Gardens

Blue Sky Morning

Breakfast on the lawn. A jug of coffee and fresh cut orange and apple with toasted nuts. And at last the sun on our skin. A sense of bliss after the dark, wet months.

Overhead, in the big blue, jackdaws drift from their roost to all points and back again. No reason necessary. Far off, too, above the town, white glints catch my eye. They shimmer like foil reflecting the sun, and soon, drawing near, take form: a pair of buzzards in their best feathers. It’s the white underwing that catches the light. They glide by. A pair. Aerial synchrony. It looks like a slow pas de deux.

And next comes the red kite, Shropshire’s largest raptor. Sipping our coffee we lean back to watch. It’s far up, the tell-tale V of the tail feathers, the wide wingspan. We almost take such sights for granted now. The sparrows, though, dash for cover in the holly hedge. And that’s when, gaze lowered, I notice the brimstone butterfly. Wings of pale apple green, it’s flitting about the garden at high speed. Then up and away over the fence, across the street and into the Thorntons’ garden. It’s the second I’ve spotted this week. I don’t recall ever seeing brimstones before.

Along the garden path there’s a continuous sprinkling of cherry plum blossoms. The ice pink petals fall like slow snow flakes. On days like this the tree looks its festive best against the sky. It’s not our tree but grows near our hedge, casting the new spring garden of daffodils and hellebores in dappled light.

And so with the sun and the blue sky all seems hopeful, bountiful, beneficent, and I breathe a long slow breath. Muscles soften. Winter tensions dissolve. Here, in our small garden world, spring is happening.

Lens-Artists: Time to relax This week Anne at Slow Shutter Speed wants to know what helps us relax.

Changing Seasons, February 2026: The highlights

Here in England, it’s too easy to harp on about our months of wet and dismal weather. But February has not been all wall to wall gloom. Last week, when we had two sunshine days, everyone was out and about, spurred on by fits of exuberance. How we’d missed the sun. It felt a battery recharge.

I made the most of it, too. Not only did I mow the lawns, but I also dug out my compost bin and spread the contents all over the back garden beds: instant refurbishment to rain beaten soil, and no digging required – at least not beyond the confines of the compost bin. No-dig pioneer gardener, Charles Dowding, would surely give me a thumbs up for effort. The blackbirds are certainly pleased with me, although I’m not so pleased with them. They seem to think the garden path is a better spot for my compost.

And so the highlights – the crocus certainly. They’ve stood up magnificently to rain and wind:

And in sheltered corners the daffodils are just now following on:

And about the town, the hedgerows are hanging in hazel catkins that catch the light:

While hedge bottoms glow with bursts of freshly opened celandines, some of our earliest wild flowers:

Meanwhile the cherry plum tree over the garden hedge, is treating to us to a sherbet pink confection of early blossom:

And then one afternoon last week at sunset…

…a blackbird perched in the top of our big apple tree and sang a call and answer duet with a compatriot somewhere across the town:

And I stood transfixed, listening, breathing in the sappy scents on the air, thinking of spring…

With apologies for the visual shudder

The Changing Seasons: February 2026 Host Brian has a wonderful February gallery featuring his local wildlife. And as ever at Touring My Backyard, Ju-Lyn has both fine views and she’s been creating more fabulous treats in her kitchen.

Reasons To Be Cheerful: Six On Saturday

January came with heavy snow and gale force gusts that brought down snow-laden trees. Then there were days of frost and biting winds, then heavy rains that flooded fields and roads. There were also many low cloud days, the hills around the Castle shrouded in murk the colour of mud; not much sight of the sun. But through it all the snowdrops have been emerging in ever bigger clumps. They are everywhere around the town, in pots and borders, on patches of abandoned garden, under walls and hedges. And they’re still going strong.

Our own snowdrops are too newly planted to make a clump or a photo worth taking, though we’re still pleased to see them. So these are the neighbours’ snowdrops.

