gardening

Six On Saturday: After The Wind And Rain

Come gusts and squalls, the roses have been holding their own. And then, in late afternoon, if we have some sunshine, they tumble luminously over the terrace wall and look glorious come supper time.

The constant wind, though, is tedious. When did England become so never-endingly blustery? I’ve tried searching on line for an answer, but the sites that deal with weather don’t appear to think it remarkable. As someone who has gardened for over half a century, I know we did not have perpetual wind mashing up herbaceous plants and blowing the new runner bean plants off their sticks.

Perhaps it’s to do with ‘the cold blob’ also bizarrely known as North Atlantic Warming Hole, a region of ocean to the south of Greenland that has been cooling over the past century while the surfaces of the earth’s other oceans have been warming up. Scientists have argued over the possible causes, some citing a weakened Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), the system that plays a significant role in the earth’s global climate.

Perhaps the AMOC stole our much vaunted heat wave. If it did, many thanks.

And of course there is much to be pleased about.

Bee happy

For one thing there are so many bees in the garden, this after a long quiet spring insect-wise. They definitely approve of the sheep’s bit scabious, harvesting the flowers for ages, which makes them easy to photograph.

In a bind

It’s usually a weed that provokes gardener’s fury, but the large flowered pink and white striped convolvulus that has just re-appeared in our otherwise horrid hedge is a welcome sight. For a bindweed, it is most circumspect in its habits, and only spreads here and there.

An urge for spurge

Another spreader, presently flowering is the pretty, low-growing spurge, Euphorbia cyparissias Fens Ruby. Its stems look like miniature conifers, and the tiny flowers several colours of green and russet. It likes to nudge up picturesquely with other border plants and, in that sense, it is a very weedy entity, but then any excess is easily removed. Here it is with a coppery coloured heuchera.

Reasons to be cheerful 5 and 6

Then there are the self-gardening regulars that seem to return each year, and with ever more flourish. I love these snapdragons. I don’t mind how much they seed themselves. The plants themselves are shrubby and don’t seem to mind the wind and rain. But most of all, their sun-rise shades brighten the dullest day.

Likewise, the campanula. Over the past few years it has colonised many dull and unpromising quarters of the front garden – growing up the hedge, out of concrete walls, and along the path. It flowers its purple-blue socks off.

Here it is improving the looks of the privet hedge that surrounds the front garden borders. It’s another plant that copes brilliantly with weird weather, wet or dry.

Six on Saturday 13 June 2026 Please call in on our host, Jim. As ever, he has some wonderful plants to show us this week.

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: After The Heat-Wave

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It’s been pretty darn hot this week in Shropshire, but nearly 9 degrees cooler now. On the whole, the garden, the gardener, and the gardener’s other half have weathered the sudden roasting, but the water butts are empty, one or two plants are looking frazzled, and the hot days have finished off the lovely ranunculus which, until last Saturday, had been blooming wonderfully, making the most of the long, cool spring. Also, some flowering plants like the Perry’s Blue iris, came and went very swiftly, while over the hedge, hawthorn tree’s blossom fried. We now have siftings of crisp brown petals everywhere.

One real hot-weather bonus is that the bees (1), worryingly absent earlier in the month, are now back in the garden, feeding voraciously on the hardy geraniums, Welsh poppies and foxgloves. They seem to be making up for lost time.

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In the back garden border the umbels (2) are the rising attraction. I’m always pleased when the valerian starts flowering, but this year it has a companion, one very like it, if more pink and more sweetly scented. Its common name, Baltic Parsley, sounds most unpromising for such an airy, delicate plant, but then this is hugely preferable to its tongue-twister botanical title of Cenolophium denudatum . I bought two young plants on-line last autumn from Great Dixter Nurseries, whose curated collections are altogether too tempting for the ever greedy gardener.

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This year I’ve decided to rein in the vegetable growing (3). Limited space is one factor, but the main reason is not liking all the ugly netting defences needed to keep the pigeons and sparrows from eating everything. I’m still growing herbs, salad stuff, carrots in containers, a couple of rows of potatoes, some strawberries and raspberries, tomatoes in the greenhouse and also beans – all of which don’t need too much if any protection.

