Eggstraordinary

I didn't notice at first.  I had wandered down the garden to check for any damage from yesterday's gales (a few bent daffodils, one prostrate broad bean plant, nothing serious) and it was only on my way back to the house, past the greenhouse, that my eye was taken by something on the standing area outside the greenhouse door.  There were two eggs lying there, smaller than a hen's egg, larger than a pigeon's, about the size of a plum.  And one of the pots standing by the door, a small terracotta pot with a viola in it, was lying on its side (just visible at the top of the photo).

It must be one of the hen pheasants who have been visiting, chaperoned by the cock, in recent days.  I found a single egg in a large pot on the patio a couple of summers ago, apparently abandoned, and I surmise that pheasants aren't necessarily particularly careful parents.  My guess is that she tried to use the pot as a nest, or at least a landing pad for the eggs as they were laid - pheasants think nothing of walking on the top of small pots - and, when it tipped over, she ran off.  The eggs were cold by the time I found them this morning, so there was no longer anything to be done.  I hope she has a more suitable nest somewhere to hatch any other eggs she might lay.

Identity crisis

The aubergine and red pepper seedlings are already coming along nicely, but now it’s time to get the tomatoes started off.  I have a few seeds of each of three varieties in a little seed tray (formerly a soft-fruit punnet from the supermarket – a bit of plastic re-use), topped off as so often recommended with some vermiculite, and germinating on a radiator indoors.  I haven’t been using the vermiculite for a while, and I now remember why.  This particular bag of the stuff was used to top off some pots in the autumn, for lettuces and the like, which then started to sprout grass seedlings; it was only when the first of my ‘tomato’ seeds to sprout came up with single seed-leaves (indicative of grasses and bulbous plants) rather than the two leaves that most plants, including tomatoes, have, that it all came back to me.  Close examination of the surface of the seed-tray revealed more grass seed lying there.  How did the grass seed get into the vermiculite?  The bag was opened in the greenhouse and hasn’t been outside since, I don’t store grass seed in there and I don’t allow seeding plants in there either.  I assume it was contaminated before the bag was sealed, but I can’t prove that.  At least the grass seedlings are easily identifiable as such and can be weeded out at the very earliest stage; it’s just a bit of a nuisance.

My tomato seeds were carefully sown in three little strips, each strip with a label identifying the variety.  I’ve said before that I’m not good at labelling.  One of the big pots on the patio has leaves coming up that are definitely tulips, but there’s nothing to tell me which variety (I hope it will become obvious when they flower); there are also some crocuses in there and I had at least put in a label for them (they’re ‘Blue Pearl’).  I also noticed that the pot containing the Gladiolus nana ‘Nymph’ corms still had the label saying ‘Crocus’ (well, the corms look a little similar when dormant), but fortunately it’s very clear that the shoots coming up in there are much too big; I’ve reused the label to mark where a single, purple and white Dutch crocus has put itself, so that I can move it to a better spot later on – but, true to form, I have forgotten to replace it with a label saying ‘Gladiolus’!  (And I realise, belatedly, that I ought to have put them under cover for the winter, shouldn’t I?  We’ll see if they suffer as a result.)

The pots seem to be filling nicely with the leaves of the tulips and other bulbs that I planted in them.  One newcomer is Muscari latifolium; my previous experience of Muscari is of M. armeniacum, the common one that spreads like bad news and which is still trying to come up in one of my borders even after being weeded out.  It’s attractive but becomes too much of a good thing.  In comparison, M. latifolium is a much beefier plant, with chunky leaves (in retrospect, the clue is in the name: ‘latifolium’ means ‘with broad leaves’) and very dark flower-buds; I’m looking forward to the buds opening.  The bulbs flowering so far are the mixed lot of miniature daffodils (mostly ‘Tete-a-tete’ but also a ridiculously frilly little daff which I’m gradually becoming fond of, despite its being too top-heavy) and, separately, Narcissus ‘Elka’ paired with some blue-purple violas, a lovely combination.

