#SixOnSaturday

Six On Saturday: Autumn Fire

This week the back garden is looking pretty dishevelled after some days of stiff winds, but the front garden is holding its own: lots of reds and golds and russets, plus a touch of pale lavender-pink.

The miniature Evereste crab apple is probably the star. Those tiny apples seem to glow.

Behind it, and utterly living up to its name (as well as complementing the crab apple’s colours) is Euphorbia griffithii Fireglow. Quite a blaze, isn’t it.

Calming things down at the back of the border, in front of the privet hedge, is a pale cloud of Symphyotrichum Les Moutiers. This is its first year of flowering and I love its airy looks. Also that the daisies’ yellow centres turn bright russet red when they have been fertilised.

I have another Great Dixter Symphyotrichum in the opposite corner (just glimpsed in the main photo. I’ve lost the label, but I think it’s Laterifolium, also pale lavender and flowering for the first time. For now it’s rather put in the shade behind the Fireglow.

Another fiery feature is the Pheasant’s Tail Grass (Anamenthele lessoniana), now around two years old and continuing to do its own rendition of a Roman Candle.

Several of the summer flowering plants are on the rebound. The evergreen Cotton lavender (Santolina rosmarinifolia) (bottom right) has just produced some new yellow buttons. It’s growing under the crab apple along with a Wisley White Helianthemum (centre) and Kent Beauty origano (far left now very faded):

And finally the Achillea Moonshine is coming out for a third showing (Nandina Obsession with the bright crimson leaves behind)

And that’s it from our Bishop’s Castle garden. Please call in at Garden Ruminations to see what Jim’s been up to.

Six on Saturday 17 October 2026

Six On Saturday ~ Summer into Autumn

Asters, Symphyotrichums, Michaelmas Daisies, whatever you call them, they’re a cheering sight as summer ends. I even overlook my inkling to dislike the pinkish-purple shades that so many versions come in. I much prefer the mauve range. Anyway, here’s another good reason to grow them: bee food. Now’s the time honey bees are stoking up reserves to get them through winter.

And talking of mauve asters, the Monch in the corner of the garden (which I’ve mentioned before) is still going strong. The flowers may have paled, but they’re still coming – three and half months after the first opening.

Growing beside Monch is a single stem of an unknown aster. I’d rescued it from somewhere else in the garden, where it was the only surviving sprout of a failed purchase, its label vanished. For once, I’m rather pleased with its pinkness, and the large size of the flowers. Some further nurturing required.

Other bright sparks include Anemone Dahlia Inca which is now on its third flush. It’s definitely putting its neighbour, the Bishop of Llandaff to shame. That particular Dahlia did not like the summer heat one bit. Its first flowers only started opening this week, sporadic, very small and deeply unimpressive for a bishop.

And then there are the Tagetes – French Marigold Brocade which is in the same big tub as the Bishop and more than making up for his deficiencies…

…and a ground cover, tiny flowered Signet Marigold, called Red Gem (Tagetes tenuifolia). I grew both marigolds from seed but the Red Gem struggled during the heat, being shallow rooted. In recent weeks, though, it’s been blazing away in a rather garish setting with a mauve aster. An unintended pairing at the time of planting.

Our dwarf Red Devil apple tree finally managed to produce three apples that don’t look to have been codling mothed. We ate the biggest one this week. It was perfect – deliciously sweet and crunchy. A shame about the infestation.

In the vegetable department, the runner beans suddenly revived themselves and produced further modest crops, sufficient to make a few pots of chutney. But now it looks as if they will be overtaken by the Borlotti beans. I hadn’t been holding out much hope for them. The plants did not develop well during the drought, this despite regular watering. And then they went and made a huge amount of foliage so I couldn’t really see what was going on underneath. But now, as the leaves dry and blow away, all is being revealed. I love them for their fiery pods alone.

And finally, an image to mark the seasonal change: a sunflower in our dwarf pear tree: summer and autumn together.

