Shropshire

The Changing Seasons ~ This Was August ‘26

August in Shropshire, and for much of the month the dry and sunny days rolled on. After weeks without rain, the fields around the town looked like this – ochre shades and smoothly crop-shorn.

Meanwhile, in the garden the sunflowers put on the biggest show – volunteers and perennials alike…

…and the borders did their best, especially the areas that been well mulched…

We had some welcome visitors…

One evening we sat out on the lawn and almost saw the partial eclipse. The sunflowers almost saw it too.

And on another evening we walked up Wintles Hill to look for blackberries…

… and found enough to make two jars of bramble jelly. In fact this year the blackberries are being magnificent – sweet and fat and juicy. They haven’t minded the drought. The hedgerows are hanging in fruit. More forays to come, methinks.

We grew adventurous one day and drove all of 18 miles from Bishop’s Castle to Munslow in Corvedale to have lunch in the walled garden at Wildegoose Nursery. It was a good opportunity to see which of their plants had been surviving the hot and rainless summer. It all looked very lovely…

And we also paid our old home town of Much Wenlock a visit. There were mixed feelings revisiting the Linden Walk, and climbing Windmill Hill to look at the once familiar view, and to say hello to the latest generation of Highland cattle in the Cutlins meadow…

And then at last IT RAINED…

Copyright Tish Farrell 2026

The Changing Seasons: Aug 2026 Please call in on hosts Ju-Lyn at Touring My Backyard and Brian at Bushboys World. As ever, Ju-Lyn has been a whizz in the kitchen and at the keyboard too. And Brian has fabulous bird- and wildlife on show.

WildeGoose ~ Still Beauty In The Dry Garden

There’s not much happening in the home garden this week, but wonder of wonders, we have some serious rain. After two months standing empty, the water butts are brimming, and every watering can is full. And so comes the dilemma: lots of rain still coming and nowhere to store the excess; nor any need to use it outside the greenhouse. At least for the next week.

Anyway, this still has me thinking about cultivating a more drought-resilient garden, and so prompted by last week’s return visit to the Wildegoose walled garden (last seen in late June),and see how the nursery’s extensive herbaceous-ornamental grass borders have fared without rain.

I should perhaps explain that Wildegoose (location in Munslow in South Shropshire’s Corve Valley) is both a specialist nursery (for violas in particular) and is also a garden attraction in its own right, complete with a very pleasing cafe that makes use of the kitchen garden’s fruit and vegetables.

This leaves a very large portion of the walled garden which is given over to herbaceous plants and ornamental grasses (especially Calamagrostis and Miscanthus species), with different areas framed by paths, sections of hedging, some statement shrubs and small trees. There is also a fabulously restored Georgian glasshouse.

With such big spaces to cultivate, the schemes have been devised with much emphasis on height and visual structure. Plants are left to go to seed over the winter, with the further objective of tracking particular plant responses to weather extremes.

N.B. These areas are not watered during the growing season.

When we arrived a week ago (21 August) it was clear some plants had truly suffered. All the phlox, for instance, had been cut down. But there were also many picturesque, dried-on-the-stem ornamentals like the teasels in the header photo. Gone-over eryngiums of several varieties also added to the general look of scenic desiccation. Likewise the seed heads of many varieties of allium (especially Drumsticks), dark rusty spires of foxgloves and the tall wafting stems of giant yellow scabious Cephalaria dipsacoides. And then there were the many grasses, short and tall. All added to the gentle soundscape of breeze-in-the- leaves.

As we wandered up and down the paths, the dead-head coronets of Echinacea Leilani (1) caught my eye. Such smouldering looks in decay.

But it was the surviving and thriving that most interested me. In one quarter of the garden several Gaura were looking especially wonderful, outspread graceful stems of airy blossom, with nearby clumps of evening primroses and tall euphorbias that had clearly been putting on a good show, some flowers still remaining. Then there were the Verbenas, especially, bonariensis and hastata, and the Rudbeckias maxima and fulgida still going strong.