For several of the hot days I dithered about whether or not to plant out the large runner bean seedlings. In the end I decided it was better for them in the ground than drying out in their pots. I surrounded them with an emergency mulch of grass cuttings. Our neighbour had kindly just deposited a load over the fence and into our compost bin. I don’t usually use them for mulching, not wanting either crusts or a smelly, squidgy pan, but they soon dried out and the blackbirds have since been turning them over.

Meanwhile on the other side of the garden, the potatoes are looking pretty good. The Charlotte row is thinking of flowering.

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And talking of mulch, my number (4) this week is a shout-out for the benefits of applying Strulch. This is very much for the small-garden gardener who doesn’t have access to masses of home-made compost. It’s a mineralised fine straw that comes in easy-to-move 9 litre bags. Last autumn I bought 2 bags and spread them over the two front garden beds, spots that are both exposed from the north in windy weather, but also sun-traps during heat-waves. There was still enough strulch left over to scatter less generously around some shrubs in the back garden. The stuff is not cheap, but you can find good deals on-line.

Apart from anything else, I’ve hardly had any weeds, and the herbaceous plants are emerging nicely to do their early summer stuff. I covered the entire soil surface, about an inch/2 cms deep.

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From left to right: Helianthemum Wisley White, Astrantia Sparkling Stars middle, Verbascum Lavender Lass front. And a closer look at the Astrantia. Isn’t she lovely?

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Not everything is going so well. Unseen pests (5) have been busy, most notably in the sweet peas, amongst which something, probably pigeons, have been gnawing off whole chunks of stems. For once, I’d grown some pretty chunky plants, and put them out early to grow up obelisks. But once they started growing, large parts began to go missing. I still have some flowers, but it’s not the display envisaged. I’ve never had this problem before, and can’t think how to protect them – i.e. that won’t end up in a big tangle of netting. (Note to self. The obelisks are probably the problem. Ideal perches for pigeons).

The other casualty, one that’s ongoing despite moving the plant to different locations, is the lovely blue-mauve lupin. Something keeps stripping the flowers. One minute they’re there, and the next time I look…

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But to end on a high note, and a deliciously fragrant one too – Cornelia Rose (6). She burst into flower this week. More power to her little pink petals. She’s growing by my greenhouse so I see a lot of her.

Six on Saturday Despite the heat-wave down in Cornwall, host Jim has some spectacular things on show in his garden, to say nothing of the magnificent Poplar moth in the greenhouse.

Of Bossy Birds And Icy Blasts

I can well understand why small beings like blackbirds need to keep stoking up with fresh food supplies. Not only are there chicks to feed, but our spring days persist on the frosted side of chilly. He who is currently casting his own coping stones for the terrace wall tells me that the high pressure over the Atlantic and low pressure to the north and east is causing Arctic air to be sucked down upon us, thus creating the UK’s coldest May in five years.

And the upshot: the winds that the weather people have been telling us are ‘fresh’ have been, and continue to be bone piercingly frigid. Nor does it help that our street is aligned due north, thus greatly facilitating the funnelling of icy blasts to our doorstep.

In consequence we’re still in winter woollies. Also, we’ve continued to keep the hedge bird feeder well stocked with fat balls, this on the grounds that the sparrows et al still need energy for gathering food for their young. They’ve certainly been getting through them.

Out in the garden the blackbirds have other strategies. This male blackbird starts chivvying me the moment he spots me. If I don’t respond at once, he moves in very close, finding a perch whence he can fix me with those beady eyes. And if this still doesn’t receive the desired response, he starts shouting.

And I must say, I do feel a touch affronted – to let myself be bullied by a small bird.

But needs must. The other day when I started earthing up the potatoes, both mister and missus swooped in, combing through the disturbed soil, chuntering in tones of unalloyed blackbird ecstasy. I have yet to spot exactly how they manage to hoover up quite so many small worms in one beak full. It all happens so fast.

[Spoiler alert: not for the squeamish.]

This morning I spotted the male in the apple tree, not far from my left ear. As ever he gave me the eye. The rain had moved in and I was late on parade. But today it seemed he’d managed to gather his worms without my intervention. More surprising though, he also managed to give me song without opening his beak. No worm was lost.