Six on Saturday 10 October 26: Please call in on Jim to see what’s happening in his lovely Cornish garden this week. For one thing, he has some stunning Nerines.

Six On Saturday ~ Late Summer Hurrah

The second week in September and here in South Shropshire there’s much change in the weather. As I’ve been writing this, we’ve had sunshine, racing white clouds across a blue, blue sky, a high, hot wind, sudden overcastness, a downpour, and now cloudy sunshine with less wind. Yes, it feels more like autumn now.

And come what may the Helianthus keeps up the show. This particular clump is growing on a rather dismal block wall between our log store and next door’s garage. I’ve mentioned this space before, because I’m still not sure what is best for it. On the other hand it’s hard to beat this long standing, upstanding display; it’s been happening for weeks now, and everyone walking up the road can enjoy it. Drought, what drought, they say.

Meanwhile, out back in the upstairs garden, the Sedum (Hylotelephium probably spectabile) …

…has abandoned the heat-stricken, hysterical looks it displayed back in July-August and settled into the usual pleasing, and softly scented landing pads for late-season insect feeding. It is a key plant in this regard, the nectar giving bees a good energy boost before hibernation. And then the overwintering dead heads can also provide shelter for insects and seeds for birds. But before all that, the gardener has the pleasure of some late season colour. (Note to self: more Sedums needed).

Another late summer star and important food source for pollinators is Caryopteris (Gold Crest above, Heavenly Blue below). It’s just coming into full flower. The blue spires are glorious, but Heavenly Blue, in particular, is scrubby greyish-leaved shrub for much of the year. Through the summer I have to keep reminding myself how lovely it looks in September. The Gold Crest, which is growing in front of the greenhouse (and has gold-green foliage) seems the more attractive option when it comes to keeping its shape. I have followed early spring pruning instructions for the Heavenly Blue, but it still grows into a riot of twiggy branches, and in most unexpected directions. This year it has decided to do most of its flowering in a westerly direction, where we mostly can’t see it unless we walk behind it. Perhaps I need to take cuttings and start again from scratch.

Now with the cooler, wetter weather, the Cosmos has also decided to flower with intent. I grew a couple of dozen plants from seed, mostly packet ends. All through the heatwave, a few of them flowered, while others simply grew and grew, creating tall clumps of flowerless greenery so dense I had to pull off many side stems because they were crowding out other plants. I almost pulled them up altogether. Now they are a mass of buds and flowering like mad, though I’m glad I thinned them out.

I’m not really a pink person, but I’m quite pleased with the ‘pink corner’ in the top-of-the-back-wall border. This includes the above mentioned Sedum, assorted Cosmos, and the Monarda Citriodera, which I also grew from seed this spring. I featured it back in the heatwave, amazed that seedling plants could stand up to the roasting.

And here they are, still going strong, almost as if they are locked into blooming-mode, like little growing pagodas, one exquisite floral structure giving rise to another.

I gather that this wild form of Monarda/Bergamot/Bee Balm is a short-lived perennial, and mostly grown as a biennial or annual. I’m anyway wondering if, after weeks and weeks of flowering, they will prove to have exhausted themselves. We shall see. Anyway, I still have some seed, maybe try sowing some now.

And talking of long bloomers, I have to give another shout-out to Aster x frikartii Monch. It looks wonderful now, and it’s looked wonderful all summer, growing in dappled sun between the butter beans and the runners. This is a totally undemanding plant. It leans but doesn’t particularly need supporting. I’ve seen no sign of mildewed leaves. And what a host of happy faces as seen this morning.

Whether it’s your spring or autumn, always lots to do. Happy gardening!

Six On Saturday This week Jim has some very beautiful plants on show. Go see!

Six On Saturday ~ Tales Of The Unexpected

Runner Bean Re-run?