Narcissus 'Elka'

Muscari latifolium

March has also been having something of an identity crisis, varying between March winds, April showers and, last weekend, January snow (mixed with sleet, hail and thunder, all together).  The snow only fell for about half-an-hour, but quite thickly, and there was a patchy covering on the lawn until the next day’s sun melted it.  The main theme this week has been wind with a mix of rain and sun.   The bird activity is definitely spring-like, though, and even with a gale blowing yesterday there was a song-thrush singing lustily somewhere.  The birds are flocking to the feeders, presumably getting into peak condition for breeding; a pair of long-tailed tits have joined the sparrows and blue-tits on the fatballs, and a female chaffinch has been clumsily getting to grips with the peanut feeder when the woodpecker isn’t there.  A robin – not one of the pair who come to the patio, though I think this singleton does sneak food from the patio when the others aren’t looking – has been defending the area around the gooseberry bushes, buddleja and woodpile, and I’m wondering if he (or she) is thinking of nesting in the latter.  That might make for some lively territorial battles with the other pair!

Pheasant in the snow

- and in the sun, with two lady friends

Temptation

Daffodils and Lonicera

One of the pleasures of returning from a couple of weeks in snowy Norway is that the UK looks very green and springlike by comparison, and this year the very mild February weather (which hit Norway as well as here) really made for a spring homecoming.  For our first week back, the sun shone, warm at times, and the plants responded accordingly.  Usually our first daffodils open around mid-March (assuming we don't have a Beast from the East like last year) and it's unusual to have any in flower in time for St David's Day, but this year the front-garden daffs were in bloom before the end of February.  A few of them looked good in a vase with some leafy honeysuckle stems and some winter honeysuckle (Lonicera x purpusii); the latter is in full flow, a splendid show, providing lots of sustenance for the big queen bumblebees and their smaller relatives who were tempted out of hibernation by the warmth.  (The cut daffs are now fading; sadly they don't die attractively, unlike tulips which look elegant and silk-like even in their death-throes.)

The winter has been dry until this weekend (when we are having Storm Freya with gales and rain), and I was able to get on with the most urgent gardening jobs.  It was unusual to be able to garden in February without a jacket, and with gloves only necessary for protection, not warmth!  The temptation is to cast caution to the winds and put the semi-tender plants outdoors, but there's still March to get through, and although the forecast is for wet and windy weather rather than ice and snow, a warm week in February is no guarantee of an early spring.  So the to-do list was the usual late winter jobs: pruning the big apple tree and the wisteria (just in time, as the mild temperatures were causing them to start breaking dormancy; there are already buds on the damsons showing colour), planting the shallots (and I did risk putting a few lettuce seedlings alongside them, with a fleece covering for protection and to stop the birds from pulling the bulbs up), and making a start on pruning the buddleja.  There are also a few roses still needing tidying up; they're already putting out leaves.  I also managed one task that I'd been meaning to tackle for a couple of years now, renewing the capping stones on the dry-stone wall at the further end of the veg plot.  They were not very stable to start with, and some of them were crumbling while others had been dislodged by pheasants and next-door's cat scrambling up the wall; there were also some stones below that needed to be replaced.  I was able to find just enough stones to make a moderately decent job of it; they should last a few years anyway (next-door's cat permitting).  It was a job that needed to be done in winter, before the lily-of-the-valley that grows in front of that stretch of wall started to shoot - as it was I think I crushed a few emerging buds.

Rhubarb 'Timperley Early'

The veg plot still has plenty of leeks to dig up, and the garlic seems to be doing well.  The broad beans are already in flower, and the 'Timperley Early' rhubarb is living up to its name - first harvest this weekend.

