Yards and Gardens

 I was baffled to see a large front lawn surrounded by flowering shrubs described as a 'front yard' in an American magazine article. This space was larger than most British gardens. We Brits would call it a garden, so why was it being described as a 'yard'? I've also seen lawned or rough areas around and at the back of the house described by Americans as 'yards'. 

Yards, to my mind, are generally paved, utilitarian areas. They may be small, like the yards at the back of Victorian terraced houses, space for a washing line, perhaps with a privy shed and a coal shed,  or just access to the privy and coal hole, a few strides between the back door and the gate to the back lane.  Or larger, like a farmyard, livery yard, scrapyard or builders' yard.

Intrigued, I asked an American friend to explain their use of yard and garden. It seems a 'yard', in addition to a paved, utilitarian space, is an outside space attached to a property, which isn't being deliberately designed and used as a growing space. Okay, there might be a stretch of lawn surrounded by shrubs, but it's whatever, nothing special. The grass gets cut and the shrubs pruned and mulched, the leaves raked up, but there's no thought of design, no intent beyond a tidy bit of kerb-appeal. It may be a space to play catch, have barbecues, sit in the sun, but it isn't being actively 'gardened'. To count as a garden, the same space would have design and intent behind it, from which plants to grow and how they work together, to landscaping of paths and levels, or a space designed for growing fruit and vegetables. If you happen to have a few citrus and olive trees in your Californian 'garden', it may nevertheless be a 'yard'.

So many people here in the UK, especially in houses built from the 1960s on, have a small, private, outside space - a 'garden'. Often described in estate agents' details as an 'easily-maintained garden', which they think is a positive, but is not attractive to someone who really wants to garden. There is an almost cultural imperative to have a lawn, which one feeds and seeds to make it grow, then cuts to keep the growth down, keeping it free of 'weeds' by using a broad leaf herbicide, keeping any shrubs around it free of pests by using a pesticide. Controlling the space is what makes it a 'garden' here in the UK. So if it's an outside patch with a patio, a shed and a patchy stretch of grass with a trampoline and swing, it's a garden in the UK, but a yard in the USA.

I can see the point here; this differentiation of yard and garden makes sense and is growing on me (sorry, couldn't resist the pun!). I would not often (if ever?) say this, but this is an example of American English usage that I would like to see introduced here in the UK.

Inspiration and Perspiration

This May I have mostly been making ... a mess.

I am determined to get this back garden productive and at least two thirds of it laid out, and the patio tidied, by midsummer.

The weather has been amazing since mid-April, in that there has hardly been any rain. We usually have a dryish couple of weeks in April and May, and it starts turning rainy and changeable from midsummer. But the weather has stayed beautiful, day after day, as if to spite all of us locked down due to the SARS-Cov-2 Coronavirus pandemic, not allowed to go to beaches. We are supposed to stay local - no more than 5 miles from home, and even if I parlayed that into 'as the crow flies' instead of road distance, the car parks and toilets are shut. If you can't walk there, you can't go there. I have been out in the garden every day, if only to do a small job, or just watering. I hit a bit of a wall mid-month, where I had to have a couple of rest days, as my muscles and joints were so painful. Little by little, I have started to be able to work longer or harder, resting as soon as I need to, resuming when I feel up to it.

The brambles spread atrociously last year, when between painful joints and lots of rain, I neglected the garden. It has been cathartic to hack them back and dig them out, even though I couldn't burn them as I only like to light the incinerator when it is at least drizzly, so that no neighbours have washing out. I have been tackling the garden on all fronts: patio, herb, mint arc, both herbaceous areas; as usual, all of my balls in the air, playing the moving squares game by tackling areas of weeds and brambles, trying to create space to move plants and plant contents of pots. The big prize is to clear the areas for the veg beds, which have become full of herbaceous plants and weeds, and said herbaceous plants need somewhere to go.

The progress is almost imperceptible. Only the compost heap gives a clue, having doubled in height.

The mints arc and herbaceous bed beyond it were to occupy the area between the house utility/shower 'extension' and the lilac, which was a gravelled area in which things seeded themselves and failed to grow well, except for Sedum rupestris, which must love the dry, limey conditions, and bramble, which is just a complete thug and grows everywhere. There is some of the troublingly ubiquitous bindweed coming though too. Huge old plants of Lady's Mantle (Alchemilla mollis) and a couple of Hellebores have established themselves right at the edge of the bed, and they will need to go.

I was told by someone, possibly the sellers mentioned it in passing, that there was some concrete under the gravel, but when I had previously stuck a fork in to work some bramble or dandelions out, I didn't find it. This time, having raked off a couple of inches of gravel, I found areas of concrete and patches of fine grade, blue-grey ballast or aggregate. I stuck the pick into the concrete a few times and it broke easily, in some place only half an inch thick or less, in others perhaps a couple of inches. It looked as though there might be a void underneath.

The gravel bed, having found concrete

I suspect it was a level base for a shed, but my neighbours don't know or remember anything about it.

I carried on clearing and digging, creating a sort of terminal moraine of gravel, concrete bits, aggregate and soil under the edge of the lilac. In places the concrete I broke and removed had a layer of aggregate under it, laid on top of a permeable membrane; in some places, that aggregate had another thin layer of concrete underneath it and on the membrane, in some places, stuck to it. So this all became a rather longer job than expected, but isn't that just the way of things?

It would have been so much easier to leave the gravel and use it as an area for pots, but I want to see my plans realised.  Part of that includes recycling the paving slabs donated by my next-door neighbours a couple of years ago into paths between the veg beds, and the gravel, aggregate etc can be recycled into a sub-base for the slabs, along with the rest of the stone I keep digging out of the garden. Another neighbour commented how much concrete and stone she finds in her garden, and how shallow the topsoil is. I would have expected it to be deeper, as these houses were built on damp meadow-land, so I suspect the topsoil was taken off to level the site for building in the 1950s and not put back again. Ah well, all the more reason to make compost.

I've become fitter and able to do enough to work up a sweat. Being out in the garden, with the birds and greenery, has been very enjoyable, my exercise and inspiration, saving my sanity a little in these locked-down weeks. 

Pandemic Pandemonium

Predictably - I wonder what odds the bookies were offering? - the outbreak of the novel Coronavirus  Covid-19 has been declared a pandemic, and all hell has broken out in the UK. Not only is it a public health emergency, it is also an economic emergency, with international markets in free-fall and people already losing their jobs as firms scale back and shut down.

Even before the UK had many cases, people started panic buying, noticeably toilet roll! Not that the infection causes problems with the gut, but because apparently that's what people can't do without. Hand sanitiser gel was also a must-buy. Supermarkets were slow to impose limits, because families come in different sizes and people may be shopping for others, but surely, surely, people could be sensible, given that there aren't shortages with stock coming in all the time? But no, you can't fix stupid, and people, especially when scared, will be greedy and selfish too.

The last time I went shopping, some of the shelves of a large supermarket were looking very empty. No toilet roll, very few canned goods, no pasta, hardly anything left by way of pasta sauces. I went past one couple loading Pot Noodles into their trolley, discussing how many they should have of which ones, dithering and debating because they didn't normally eat them (although I don't blame them for that!). I saw other couples, discussing numbers and needs as they loaded their individual trolleys, although I expect only one of them normally shops for their families. But, for all I know, maybe one of them was doing the family shop and the other shopping for a parent. Short of seeing someone steering a few trolleys piled high with toilet rolls and hand sanitiser, is it really possible to spot the difference between someone panic buying/stockpiling and someone getting supplies in for their family and older neighbours? Without leaping to assumptions, no. It's a tricky one.

There was lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, and I bought a lovely piece of fish from the wet fish counter to put in the freezer, not because I'm stocking up the freezer, but because it looked so good and I already had that day's meal planned. (I'm currently addicted to ratatouille with a baked potato as comfort food.)