Even though I was keeping the row well watered, and had earlier dosed plants with seaweed feed, the runner beans went on strike for most of August. It didn’t help that the sparrows were using them as an afternoon playground, rampaging through the stems. When I consulted the Royal Society of Horticulture website it told me that sparrows like to peck at the flowers, deforming the structures and making it difficult for pollinating insects to gain access. So much for feeding the little dears all winter.

But now, with the rain and cool temperatures, the runners are a jungle on sticks. We even had a handful of good sized beans this week, and there are signs among the returning flowers of tiny beanlets. But will they have time to develop? Who knows?

Not quite Uchiki Kuri

I kept some seeds from last year’s Uchiki Kuri Japanese squash. I only produced two. The fruits were very bright orange and oval as they should be. Not so their offspring, sown in late spring, one each from two separate plants.

A Perfect Red Devil?

We thought all the apples on our miniature Red Devil tree had been zapped by codling moths. After the July drop there are four left, this one the least scathed and best developed. But would it entice Snow White?

Some strange sunflowers

The sunflower flock that arose from last year’s dropped seed is still going strong. It also includes several forms that I don’t recall growing in the first place, and one with multiple flowers growing up the stalk which is distinctly odd. The tallest, we reckon, is about 3 metres. I have it tethered to the obelisk where we had the sweet peas, whence it looms down at us. I’ve already dead-headed it once. That took some doing with a pair of tree loppers.

No, this definitely isn’t a Selinum seedling

I distinctly remember saving some seed from the Selinum in the upstairs garden. All through the winter there was a pot of seeds on the kitchen shelf. Definitely umbelliferous in looks. Must be the Selinum. In the spring I sowed them in modules in the greenhouse and for a long time nothing happened. And then it did, and I couldn’t think what on earth I had grown. Not the feathery leaflets expected, something altogether more fleshy and pointy. What on earth…?

For a time I wondered if they were Rudbeckia, suddenly making an appearance after what I thought to be a failed sowing back in the autumn. This rather made up for them not being Selinum so I let them grow on, and eventually planted out half a dozen in various spots around the garden. They survived the drought, but didn’t expand much.

Cut to a visit to Wildegoose Walled Garden and Nursery, as featured here in last weeks SoS. I came away with a young Patrinia Monandra plant. (Some may be aware that I have a thing about Patrinia, first met with at Wildegoose during one of their rare winter opening weekends. It is tall, graceful, discreetly clumping and flowers into November when the seedheads then reflect any late autumn sunlight.)

I already have two Patrinia Punctifolia, bought last year from Great Dixter nursery (one of which I nearly killed this summer in my careless feeding of a nearby plant). But the survivor is currently flowering beautifully. And still the penny did not drop.

You could say it was a ‘be careful what you wish for’ moment, although in this case I would delighted to have a garden with lots of Patrinia. And so now I do. The seed I’d saved must have come from a handful snaffled from the winter visit to Wildegoose. Suddenly I saw the plants I had grown and the one I’d bought looked – well- identical. Probably the Monandra version then.

Patrinia as seen at Wildegoose in late August, just beginning to flower.

Heaven knows what happened to the Selinum seeds. Try again this year.

An unexpectedly pleasing delivery

There are some lovely plantspeople selling on-line. And so trawling the net in search of yet another plant seen at Wildegoose, but one which they don’t appear to sell, or haven’t in stock, I discovered Solidago Golden Dwarf at Crossgate Nursery in Cornwall. Here it is just after arrival. The plants had been carefully folded to preserve the stems that are just about to flower. I expect they’ll straighten out. But anyway, here it is in the front garden. There are several ‘dwarf’ varieties I now discover, ones that don’t get out of hand and flop, and also have more lemony coloured flowers.

Here’s another repeat photo from the Wildegoose visit where I spotted a spread of lemony, just-out solidago with some Persicaria.

A good week then, all in all. And rain and sun too. Happy gardening, folks.

Six on Saturday It’s a wise gardener who labels their seed envelopes. Please visit Jim for more garden doings and some fabulous coleus.