Helleborus x hybridus

Besides the daffodils and winter honeysuckle, the pulmonarias, hellebores and crocuses are also in flower.  The Tommies (Crocus tommasinianus) beside the summerhouse were looking good until a heavy rainshower the other day which flattened them; the more robust 'Blue Pearl', 'Cream Beauty' and the big purple ones ('Remembrance'?) survived a little better.  I used to have some bright yellow Crocus angustifolius but I don't know what happened to them as they haven't appeared for a couple of years.  (Note to self: the 'Blue Pearl' crocuses in the front garden have been swamped by the snowdrops and are barely visible; if possible they should be moved elsewhere.)  The snowdrops were going over by the time we returned from holiday; although they looked quite good from a distance en masse, close to they were really past it.  I found half-a-dozen to make a posy with some sweet violets but they only lasted for a few days.  There was a nice splash of colour in the greenhouse, where a clutch of 'Cream Beauty' crocuses were in bloom; they had been inadvertently dug up when I rescued the last mesembryanthemums from the window-box and I had assumed that they were 'Tete-a-tete' daffodils (which was stupid of me, as the daffodils were planted much deeper and the bulbs are much bigger).

Crocus (probably 'Remembrance')

Snowdrops and sweet violets

Crocus 'Cream Beauty'

The wildlife has responded well to the good weather.  Besides all the bees and hoverflies, several ladybirds have been sunning themselves - a welcome sight, as I saw very few last year - and a pair of brimstone butterflies and a peacock have also been in the garden.  The birds have been very active, although there are fewer blackbirds than before; I suspect some were migrants which have started returning home.  A couple of blackbirds and a song thrush have been singing, and Lefty our lame pigeon and his mate have been picking up nesting material.  I was thinking of cutting down the bare stems of the Big Yellow Thing (bupthalmum is its proper name), which are left over winter for architectural value and so that birds can eat the seeds, but a goldfinch was feeding on them the other day so I'll leave them a little longer.

Temptation of another sort: a few days ago, our local male pheasant was spotted stalking around the greenhouse trying to peer in through the windows (although the bubblewrap inside would have prevented him from seeing much).  I didn't worry too much about leaving the door open on mild days as the big sheet of bubblewrap that hangs in front of the door was flapping about in the breeze and I thought that would deter him from venturing in - but when I went to put away my secateurs after tackling the buddleja yesterday, there was a panicky flapping about inside.  I stepped aside and let him scramble out and run away, leaving some shredded bubblewrap where he had tried to fly up in his fright, and a scent of Pelargonium 'Lady Plymouth' where he had trodden on the overwintering plants, but otherwise without any damage.  Given the speed with which he made off, I don't think he'll be tempted to try that again!

Fly down and be counted

Hazel catkins and sunny skies

Big Garden Birdwatch weekend didn't start too well.  My first hour's count was a bit sparse (only seven species), so I tried again and did a little better.  I put it down to its being rather windy - the first windy weather we've had for some time - which might have discouraged some birds from visiting, so the next day, in brighter and calmer weather, I spent a third hour doing a count.  This time a wider range of birds (12 species) appeared, including chaffinches, goldfinches and a mistle thrush.  Among the no-shows were the wren, which had been around for my earlier counts and came by a few hours after my 'official' count; it appears most days, sometimes hopping along the sill outside the dining room window in search of bugs.  I had been hoping that the song thrush might turn up; it was singing lustily around the turn of the year, and occasionally foraging under the shrubs, but I hadn't seen it for a few weeks.

Snowy garden

Then, after a quiet and mild winter so far, the weather turned cold this past week; a couple of frosty days were followed by a significant snowfall on Thursday night and an icy Friday and Saturday morning.  It ought to turn mild again from Sunday.  The song thrush reappeared, looking for food on the patio, and four bullfinches (two males and two females) searched the plum tree for buds.  As the weather turned chilly, a little flock of red-legged partridges trotted into the garden to poke around the veg plot and took shelter under the buddleia, where some of them sat looking very miserable as it turned dark.  Meanwhile, in spite of the cold, the birds are still pairing up; the robins are still together, and two dunnocks seem to be hanging out as a pair.