There weren't queues at the tills, as there were plenty of cashiers. I had a cheerful chat with the cashier as I put my things through. Apparently the limits she had were a bit higher than those shown in notices on the shelves, and the shelves were restocked regularly, but emptied almost as soon as they were filled. I shall be annoyed if I cannot find what I want as and when I want to replenish what's in my own cupboards (especially toilet roll!) and that's the thing. Even those like me who don't panic buy and hoard supplies, when threatened with the possibility of not finding what we want and feel we need, we're more likely to buy the items, in multiples, when we do see them. Also, when you think that maybe we will all be under movement restrictions soon, and you and yours may be self-isolating for protection because someone in the household is in the high-risk group, or you may go into isolation because you or someone in the household show symptoms, then it makes sense to have some supplies in and a regular online order so you can top up if you can't go out. It becomes both cause and effect.

Elsewhere, fights have broken out, and cashiers are subjected to insults and threats if they challenge the numbers of items people are taking. A friend who was on a course (only the first day of the planned three; it was cut short) reported that the tutor had stopped off at a supermarket for hand sanitiser (makes sense to have it if you're giving a course and you don't know what the facilities are like). She found the last bottle at the back of a bottom shelf, and an older woman saw her and knocked her over. The other woman's husband remonstrated with her and she grumbled that the tutor had beaten her to the last bottle (like that's an excuse for her bad behaviour).
In the USA, there are queues at gun stores, as people buy weapons and ammunition. It seems that they are preparing for a breakdown in law and order (whether they will be causing it or defending themselves from it) and possibly also a zombie apocalypse. I'm glad, once again, not to live in the USA.

Not that living in the UK is much less worrying. The government position last week was 'carry on as normal, no-one is immune, wash your hands, catch your coughs, best we just let the virus go through the community and build herd immunity that way. Some of you will die, especially the oldies, but most will be okay.' Cue outrage at the idea of having the Coronavirus version of a Chicken Pox party for UK citizens, the apparent disposability of our at-risk citizens and that this could potentially be a great saving in terms of benefits and a load off the NHS. We are used to the idea that herd immunity is created after a programme of vaccinations, not, as used to be, just leaving a disease to spread through the population and rely on people recovering and becoming immune. Diphtheria, smallpox, polio, whooping cough, measles, German measles (rubella) - all used to be like this. Perhaps the British are less fatalistic, stoical and stiff-upper-lip than we used to be, but some things are just not acceptable now.

Then there was something of a U turn; people were advised to work from home if they can and avoid going out unless necessary, especially to pubs, clubs, cinemas, theatres etc. A raft of financial support measures were announced, but there were still obvious holes. You might take a mortgage holiday, but still no help for renters. Your employer should pay you statutory sick pay (SSP, which is less than £100 per week, not a lot) but with only an advisory for people to stay away from leisure venues, the owners and managers of said venues cannot claim for loss of income on their insurance. Many will go under unless there are government safety nets in place. The self-isolating should be paid SSP from day one, but many employers aren't being flexible enough and still want a doctor's note, at a time when most surgeries are stopping face to face appointments. There is a proposal to make new claims for universal credit easier in an attempt to provide some support for the self-employed, so that will be good, if they can work it out.

Now the schools are due to close at the end of the week, and exams have been cancelled, all adding to the general confusion and anxiety.

One of the scariest things is that, being a new virus, there are so many unknowns. You can have it but be presymptomatic (not showing symptoms yet) or asymptomatic (not have symptoms at all). The incubation period is still up for debate, from three weeks to three days. Many people apparently can have quite mild symptoms and recover, but there are no numbers on this, as only those who are hospitalised with severe symptoms are being tested (much to the annoyance of health care workers and medical professionals, who would like to know if they are positive since they are on the front line of receiving the virus and passing it on, so knowing could limit the spread, even if it takes them out of the much needed workforce for a week or two, and even if clear, they might need to be tested on a weekly or fortnightly basis). It is still not known whether someone who has had it and recovered is immune, and since you can have something like it without knowing whether you've just got some unspecific, horrible fluey cough or whether it's Covid-19, you can't be sure of anything. Except that you are still alive, which is not something to be sneezed at (sorry, couldn't resist it!).

I do worry about my (high risk group) parents, over 200 miles away, although my brother is with them. All this worry and uncertainty leads to high anxiety, and I found this from Anxiety UK very inspirational:

APPLE
Acknowledge: notice and acknowledge the uncertainty as it comes to mind

Pause: Don't react as you normally do. Don't react at all. Pause and breathe

Pull back: Tell yourself this is just the worry* talking, and this apparent need for certainty is not helpful or necessary. (* or anger, annoyance, however you are feeling). It is only a thought or feeling. Don't believe everything you think. Thoughts are not statements or facts.

Let go: let go of the thought or feeling. It will pass. You do not have to respond to them. Imagine them floating away on a cloud or in a bubble.

Explore: Explore the present moment, because right now, in this moment, all is well. Notice your breathing and the sensations of your breathing. Notice the ground beneath you. Look around and notice what you see, what you hear, what you can touch, what you can smell. Right now. Then shift your focus of attention to something else - on what you need to do, on what you were doing before you noticed the worry, or do something else - mindfully with your full attention.

I observed to a friend that, given a computer with internet connection (tick), craft supplies (tick), books (tick) and food deliveries (cross), I can hole up and entertain myself for weeks without feeling the need to be with people face to face. I'm lucky, I also have a garden to potter in, and live on my own in a house with a few rooms to choose from, so I wouldn't feel too claustrophobic.

Although I've let the people from my gentle exercise class know I can pick up shopping for them if necessary, I have no confidence that I could actually find what they need. With that in mind, I wondered what delivery slots might be available (given that you can book a slot up to three weeks in advance and amend your order until the night before delivery). My local Tesco has no delivery slots for the three weeks you can book. Click and collect slots are only available at the end of the three week period. A quick look for toilet roll showed only small packs of a couple of brands in stock. So much for regular deliveries and no shortages. I went in this morning and there was no toilet roll (apparently only people queuing up when the doors opened at 7.00 am got some!), and among other things, still no pasta, and even the fresh veg was looking a bit bare, with few potatoes left and no onions! Customers were limited to a maximum of three of any one thing.

There have been comparisons to being at war, so if I have to self-isolate I shall use it as an opportunity to make do and mend, and dig for victory.

Remember, coughs and sneezes spread diseases, so catch your coughs in a hanky and wash your hands. Don't Panic! Keep calm and carry on!


Earworms, a suggested playlist, in no particular order: Don't Stand So Close to me (The Police), Toxic (Britney Spears), Mad World (Gary Jules), Shake It Off (Taylor Swift), U Can't Touch This (MC Hammer), Stayin' Alive (The Bee Gees), Survivor (Destiny's Child), I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor), It's the End of the World (as we know it) (REM), We've Gotta Get Out of this Place (The Animals),

It's a jungle out there!

The back garden, that is, although the front is no better, covered in weeds again. While I was concentrating on the front, and especially while I was a bit poorly in May and then again in June, the back garden rewilded itself into an almost impenetrable mass of brambles and pendulous sedge. The compost bins are full, I've hacked back brambles a few times and burned them in the incinerator, but everything is growing so fast! The Alchemilla mollis is about to sprawl everywhere too. I'm tempted to take it out. I've surely got enough of its seed in the soil that I shall never be without it.

The patio is also inaccessible, full of pots which blow about in the wind. I haven't done any moth trapping as setting up the trap feels just too complicated. And the privet hedges, overgrown and in full flower. The sparrows have been enjoying those, as well as the aphids on the roses.

Still, there are compensations. Apart from butterflies, and the occasional damselfly, this Common Darter caught my eye.

A Creative Lull

I have been struggling a bit over the past few months; ill, stressed-out. Having got myself together a bit from mid-May, I did more work on the front garden, as the pressure to get that done was a source of stress which I could address. I could picture myself doing another create 365 post and adding the paths and beds of the front garden to my creations.

Just being out and working on it again felt good, even though I was low on energy. I soon found that I could only do so much weeding, wrangling the path edging into place and knocking in pegs before my hands started to ache. At first, I put it down to just being out of condition, unused to the work. Switching to the computer to do some typing and editing didn't help, something as simple as doing the washing up felt like hard work. Within the week, I found my finger joints were so painful I couldn't make a fist. Putting on hand cream felt wonderful, cool and smooth.