Unsurprisingly, many thrivers had Mediterranean origins. One, in particular, the umbelliferous Patrinia (2), particularly stood out and up among the grasses. It has been allowed to self-seed throughout the garden, the stems stately and self-supporting, some flowerheads a sprightly apple green (also see header photo), others going over in a haze of pale gold.

Here it is keeping company with some very crispy sea holly:

Other happy plants included various members of the origanum family. I succumbed to a pot of Oreganum Gentle Breeze (3) on the basis that you can’t have too different varieties, and they work well in a small garden.

Gentle Breeze appears to be a later flowering variety and was still a mass of dark purple buds.

And then there were the Achilleas (4) – Filipendula Cloth of Gold drying nicely beside the vegetable garden…

…and then the very creamy faced, in her prime, Hella Glashoff…

…seen growing alongside some flourishing Asters, probably thomsonii or x. frikartii Monch (5):

But the over-all winner for its vibrant colour and seeming late summer staying power has to be the Persicaria/Bistorta amplexicaulis (6). There were at least two varieties, the most striking probably the Amethyst. I think this is it in the next photo, shown to great advantage with a backdrop of just-opening golden rod (probably Little Lemon). What a glorious late summer combination.

And to finish, another longer view. These particular borders are very well mulched:

Six on Saturday Over at Garden Ruminations Jim is assessing the good and bad of Cornwall’s rainless summer. But the best news is: he has hedgehogs!

The Changing Seasons: This Was July ‘26

July has stayed hot and dry from start to finish, albeit with some slightly cooler temperatures this week. All around Bishop’s Castle the fields lie shorn, stubble baked to a crisp, and paling to the colour of Jersey cream. The harvest, then, is done, and a good month early; the grain shipped off to store or contract buyers. There will be no need to dry it. Moisture is the very thing that’s lacking, and so the talk is of lower yields and big farm losses. That said, not everyone has done badly. Some farmers have produced a good crop. Much depends on when they last had rain and the lay of their land. Also on varieties grown. Wheat is a grass with resilience ‘baked in’; it has deep delving roots.

Meanwhile, the Farrells have had the luxury of spending most of July in the garden. They have kept company with Gatekeeper butterflies, Sedge Browns, Painted Ladies, Cabbage Whites and a host of bees and hover flies. There’ve been a lot of moths around too, including the day-flying moth in the header photo (ID not fathomed, but whatever it is, it clearly likes phlox nectar).

The plant-life has just about coped with the drought, some varieties better than others, and especially those that were well mulched. In fact, the flock of self-grown sunflowers have positively thrived, and quite left to their own devices. The tallest one is 8 feet tall and with 8 flower heads. The gardener, though, has grown a bit weary with tending and watering. But on the big plus side we’ve truly enjoyed weeks of eating outdoors, shaded by the backdoor wing. Having supper outside every evening is definitely not a guaranteed summer occurrence in England. We’ve been feeling as if we’re on a foreign holiday, and all without transiting an airport. Triple bonus indeed.

There have been some good vegetables grown this month too. I’ve tried to stop treating our smallish back garden like an allotment plot and concentrate on growing things that work (given pigeon, sparrow, flea beetle and butterfly predation). So we have courgettes, French and runner beans, potatoes (not too many), tomatoes, baby cucumbers, herbs and salad greens. So far so good.

And hopes for August? Please weather gods can we have some nice and steady falls of good summer rain.

The Changing Seasons July 2026 Please call in on our hosts Ju-Lyn and Brian at Bushboys World

Six On Saturday: A Change In The Weather?

The full-on-sun, no-rain weather continues, leaving the back garden borders with derelict looks. Some herbaceous plants have simply had enough. And now that the rambling cranesbills, Anne Thomson and Red Admiral have petered out, there’s a striking loss of colour.

