A walk in the park

This morning, Luke and I walked around Waterloo gardens. I believe it's a Victorian park (or parc, as they spell it in Wales) and it certainly has a very orderly feel to it. The trees are heavy with blossom and the magnolias are at their best right now. Spring is certainly in the air.

Snow but no snowdrops.

Although these twp photographs were taken on the same day, they were just four miles apart. The first shows the snow on the mountain in the distance and the other shows the spring bulbs out in flower in the park.

York in the sun.

The gardens near to York minster and within the walls of the city. This bed is enormous and in front of it is a lovely large weeping pear that puts my little one to shame.

 Then next to the cathedral  is a lovely old building with a bed of old gold roses fronting it up. Beautiful.

What a fantastic sight, the towering entrance of York minster. The largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe.

1 week later.

Well, you didn't think I could keep away, did you? If my poor old plants can struggle on despite having their roots practically rotting whilst their buds whither from an almost continual bashing by heavy downpours - well, I can at least tell you about them, can't I?
Let's do all the bad news first.
The potatoes are nearly all suffering and I know when we dig them up each spud will have a coating of scab. The peas, who usually love the rain, are yellowing up because they are totally waterlogged. This year's crop of raspberries has been very poor - of course it doesn't stop the chickens hopping up and down in brave attempts to dislodge those red jewels from their settings. Many a time I've seen Mrs Bun pull half a raspberry from the stem and then hop up again to break off the remaining half and wolf it down. We've always shared the raspberries with the hens because I think it gives them some interest as well as a little exercise so the bottom few have been the property of the chickens whilst anything from 15 inches up has been human fodder. However, I'm finding that the few we have just don't want to ripen up very well and then they seem to get mould on them within a day. I've not had enough to make a summer pudding again but there are a couple each day ripe for the picking.
The alpine strawberries have not been touched by the chicks; not sure why but they have been allowed to come to fruition and are scarlet dots in amongst the lush green leaves of the plant. The red currants are taking forever to ripen although they are slowly getting there. The new cherry has withered and died but the apple, bought the same time but placed at the top of the garden, is doing well.The box edging around the herbs is filling out nicely and so far, touch wood, Luke's tomatoes have resisted the blight although I do not know how long they will hold out for - it seems inevitable.

The hens are enjoying being in the garden though, we've enjoyed a good few bird visits here as so many young birds use the peanut and seed feeders as a ready source of energy. How does this benefit our girls? Well, the wild birds are messy eaters so our four hang about underneath the feeders and have the crumbs from the feeders. Very canny. We've had three sightings this afternoon of an august russet breasted Bullfinch. What a very handsome visitor he is and I'm transfixed each time he makes an appearance, clinging to the rose stem or perching on a plant.

The roses continue to produce a mass of buds although many of the flowers have dropped off without being able to open - just a cushion of soggy petals bound tightly together before they fall.
This morning, before the latest downpour which had me running to collect the week's washing from the line before it was completely soaked, I planted up Luke's favourite Salvia; Paten's Blue. It's a rich, bright blue and startles people with it's bold, almost gentian colour. We had a lonely spot in what used to be the monochrome corner before it kept surprising me with stray random pinks and purples. Now I just am grateful if anything pushes through the bog-like soil.
Having visited a lavender farm yesterday, Luke returned home with three new lavenders for the garden. Lavender should be the easiest thing to grown and cultivate but I seem to kill everyone of my lavenders if I get anywhere near them. I am thinking of just keeping them for a few years without cutting back as, no matter how frugal my trimming is (and I never cut into the old wood) I seem to finish them off. So I have a huge one in the front garden that I will try to take cuttings from before pulling it and it's woody stems up in a couple of years and a lovely butterfly one by the greenhouse door that should see me good for a few more years. The knives though, are not out for this plant. I shall let it keep it's head and spread itself freely before replacing with a newer plant once it's got too straggly. Look how good the field of lavender looks though....

Beautiful, isn't it?
They also had a wild flower meadow which put my teeny patch to shame. Here's how it's done!

I am so envious!

We did have a very quick wander through a field down the bottom of the hill from us. Within minutes the weather had turned and we had to nip back pretty sharpish to the safety of the car.

Most of the plants I bought earlier this year are now half price in the sale because there is so much unsold but I'm fine about paying full price for my feather Bronze Fennel. I'm always pleased to reacquaint myself with the Giant Scabiosa - a tall, bobbing yellow flower head on a long bendy stem - the flowers are as tall as I am. Sadly, my plant is pushed into a corner and is not expanding but I may well buy another and leave that one where it is (but that is for next year).
The gypsophilia around the large agapanthus is like a froth of cappuccino foam and really brightens up that little bed. I lost two of the plants I put there but this one plant makes up for any disappointment.
We have lots to do in the front garden although the two wooden steps down from the elevated decking to the grass have both split and cannot be used now. The beautiful, Crown Princess Margarita roses are doing me proud (I bought them as a tribute to my father after he died and they always make me think of him when I see their bright apricot flowers grouped together.) My plan is to remove the misshapen and half dead conifer one side of the decking entrance and to replace it with a mirror image of the planting on the other side; a honeysuckle, rose and lavender although with this temperamental weather this will almost certainly not be happening this month.
On a more optimistic note I have today removed the electric blanket from the bed. I am currently wearing a woollen jumper and there hasn't been an evening without the wood burner going but I am hoping we are getting towards more seasonal weather. Well, you've gotta have hope, haven't you?