Songs for worms, I thought. Fair exchange.

Six On Saturday: Wind & Sun & Hail

It’s been a week of many weathers, including a sudden heat wave on Wednesday with days of piercing winds and low temperatures either side. One day we’re in the 20s C, and the next it’s down to 9 degrees. All very confusing, although I did manage to remember to think it was time to plant the seed potatoes – Red Rooster and Charlotte. They had grown some very chunky shoots while lingering in egg boxes in the downstairs cloakroom.

Also we could have done without the gale last Saturday. More of which in a moment. But first, the garden stars of the past two weeks have been these lovely little front garden tulips, Heart’s Delight (1). They have stood up to being roasted and thrashed, but I fear they won’t last today. As I write this, we’re having a hail storm and fierce sleety gusts. Most of their petals have already blown off.

And so to last Saturday’s gale, and good bye cherry plum tree (2). It wasn’t our tree, but it gracefully filled our kitchen window view and we liked to watch it through the seasons. It also made up for the ‘horrid holly hedge’ which we acquired along with the house. On Easter Sunday we woke to this:

The tree people came this week and cut the whole thing down. They said the remaining trunk showed signs of decay and had to go. There’s no denying it: it’s left a big gap. I doubt that the housing association owners will replace it, planting space being rather limited. Here it is back in March.

We can now see the retirement home’s almond blossom tree across the road, but the immediate holly hedge view seems rather bleak and gloomy. I’m wondering about having a Japanese Maple in a big pot at the top of the old steps opposite the side window. It’s a semi-shaded, sheltered spot. It might work?

Of miniature trees (3). On a happier note, the garden’s tiny trees seem to be faring well. We don’t have a great deal of space, and although I realise shrubs generally form the ‘spine’ of a garden, I couldn’t get to grips with what to choose or where to put them. Instead, I thought of dwarf trees. The conference pear is the prettiest of them just now. It’s in a raised bed beside the potato patch.

We also have 2 dwarf eating apple trees and a little Stella cherry on the top of the terrace wall, and in the front garden, two small crab apples (Evereste and upright Laura both about to flower), and a Merrybelle Plum, which is just over.

My thinking with the little trees is that we and the pollinators have the pleasure of the spring blossom (and maybe also some fruit come autumn), but they leave lots of room for the late spring and summer show of herbaceous perennials. And if we lose sight of them for a while among the phlox, rdbeckia and Michaelmas daisies it doesn’t really matter.

About to flower – a dwarf Christmas Pearmain just visible to the left of the tulip pot.

The weather may be changeable and bitterly cold (even by English standards) but there have been plenty of sightings of butterflies: orange tips, tortoiseshells, Common Blues. I’ve also noticed bumble bees, especially in the Pulmonaria (lung wort) flowers. Diana Clare (4) with her striking silvery leaves, is a new plant bought last year, so I’m pleased to see she’s settling down, and especially after the pigeons snaffled her first leaves.

Also looking its best with lots of flowers for the insects is the creeping rosemary (5), planted a couple of years ago along the front garden wall.

And last, but not least, it’s all thanks to he who builds sheds and car ports that aren’t for cars, AKA Graham. This week he finished making me a cold frame (6). Brilliant! He’s also mended my ancestral (grandfather’s) spade whose handle broke while I was trying to excavate the whirly washing line spike that needed to go somewhere else.

All we need now is to get growing with some warmer, less windy weather. Roll on spring!

Six On Saturday April 11 2026

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.

Strains Of Autumn

Around the garden peripheries there’s the heady scent of fermenting fruit. This year the apple (1) crop is phenomenal. Our three old trees are crammed with fruit, even though we’ve tried to thin them out. The apples are not ripe yet, but in the last few weeks many have been falling off. They are now rotting happily, giving the plants along the garden fence a rather solid (vaguely alcoholic) mulching. Of course the blackbirds and the wasps have been eating some of them. Many, too, were damaged, diseased or infested before the fall. We have yet to get to grips with what ails the two cooking apple trees. The Crispin eaters in the photo above seem fairly healthy, although they have been dropping a lot of unripe fruit. But the cookers look like this:

By contrast, the crab apples are taking on a rosy glow. The little tree at the top of the garden is now much happier since we’ve had some rain and cooler temperatures. The many weeks of drought certainly stressed it:

I’ve now harvested my two Uchiki kuri squashes (2), one from each plant on the side wall border. I was hoping for more (3-5 per plant were promised on the packet) but after a flying start and much vigorous growth (and feeding), the plants suddenly seemed to give up; three small squashes turned brown and died. I have two more plants (planted out later in the top garden) still looking hopeful, with a tiny squash each, but I notice there are now only male flowers being produced. These, on the other hand, are very lovely, smell delicious and are a magnet for bee-life (see previous post of bees on the razzle). Anyway here we have the outcome of all that bee foraging:

The bean (3) harvest has been somewhat sporadic too, although on two occasions I’ve had sufficient spare runner beans to make several pots of runner bean chutney – always welcome in the winter months with jacket spuds. Since this week’s rains, the plants look as if they are rallying and there’s more blossom along the pole tops. There are also signs of a further crop of Violette climbing French beans. They’ve been coming and going all summer, producing in usable quantities, but it’s meant no gluts to pass on to neighbours as happened last year.

Also just ripening are my Cherokee tomatoes (4). They’re an heirloom variety I’ve not grown before, and I was a bit wary of giving up extra Sun Gold space in my small greenhouse. They started to form fruits and fatten early in the summer, and I wondered if they would ever ripen. The one plant I put in the garden by the runner beans has been leading the way.

Meanwhile the Sun Gold cherry tomatoes have been producing a few handfuls every day, though look to be fizzling out in the greenhouse. Surprisingly, two rather ropey plants put outside fairly late, are now doing quite well. One growing up a Polka raspberry cane, and the other keeping close company with the big cooking apple tree.

And now is the time for the late summer flowers. The rudbeckia (5) are presently the stars of the borders, especially the Goldsturm which is a mass of flowers. I bought the original plant (since split into several more) at the Bishop’s Castle Michaelmas Fair, the month after we moved into The Gables two years ago.

Then there’s the super-tall Rudbeckia lacinata Herbstone by the hot compost bin. It’s been going strong for several weeks now and looks to be about eight feet tall. I think the rotten apple mulch plus residue escaping the hot bin might be spurring it on.

Finally, a plant I brought from our Wenlock garden – Selinum (6). I’m glad I did, although I was worried that it wasn’t thriving. It’s just coming into full flower after a summer show of ferny leaves that looked pretty droopy most of the time. It’s related to wild cow parsley (Queen Anne’s Lace) that flowers in late spring-early summer. But unlike her, puts on a welcome spread for insect-life in late season. I love its structural beauty, the filigree looks.

Six on Saturday Jim at Garden Ruminations is our host. Please go and see what he’s been up to.

Bees, Bugs, Blooms and Borlotti

[1] Earlier in the summer I grew some uchiki kuri squashes from seed and planted a couple on the boundary wall. This is is the wall that had a ‘flower’ bed in the middle of it and was originally choked with Rose of Sharon shrubs, Spanish bluebells and ash trees. I wasn’t expecting too much of it once I’d cleared it, but it seemed like a useful space that could not be wasted. Much to my surprise the squashes have taken off like magic beanstalks. Even had to stop them heading off for the top of the town.

The leaves are huge and the flowers are wonderful. Bumbles, honey bees, beetles and hoverflies think so too. They are currently getting drunk, shoving their way into the male flowers, and drilling down into the nectar below the stamens. In the process they are bathed in pollen. They can’t seem to get enough nectar and don’t care how many of them squash in there, or if they are different species.

And this is what they have made.

So far it’s about a hand’s width across. There’s a slightly larger one behind the oil tank, and a couple of smaller ones besides. Thank you bugs and bees. Some of you seem to be sitting around the garden with hangovers.

[2] The runner bean plants are still looking good and there is a mass of blossom, but so far they have been slow to set and the cropping sporadic. Too hot for them it seems. We’ve still had very little rain, apart from a good cloudburst on Thursday which added a few watering cans full to the water butt. And it certainly refreshed the garden, but did not last long enough to really penetrate the soil. The days have been much cooler though, and today there are signs of more beans coming. The bees have certainly been doing their best here too.