But not everything is fading. This is the season of SUNFLOWERS, both annual and perennial. And given the sudden floral gaps, I’m happy to see this self-sown and grown colony that’s circling the sweet pea obelisk. The sweet peas, anyway, are almost over – more beheading done than picking.

The perennial helianthus have also started to flower. I have them all over the place, although they can have thuggish tendencies. There’s a pleasing clump by the greenhouse, and more around the edges of the garden where nothing else seems quite so keen to grow. I think the original rootstock came via my sister from our Aunt Miriam’s slightly mad Devon garden; family feelings are involved here. With any luck, they should keep going till summer’s end.

As mentioned in previous SoS’s, the magenta-purple phlox paniculatas have been flowering valiantly, even as their petals scorch. Now that the heat is not so fierce, I’m hoping the freshly opened PHLOX PANICULATA DAVID will have its time unscathed. It is a lovely plant with a delicate scent, here keeping company with stems of gone-to-seed valerian. It looks so cool too.

It’s also CROCOSMIA season. We have a big and brutish clump growing in the upstairs garden by the shed. It came with the house. I quite like looking up at it from the back door, seeing the play of light through the sword-like leaves.

But the flowers are suffering, looking more inclined to die before opening. This is anyway not among my favourite plant varieties; far too rampant. But the same doesn’t go for its more refined cousin, Harlequin. I love everything about this plant – its stance, the more delicate sun-suffused leaves, the airy looks of the flowers, those juicy ice lolly colours…

Number four is not exactly a success story, though it depends on your perspective. This is the GLOBE ARTICHOKE we did not eat and for obvious reasons. It is presently a very busy aphid factory under strict ant management. I nearly cut it down, but then this week it began to flower. Even infested, it’s still spectacular. The bees like it too.

Five is a shout-out for OREGANO, however it comes – culinary or ornamental. I’ve already featured the very decorative Kent Beauty here, but at the moment it’s the cooking version that’s the big attraction for bees and butterflies. Painted Ladies and Hedge Browns have been among this week’s avid visitors. Much like the helianthus, I have oregano clumps all over the garden, between the raised beds and filling gaps in borders while new herbaceous plants grow on.

Finally, a food crop success, although not a great haul. And not surprising given the weeks and weeks without rain. Also I only planted 10 seed potatoes. So here we have it – a bucket of ROOSTER spuds. They should keep us going for a while.

And now fingers crossed for the promised cooler days. There might even be some drizzle this afternoon. (Do I believe this?)

Six on Saturday: 18 July 2026 This week host Jim has been capturing the garden wildlife.

Raindrops On Roses ~ Six On Saturday

Today it’s more like October than June. We’re back to grey skies, gusty wind and rain between showers. But the Peneloperoses are bearing up, even if their frocks are soaked and their flounces crumpled.

Here’s a photo from earlier in the week during a sudden sunny spell. The plant itself is a tending-tall, rather floppy shrub rose that can be trained as a short climber if you only have a short wall. I’m hoping that in time she will simply arc gracefully down the terrace wall without much in-put from me. She’s already doing her best.

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In the back garden the scabious are just beginning to flower – both the usual herbaceous border version which I bought as large plugs three years ago, but are only now performing, and a Sheep’s Bit variety called Jasione laevis Blue Light, which went in as a young plant last September. Both are presently keeping company with various hardy geraniums, but the Blue Light is already making a pleasing low clump on the border edge near the path.

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Another first-time performer in the garden is the yellow Phlomis russeliana. I bought it because it’s drought tolerant, bee friendly, will bloom all summer and the dead flower heads still look good in winter. Last year, however, it sat out the long drought, and only made big leaves. It’s making up for it this year. I’m thinking that in due course it will need to move to the side wall bed, where it can keep the yellow rudbeckia and helianthus company.