Eclipsed [Six on Saturday]

On Thursday evening we sat in the garden and watched, through a big dark cloud, a very partial partial eclipse of the sun. The cloud, though, created quite a light show. While this was going on, I took a photo of one of our sunflowers, basking in the unearthly glow.

In fact this crop of self-grown, mostly unattended sunflowers has positively thrived during the long heatwave. I have been removing the dead flowers and putting the heads along the edge of the borders, just in case any wildlife wishes to eat the seeds. I must have done this last year with the ones I grew intentionally. Which explains how this year’s lot came to be. So: who knows what will happen next year – a sunflower forest?

Thriver and SoS no. 2 is the Rudbeckia Herbstsonne. It is growing in the top of a boundary wall beside next door’s garage. The wall is basically a raised bed, and there is probably quite a depth of soil inside it. I never did get to the bottom of it. When we moved into The Gables three years ago it was choked with Hypericum Hidcote that had turned itself into the plant world’s version of chain-link fencing, intermeshed with brambles, and several well grown ash tree saplings. It took a marathon of digging to extract everything.

It is a rather odd spot for gardening. The wall runs from the road to our back garden, aligned east-west. I planted the Rudbeckia at the westerly end, thinking to screen the visibility gap between us and next door. And it works! I’ve not watered it all summer and here it is, complete with Red Admiral butterfly.

Thriver no, 3 is a neat little grass in the front border – Festuca glauca Intense Blue. This bed has had some water, but not much. I like its fountain looks and the way the grass reflects the light (which makes it hard to photograph.)

Number 4 is offered as proof of existence – or maybe circumstantial evidence at best. Here we have raindrops on sorrel leaves. At some point between Thursday night and Friday morning we had a spatter of rain. It fell on various surfaces but none apparently on the soil, which then and now remains dry as dust. The promised rainstorm for Friday afternoon did not happen.

No. 5 is the kind of infestation that comes with stressed plants and stressful conditions. The ants have set up aphid factories all over the garden, but especially in unsightly encrustations along the stems of otherwise lovely claret cosmos. The Dyer’s Chamomile is also a desirable location, as is the Montbretia. I’ve tried spraying with slightly soapy water, and gently wiping off by hand, but one ends up causing more damage to the flowers as well creating blackfly soup. And anyway, the ants only come and set up business again as soon as my back is turned.

But back to the good garden moments this week – a new blue butterfly spotted on the Korean Mint (Agastache). It’s a male Common Blue, wingspan about 3 cm. Exquisite.

Copyright Tish Farrell 2026

Six on Saturday: The hot dry weeks may be taking their toll, but there are still some wonderful plants in Jim’s Cornish garden

Six On Saturday: And Another Fine Day

This morning at 8 a.m. the front garden had drowsing looks, the borders brimming with sun and bee-hum. For the first time I noticed that the pheasant’s tail grass, (Anemanthele lessoniana) had put out long and lovely flower stems. Such delicate structures. They caught the light, like the glint of spider’s webs.

I also noticed that the Artemisia Powys Castle was looking rather fine after a very slow start. The Echinops, too, in front of the living room window, had sprung up tall. Last year it was blighted by aphids, but now the flowers are at nose-height and full of bees.

But there’s a sense that something has changed. The sun is hot, rebounding off our red-brick house, and yet there’s the strangest chill too, as if a tranche of Arctic air has just floated in. For a brief time a huge black cloud loomed over the town. It made me think of rain, but actually it looked more like snow. Curiouser and curiouser. Anyway, it was soon gone, leaving us with sunshine and a brisk, cool wind.

Earlier in the week I was feeling fed up with the garden – not only with the heat and drought effects, but also with my general gardening M.O. Too much randomness and ad hocism, so much short termism. Where was the overall plan? I was also especially cross to find that many of our young apples were already spoiled. I pointed out the damage to the man in our house, he who builds sheds and car ports that aren’t car ports and is presently engaged in constructing a work table from his extensive collection of waste-wood. Summoned from shed and power saw, he duly dusted off his plant pathologist’s hat, and informed me that the Christmas Pearmains and Red Devils have been zapped by codling moths. Nothing can be done about it, says he. Hmph and double hmph.