I had hoped that I'd be able to get the garden done, get crafting and generally catch up in all directions, but with burning, aching hands, it was hard to get anything done. I've always been good at opening jars, and now I'm struggling with them. I am so not impressed. [Expletives deleted - Ed.]

I fixed my washing line, where a line had worn against the hole in the arm and broken next to the fastener. It was easier than I thought it would be, as there was enough spare line in the fastener at the other end to rearrange it. Then I cleaned the line (although looking at it today, that's difficult to tell!) and it was ready for some of the dry weather we had in April. It's fixed, that counts!

I've just had a heavy cold and felt really under the weather for a fortnight, with sleep a welcome respite from the coughing and sinus headaches. At the beginning of the week, it felt like the lights were coming back on, and I've been madly trying to catch up ever since. I'm wary about getting frazzled out, but the sun is currently shining (which it hasn't done very much here so far this summer) and I do have lots to do. According to the weather forecast, we're due a few days of thunderstorms and heavy rain (yellow warning issued) from Sunday (the day after tomorrow), so I'm making the most of it and hopefully seeing a friend tomorrow for some downtime.

This batch of things: 1
Cumulative total: 22

Spittle-bugs and Cellar Slugs

There are a couple of 'citizen science' projects on my To Do list which are nagging at me.

The first is a study of xylem-feeding insects, that is, froghoppers and leafhoppers. Their nymphs (immature stages) are usually called spittle bugs, because they surround themselves with a froth of white foam, commonly called cuckoo spit, possibly because it starts to appear around the same time that cuckoos return in March or April.

Not that there are any cuckoos locally. Despite occasional sirens, traffic noise, screams and shouts from schoolchildren and the whine of power tools and bouts of banging from various neighbours, it's still quiet enough here that I would have heard the persistent cuc-koo call carried on the wind. They aren't unknown in Pembrokeshire, but they are on the UK Red List because of their declining numbers.

In recent years, the bacterial disease Xylella fastidiosa has been wreaking havoc in Europe, killing off olive and fruit trees amongst other plants. Many of our garden plants are imported from European growers, so Britain is on high alert, The plant pathogens are spread by sap-sucking (xylem-feeding) insects, yes, those spittle bugs!

As my garden is running wild, there's a lot of cuckoo spit about, plenty to study.

The second project is a study of Cellar Slugs. My view of slugs is that the ones helping break down my compost are fine, and the ones which are eating my plants should be banished, if not from the face of the earth, then to some other location where they cannot utterly destroy, for example, the pepper, aubergine and fennel plants to which I treated myself only a fortnight ago. Although, the plants could just as easily have been destroyed by snails, of which the garden also has a superfluity, despite the blackbirds' best efforts.

This study is going to involve some poking around with a torch, although my first port of call will be the compost bins.

It's stopped raining, so I'm off for a spot of spittle bug study.

Create 365

I'm in awe of some of my arty friends, who are so productive and create such loveliness. Even some friends of mine who have been posting about what their naughty Christmas elves have been up to, complete with pictures.

Glancing through old posts, especially those from this time of year, I despair at myself; the same old aims pop up time and again. Lose weight, exercise more, earn some money, learn how to do all sorts of things, get everything sorted out, get a grip!

I spotted a post in which I talked about peyote stitch bezels around stones and the offending articles are still in the UFOs box, where I left them years ago when I couldn't decide how to create the bails. I had another look at them when a crafty friend came round for a cuppa and decided that I would not be able to get a pinch bail or even a jump ring into the beadwork, (because I didn't 'cheat' and use a strip of double-sided tape around the stone, so the beadwork is as tight as I could make it). Beaded bails it is, then.

With the turning of the year at Yule, and thinking about my recent creative impulse, I set a goal. I need to be more productive and to do a major de-stash, so I am going to make, create, renovate, repair, alter and complete 365 things.

I have an appalling record when it comes to personal goals, as they often dissolve and disappear within a month, displaced by important and urgent stuff or other interests. Given that I need to be smarter about the goal setting, I decided posting every day and having a photo of every object would be unfeasible and unsustainable, so I'll post periodically and keep a running total. Although 365 is one object a day, I probably won't complete one a day, but I shall have to try to produce more or less 30 things a month just to keep on track. If I run short of time I might start making lots of earrings (although that at least will help de-stash the beads and give me something to sell!).

I've a long list of crafty things I want to try, and have been saying for years that I should pick my art things up again.

Choreographies will count. Making/repairing elements of the garden will count. Making everyday meals will not count, nor will making a mess (something I can do with no effort at all!) I've also decided that blog posts won't count unless they are tutorials or patterns, but I do need to complete a lot of draft posts too.

So that's a major aim for the year, to bring things back into use and create lovely things. How do you think I'll do? Feel like joining me? Let me know what you think in the comments below!

Heatwave!

Blazing June really lived up to the name this year. Instead of the usual change at midsummer into a pattern of wet westerlies, the rain has been noticeably absent for over a month, until yesterday morning, when, for a few hours, it varied between drizzle and downpour.

It was fine but still chilly at the end of May, the Lilac and the Ladies Smock a fortnight late. At the start of June, good weather was forecast and there was the usual rubbish reporting of temperatures in the high twenties, as if that were everywhere and not just the home counties. At the end of the first week of June, the warmth had begun to break through and it suddenly seemed as though we'd caught up after the late spring.

I don't remember any rain until the morning of 17 June, when there had already been a little shower when I went to empty the moth trap, and I finished that just in time before another light shower.  I have a snapshot of Xena sprawled on a bit of old wood in the back garden, surrounded by damp soil, taken on 20 June. I think that might have been the morning I found about 2mm of water in a bucket. I found this website quite useful as an aide-memoire, but it only shows humidity, rather than rainfall. Then no rain, it just got hotter and hotter until we had days and days of weather in the mid-twenties, too hot to work in the garden for long. This was cool compared to what the home counties had to endure. The poor cats spent all their time trying to find patches of cool shade to sprawl in, often in the long grass, under the hedge, in a shady spot on the patio, or flopped onto the tiles in the utility room.

On 29 June I was fed up with feeling as though I was melting and declared a beach afternoon. A friend and I went to Broadhaven, where we set up the UV shelter, covered ourselves in factor 50 and had a picnic and a swim as the tide came in over the hot sand. The water felt a bit chilly - reported on the lifeguards' board as 14 degrees. I'd found my pocket kite and took it along, but there was scarcely any wind, so it would not stay up.

Eventually, on Sunday 1 July, there was a yellow weather warning for thunderstorms. I watched the lightning maps for a while as the storm played south of Exeter and then made its way up to Somerset to give a Chard a bit of a show before it fizzled out. Anyone on holiday in Brittany and Normandy would have had to shelter from tremendous thunderstorms, the maps thick with yellow and red dots from lightning strikes! The weather warning here came to nothing. Another one for last Friday was cancelled too. Some showery rain was forecast, and I leaned on my fork in the front garden, sweaty face turned to the sky as the first drops fell ... and then stopped.

It feels as though I've spent weeks with sweat dripping down my back and into my eyes. Yesterday evening, a cool 14 degrees tempted me to put on a jumper. The forecast is still reasonably fine, cloudy with sunny spells and several degrees cooler, with another light shower due later.

There was a time during the winter/early spring, when the ground was completely waterlogged. I remember sploshing my way down the garden, with water pooling on the surface in places. Now, any dampness is locked in the baked clay soil. Worms have tied themselves in knots to aestivate deeper in the soil. Plants without tap roots and which like damp soils, like Primroses and Lady's Smock, have struggled and in some cases died. I'm not sure whether my new, expensive roses will make it, either, despite my best efforts to keep the pots watered. On the other hand, the brambles have loved it, sending up new shoots from their deep roots.

The Big Butterfly Count starts this Friday and schools break up for summer holidays next week. I wonder if decent summer weather will continue, or will the westerlies bring rain? We could do with a downpour to clear the air.