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On the edible front, the globe artichokes are making their presence felt. One of the plants has grown up hugely in a most annoying spot, squashed in between the Polka raspberries and the Jelly King crab apple tree. I know I did grow it from seed but somehow it escaped me during the planting phase and dug itself in. Anyway, the rain has brought it on, and it’s about to be eaten. I usually cut artichokes in half to remove the choke, and then steam them. Halves obviously don’t need so much cooking time as wholes, and it’s easier to see if they’re done. Garlicky butter to serve.

Also in the bottom border is a a purple headed variety. It’s strikingly ornamental growing alongside the sweet white rocket and foxgloves.

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While I was inspecting this end of the garden, which takes some doing, what with the mammoth size of the artichoke leaves, I was pleased to see that the neighbouring old cooking apple tree looks to be bearing far more apples than we were expecting. The blossom came and went so fast in cold and windy weather, it seemed unlikely that much of it would be fertilised. But not so! We don’t know the variety, but the fruits are big and rose blushed and need no sugar when cooked.

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And now back to my new favourite, as mentioned in two recent posts – Cenolophium denudatum, aka Baltic Parsley. Coming up is the version I have already settled in the bed along the top of the terrace wall. It grows rather like Cow Parsley/Queen Anne’s Lace, and indeed it was supposed to be white, according to the Great Dixter Nursery catalogue. Mine, however, turned out to be pink. I don’t mind. It looks good with the valerian whose massed umbels are hint-of-pink white.

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But then yesterday we were having a splendid day out in the walled garden at Wildegoose Nursery in the Corve Valley. And there I found a pale lemony version. It had to come home with me.

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And to finish a shot of Wildegoose walled garden where I discovered it (along with a dozen or three other plants that roused acute spasms of gardener’s greed).

Wildegoose Nursery Walled Garden

Six on Saturday 6 June 2026 Please call in on Jim as he prepares for his garden opening.

Six On Saturday: Here Comes May

Birds (1) are very much on our minds at present. This morning Graham emptied the seed dregs from the bird feeder onto the terrace wall. This invited a flurry of takers: several sparrows, a female blackbird and a wood pigeon. The advice of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds is to stop feeding garden birds from May to the end of October, this to prevent the likely warm season spread of parasitic disease that’s affecting certain species, especially green finches.

All winter we have put out seeds and fat balls in feeders hidden in the hedge outside the kitchen window. This strategy has kept the jackdaws and pigeons away from the actual feeders, but not deterred the pigeons from scavenging for spilled seed in the hedge bottom. But we’ve otherwise enjoyed watching the regular sparrow visitors, and the not so frequent blackbirds, robins and bluetits.

The other RSPB reason for the feeding halt is to encourage birds to return to natural seasonal eating habits now there is plenty of wild-grown stuff about. We can see their point.

Anyway, now is also the time of year when the birds go in for some irritating garden habits, such as dust bathing around the roots of emerging herbaceous plants, thus compacting the soil and exposing roots (sparrows), or removing the mulch from the borders and tossing it around the paths (blackbirds). I’ve also discovered it’s the sparrows who have been nibbling the Swiss chard and spinach, even through the supposedly protective mesh. So, yes, maybe it is time they frequented fresh dining venues.

Lately I’ve been thinking that the tulips (2) are on the wane, but the unknown variety growing in the terrace wall pot keeps on flowering. Never mind the days and weeks of ferocious wind blowing them horizontal and drying out the pot. On dull days the petals are very upright, but come a spot of sunshine, it’s full-fling abandonment…

Around the garden, the apple trees – eaters and crabs (3) are at various stages of flowering and finishing. In the front garden, the dwarf version of Laura, (a compact and columnar crab apple even when full-sized), has flowered with us for the first time. The crimson blossom is gorgeous against the claret-tinged foliage.

Also in the front garden the Ranunculus bulbs (4) are among the most striking of the bright and early bloomers. They, too, have proved remarkably resilient to being blown off their roots. I planted them last summer at the wrong time, and was surprised when they flowered sporadically during our rainless weeks, and then produced quite a lot of foliage during the winter. Their red-hot shades are looking astonishing between the citrus green of the Euphorbia palustris ‘Walenburg’s Glorie’ and the deep russet heucheras. (That’s a dwarf Evereste crab apple in the middle).