But then there’s always something to be pleased with in the garden, once you start looking. It was then I noticed how well the Agastache AKA Korean Mint was doing. It is another of my happenstance plantings. I grew the original plants from seed two years ago. They were vigorous specimens while they lasted, and although they did not survive the cold, wet winter, they did leave the makings of many, if discreetly settled, offspring. There’s one monster growing beside the greenhouse. I think it stole all the rhubarb’s muck, leaving the rhubarb to wither away.

Other seeded plants are growing well in what, to me, seem most inhospitable spots, including between the cement front path and border wall. Here one example is keeping company with a similarly seeded lavender. Bees and butterflies love this plant, and I can see why. I’ve been cropping and chopping some of the tender flowering side shoots and adding them to salads. Agastache also comes in many pleasing colours…so there’s a thought…

Given the heat and drought, I’ve been surprised to have had some success with plants that I actually meant to grow from seed this spring. Just now making its presence felt is Dyer’s Chamomile (Anthemis Tinctoria). It is one of the most cheerful high-summer plants, and especially now as much of the garden colour is on the fade. I have it in various places, including a pot with some snapdragons and small hover flies on the back garden steps.

The bushiest clump is sharing the corner raised bed with a few butter beans, a courgette and self-grown sunflower. The above photo also includes the male blackbird. It stalks me in a slightly creepy manner, and when I’m not in the garden, spends its time tossing mulch out of the borders. We have had words.

But my star plant of the week is Lemon Bee Balm (Monarda Citriodora). The ones I’ve grown are still pretty small. I’d not been paying them much attention, beyond keeping them alive, and only yesterday did I consult the growing info that told me I should have pinched out the tops several times, and not just once, i.e. if I wanted them to bush out.

And now that I see their flowers, I long for them to be bigger and better AT ONCE. What fascinating floral structures they have, even by monarda standards. (As ever, note to self: read all the instructions).

When I did finally get to them, the growing instructions also told me that this plant is known to attract humming birds. Now how wonderfully fantastical would that be. And do you know – I think they just might…

Six on Saturday This week a scarlet zinnia and deep blue agapanthus are among the stars in Jim’s garden domain.

Six On Saturday: Pluses And Minuses

Another week of hot-garden days and no drop of rain. I’m beginning to wonder if I need to rethink the planting for next year, i.e. focus on the drought tolerant varieties I have already, and stop trying to grow things that scorch easily; or at least move the susceptible ones, like the phlox paniculata from the front garden to the back garden, where there’s scope for creating less exposed conditions.

In hot weather, our front garden simply bakes, caught in a heat trap between the house, the road and the cottages opposite. Also the beds themselves are surrounded by low concrete walls, plus there’s an old cement path between. And then there’s the privet hedge along the front, sucking up moisture and holding in the heat. But at least I’m now finding the clippings useful for covering bare soil.

Perhaps I’m panicking unduly. The lavender, oreganos and verbenas look to be thriving. Also the euphorbias, montbretia, yarrows, grasses and mulleins, sea holly and echinops are holding their own. But then I find myself staring at a forlorn looking cistus…isn’t it supposed to cope with this kind of weather? Maybe my shilly-shally bouts of watering have much to answer for…shall I, shan’t I…

Anyway, the prize for best looks surely goes to the unruffled, but multi-ruffed French marigolds ‘Brocade’ (1). The seeds came from the Bishop’s Castle Community Seed Bank Library. Local members share their seeds, neatly packeted and displayed in a tray on the counter at the actual library. You can pay what you like, and all donations are welcome. You are of course encouraged to share your own seed. This is part of a much bigger project relating to local food resilience, and run by Daphne Du Cros from a regenerative farm at Little Woodbatch, near Bishop’s Castle.