Shallot bed in preparation

Before the cold weather drew in I managed a couple of jobs in the garden.  The pond has been raked out, removing a lot of weed and some grass that had rooted in there.  The shallot order arrived, so a bed in the veg plot was prepared for them with a layer of homemade compost covered with black polythene to keep some of the cold out and to allow the ground to warm up; I haven't been good in the past at trying to warm the soil before spring planting, so this is by way of turning over a new leaf.  One job still outstanding is to prune the big apple tree and the wisteria, but that is best left until the temperature is a little warmer.

Back on the plot

Today was the first day's serious gardening of the year.  It's not that the weather has been bad - it's been mild on the whole, and relatively dry, but I've been persuading myself that garden jobs weren't all that pressing, and apart from minor bits and pieces such as pulling up the odd weed I haven't been doing much outside.  But there is work to be done, so this afternoon it was on with the gardening gear and out to the greenhouse.  Very satisfying is was too, although none of the jobs were big ones.  Mostly it was the early seed-sowing: the aubergines, sweet peppers and chillies, all to be germinated indoors, and the spring sowing of sweet peas, which have been left in the greenhouse (the autumn-sown ones sprouted in early winter and were put out into the cold frame in December).  A few small lettuce plants which had been sitting in modules in the cold frame were planted into a trough in the relative warmth of the greenhouse (which is cooler than usual this year, having dropped a few times to 2.2C, which is on the cold side for some of my tender plants but nothing seems to be suffering too much so far).  Then there were a couple of other odd jobs to do, such as tying in the broad beans, most of which have reached the height where that is both helpful and desirable.

There is other work waiting for me, including pruning the apple tree and raking weed out of the pond.  It's also a good time of year for digging up perennial weeds, and goodness knows there are plenty of those to tackle.

One job which I did do earlier in January was to plant the last of the tulip bulbs, last year's 'World Friendship' bulbs which had proliferated remarkably well; this probably means that they are too small to flower successfully this year, but we'll see.  They were nice tulips and I'm reluctant to throw them out.  To create a home for them I emptied a big pot which had been housing a mix of small plants, mostly shrubby herbs grown from cuttings; they had been popped in there during the dry summer weather to give them a better depth of soil, and hence more water retention, than their individual small pots could provide.  They hadn't put on a great deal of top growth, but their roots had expanded enormously and I had to cut them apart - so I was surprised to find vine weevil grubs in there.  Goodness only knows what they had been living on as nothing seemed to be damaged.  I fished out as many grubs as I could find and left them out for the robin, who enjoyed the meal.

Actually we have two robins - they paired up before Christmas and have been feeding together quite happily.  We'll see if the friendship lasts when the really cold weather blows in!  There have been a few frosts but nothing to seriously worry the birds, and they haven't been particularly territorial so far.  There are quite a few finches around, mostly goldfinches - two of them were feeding on the phlomis seedheads this morning - but there are also a group of chaffinches, which were soaking up the sun the other day on the apple cordons against the wall, and a male greenfinch has also been around.  We've also had a few bullfinches enjoying eating the flowers on the winter honeysuckle, which has been in full bloom since early December.

Freesias and winter honeysuckle

The winter honeysuckle (Lonicera purpusii) has been a mainstay of posies of flowers for the house; it paired well with some white supermarket freesias, and also with early snowdrops and hazel catkins.  The winter aconites and the first of the hybrid hellebores are out (the big Helleborus argutifolius has been in flower since before Christmas), and I see that the Cyclamen coum that self-seeded at the edge of the path are also flowering.  Daffodil leaves are starting to sprout, although I know from experience that it will still be some time before we see any flowers; they seem to have an ability to sit in bud for a very long time without actually blooming!