[3] When I had my allotment I used to grow big rows or wigwams of climbing borlotti beans. Here at The Gables I haven’t the space. Instead, I have half a dozen plants growing up an obelisk in the front garden, and also a few more plants growing up some trellis beside the neighbour’s garage wall in the aforementioned border bed i.e. between the squashes. The beans are just beginning to set, but have a long way to go yet.

Meanwhile, in the bed in front of the runners, I have a short row of dwarf borlotti beans grown from seed. This was the first time I’ve grown them, and goodness, much like the squashes they zoomed off almost as soon as I’d planted them out. Already there are clusters of fattening pods. I love them for their colours as well as for cooking. So fingers crossed for a reasonable crop and no bean-boring bugs.

These are the climbing borlotti beans growing up some recycled trellis, and propped against next door’s garage, glimpse of squash plant to the rear. Some peas under the mesh in front are presently being nibbled. Graham, wearing his plant pathologist’s hat, tells me it is pea weevil. We entertain all bugs here – the good, the bad and the weevils.

[4] It’s been a struggle stopping the herbaceous borders from flagging. In the front garden we left all the privet hedge cuttings on the flower beds to provide a bit of protection. I had mulched a number of plants earlier in the summer, but the blackbirds have kept moving it everywhere but under the plants.Most annoying.

Still, things have survived, and now the late summer flowers are coming to the fore, and especially the Agastache, which I grew from seed last year. It’s another plant frequented by insects, including the cabbage white butterflies. I love its mauvy purple spikes, and the aniseed scent of its leaves.

[5] When I was thinking how to plant the front garden, I was much beguiled by Alcathaea ‘Parkallee’. I’d spotted it in a garden catalogue and was attracted by the fact that, as a crossbred hollyhock and mallow, it was immune from rust that frequently attacks hollyhocks. It also looked very pretty and so was among the first plants I bought for new garden.

It’s been flowering beautifully, despite the drought, but it does grow very tall, and thus has a tendency to flop over. I’ve found that cutting off the top few feet to put in a vase doesn’t seem to detract from the overall display. They anyway last very well as cut flowers too. Probably because they’re actually getting some water!

[6] And now it’s also time for sunflowers. I’ve grown all sorts, including the short Sunspot and some giant ones. Early summer plantings were zapped by some nasty bug and I had to cut off the main stems. Most annoying. Except now we have whole bushes of small-headed but long stemmed sun flowers which is actually very pleasing. You can see some orangey ones in the pot in the first Alcathaea photo.

The long…

…the tall

…and the short Sunspot:

It’s hard not to smile back at a sunflower

Six on Saturday Join host Jim at Garden Ruminations: lots of lovely plants and planting schemes.

Turning Red

Yesterday surely was a red letter day – at least on the gardening front.

We had rain.

We did.

Enough to soak the top inch of soil. This I discovered in late afternoon when I went to dig up some Rooster potatoes whose leafy tops had been cut off some weeks ago. I was surprised the rain hadn’t penetrated more deeply. We’d had a few heavy downpours during the day, along with gentle summer showers in between. It just goes to show how much rain is needed to nurture crops and all growing things. In fact, the soil under the potatoes had baked into an ashy crust, reminiscent of Bishop’s Castle’s very particular brand of lime mortar that holds our house together, the crust only penetrable with a hefty thrust of the garden fork.

But for all that quibbling, the garden does look relieved, some plants almost perky. This includes the runner beans which had been too overheated to make any beans. Now, with the cooler temperatures, they are abuzz with bees and (hopefully) making up for lost time.

And in the bottom of the garden, our little crab apple is looking especially grateful. It was planted last October and, as a new young tree, has been struggling during the long dry spell. Buckets of tap water really don’t quite do the job, although obviously better than nothing. But the tree has survived and has a mass of little apples which are growing in redness by the day. I’m trying to recall the variety. I especially wanted a tree that was good for jelly, so it may well be Jelly King. Or if not that, Red Sentinel. It will become more obvious in a few weeks time when the apples gain their full colours. Happy thoughts of jelly making, though not of rushing too fast into autumn.

#SimplyRed Day 30

Tish Farrell

Writer on the Edge