The garden has been looking pretty dreary, but there are signs of spring – when I put on my specs and do some low-level peering. The Tete a Tete daffodils for one are looking promising:

We’re also approaching the main season for hellebores. The December flowering Christmas Carols have kept going through snow and frost, but the rain has muddied and bruised their faces.

This purplish-pink one, just opening outside the kitchen window, is faring better:

And still in purplish mode the Ajuga reptans looks to have put on a growth spurt along the back garden path. I think it may be Atropurpurea. It’s certainly looking very purple here in the afternoon light:

And since we’re in the back garden, it’s worth looking in on the winter greens. At one stage they were buried in six inches of snow, but now I see the Swiss Chard and perennial beet have begun to regrow, and the purple sprouting and cauliflowers planted out in the cleared runner bean bed in September are bulking up. The land cress, meanwhile, has been sprouting edible, peppery salad stems all winter.

And finally there are the slivers of tiny mauve crocuses that have popped up all over the front garden. On dull days they are almost invisible, their petals in tightly wrapped small spikes that remind me more of fungi than flowers.

But earlier this week we actually had a blue-sky-full-on-sun day, and the tiny souls opened wide, though barely an inch across at full petal: their own small force of nature.

Six on Saturday Our host Jim, as ever, has plenty to show us in his garden; always something new to see or learn about there.

Six On Saturday: In The December Garden

Now as the year ends, the garden is wet, wet, wet. Wet as in waterlogged, sodden, soggy and all round slithery. But yesterday we had sun. It seemed like a heavenly blessing after days of gloom and serial downpours. And suddenly, instead of finding the garden depressing, I started to notice the plants that were not only doing their best, but in their own way, putting on a show.

1) Top of the list is Nandina domestica, otherwise known as Heavenly Bamboo. It’s not a bamboo and so does not have bamboo’s bad infesting habit. The variety here is Fire Power. It’s compact, dome-like in habit, evergreen, and will grow around 18 inches tall with a two feet spread. It likes full sun, but otherwise is undemanding. It also seems unfazed by hard frost (we had several weeks of freezing weather last year). But what colours! It turns more red with the cold weather.

Number 2) is a plant that has made a good recovery after a very unpromising start. It’s a Japanese Shield Fern I bought on-line back in the spring. After ten days being lost and tossed about by the delivery company, it arrived in very sorry state, much mangled and desiccated. Now it seems very happy in its pot, making new fronds even..

3) The prize for steadfast out-of-season flowering goes to the Phlox paniculata Adessa in the front garden. This is a young plant, bought in the summer. I was not expecting it to flower until next year, but come November, spires of small white flowers appeared, and they’re still going, subtly scented too.

4) Also in the front garden is a tiny self-grown viola. It’s seeded from the pot of violas my sister gave me over a year ago. Such stalwart, exquisite little plants.

5) Another surprise is the number of foxglove plants in the garden, all self-sown. They have been growing huge during the recent wet and mostly mild weather, having recovered from a spell of heavy frosting in November. Happy thoughts of summer then.

6) Finally, and spot on for a December debut is hellebore Christmas Carol. It was a gift last year, since divided and planted out both in a pot and in the new back steps bed. It’s been so cheering on dull days, though, annoyingly, some beastie is biting holes in its petals. Last year it flowered from months and months.

Happy gardening everyone –

whether planning or planting, depending on your hemisphere

Six on Saturday And thanks and Happy Christmas to host Jim. He has shown us so many fascinating plants, to say nothing of guiding us around his stunning planting schemes.

Shadows of Summer Past at Wildegoose Nursery

Wildegoose Nursery in the Corve Valley has been hosting a special winter opening this week (Thursday – Sunday) – giving us a chance to see the walled garden in its late season colours. Not the brightest of days yesterday, and with rain on the air.

Here’s a reminder of how it looked when we visited in September, this after weeks without rain:

Then and now…

From the tea room window

November Shadows #29

Crab Apple Morning

A hard frost overnight, but this morning a big sun; the garden fence lit up; a glow of crab apples.