Snowdrops and catkins

Cyclamen coum

Helleborus argutifolius

Helleborus x hybridus

Snowdrops and aconites

Things I learnt in 2018

A quick round-up of things I learnt in the past year.  Ok, so the weather last year wasn’t exactly typical, so some of the following may not apply in a ‘normal’ year.  But, in general, in 2018 I learnt:

1.  That it’s true that tomatoes and aubergines should be sown early.  I sowed them indoors, and kept them there until the temperatures warmed up enough to risk the greenhouse, and they did much better.  The tomatoes were much more successful in my bags (about 20 litres) of compost than in growbags.  I potted the aubergines on into larger pots than previously, and kept them on the staging in better light, and got much better results; however they really need even bigger pots (3 litres?).

2.  That it’s also true that late-summer annuals like zinnias and tithonias can be sown late (April/May); they don’t like hanging around waiting to be transplanted, and they catch up very well.  This might also be true of starting off dahlias, although in 2018 they took a long time to get going (the cold spring? Or too little water in summer?).  My ever-growing collection of dahlia tubers is in dry storage in the greenhouse, although I noticed the other day that two of them (‘Sam Hopkins’ and one of the ‘Café au lait’) already had buds on them, so they have been potted up already, and I might take cuttings from them if they do well.  I’ll see how they get on and perhaps pot the others up early, depending on how the spring shapes up weather-wise.

3.  That autumn-sown sweet peas will peter out early, so I need to sow some in spring as well for continuity.  But not too many as I don’t really have many good places to grow them!  And also that the turquoise-flowered varieties aren’t worth bothering with; as I discovered in previous years trying to grow ‘Tutankhamun’, the ‘Turquoise Lagoon’ seeds were slow to germinate, made weedy growth and never did anything.  A gardener’s life (and garden space) is too short.

4.  And, on the subject of annuals: I discovered that French beans are annuals and need to be repeat-sown for continuity (unlike runners, which are perennials).

5.  Sticking with beans for the moment: last autumn I reverted to starting my broad beans off in modules and transplanting, and the plants are doing well.  So I’ve learnt that that’s the best way for me, whatever the gardening experts may say.

6.  That daffodils, other than the small ones like ‘Tete-a-tete’, don’t do well in pots (they didn’t for me, anyway).

7.  That covering newly-planted shallots with fleece keeps the birds from disturbing them.

8.  That hedychiums thrive on moisture as well as heat; I put them, in their pots, outdoors for the summer thinking that the warm weather would be good for them, but they didn’t flower until too late.  I assume they found it too dry; they’re tropical plants, after all, and probably like a steamy atmosphere.

9.  That Francoa sonchifolia is on the tender side – supposedly!  My plants didn’t look great after the cold March weather, but they survived, despite being exposed to the east winds, so I was surprised to discover that I ought to be protecting them in winter!  On the subject of winter protection, I’m experimenting with some mesembryanthemums (Livingstone daisies) that had been in the window box; when I cleared out the box for winter planting, a few of them were still in flower and I plonked them in a pot.  They’ve survived the few light frosts that we’ve had, to my surprise, so I’ve taken them into the greenhouse to see if they will keep going.  I don’t know if they’re annuals in their natural habitat or not.  It turns out that I accidentally transplanted some ‘Tete-a-tete’ narcissus along with them, so at least there will be some interest in that pot in spring if the mesembryanthemums don't last the winter.

9.  That I’m still not good at labelling pots!

10.  What ash dieback looks like :(

11.  That creeping buttercup and the creeping potentilla, two of the nastier weeds in the lawn, flower on the end of runners, so by spotting the flowers you can find the runners and pull them up; it doesn’t kill the plant, obviously, but it does discourage them from spreading.  And I also discovered that it is actually possible to uproot the potentilla, provided you fork down far enough (it’s a tough-rooted little weed).

12.  Not to trust bulb suppliers to send out what I asked for .... 

Much more to learn in 2019!