Another hot-weather plus: – outdoor tomatoes actually growing, ripening and tasting as they should. I only wish I’d planted out more than two Bloody Butchers (2). It’s an heirloom, early ripening variety. Usually my outdoor tomatoes are pretty disappointing.

The French Beans, Cosse Violette (3), climbing and dwarf, are also performing well. Only a few plants needed. Any crop gluts to be passed on to neighbours.

For some reason I usually get into a muddle growing basil, even though it’s a kitchen favourite. In the greenhouse it often succumbs to white fly, or gets roasted. Or we have a dismal summer (remember those?). So I’ve learned to grow a back-up.

Greek Basil (4) is a small-leaved, bushy variety, and an amenable, if not perfect stand-in. An eager grower in fact.

The obelisks of sweet peas are over. They have flowered to bursting since May. Finally, this week, the stems and leaves were dried to a crisp so I cut them down, trying not to uproot the young morning glory plants that I’d inter-planted and have so far been struggling. I’m hoping they’ll grow on, now they have some space and I can see them. But I was sad about the sweet peas finishing, and then remembered the few later-grown seedlings I’d planted out on our boundary wall. A pleasing find between our woodstore and next door’s garage wall: sweet peas and morning glory (5)

The sedums AKA hylotelephium (6) are exhibiting an interesting weather response. Instead of the wide flat-top flowerheads, they’ve opened wide, like gone-to-seed cauliflowers.

Their splayed stance looks like a plea for mercy, but the plant itself seems fine. It also has me thinking, stirrings of gardener’s plant lust. Sedums – known for drought-tolerance and adaptable responses – now there’s a group of plants to consider with fresh eyes…

But for now, a view of this week’s back garden:

Six on Saturday Still much to admire in Jim’s garden despite struggles with the watering.

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.

Six on Saturday: HOT!

Still hot today, but there are promises of a degree or two cooler than yesterday. And please, please, please can we have the breeze back. For now, the phlox paniculata are gently roasting, especially the large petalled magenta/purple varieties. Only Adessa ‘Pink Star’ is keeping her cool, here seen alongside the starry Neptune’s Gold Sea Holly which doesn’t appear to mind the heat.

In the back garden, most of the border plants are fading fast, apart from the bergamot/bee balm/monarda. Over the last few days, it has burst into life and bees, although I’m sorry to see the individual flower parts are soon turning crispy round the edges. (But then aren’t we all!)

The peripheries of the garden don’t suffer full-on sun until after mid-day, and this is where I have the beans – French climbing Violette, and a few Borlotti and Butter Beans, growing up canes and obelisks. The runner beans are growing alongside the compost bin, mostly Enorma but also a few St. George. They are now providing a pleasing seasonal screen along this short section of garden which overlooks the road.

Actually, I love bean flowers (almost as much as the beans):

Behind the runners, in the old apple tree corner, is a raised bed with the butter bean obelisk, a courgette plant and a self-grown sunflower. Today, the courgette plant has a quartet of blooms, plus one courgette ready for picking.

You can see this week’s number six in the photo above, on the right, beyond the courgette leaves. It just happens to feature in today’s newsletter from Beth Chatto’s Plants and Gardens. So here we have Aster x Frickatii Monch as it starts its season, and rather sooner than expected.

In the newsletter, granddaughter, Julia Boulton, who now runs Beth Chatto’s says of it:

“Absolutely the best Michaelmas daisy, for long display and sheer beauty: does not need staking, and is not affected by mildew. Deserves the best soil and position in the garden.” Its further statistics are: height and spread: 1m x 45cm; conditions: full sun, rich and fertile soil; flowering: Aug | Sep | Oct.

I’m not sure why I planted it in front of the apple tree. That spot does get dappled sun and then full-on glare at the end of the day, but there are much sunnier spots in the garden where it could show itself off to better effect. (Added to the re-do file).