National Garden Nose.

Well, it's called the National Garden Scheme really but it's for nosey people like ourselves to peek around complete stranger's gardens. Last Sunday we went with Luke's Mum to five gardens in Pentrych (pronounced Pen-turk) and today we visited eight in Colwilston (it's Welsh name is Tregolwyn). You have to love Wales for it's often unpronouncable place names. Of course, saying that I may have offended the locals who will quite rightly be saying, "It's Welsh, a different language, what do you expect?" Quite right too.

I have to tell you though that when we drove past the beautiful Red Castle last week, perched high on a hill and built in the late nineteenth century for the 3rd Marquess of Bute on the site of a 13th century castle, I told Luke's Mum to look out for Castell Coch (the Welsh for Red Castle)  and she laughed out loud. You see, Castell Coch is pronounced Castle Cock.

 

After a very soggy night and an exceedingly wet morning it stayed dry and bright long enough to have a good look around this charming little village.

We started off at an elderly couple's house, paid our ten pounds for two people entry fee (it all goes to charity) and mooched around the first garden. Last week's gardens were very well manicured and some had thousands of pounds' worth of landscaping. This one did not. What it had was a higgedly piggedly lay out, much of it seemed self sewn, with proper cottage garden flowers interspersed with vegetables. Masses of orange California poppies mingled with the blue of Love in a Mist whilst blowsy roses sat proudly in beds of individual plants, probably left there by the wind or a passing bird. All very sweet and 'as nature intended'. 

Luke told the lady of the house how envious  he was of her Cerinthe only for her to ask what that was and when he told her she immediately offered to pull up a root of it for him. Very kind but we declined. After all, if she did that sort of thing for everyone she'd have depleted her borders by the end of the afternoon.

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The next garden was owned and worked by a 92 year old who had the finest soil you can imagine. He put that down to the fact that it has been a vegetable patch for a century! It was rich, black and so fine a tilth. He had several cold frames made up of mismatched old windows which I loved. I do like the old thrifty gardeners who use whatever they can find to utilise.

 

He had his bean sticks tied up with old tights and some wonderful cornflowers in several colours; vivid blue, pink and lilac.

 

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The next garden had a baptismal pond! I've never seen or heard of one of these before.

Personally I found the ceramic teddy tied up in ribbon and greeting you on a stone seat a little twee for my taste and there were some well dodgy things to look at like tiered fountains, very grand in style but with rubber ducks bobbing about in the water but the hard landscaping was beautifully done.

 

 

As we passed the stables there was a whoosh past our heads and we realised that [airs of swallows were nesting in each stable. A flurry of activity occurred whilst the birds whizzed in and out, & flying so low to the ground that they looked like they were skating on the grass itself. This was enchanting to watch and we felt privileged to witness it but more was to come.

We crunched back down the grave drive, past the Rolls Royce with personal number plates and realised we had missed out one of the gardens on the route so we backtracked and this time viewed a 'plant woman's.garden', as it said on the brochure.

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Although below looks like a take-away meal it is actually assorted succulents on a glass table at the top of the garden. Nice idea.

I'm amazed how versatile sloping gardens are. From thinking they dictate the entire look of the garden I'm been turned around in my thinking and I see the beauty of a curved slope or the possibilities of terracing. This garden gradually led us down to the end corner and was a very peaceful garden with lovely planting which was understandable as it was owned by a garden designer.

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Wandering back past the 'teddy bear' house again we were soon at the Old Farmhouse and I loved this one.. The view across the fields was spectacular and this garden had several specific areas with an old play section, a large mixed herb raised bed, deep curvaceous borders filled with lush perennials and a productive veg patch as well as a good crop of raspberries.

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Onto the next and my second favourite garden.(the farmhouse was my type of romantic, informal planting) This one had a lush row of bountiful pink roses creating a border to the top part of the garden and then down some central stone steps to a calming lawn with a wonderful centrepiece - a huge sundial on a stone pedestal.

A big dog fight rang out when a visitor brought her well behaved pet in on a lead and Gwen, the long haired Irish hound and William. the daschound who belonged to the owners of the house took exception to the intrusion. A scuffle for ten seconds before we saw the visitor and her dog exiting the garden - rather quickly.

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This next garden was much smaller than the others, with the house in the centre of the garden. We walked around the shady side of the ouse and came out on a lawned area with the same spectacular views as the last few gardens. The planting was considered and gave the garden pockets with a different feel to each one before.

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Our last garden was small and compactwith lovely lupins but the most amazing and breathtaking point of the whole afternoon was the sight of an enormous and rare Red Kite flapping it's huge wings thirty foot above our heads.

Sadly, the camera could not focus on the bird in the time we had to capture the view. Red Kite's are not common and are only found in certain parts of this country. I have never seen one so close up and it was majestic - a solitary elegant bird that finished off the day beautifully.

Thanks Colwinston.