Another early flowering favourite is Phlox divaricata ‘Clouds of Perfume (5). It’s a low-growing, spreading variety, and more than living up to its name beside the front path. Makes me think of parma violet sweets we sometimes had as children, but smells much nicer.

I’m very fond of hardy geraniums and have a number of young plants of several varieties in all the flower beds. The first to flower this year is Geranium phaeum ‘Samobor’ (6). The dusky wine coloured flowers are small, downward facing and all round unspectacular unless you get in close (also very difficult to photograph), but it is the foliage that is the more notable. I’m not sure that I have it in the right spot. It seems to have more woodland inclinations than herbaceous border frontage, but I like the leaves, which look rather good beside the two heucheras whose varieties I’ve forgotten.

Happy gardening, folks, whatever your hemisphere.

Six On Saturday Please visit our host, Jim, in his Cornish garden.

The Changing Seasons: April Days

April has been wind-wind-windy, with more days of lowering cloud than sun. Also, at times, it’s been piercingly cold, so definitely no casting of winter layers.

I’ve already said here how an early April gale felled the cherry plum tree that grew just over the hedge by our kitchen window. It wasn’t our tree, but part of our ‘borrowed landscape’ and somehow gave us a sense of woodedness with its gracious rustling canopy. It was a shock to find it lying across our kitchen roof.

But now it is gone, we have more light and, come supper-time, even a sunset glow atop the holly hedge. And so, as is the way with gardening, something lost is the chance for some new growing. Still to be decided.

But talking of the holly hedge (which is absolutely not my favourite part of the garden), these last two weeks it’s been alive with tiny blue butterflies. An entomologist chum told me they are Holly Blues, and not the Common Blues I’d taken them for. They travel at speed, flit and flutter, looking like flecks of fallen sky. Not easy to snap then. All of which is to say, I’m feeling more kindly towards the hedge if its the reason for the tiny blue butterfly show.

The cold and windy weather hasn’t stopped spring happening. In fact all the winter rain is paying off around the town – the countryside fat with lush pasture and burgeoning wheat fields; hedgerows alight with blackthorn blossom, hawthorn, hazel, bright white stars of stitchwort, bluebells, dandelions. The big trees, too, are starting to green (the oaks and ashes are ever late on parade). And of course it is also the season of bright yellow spreads of oil seed rape, plus the inevitable flocks of tiny flea beetles that go with it, and then come to my garden later to devour my rocket plants or anything else related to a cabbage.

Last week, on a bright, but still windy day, we walked up Wintles Hill behind the town to see the views and visit the elephant sculpture. The green lane ascent lived up to its name, but with masses of white stitchwort too.

On the brow of the hill, the old barns, as usual, demanded to have their picture taken:

On Wintles hilltop, which is always a high spot and in all senses, the wheat was just emerging, but not so vigorously as in the more sheltered, well watered valley fields. We stopped to look beyond our local hills, over the border into Wales:

Meanwhile, back in the home garden, it is apple blossom time. The miniature eating apple trees and the three crab apples have been flowering well. Even the big old tree at the bottom of the garden is now looking lovely after a good winter prune:

Closer to the house, the Red Devil miniature tree is looking anything but devilish. This is its first year flowering in our garden. In time, it’s supposed to produce bright red apples, which rather puts one in mind of Wicked Queens and Snow White:

As for the rest of the garden, the daffodils and narcissi are over, the tulips on the wane, but the early summer plants are surging up: foxgloves, aquilegias, and valerian all about to flower; Welsh poppies, and Centaurea cornflowers already opening.

Today, on the last day of April, we have a cloudless blue sky and brilliant sunshine. And it’s still blowing a gale, but at least it’s a warmish one. There are times, too, when it drops, it almost feels like summer, but only for a moment.