Hog Heaven

I've been aware for a while that someone other than my cats has been helping themselves to the cat food. I put it down to interloper cat, who is back after a long absence. Sometimes, it sounds like an animal eating as quickly as possible, and  I've gone out to see a black and white rear disappearing down the garden. Once, while Greebo was sitting on the patio step with his back to the door and had completely missed that the interloper cat had gone in and back out again!

At other times, though, it sounds more delicate. And both cats have been with me, and apparently not inclined to go see off an interloper.
The other evening, I heard the delicate rattle and crunch of cat biscuits being eaten, so went through to the utility room to see who was responsible ....

I've known there was at least one hedgehog around here since I moved in. The cats found poop in the back garden, and I've seen some in the front (it's a long way round via the park if you're a hedgehog and can't just stroll through the house, also assuming the fencing allows a way through, so probably at least one hedgehog). I've occasionally heard some snuffling and rustling. Now this one seems to have become so used to trundling into the utility room and back out again that noises in the house don't cause a rapid exit, nor do the bemused cats watching as their food is being eaten (I wish I'd been quick enough to get a photo of them too, the expressions on their faces!). Not even me, standing and watching. Satisfied, s/he (no idea which sex it is) bimbled out again, round bottom bobbing along as s/he carried on down the garden path and under the lilac tree.

So - meet Bimblebum, (good name, I think) who is now popping in every evening to raid the cats' bowls and any spilled bird food. Yes, I know I've named a wild animal for the second time in as many months. It's just a distinction for this hog here, as opposed to any others (although if two were to turn up for food, I probably wouldn't be able to tell them apart). Yes, I know, soft as butter, letting them all eat me out of house and home.

My first concern was whether the cat biscuits were okay for hedgehogs. Bimblebum seemed to be enjoying them very much and rejected the dish of soft food when I offered it, turning back to the biscuits. Luckily, I have a friend who established the Pembrokeshire Hogspital (also on Facebook). She reassured me the biscuits would be good for the teeth and suggested it might be a female feeding babies. If that's the case, the most likely location for a nest would be under the pile of privet prunings by the back fence - handily close to compost bins and heaps with their larder of slugs and snails, and there's a little path of well-flattened grass leading underneath. Alternatively, the shed, which I seldom go into because it's such a struggle with the door half off its hinges, but that gives any nesting hedgehogs, or birds, access.

A couple of nights ago, there was much rustling and snuffling, as Bimblebum went the length of the garden, down the hedgeline and up through the rough grass, then slalomed back via the evening primroses before dashing over the bare ground to the lilac. There was a lot of eating going on, and a surprising turn of speed when bimbling is too slow. I've been concentrating on the front garden, so the back has escaped from me (again), but it seems like it's hog heaven here.

Hopefully s/he's not taken up residence in the house!

Mr and Mrs Blackbird

I tried to make a dent in the overgrown privet hedge as soon as the weather stopped being vile, which this year was in April (and even then, not for long ...)
I only managed one session before the pair of blackbirds who nest in the hedge made their feelings clear. They were creating their nest, please could I stop and go away!

In early May, I was sure they were sitting, although I wasn't sure I heard chicks. Mr Blackbird has a particular call when he came back into the garden, a sort of 'Hi Honey, I'm home!' Then they seemed to spend time away from the nest and although I didn't see the young birds, it was as if each had one which they were feeding from the safety of the hedges. They also spent a lot of energy alarm-calling from the garden next door, and with my cats on their best behaviour, I knew it wasn't their fault.

Then it all went quiet. Mrs Blackbird came out of the hedge every so often, but there were several days where I didn't see or hear Mr Blackbird at all. Then last week I saw him with a beak stuffed full; he flew into the privet and swapped places with Mrs Blackbird. A little listening and observation confirmed they were feeding chicks.

Mrs Blackbird is the more confiding of the two. She's wary of the cats (quite right too!) but seems to realise that if I'm around, I'll warn them off.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been concentrating on the front garden, digging up all the grass and weeds (the bindweed is horrendous!), removing stones, glass, bits of plastic and so on, leaving freshly turned earth. Mrs Blackbird has noticed and has started to hold up progress and give me an excuse to sit down to rest more frequently as she pops down to inspect the recently dug areas. She gathers a beak full of grubs and worms, poops to lighten the load and then flits back over the house into the back garden. She also seems to have remembered that I am the distributor of dried mealworms, and occasionally just looks meaningfully at me until I toss a handful her way. She has started to come within a metre of me if I'm sitting and still, while I talk to her quietly.

Mrs Blackbird: So, where are the mealworms then?

 My blogging was interrupted earlier by Mrs Blackbird shouting/alarm calling. I strode out of the back door, demanding 'What's going on here?' whereupon Xena slunk guiltily from the patio area and Mrs Blackbird flew from the patio to the washing line, still shouting in alarm. Xena would not stay in, and my disapproval was enough to send her up to the end of the garden while I tossed a handful of mealworms down for Mrs B and looked at where she'd been. After a few minutes, a chick popped out of its hiding place behind the tool store and eyed me expectantly. Mrs B had evidently been using one of my first strawberries as baby food.

The cats are in, much to their disgust. A fresh round of alarm calls showed that the cats had gone to sit, all eyes, ears and whiskers, by the glass patio doors from the dining room, so I've had to shut that door as well. I'm hoping she has the sense to guide the chick to somewhere less obvious and accessible while she's left in peace to feed.

Big Garden Bird Watch 2018

Here we are again, but the chosen hour watching birds on Sunday 28th January yielded results which were not representative of the visitors which I've seen during casual observation while washing up or generally gazing out at the back garden. And this despite putting out bird food, which has proved quite popular.

Present and correct:
1 blackbird (male)
8 sparrows (peak number  last autumn was 18)
1 robin (a second one has been around recently)
1 starling (although there are lots more around)
1 blue tit

Absent without leave:
Dunnock
Wren
Gold finch - although I haven't seen one since autumn
Long-tailed tits - I haven't seen any of these since autumn, when the family supergroup flitting through the gardens and partying in the trees numbered 22
The pair of bullfinches
The pair of chaffinches
Mrs blackbird, and there's been a second male around
Song thrush
Jackdaws
Collared doves
Rooks

The bird feeder, with seeds and peanuts as well as a net of fat balls, has been more popular than last year's single net of fat and seed balls. I just wish the birds would come and be counted when the Big Garden Bird Watch is on!

Sliding Furniture Puzzle

Having guests to stay focuses the mind wonderfully on getting the house in order. Unfortunately, to do that, I have to move what feels like heaven and earth.

All of the furniture which ended up in the guest bedroom during the house move was put in the wrong place and then hemmed in with heavy boxes and trunks (including a box marked 'fragile' which was put on the bottom of a stack and now contains broken glass). I still don't have my bedroom sorted out to my satisfaction (it contains furniture which should be in the guest bedroom, but which they couldn't find space for, as some of the boxes in there belonged elsewhere), and the dining room is a mass of packed boxes and various chairs. The lounge is a mess of craft stash. There are even packed boxes and a worktop full of bits in the utility.

Add into the chaos finding that the shed has been leaking and the decorating kit boxes contained a few inches of water and a strange compost of slug/snail droppings and wet fluff from some rags which have been gnawed by a mouse hoping for a comfy bed. Then one of the cats threw up on my duvet, so not just the cover but the duvet itself needed cleaning. And the dishwasher stopped working.

And then the new mattresses arrived about 4 working days earlier than expected. (I've just seen a mail telling me the mattresses are on their way. Nope, they arrived two days ago! And another mail telling me that the old mattresses will be picked up next Wednesday, with a request to confirm the pick-up via a link which doesn't work.) I now cannot move for large, heavy boxes. There's no way I can get my double mattress up the stairs on my own, I'm going to have to plead for help from one of my neighbours.

It was a bit like this when I first moved, too. Like one of those sliding squares puzzles where you don't so much have an empty square as an empty half-square, and you have to be careful how you use it so as not to hem yourself in. Over time, the stacks in the lounge and kitchen disappeared, and some of the boxes in the dining room. I should have taken photos, some of the stacks were about 4 feet/1.2 metres high.
Just like the sliding squares puzzle, I have to accept that some of the pieces will have to move more than once before they're able to move into their final positions. Unlike the sliding squares puzzle, some pieces are rather larger than others, and so many smaller pieces will need to move to enable, for example, the single beds to go where they were originally intended.