Passing on brightness among the shadows.

November Shadows #21

Six On Saturday: Showing Their Colours

Back at the end of October the garden was alive with drifts of cosmos, Michaelmas daisies and rudbeckia. And then the downpours began, plus some big winds. The cosmos is still hanging on, but the Michaelmas daisies are no more and rudbeckia down to the final few stems.

1) The rose trio, though, is hanging on, still doing their bit. Cornelia by the greenhouse is looking a little rain battered, but still very pretty. St. Cecilia on the terrace wall has been flowering sporadically for some weeks. But her neighbour, Penelope, has only started flowering this week, beautiful, but unexpected…

2) There have been other surprise openings this week, including the newly planted young Hesperanthus Wilfred H. Bryant…

Other curious (unseasonal?) discoveries this week include buds and flowers on two Vanilla Ice sunflower plants which I grew from seed in the spring. They’re multi-headed plants with medium, in sunflower terms, sized flowers. Heaven knows why they’ve waited till November.

3) In the still going strong since the summer category, Salvia Amistad wins first prize. Actually, this is the best its looked since it was planted in the spring…

4) And in the front garden, a new favourite Crocosmia Harlequin, as seen this morning. Isn’t this a lovely plant…

5) In between torrential rain and misty drizzle, garden tidying, and the usual plant shifting has begun. Our builder and son also came and removed an annoying (literally) stumbling block outside the back door. Last year we had the garden steps reconfigured, but the job wasn’t quite finished and the old bottom steps survived the exercise, were a real eye-sore and general all-round nuisance. But now transformation. They have been demolished and a brand new, semi-shade bed created. I’ve planted it up with assorted hellebores, (Christmas Carol in the right hand corner just in bud), dwarf daffodils, snowdrops under the hedge, pulmonaria Blue Ensign and Diana Clare (silvery leaves), and in the far left, a neat fern, Polystichum setiferum congestum. As the leaves go from the hedge end behind the house, it will get more light. A spring garden then.

6) Last but not least, when it comes to providing long-lasting colour and cheerfulness, to say nothing of eventually feeding the birds, it has to be the crab apple trees: a miniature Evereste in the front garden (header photo) which we can see from the sitting room, and Jelly King at the bottom of the garden, but visible from the kitchen. Even on the gloomiest days, they do their best to glow. Today, though, we have wall to wall sunshine and Wedgewood Blue sky, so here they are looking their brightest…

Six on Saturday Please call in on our host, Jim. He still has some fabulous plants still flowering in his garden

After The Storm ~ Six On Saturday

This time last week, the wind was racketing around the garden, threatening to uproot and mash the herbaceous plants. But in the end, damage was minimal. In fact some plants have been thriving since.

And especially

1) Cornelia rose

She’d been in a big pot by the greenhouse all summer. And as she was new, I’d been concerned about keeping her suitably watered during the long summer drought. She did flower a little back then, but not for long. But since the storm, and removal into a bigger, bottomless pot, she has sent out elegant arching stems laden with buds and blooms. She’s a hybrid musk, and the flowers, though small like wild roses, smell delicious. I’m hoping she will eventually fill the gap between the hedge and the greenhouse.

2) Cosmos bigger and better

The gale might have blown their frocks off, not to mention nearly scooting them out of the ground, but the Cosmos plants on the terrace wall have come back bigger and better, and are covered in new buds. I’ve been filling vases with them.

3) Tree tomatoes?

Nor did the big wind deter tomato production in the cooking apple tree. Daft, I know.

This plant was one of my rejects, a pot-bound Sungold seedling that had hung around on the garden path long after I’d potted up the main plants in early June. Eventually, I stuck it the ground , and generally forgot about it, though I did provide it with a supporting stick. Some time later I discovered that it had climbed way up into the apple tree, and so chopped off its top growth. And again ignored it. Then it began fruiting and has been doing so for many weeks – just a few tomatoes at a time. They’re delicious too.