The Changing Seasons: April 2026 Brian at bushboys world and Ju-Lyn at Touring My Backyard are our hosts. Please pop and see what they’ve been up to this month. For one thing, Brian has a stunning gallery of birds and wallabies, and as ever, Ju-Lyn has been cooking up a storm in her kitchen – so many mouth-watering creations.

Shadowed At Wenlock Priory

In its time, the Cluniac Priory at Much Wenlock, Shropshire, did much overshadowing. For one thing it was physically one of the largest ecclesiastical houses in medieval Europe. For another, its Prior ruled over both its resident French monks and the lay populace of peasant farmers and artisans who lived and worked beyond its walls. Then in 1540 came the Dissolution of the monasteries. By order of Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s fixer, roofs were stripped of their protecting (highly valuable) lead, and the place, no longer watertight, literally, if slowly, began to dissolve.

Before the end though, the Priory was often a spot for some very shady dealings, forging currency not the least of them.

There’s more about the history in earlier posts Centred at Wenlock Priory and 5 Stories 5 Photos: Hidden Wenlock #2 All of which had me thinking about shadows and recalling the early autumn afternoon when I went to the Priory specifically to capture the ruins in some high-contrast light conditions. I’d taken many photos there in the past, but in the middle of the day. The end products were, without exception, pretty underwhelming.

And so for John’s Lens-Artists’ challenge I thought I’d show a series of different shadowed shots from that late-day autumn visit. I was using a point and shoot Panasonic Lumix including the dynamic monochrome setting for the sepia and black and white shots.

Lens-Artists: Shadowed This week John sets the theme and explores different approaches in his post.

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.

The Power Of Juxtaposition

Grasses, sky and clouds on Wenlock Edge

Sometimes you need to lie down to take a photo; taking this header shot was one of those moments. I wondered how the thin stems of meadow grasses would look against the fiery sky. They had much to compete with. Some more distant treetops got a look in too. Earth to sky: we’re holding our own despite the light show.

And a different take on earthly-aerial juxtapositions; this time a barley field, sun reflecting off the tufty awns that surround the grain. I liked the contrasting textures of spiky crop and meringue-soft cloud; the green against the blue, white-grey contrast:

The colour red always makes its presence felt. Here a single red bird cherry leaf:

The showy crab apples somehow make a lowly snail all the more remarkable.

I do take an awful lot of landscape photos, but perhaps you can have too many ‘good views’. The presence of some living/moving element generally makes for a more engaging shot:

This rather strange view of a Stiperstones tor was shot in monochrome in gloomy midday light. Odd things seem to happen in this mysterious Shropshire upland: so who knows where the sky went. But then I liked the happenstance appearance of the tight-knit group of hikers. They walked into the shot, their group posture conveying group purpose: they will reach the top.

And you want to follow them.

This is another chance Stiperstones photo, taken on the same day. Despite the poor light the tor does seem to radiate something. That’s my other half on the skyline. As ever he has stopped to see what had become of me, dawdling somewhere behind. I was so pleased when he stood still. There he is – a tiny human beside a momentous stack of geology, remnant of the ancient days when this quartzite ridge was crushed and fractured during the last Ice Age.

Back then, two great glaciers (one from Ireland, the other from the heights of Plynlimon in mid-Wales) convened in the Shropshire hills. They kept the ridge company, not covering it, but nudging the tops through alternating periods of freeze and thaw. Needless to say, this would not have been a human-friendly landscape. Even now, in bad weather, it is a brutally exposed spot.

And closer to home, the not quite live elephant on Wintles Hill adds a certain something (if only viewer puzzlement) to this Shropshire autumn landscape. The different layers of sunlight and shadow also caught my eye:

#IAmNotACrop

Lens-Artists: the power of juxtaposition This week Patti at Lens-Artists asks us to consider the power of juxtaposition in our compositions. Please see her super post for guidance and inspiration.