And of course everything needs cleaning and I have a mountain of laundry too. The patio and garden are also a complete mess, as I haven't been out to sort out the growhouse and swingseat, damaged by the first storms of the season, let alone pick up scattered pots or any more digging and clearing. That's very low on the priority list at the moment!

Faced with this knotty problem, I've had to revert to project management planning to try to find the ends to pull, which squares to slide first. The task list is still very long and I have less than a week to go.

It will be great to have made a significant dent in the unpacking, cleaning and sorting, though I wonder if I shall ever attain my goal of having a clean and tidy house with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Time Lapse

My blogging has lapsed somewhat, largely replaced by doing. While the weather was good, I spent spare time out in the garden, (currently) marked by my last published post in August, although there are (quite) a few draft posts which get looked at and tweaked from time to time.

When at my desk, I'm invariably working, still editing the magnum opus which came my way at the start of the year. It's a fascinating book set in 1949 Ethiopia, but irritatingly wordy, with dialogue in five languages and occasional words in a further two. The typescript was an incredible mess of typographical, spelling and grammatical errors, which are gradually falling away under my relentless nit-picking. I keep reminding myself not to over-correct or change the writer's style, that it's not my job to fact check - but inevitably, I've picked up on some anachronisms which needed further research and discussion. It's still very long, the equivalent of five average-sized novels, so it's undecided yet whether this will be one novel or perhaps a series of three or more. I'm really enjoying the work (although the amount of work I'm doing is disproportionate to what I'll eventually be paid!) and loving the way my relationship with the author is developing. I am learning so much about language and editing, and more than I ever imagined I wanted to know about Ethiopia!

I have also received a PhD thesis to proof-read, started earlier this year and now in its final stages. I've also quoted for another. Both have been affected by the supervisors' requests for rewrites. I've previously seen this 'you get it ready to publish, then I'll make suggestions for changes', which has the potential to become a soul-destroying, endless loop of draft versions and self-questioning - am I/is my work good enough yet? The answer, at least in my opinion for the thesis I'm working on, is 'this is awesome and you are utterly amazing!', but I guess the rarefied heights of academia have a more jaded and demanding attitude.

A combination of changeable weather and the conflict of what else I 'should' be doing has largely kept me out of the garden. The days flicker by and only time will reveal the cumulative effects of barely perceptible daily changes, like the comparison of first and last drafts, or the start and end of a time-lapse film. 

Garden Goodies

Despite the ravaging hordes of slugs and snails (not to mention flea beetle and various caterpillars), the garden is producing food.

The few cloves of garlic I planted have made small bulbs and are ready to dig up. I became ridiculously excited over the small squashes appearing on the butternut plants and I've had to remind myself not to get my hopes up. There's a ripe chilli on one of the (bought-in) chilli plants and some tomatoes which are still green and struggling to ripen.
The courgettes are proving irresistible to the marauders, but I've managed to get a couple of small ones. There are still a few broad beans to be had, the runner and French beans have started producing succulent pods, and the peas have started to produce enough ready pods that I can pick a handful for the kitchen, probably thanks to the amount of rain we've had recently. I harvested the few carrots which escaped the gluttonous molluscs. And although one block of the sweet peas seems reluctant to flower, the 'Cupani' plants are doing okay and I've been picking some every few days to enjoy their luscious scent in the kitchen.

The bounty has given rise to my new favourite thing, a sort of pasta-with-whatever vegetables happen to be ready. This started the day I harvested the carrots. They hadn't made much growth, and there were only a handful. I also picked over the peas, beans, sweet peas and found a small yellow courgette.
I podded the broad beans, topped, tailed and sliced the runner and some of the French beans, washed and sliced the carrots and added them all to some pasta which had already had some minutes in boiling water.
In a frying pan with a little olive oil, I cooked some sliced onion and the sliced courgette, then podded the peas and added them to the pasta pan. When the pasta was done, I drained it and the veg, added the onion and courgette to the main pan and stirred in a heaped spoonful of garlic and herb soft cheese until it melted and coated the contents. So easy and delicious.

Of course it would be possible to do this with shop bought veg, and it would be great for using up other bits and pieces; half a pepper and a few mushrooms lying around in the fridge? Bung them in! Pesto instead of soft cheese? Why not?

But the flavour of the carrots was amazing, the beans so juicy, the peas so sweet, and the knowledge that I had prepared the soil and grown these from seed made the whole thing utterly satisfying. I know Monty Don waxes lyrical about this regularly on Gardener's World, but he is absolutely right. There's nothing like goodies from your own garden to make you feel that life is wonderful, even if the weather isn't.

Big Butterfly Count 2017

Compared to previous years, I seem to have seen a lot of butterflies this year. Not great numbers, but a greater variety. However, the butterfly count was a bit of a failure, in that I didn't actually take the time to record the butterflies.

Most of the time, I was out working in the garden, or on my way somewhere, so it was very much an 'ooh, it's a ...' (or two, or six), and then I didn't even make a note in my diary. So, with a resolution to do better next year (and get the buddleia planted so that it flowers in time, too!) here are the butterfly species seen this spring/summer in the garden:

Small White
Large White
Orange Tip
Speckled Wood
Red Admiral
Painted Lady
Peacock
Small Tortoiseshell
Comma

The number of species is a huge improvement on last year. There are only a few more species I could reasonably expect to see (Meadow Brown, Holly Blue, Large Skipper) and any others would be a bonus!

Let's hope there are lots of butterflies next year too and that I remember to record them!

Ravaging Hordes ...

I've had a break from doing much work in the garden for the past few weeks, due to changeable weather and a preoccupation with editing work, organising the preloved sales and technical side of the Cardigan Belly Dance Festival, and attending Joon Dance Summer school, of which more in other posts.

Before work and weather stopped play, the garden was slowly being transformed as I stripped away the grass and weeds and started to mark out the limits of the sections.
The vegetables section is the furthest along, with only a little more digging to do until it's all under cultivation bar a strip along the hedge. Providing, of course, that I can keep up with the weeding. I can't believe how much bramble keeps popping up, when I thought I had dug it out. As the original freestanding monster compost heap got to the same height as the compost bins, I decided to start building another turf stack/heap in the other back corner, where I had to dig out some bramble, and this is now a good size too. Compost bin #3 is looking ready to bag up, but there isn't space for a couple more bags behind the shed quite yet. Soon though, soon!

In the meantime, I've had all of the (first sown) Early Onward peas, enjoying them fresh from the pod, and the resown main crop peas have just become ready. I've also been enjoying broad beans, although sadly not the glut I was hoping for. Some of the plants have chocolate spot and others didn't seem to have any flowers! And then, there are some with big pods which look as though they should have beans in, but there's nothing inside. I'm not sure what that's due to; the weather has been quite changeable. Sometimes the rain is really only just enough to wet the surface and although under the surface seems quite damp, perhaps the moisture locked in the clay-based soil hasn't been accessible enough for the beans to flower and set pods
The runner and climbing French beans have started producing as well, although I was a bit concerned at first when the runner beans had lots of lovely scarlet flowers and no noticeable beans set (often an issue with runner beans). My neighbours probably think I'm completely batty, wandering around the garden telling the bees to go enjoy the bean flowers!

The sweetcorn and butternut squash plants look happy, although I wonder whether the sweetcorn will set cobs properly. Although they were all sown and planted at the same time, with the same conditions, some plants are more advanced than others and the male flowers at the top started producing pollen before there was any evidence of female tassels to collect it. Then last week, we had a day where it absolutely poured with rain - 37 mm! The roads were becoming rivers and ponds as I drove back from Milford Haven at lunchtime. It would have just washed all the sweetcorn pollen away. It's raining again today, due to be fine tomorrow. I might have to step in and pretend to be the wind!

