the chives - black and white with an orange body - and what I think might have been a large yellow underwing, found sheltering in some rubbish that was being moved.  I'm not good at identifying moths, but many of them are beautiful, and I ought to get to know them better.

The edible garden

During the lockdown, I’ve been able to spend more time than usual working on the garden, especially given how good (mostly) the weather has been.  June, admittedly, has been more disappointing than May – some chilly nights (and days), wind, and some heavy rain (which has refilled the pond – so much for my getting to grips with the iris) – but there has still been plenty of gardening going on.  You might not think so, given the sorry state of most of the borders and the list of jobs still not done, but one area where I have been more successful has been in the veg plot.

Lettuce 'Merveille de quatre saisons'

'Fat Lazy Blonde' (top) and 'Delicato'

An even bigger 'Fat Lazy Blonde'!

The garlic and shallots have been lifted and laid on their bed to dry off (rain permitting); they’re small, presumably because of the dry spring, but should give enough to keep me going until next summer (I still have bulbs of both in store from last year, now going rather soft).  There is plenty of salad stuff, including some excellent lettuces – ‘Little Gem’, the dark red oak-leaf ‘Delicato’, the wonderful ‘Merveille de Quatre Saisons’ and the splendidly named ‘Fat Lazy Blonde’ (‘Grosse Blonde Paresseuse’, so-called because of its size, light colour and resistance to bolting); but also rocket, oriental mustard, land cress and leaf beet.  Various brassicas are coming along, especially now that I’ve put up netting and fleece to deter the pigeons from pecking at the leaves, and there are a few beetroot and some small turnips, whose leaves have also provided some stir-fry greens.  I’ve been growing the broccoli ‘Cima di Rapa’, which is also a stir-fry greens plant, though it seems prone to running to seed; perhaps it’s one of those plants that does better if sown later in the year.  I am inclined to sow things as soon as the dates on the packet allow, thinking that I need to get ahead since this garden is on the cold side, but some seeds are better left until summer or even early autumn, to prevent them from bolting.

Another reason for not sowing too early is that tender crops, if started early in spring, can be ready for planting out, or moving into the greenhouse, when the weather is still too cold for them.  Two of my courgette plants – ‘Defender’, a new variety for me – were real whoppers well before I could risk them outdoors.  They, plus one 'Cocozelle v. Tripolis' that I enjoyed last year, and one winter squash, are now out in one of the ‘no-dig’ mulched beds, but to be honest they haven’t put on much growth since going out there, and I could have left them until a little later; the first two baby courgettes are now reaching cutting size.  The tomatoes, too, were 18 inches (45cm) tall by the time their first flowers showed colour (the point at which they have to be potted on into larger pots, which means greenhouse-time for them – and the temperatures in there were still rather low at nights for them).  It doesn’t seem to have harmed them too much; all are growing vigorously, and the cherry tomato 'Cherrola' has already produced a few tasty little toms.  The aubergines seem to have managed the low temperatures all right; this year I’m growing trusty old ‘Bonica’ but also a small-fruited variety called ‘Slim Jim’, which has lovely dark leaves.  The advice on aubergines is not to allow more than 6 fruits to ripen on any one plant, which in the past has left me thinking ‘if only’ (I’ve never got more than one usable fruit on any plant, and small ones at that); this year I experimented by pinching out the tops when they were small, and lo and behold, this year I have multiple fruits coming on most of the plants, one on each shoot.  The two red pepper plants have several fruits coming on them; they were indoors until a few days ago, but they needed to be put in much bigger pots and that meant a move to the greenhouse, where it’s now warm enough for them.  The chillies are still indoors and will probably stay there; they should also go in bigger pots, but they’re doing fine as they are, and there are only so many chillies I can cope with!

The runner and French beans were sown in situ this year, and that seems to have worked well, though it will be a while before anything edible is ready from them.  The broad beans have been a mixed bag.  I usually sow the autumn-sowing variety ‘Aquadulce Claudia’ in October, and ‘Imperial Green Longpod’ in early spring; but last autumn I had few seeds of the former left and none of the latter, and thought I would try something different.  I noticed organic ‘Aquadulce’ seeds available, and bought those, only to discover that they were ‘Aquadulce’ but not ‘Claudia’ and were for late winter sowing; in fact they haven’t done particularly well, so I may just discard the remaining seeds and revert to good old ‘Claudia’.  My first sowing of the remaining ‘Claudia’ seeds, last autumn, wasn’t successful, but I managed to get the last of the seeds to germinate later on and am leaving the pods on those plants to save seed from them.  For spring sowing I bought a variety called ‘Luz di Otono’ which can also be sown in summer for autumn cropping; I was a little unsure given its rather Iberian name and our less-than-Iberian temperatures, but the spring-sown ones have done quite well and I’ll be interested to see what happens with the autumn crop.  When the beans are finished, their bed will become home to the leeks; I had to re-sow these as some interlopers, birds or beasts, disturbed the first seedbed, but fortunately I had seed left, and germinated that successfully in a length of guttering in the greenhouse. 

The wildlife also finds our garden a plentiful source of food.  The blackbirds have been busy in the gooseberry bushes (we’ve frozen some for ourselves, and the red gooseberry bush has been covered in fleece to protect it from the birds, as has the blackcurrant bush).  The pigeons have been at the brassicas and I’ve tried to protect some of them as best I can; they also took a lot of the plum buds, leaving us with a smaller crop than usual, and have been spotted trying to take raspberries.  I noticed the other day that some of the mint, in pots by the back door, was looking a little ragged; today I spotted the culprit, a rather cheeky sparrow, flying off when I came by.  We provide enough food for the sparrows and pigeons on the patio and in the feeders, so I don’t feel too bad about shooing them off the plants!  The food on the patio has also attracted some four-legged visitors, including a large rat which hasn’t been seen since I chased it off, the occasional vole and a rather sweet little wood mouse who has appeared a few times at dusk.  And the birdlife also attracts predators in search of food; yesterday a sparrowhawk was strolling nonchalantly on the lawn (empty-taloned, fortunately). 

The flowers in the garden also provide food, in the form of nectar for butterflies; last week during the warm weather (now turned cold and windy) there were three small tortoiseshells feasting on the erysimum and sweet Williams, a large white, a holly blue and a speckled wood.  And there are plenty of bees of various sorts enjoying the blossoms (and the weeds; they seem to like the little yellow flowers of the creeping potentilla that I’ve been trying to dig out of the lawn).  For us, the flowers are more a feast for the eyes than for the stomach; the sweet Williams have been lovely (seen here in full bloom), the roses and sweet peas are gorgeous as always, and the peony has provided wonderful cut flowers, here with the dark red antirrhinums, which conveniently turn a purplish-pink in the vase, complementing the peony splendidly and making a very long-lasting vaseful.

Sweet Williams in full bloom

A vase of old roses: (L-R) 'Felicia', 'Koenigin von Daenemark', 'Mme Hardy', Alba semiplena

A vase of sweet peas

Peony 'Sarah Bernhardt' with antirrhinums