Sunday 27th April 2014
We went for a drive yesterday - mainly to give the blue Golf some exercise because it has been sitting in the garage since Jenny left. I took my camera but we didn't stop en route - so I started snapping as soon as we got home. I have been taking a few photos in the garden recently because I don't want to go "cold turkey" in case I get some sort of obscure photographic withdrawal symptoms.
The view from the gate. The flowering cherries are still looking pretty but they are nearly past their best.
Our flowering cherries are the third of the annual major events in the garden. The first is the appearance of the snowdrops which herald the end of winter. They are followed closely by the daffodils - harbingers of spring - and then the pink and white blossom on the flowering cherries coincides with the new leaves on the deciduous trees. The fourth "event" will be the flowering of the huge, messy, bright scarlet oriental poppies in early summer.
Between these memorable explosions of colour there are many smaller pleasures. Before I walked up the drive, I paused to take some close-up photos of a sprig of honesty and a Welsh poppy.
Years ago I pinched a few honesty seeds from a clump growing amongst long grass and weeds outside a hedge further down the glen. Now it self-sows in various parts of the garden. It is listed in my book Wild Flowers of Britain and Northern Europe and apparently originated in south east Europe - so it isn't a real native wild flower. It would be more accurate to describe it as a "garden escape". The latin name is Lunaria Annua. The Lunaria bit is easy to understand because the papery seed pods are circular and pale - like the full moon. But I am not sure about "annua" because it is a biennial.
A solitary honesty plant which appeared unexpectedly in a patch of snowdrops in the back garden.
I love Welsh poppies. The flowers look fragile - but they are tough little plants and are trying to take over the whole garden. The name is interesting. I have read that they were never exclusively Welsh but were first identified in Wales and were classified by Linnaeus as Papaver cambricum (literally Welsh Poppy). Later some pedants renamed them Meconopsis cambrica. I believe Meconopis means "looking like a poppy" in Greek.
A group of "looking like poppies" growing under the white Buddleia in the back garden.
As you have probably noticed, this garden is not a conventional, tidy, well-ordered and planned garden. I would like to achieve a living garden full of buzzing bees, singing birds and beautiful butterflies . . . and if a plant that I like takes the trouble to come up from seed and grows vigorously I just leave it where it decided to grow. Plants usually seem to pick places where they thrive. I like useful plants which provide food for birds or pollen or nectar for insects - not the flashy, brightly coloured, sterile bedding plants on sale outside the supermarket. Those gaudy flowers remind me of the current media plague of useless celebrities who believe that their appearance is of paramount interest and importance to all and sundry.
I used to be rather prejudiced against Pieris, smallish shrubs with ridiculously colourful new leaves. Real show-offs! Tim liked them so I was pleased when our neighbour told me that she had seen butterflies enjoying the nectar on the little white flowers on their shrub. Our plant adds a splash of colour but I haven't seen a butterfly on the flowers yet . Perhaps I should have planted it in a sunnier position.
Nearby, hidden behind a Hypericum Hidcote, is a clump of daffs that flower later than all the others. They are almost going over now but are still quite pretty. I remember our old neighbour, Barry, saying that his wife thought early varieties were more special than the late ones because they have novelty value . . . but I rather like these and must remember to move them to a better position.
My favourite patch of the garden is the wild flower bank near the top of the back garden. I weeded out the grass and just let the weeds and ferns take over. Now it is home to a wide variety of wild flowers. I planted a few native bluebell bulbs on the bank under the old willow (now deceased) and the first flowers have opened unusually early this year.
I am sure it is illegal to dig up bulbs but I picked up the original bulbs in Brookdale plantation years ago. The damp ground had been churned up by horses' hooves and a few bulbs were lying exposed on the surface of the track so I rationalised that I was rescuing them. They seem to be happy living here.
We also have the generally despised Spanish bluebells. The Spanish variety were here - in the front garden - when we bought the property. They are similar to the British bluebells but the stems are straighter with the flowers arranged around the stem instead of on one side. The colour is a paler shade of blue, and they have very little scent. The two species tend to hybridise which is a concern. But there are so many Spanish bluebells in nearby gardens that there is little point in trying to eradicate them from our garden.
I also saw the first buttercups yesterday! They are bulbous buttercups (Ranunculus bulbosus).
And while I was prowling around I found some other minor gems.
Delicate wood sorrel that has moved into the garden from the plantation above us.
Tiny yellow pimpernel. The flowers are only about half an inch in diameter.
A late lesser celandine next to the "dog path" under the hawthorn.
Some dog violets growing in the raspberry bed.
A drift of stitchwort that I forgot to weed out of the daffodil bed.
Some elegant Solomon's Seal.
And finally, the new fronds on the ferns above the ditch. There is just a trickle of water in the ditch now but there can be quite a torrent in winter.