The bush beans have been almost completely ravaged by slugs and snails, which have also been making inroads into the courgettes and have eaten the bush cucumbers to little stumps. I'm not sure, but I think perhaps my last remaining sunflower plant has also been nobbled. The cornflowers, aubergines, pepper plants and my salad leaves have been completely wiped out by the little blighters. That cut-and-come-again lettuce was looking so good and I was looking forward to it, then it all disappeared over a particularly damp and rainy night! The molluscs don't seem interested in the tomatoes. I wonder why certain plants seem to be irresistible, and others perhaps unpalatable?
I need to pay more attention to slug and snail control. I have been lobbing lots of  snails over the back fence, but started to wonder if they just come back. Perhaps I should mark a few snail shells just to see. I wonder if there is any research on this. Or maybe, since they seem to be eating all my veg, I should just eat snails instead?

I've been more watchful this year against the gooseberry sawfly which completely defoliated the gooseberry bushes last year and thought I was doing well, but having not been in the garden much over the past couple of weeks, I've found they've visited and wreaked havoc while my back was turned.

A few weeks ago, I called to see a neighbour, who very generously gave me lots of Welsh poppy seeds and offered me some strawberries too, but I assured her that I had some ripening nicely. The following morning, I went out to pick some and couldn't find any. A couple of days later, sitting on the swingseat with the cats and quietly enjoying my coffee, a terribly tatty-looking Mr Blackbird came down onto the patio pots. Speaking softly but firmly to the cats, I reminded them not to chase and they were very good, staying close to me. He kept an eye on us as he made his way to the strawberry pots and found a single, ripe strawberry, which he pecked and then pulled off the plant and ate. He looked at me as if to say 'Well, where are the rest of them?'. Poor lad, I think his need was greater than mine!

I didn't have a camera with me when the blackbird came, nor did I have one close for another highlight. A bee landed on a spinach plant which had bolted (the beets, spinach and chard have not been a success this year), very swiftly cut a semicircular piece of leaf and flew off with it. A little while later, I saw her enjoying the garden thug campanula flowers, a female leaf-cutter bee! These bees don't strip all the foliage; I don't mind the little cosmetic damage they cause and love the idea that there may be a nest close by.

I treated myself to a few cheap plants. The poor things are still waiting to go in, but at least they seem to be surviving the ravaging hordes!

Oenothera (Evening Primrose) Sunset Boulevard, I think

 

Coming up Roses and Concrete Blocks

It may only be a small garden, but it's still full of surprises!

Wandering past the lilac in late June, I glimpsed some pink flowers and could smell a beautiful scent. Parting the leaves, I found a rose which hadn't flowered before, had shot up into the lilac and produced clusters of big, beautifully scented flowers. I had noticed that this rose, which had been cut right down to the base when I moved in, had started growing. I've no idea which rose it is - another mystery to solve - but I hope it repeats later in the season. Looking at the photo, it seems to be quite a lilac-pink, and I'm not sure whether it was that colour, or whether there is a colour cast to the photo.

Looking up into the lilac at a newly discovered rose!

To the left of the lilac is a tall rose, a floribunda but with Hybrid Tea-shaped buds, which I think is 'Queen Elizabeth'. I only pruned it lightly for the past couple of years as it too had been cut back hard when I moved in. This year, it's approaching 6 feet/2 metres tall with more flowers than last year. The furled buds looked lovely, just as the 'mystery' rose's flowers were starting to fade at the end of the first week of July. It's now opened into pink cups which look and smell just like the 'Queen Elizabeth' my parents had in the front garden.

Queen Elizabeth?

At the same time, a rose which only produced one or two flowers last year opened several clusters of flowers, a hot, bright pink with paler petal backs. As an experiment, I lifted one of the clusters to my nose, and there was a very light perfume which I couldn't place; not a usual 'rose' scent, it really was like perfume. It looks like a ground-cover rose as it lies around and is badly placed next to the path by the shed, where it can grab and scratch legs on the way to the compost heap. But that curious perfume makes it a keeper, so I shall need to find somewhere sensible for it to be moved to. I don't really have room for a ground cover rose; perhaps it could be trained up a support of some kind. Of course, it could be a rambler which is only just finding its feet, but perhaps the leaves of 7 leaflets with their rounded tips might help to identify it.

Hot pink ground cover rose

It's a good thing I was planning for some pink roses in the back garden! The sprawling cluster-flowered rambler near the patio has just had another, smaller flush of flowers. It resembles some pictures and descriptions of 'Clair Matin', although others show/describe that rose as salmon-pink, especially the buds, and with a larger flower and a larger flush of brighter gold stamens in the centre. It also looks like some pictures of Narrow Water, although other pictures of 'Narrow Water' show fully double flowers, instead of semi-double. Perhaps being well-grown makes a difference to flower size and colour. I know too that scent varies, but a couple of descriptions of Narrow Water state that the scent is strong and musky, which doesn't match 'my' rose.
I'm also no closer to identifying the rose growing up the front porch, although I noticed it was pinker and less red than I thought. I wondered if it had faded in the hot sunshine. I could do with a trip to some rose gardens, to compare roses in real life instead of pictures and descriptions. Hopefully when I move the roses I shall come across a handy label or two!

Digging up the last of the crocosmia from near the washing line, in preparation for the Mediterranean herb arc, I came across a bit of dead rose root with a label wrapped around it - 'Warm Wishes'. What a pity. It's such a lovely rose I may have to buy a replacement. All of the roses need some care and attention, as they all have some black-spot and die back and are not in the right places for them.

With the need to clear space to plan and plant a few things out in the shrubs and flowers section, I got stuck into the digging, working from the line where the shrubs and flowers section meets the veg section. I was progressing well and had got to roughly the middle when I met some resistance, forcing me to move the fork around a bit. A heave on the fork resulted in a loud 'twang' and I pulled the fork out to see one of the tines had been bent way out of line. Curious, I worked around the lump and eventually found that I was working around a block of concrete set about 4 inches/10 cm below ground level. Well, that couldn't stay there! It would be taking space needed for the roots of the shrubs and roses which would be planted there. At least this house isn't old enough for me to worry about buried air-raid shelters! It took me a few more digging sessions to uncover it and work down the sides enough to see what I'd got.

Yep, that's a block of concrete ...

What on earth? I used a crowbar and my fork to lever it up out of the hole and onto an old compost bag, where I could take a proper look. That round thing in the top is the top of a washing line pole holder. Then I remembered a comment, that the older lady who'd lived here had her whirligig line here.
Ahha, could this be the solution to my own washing line, which still had a tendency to list to one side despite all my work to set it more securely in the ground? I cleaned out the hole and dragged the block over to my washing line, clearing away the soil, stone and rubble which was doing a poor job of keeping the soil spike upright. The hole in the holder set in the concrete was too small to accommodate the soil spike with its flanges, and rather too large a diameter to take the pole itself!  So I reset my soil spike, trying to do a better job by getting it a bit deeper, firming it in harder, pouring clay soil solution around the stones this time. It's still a bit wobbly but it is better than it was.
The concrete post holder has been dragged back up the garden and left under the hedge. There may still be a use for it. A flag pole, perhaps? Or a pillar on which to train a rose?

Garden Plans - Still on the Drawing Board

I haven't drawn out neat plans for the garden yet, but had formed some definite ideas about the way the front and back gardens might look. The wisdom of living in and with your space has asserted itself recently, as my ideas have changed.

In the back garden, I had an idea for a second path curving from the left side of the patio up to the shed, which sits two-thirds of the way up the garden on the right, and branching off to (eventually) a greenhouse on the left mirroring the placement of the shed. A perspective path, it would start wider than it finished, hopefully fooling the eye into thinking the garden is longer than it actually is. However, it would have required a potager-style arrangement for the vegetable growing, and I was having difficulty envisaging how to place the fruit. Once I started sowing and planting out the vegetables, I remembered how practical it is to have fixed, rectangular beds, maximising the space to plant in blocks or rows (considering that I want lots of veg, not just the odd item here and there) and facilitating rotation and soil preparation. I couldn't make that work with a path curving through the space.