Here it is – you can just see a strand of green fruit hanging down to the right of Jelly King crab apples, green obelisk behind.

4) The Kabuki calabrese gets the prize this week for making me smile a lot. I always find it exciting when my brassicas start to sprout. And this particular plant has survived remarkably unscathed after the summer attack of flea beetles which make holes in everything of the brassica family. The flower head isn’t exactly big enough for two. Well, not yet. Watching brief activated.

5) Grumble of the week

Well, there always has to be something. Now I’m wondering what on earth is making holes in my Swiss Chard (mature and seedling versions) and also the Perennial Spinach. I thought I’d finally protected all the edible greens from all comers with a covering of fine black netting. All summer I’d managed to fend off butterflies from the caulis and purple sprouting. And kept the pigeons at bay. But now I have holey leaves. He who is a sometime plant pathologist posits caterpillars, but I can see no obvious sign of them. Suggestions, anyone?

6) Sunbathing

And not to end with a fit of gardening disgruntlement, since the storm we’ve been having some wonderful sunny spells, warm enough to make one put autumn woollies straight back in the cupboard. Even the ladybirds have been sunning themselves. I’ve been finding them all around the garden, including some very tiny ones.

And that’s it from our Shropshire garden. Happy gardening, folks.

Please call in on our host Jim at Garden Ruminations.

Six On Saturday

Feeling Blustered: Six On Saturday

1. Storm-struck

This morning at breakfast time – with a high wind whooshing about the place and rain lashing the kitchen doors, the garden definitely looked a no-go area. I could see three dozen bean canes splayed like pick-up-sticks across the top path by the greenhouse. Drat and double drat. When I dismantled the runner bean rows a week or so ago, I had forgotten to tether them securely to the hedge. I could also see the cosmos at the top of the steps being tossed about. Since late September and the onset of rainy days, it has been flowering magnificently. Now it was having its petals blown off. More curses. And I could see that the Selinum (farthest right at the wall top) which is still flowering as well as seeding, was now rearranged at a 45 degree angle.

Not a happy gardener.

Cosmos unclothed; Helianthus blown away.

And then, quite suddenly, towards midday, the rain stopped and the sun came out, although we still have a mighty blow, with now-and-then gusts that lift you off your feet.

I did a quick tour of the garden, but there was not much to be done mid-gale, apart from attempting a bit of support for the Selinum.

2: Apples

With the wind, I was expecting another heavy crop of windfalls. But when I went out to check the damage, I was pleased to see that most of our remaining apples are still clinging sturdily to their stalks. Which is good news as I already had a stack of windfalls in the kitchen. And there’s only so much apple sauce we can eat, and all the neighbours are overwhelmed with apples too and putting them out at their gates for anyone to take. However, I recently discovered an easy apple chilli chutney recipe, and so, as gardening was out, this was what happened next.

3. In love with Michaelmas daisies

I’m not expecting the late flowering flowers to survive the wind, but that won’t include the Michaelmas daisies (Symphyotrichums/Asters whatever they’re called these days). I took this photo with the wind still blowing. Only a couple of small side stems damaged.

Its neighbour, a compact little variety (I think it could be Purple Dome) has only just decided to flower:

And at the bottom of the garden this tall white bushy version, White Ladies maybe, and…

…Aster x frikatii Monch have been flowering since the hot days of summer:

4. Great Dixter Nursery

And so like Jim, I’ve been doing some plant buying. I have recently discovered that Great Dixter House and Gardens has an online plant shop. They sell some very lovely plants (1 and 2 litre sizes) at very reasonable prices. That’s where I found Patrinia as featured in an earlier SoS. And it’s where I also found ‘Symphyotrichum Les Moutiers’ which is now planted in my front garden. We’ll have to wait nearly a year before we see it in action though. Do give the link a quick look.