Finally, a view of the a front garden bed, just to show it’s coping with 33 degree C plus days – the achillea ‘Moonshine’ drying on the stem, the allium drumsticks still doing their stuff, Artemisia Powys Castle, very much containing herself alongside a rather weedy apricot coloured Achillea, (Lachsshonheit) which I thought I’d lost, and a young Crocosmia Harlequin (bottom left) about to flower. Background support from Euphorbias, Santolina rosmarinifolia, Pheasant’s Tail grass, and crimson leaved heucheras :

Six on Saturday: For more views of Jim’s fabulous and mindfully curated plant collection.

Six On Saturday ~ Summer’s Here!

Come July and, in the bottom corner of the garden, the mallow Ice White has burst into flower. It’s supposedly a compact variety, and I’m hoping it has reached its limit. At the moment it is contesting space with the Polka raspberries, both parties clearly making good use of the farmyard manure deposited on the raspberry bed back in early spring. The individual mallow flowers are very beautiful. I forgive the plant for being pushy.

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Another bright bloomer in the bottom of the garden is this orange Asiatic lily.

Last summer I received the bulbs by mistake (as mentioned last week). The chap who had mixed up the on-line order told me to plant them, rather than return them. Not to look gift horses in mouths, but at the time, this was easier said than done. I couldn’t think where to put them, or if I really wanted them enough to solve the location problem. In the end I planted the ones I most liked the sound of in a big pot, and popped the remainder under the apple tree, not expecting them to do much in a dry and overshadowed spot.

In fact I’d forgotten I’d done this. Anyway, now it’s flowering, I’m warming to it somewhat. It does look lovely in the late afternoon sunshine.

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These days we’re seeing more butterflies in the garden– not only the annoying cabbage whites (hopefully the greens are sufficiently well netted) but also Painted Ladies, some returning Holly Blues and yesterday this lovely Comma butterfly.

It was zipping around the back garden at high speed, impossible to photograph, but then was finally captivated with the Erigeron Azure Fairy , staying just long enough to have its portrait taken. (Ann Thomson geranium looking on).

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Since the late June hot spell, the weather has been comfortably tepid. The downside though is that we’ve hardly had a spit of rain. Now I’m panicking over the news of next week’s repeat frying. The recent return of blustery wind doesn’t help either. The surface soil is dry as dust and much of the earlier mulch seems to have disappeared.

I’ve been spot-watering plants that look stressed. Now, though, I’m in the middle of mining my compost bin. The grass cutting deposits from our neighbours’ very mossy lawn have kindly rotted down to produce some loamy stuff that looks suitable for another mulch campaign. The digging out and the spreading of same is giving the blackbirds much joy. They scuttle around after me, peeping happily, as they rake up worms and grubs.

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July is also phlox paniculata time, probably my favourite summer flowers (if forced to choose). At the moment I seem to have purple-pink ones all over the place. I’m not sure how this happened. I suspect I’d put in a number of large plugs not long after we moved into The Gables. They certainly didn’t do much over the last couple years, succumbing to slugs and mildew, but now they have begun to bulk up well, looking good alongside Verbena. Their colour in the photo doesn’t really do them justice. They actually have richer, more wine coloured tones.

Also here on the front drive border between Oregano Kent Beauty and Lavender. Behind the deep red phlox is a clump of the taller variegated phlox, Nora Leigh, yet to flower.

And behind Nora Leigh, is Phlox Adessa, a delicate smallish-flowered white with a tiny pink eye, just starting out:

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I also mentioned in earlier posts that last year’s several varieties of sunflowers had seeded themselves all over the garden. The tallest one by the old apple tree is at least 8 feet and still going. Then by the sweet pea obelisk there are at least six more sturdy plants (not so tall). I meant to transplant them, but they grew too large before I remembered to attempt it. And then I thought, they’ll be great to follow on from the sweet peas, and I can tether them to the obelisk if need be. Hopefully, they will keep going into the autumn.

This is the first one to flower. (Parentage uncertain).

Six on Saturday 4th July Among other wonderful things, Jim has some stunning tiger lilies on show this week.