Then I became quite fascinated by the internal geometries in the garden space. The garden (excluding the patio) is approximately 9.35 x 14 metres, which is about half a standard allotment plot. The length is about 1.5 times the width, and I decided that I would divide the space into thirds; the first for the shrubs, flowers and herbs, the middle section for the veg, and the end for the shed, compost, greenhouse, and fruit (although the latter may spread slightly into the other sections). The area for the veg is going to be roughly 5.4 x 4.6 metres or approximately 24.75 square metres.  I'll need 6 beds for rotation, (1.4 x 1.7 metres to allow for narrow paths between, or perhaps 3 strips 1.4 m wide x 3.8 long, with a virtual divide halfway up each bed?)

I haven't changed my mind about having herbs close to the house, arranged in two quarter circles either side of the path. Mints, lemon balm, parsley, chives and Welsh onion on the right, where the south-side fence and the side extension cast some shade. A couple of friends have reminded me to ensure I plant the mints in a sunken pot to constrain them, but I haven't had a mint patch yet which supplies as much as I can use when I start making mint tea, tzatziki and various salads. The area is currently covered by membrane and gravel, so I hope there is soil under there, and not concrete a few inches down. On the left, in an arc around the washing line, will be the herbs which like better drainage. The heavy soil has been improved in the past as there is lots of top-dressing gravel in the soil, but it will need more grit and some horticultural sand, and probably a top-dressing of grit too.

One of the most difficult things will be choosing what to plant by way of shrubs and flowers, due to limited space. Looking at my notes, I see recurrent themes:

• sensory (primarily scent, but also colour, sound, textures, taste)
• a 'twilight/moonlight' area close to the house using white and pastel shades which reflect light and with night-scented flowers such as stocks
• richer shades between the mints and the lilac
• roses and more roses
• perhaps some dye plants?
• buddleias for the butterflies
• other food plants for insects (although when it comes to larval food plants for the butterflies and moths, it gets a bit difficult - but some sacrificial flowers such as nasturtiums might distract from the brassicas!)

Actually, that doesn't narrow things down very much, if at all! There are plants which aren't scented, which I really want to include, and excuse them on the basis of texture in terms of contrasting leaf shapes and colours, or because they attract pollinators. Things like Stachys lanata, with the silvery, furry leaves (definitely by the path in the 'moonlight' section). And although once the lime green, frothy heads are past their best and flop untidily everywhere, Alchemilla mollis (lady's mantle) is a must because of the way moisture beads and collects on the leaves - irresistible! And aquilegias, polemonium, Siberian iris, bugle, any type of poppies, cottage garden annuals such as cornflowers and nigella (love-in-a-mist). And foxgloves, Verbena bonariensis, and I might need something to continue the colour into autumn. I have lots of primulas and grape hyacinths in spring, just because they seem to like it here, but currently I have nothing for winter, scented or otherwise. I shall have to think about that. Can I make space for a small pond somewhere too?

In the front garden, I wanted to create something scented, bright and colourful which would lift the spirits of passers-by. Originally, I was inspired by Monty and Sarah Don's Jewel Garden, and envisaged bright and jewel colours (not just greening grey Britain but splashing it with multi-coloured paint!). It's quite a small space, approximately 5.3 x 4.5 metres, surrounded by a low wall on three sides and the house on the fourth side. (I've just done a double-take at those figures - it's almost the size of the veg patch!) Anyway, I thought that a rainbow mix of colour might be a bit much in the space, so decided to go with mainly shades of yellow, orange, blue, purple. Mainly, that is, because there's a crimson rose one one side of the door, which I shall pick up with a scarlet oriental poppy on the other side, and I suspect some red monarda will find its way into the planting (though I intend to keep pinks to the back garden!). A path needs to carry on across the front of the house, to the gas meter, but after that, I'll need a pathway which will give a little space and working access to the planting without being too fussy. Something based on a quarter circle, an echo of the herb arcs, considering this is almost the same size as one of the thirds of the back garden? Another thing to think about, as well as ensuring the planting has something of interest for autumn and winter.

After all the recent coverage of Chelsea and Chatsworth's show gardens, it's easy to think of gardens as things which are created, springing into being over a matter of weeks so that you can just enjoy the space and maintain it a bit, like mowing the lawn. Indeed, that's possible if you throw money and a team of landscape gardeners at the project. But, as Monty Don reminded us in this week's Gardener's World, gardening is a process. Working on my own and with next to no budget, it's going to be a long process, but between working in the garden, enjoying its produce, planning and dreaming, it will also be hugely pleasurable and fulfilling one!

Gardening and Beating the Blues

I've been struggling recently with feeling a bit down. I wouldn't describe it as depression, because that is rather more serious and difficult to deal with, but feeling sad and low is bad enough. It robs me of energy and motivation, and I find myself moping for hours at a time.

Since earlier this year, we've had local and general elections and Article 50 has been triggered to start the process of leaving the EU. The impression is that Britain is in a complete shambles and it's probably going to get worse before and if it gets better again. I'm still in a grump about Brexit, because I can't get my head around the 'great opportunity' it's supposed to offer. Still, I feel very sorry for my friends in the USA and I worry that their country is not in safe hands.
The news is unrelentingly depressing; the political rhetoric of dangerous lunatics in power, so many countries involved in conflicts, so many refugees and tragic deaths.
The terrorist attacks in Manchester and London were awful, the atrocities made worse by the targeting of children at the Ariana Grande concert and the indiscriminate violence against people just going about their business. There have been approximately 725 terrorist attacks globally to date this year (source - Wikipedia), which may actually be fewer than for the first 6 months of 2016, but with attacks in London and Manchester, it feels closer to home, however distant those cities feel, both in miles and culturally from this quiet backwater. Not all of the attacks are related to the plethora of Islamic fundamentalist organisations, of which so-called Islamic State is a major force. There are plenty of other violent organisations and individuals, including white supremacists, and most recently, an attack apparently fuelled by a completely misguided racial hatred and desire for revenge coming only a few days after the horror of the Grenfell Tower fire.

Adam Warne's death in early April came as a shock, but I was also terribly upset over Yvette Cowles' death on 4th June. She had been living with and fighting back against cancer for 20 years or more, and had been less well this year, so it wasn't a surprise, but was still immeasurably sad.

In the meantime, my lovely boy-cat Greebo has been unwell too, with a problem with his hind legs, no sooner sorted than he suddenly developed an intestinal infection and had to have antibiotics for a week.

It's midsummer! Half the year has gone already. The thought of how quickly time goes is enough to send me into a panic! It feels as though I my days are punctuated by moving things around the house and putting various other things into various bins; compost, recycling, glass, non-recyclables, special recycling (printer ink cartridges, light bulbs, spent batteries ...), laundry ... more laundry ... more compost .... And despite all the binning, I struggle to keep myself mucked out.

I can see from my Facebook echo-chamber that I'm not the only one feeling like the world has gone mad. And some friends have sick children, which must be far more difficult to cope with than a sick cat! All we can do is send love and kind, supportive words and spread some love.

Still, Facebook and particularly TV adverts leave me feeling left out. The world appears to be made of and for couples and families, having holidays and all sorts of fun. I have no money, as usual, can't afford a holiday and have no significant other(s) to go with, even if I could afford it

Gradually, I've come out of my slough of despond. Gardening and dancing, both working like moving meditations, have been key activities. The physical work leaves me tired enough to sleep well enough, my cats and I, sprawled and curled in a heap on the bed. Gardening has been particularly useful, as if feels very constructive and productive, as weeds are uprooted, compost heaps grow, patches of soil appear and coalesce into beds which then have vegetables planted into them. The cats love being outside with me, and play with bits of vegetation trailing from the tubtrug as I trundle to the compost heap with it. They make nests in long grass and in the shade under the hedge, and sit with ears and whiskers pricked by the pile of privet branches (evidently some squeakies live under it).

I don't dwell on the huge amount of work to be done, but go out with a job or two in mind. I may or may not complete those jobs. I may get side-tracked and do other jobs. Whatever I do, even if it's only meditating on my swingseat, it's all fine, it's all progressing, and that, I find, is a great way to beat the blues.