5. Ongoing edibles

The salad stuff hasn’t been troubled by the unruly weather. The radicchio and endive, rocket, land cress, and Moroccan Cress lettuce are presently thriving, though everything has to be netted against pigeons.

We also have some Swiss chard, beetroot, parsnips and leeks, and a new bed of winter greens (planted out on the runner and borlotti bean bed) is looking quite good. And there are still a few climbing borlotti beans to pick in the side-garden wall bed.

6. A happy face

Now as I’m writing this, the rain is back and the wind is still blowing. So I’m finishing off with another garden stalwart. I was so pleased to find this marigold looking so fresh-faced as I went round the garden late-morning. Of course, we eat these too. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention that though.

Happy gardening folks – whatever your weather. Even on distinctly unpromising days, there’s usually something in the garden to be glad about.

Six On Saturday Please catch up with Jim at Garden Ruminations.

Season Of Mist and All Round Wetness ~ Six on Saturday

Here in Bishop’s Castle the rainy weather continues as we head towards the autumn equinox. Just now it’s pouring steadily, threatening to dampen spirits for today’s Michaelmas Fair. This is always a hugely jolly affair of stalls, parades, Chinese dragons, steam engines, vintage vehicles and street performances – assorted bands, Morris dancers, a jester from Chester, the singing farmer, to name but a few of the events. And then the whole thing is rounded off mid-evening with a magical lantern procession through the town (the lanterns made by children). All very much dependent of weatherly cooperation. But then I’m sure, this being the Castle, everyone will make the best of it, brollies and waterproofs at the ready.

Definitely not a day for gardening though. Also as the season winds down, it’s hard not a feel a touch dispirited by the ongoing sogginess. The few roses on their second flowering don’t like it much either. But come hell or high water, to say nothing of last winter’s three solid weeks of snow and frost, the little pansies, viola magnifico [1] above still soldier on. This plant has been flowering continuously for twelve months.

And talking of pansies, what is it that nibbles the yellow ones? And is it the same thing that bites off the buds from my only lupin whenever it tries to flower?

The Cosmos [2]doesn’t mind the weather either. In fact it seems to be having a new lease of life, and I’m enjoying the drifty looks of it, its stems hanging in raindrops.

The Japanese ‘Uchiki Kuri’ squash [3] plants weren’t as productive as I’d expected, and I had high hopes of some later planted plants. They’ve produced a couple of tiny ones, and I’ve nipped off extraneous shoots, but I think it’s probably too late for them now.

The borlotti bean crop [4] is looking more promising. I picked all the dwarf variety some weeks ago, but the climbing ones are just beginning to dry in their pods. I love them for their looks alone, though they’re pretty good in the pot too.

Despite my weather whingeing, the garden is still looking colourful. The rudbeckia and Michaelmas daisies certainly brighten the place up. There are also still some sunflowers at the bottom of the garden, and my two very small crab apples trees [5], Evereste and Jelly King are looking their vibrant best.

This miniature Evereste is in a corten steel raised bed, along with some origano Kent Beauty, and Santolina. Silvery Artemesia Powis Castle behind.

Jelly King is lighting up the furthest corner of the garden. I’m not sure I want to sacrifice the apples to making jelly (perverse I know, considering this is why I chose it). They look so lovely, and in fact, now I have found sources of wild apples (see previous post) I think I will leave them, first for us to look at, and later for the blackbirds.

Finally, here’s one of my newish garden plants that has been so glad of the rain, Persicaria Blackfield [6], red bistort. It really struggled all through the summer, despite my hand watering. But then with the first of the recent showers, it perked up and began to flower. It’s interesting that the drought seemed to have had a miniaturising effect on the whole plant, as if it was making itself small to save itself. I’m hoping it will settle in now and come into its own.

Six on Saturday Please visit host Jim at Garden Ruminations. He’s been very busy despite the weather.

Tish Farrell

Writer on the Edge