Too Much and Not Enough

A drier and sunnier than average April (although only slightly warmer, and it didn't feel like it!) gave way to a drier and sunnier (and slightly warmer) than average May.  I have a 'farmer's tan' - forearms, face and V neck. I love it when my face goes freckly!

I'm still removing the blasted brambles. The patch I'd cleared about a month ago for the main lot of broad beans and peas showed a new bramble shoot the other day, so I dug it out. It was at least a foot long! I was sure I'd got all the roots out of that area, but at least it was easier to remove from the worked ground than the stuff which is coming up through grass, the shoots only noticeable when they scratch me as I walk through. I  fold and squash the bramble into and old compost bag, and then weigh it down with a brick so that the top isn't open to light and moisture. The bag is now full, because it doesn't die easily, even when it's been left to dry and wilt in the sun. Thank goodness for my big hide gauntlets!

The cats have loved the sunny, dry weather, sprawling in the grass, on bare soil, on the patio in the sun and then in the shade under the swing seat. Greebo has been poorly; he came in limping one day at the end of April, the right hind swollen and hot. He was uncomfortable rather than in pain, but I ended up taking him to the vet just in case, after he transferred the limp over the following couple of days to his left hind, then left fore, then left hind, then right hind, then left hind again. He had anti-inflammatories, and I discouraged him from jumping anywhere for a week, but he seemed happy enough limping around the place. No sooner had the limp disappeared, than he came in one morning, threw up and a couple of hours later, was miserable with abdominal pain, lethargic and growly (always a bad sign when he growls at me and won't eat!). A dash to the vets the same afternoon saw him pumped full of painkillers, anti-emetic and broad-spectrum antibiotic, in the hope we were dealing with enteritis and not something potentially nastier. A follow-up appointment the next morning saw him still a bit lethargic, but eating, drinking and purring again, so he had a week's antibiotics. He was very good about the tiny, 'palatable' tablets, daintily taking them from my fingers as if they were sweets. One morning, I was a bit slow about getting the tablet out of the blister pack and he miaowed impatiently at me. He seems fine now, although I think his old injury of his left hind when he was young (a subluxed hip and/or knee) has led to osteoarthritis, as he now sits and lies unevenly, favouring that leg.

I meant to record butterflies, but forgot, and just enjoyed seeing the first, fresh large whites, female orange tips and once, a small copper, gleaming in the sunlight. This was sometime in mid-May, I think. Since then, they have been conspicuously absent. I have also not done any moth recording. A poplar hawkmoth came into the bedroom one night, and the cats went mad trying to catch it before I managed to get it back out of the window.

The Bunyard's Exhibition and Express broad beans are flowering and are being visited by at least 2 different species of bumble bees, neither of which are Early Bees. There are plenty of those too, working over the various flowers including the thug campanula. They're not nesting in the compost heaps this year, but presumably there's another nest around somewhere.

I wrestled my bird feeder stand out of the shed several weeks ago and set it up near the pile of hedge prunings, more in order to provide a dish of water for the birds in the dry weather than to feed them (although the feed dish has been a handy receptacle for soil pests, heh heh! There you go birdies, grub up!) I put out my last net of peanuts and fat balls, more to support the nesting parents. The blackbirds didn't nest in my hedge, nor in next door's shrubbery. Mr Blackbird seemed to disappear off to a tree somewhere in the vicinity of the garages at the north end of the terrace. Mrs Blackbird was very much more elusive. Wherever the blackbirds were nesting, they came back into the garden to feed and preen, shouting at the cats if they were around. Still, Mr Blackbird is now using the hedge and the lilac as a home base to feed 2 chicks, and presumably Mrs has a chick to feed too, somewhere. The net of food didn't last long; a few of the rooks found it and one tried very hard to unhook it, pulling it up and then standing on the end to pull some more with his beak, turning and yanking it to try to get it off, but I'd made sure it would be hard to remove. The jackdaws in my chimney have fledged in the past week too. The house sparrows beat everyone to it; their first chicks must be at least a month old now. The alpha male was strutting around importantly for about a week, while guiding the chicks around. I was quite worried for him, as he was so pumped up that he almost had no fear of me or the cats, and sat cheeping with his wings spread and tail cocked, at arms length from me as I worked in the garden.  I've seen him taking bits to the nest in the corner of my roof today, so I take it there are more chicks on the way.

The buddleias from under the washing line survived their move, as did one which had grown down into the gravel bed and then fallen over, breaking its root. One of the fuchsias has still got its leaves and is putting on new growth and I thought the others had had it, but another two have sprouted strongly from the base. I'm still trying to get the washing line to stand upright. despite wedging the spike in with bits of rubble, it somehow works loose and the line itself ends up listing. It's driving me mad. No wonder people set the spikes in concrete, I might have to do the same!

The compost (presumably my own rather than the shop-bought) has volunteered some tomato seedlings and they have been growing away strongly. I've no idea what they will be, bush or indeterminate, cherry or beefsteak, but they look happy and healthy plants so apparently they're happy outdoors. There is a tray of tomato seedlings in the growhouse, but none of the various pepper seeds have germinated. I didn't really expect the older seed to germinate, but the new little tester packs of mixed sweet peppers and a couple of different chillies should have been okay. Maybe the temperature in the growhouse is a bit too variable. Too late to resow now, as peppers really need a long growing season; I might have to buy in a couple of plants. The germination rate on the runner beans was low too, but that's okay, the germination rate on the French beans (bush and a few climbing from older seed) was great. The maincrop peas also completely failed. The seed was Hurst Greenshaft from 2 years ago, and it should still have been viable, but it just rotted, so I had to buy some more seed, (Ambassador and Vivado, since the local garden centre had sold out of Hurst) and the second sowing is just sprouting now. The earlier peas have some flowers on. The courgettes, bush and climbing beans and sweetcorn are all hardened off and waiting for me to clear some more ground, the brassicas ready to grow on, and there's the problem. The monster freestanding compost heap is at least a metre high, everything is growing like mad and the longer it takes me to dig the over the space, the more compostable material there is. Soon there will be nowhere to put it. Until, of course, it has rotted down to a beautiful rich loamy soil, and then there won't be enough of it!

As is traditional for the late May bank holiday, it poured with rain. A couple of days later, there was more rain, and spectacular thunderstorms. I lay in bed, cats snuggled against me, watching the light show outside while watching the lightning strikes appearing real time on a map (courtesy of LightningMaps.org). Since then I've only managed another couple of gardening sessions (although one was really just trying to get more bramble out rather than clearing space), it's been too wet to work. Then, last Monday's torrential rain (two inches in 24 hours!) gave way to a yellow warning of high winds on Tuesday (5-6 June), since when it's back to a spot of unsettled weather. The occasional fine half-day isn't enough to dry the soil enough to be able to work it. We needed the rain, but it's a bit all-or-nothing!

Compared to what I was used to, this space feels really small, so I shall need to get smarter about interplanting and catch-cropping. However small it feels, it's taking me forever to clear and prepare the soil. I think I've managed to clear a third of the veg area so far (because I'm also attacking the area for the flowers and herbs, which is roughly the same size, plus a 2 metre wide strip which is currently a gravel bed)

A good digging session will see about a square metre cleared; the turf taken off the top, deeper weeds dug out, hard pan broken up a bit and the various stones and bits of glass, plastic and other rubbish (most recently, the remains of a shoe!) taken out. On average, I think I manage about half a square metre at a time. But I shall clear the area, half a square metre at a time if needs be! Hopefully, it will stop raining for long enough for the soil to dry a bit and allow some more digging time!

Too much and not enough seems to be a theme at the moment. Not enough rain, then downpours. An area to clear which seems enormous, until the plants go in and eat up the space. Too much compostable material, taking a long time to create compost which will disappear across the space in no time at all. Even the cut-and-come-again salad crop doesn't come again fast enough, but I have really enjoyed being able to add my own crops, including some herbs and radishes, to my salad bowl, and love adding a mixed handful of home-grown chard, spinach and rocket to wilt down with pasta.

First garden salad of 2017, 25 May