Slug Food, Chelsea and Underage Drinking

A week ago I bit the bullet and planted some sweet peas to go up the trellis of my new border. I bought some and then T&M and the Beth Chatto Garden gave me a packet each, so in a free-spirited frame of mind I planted the lot.

Now, where I grew up there are slugs the size of baby crocodiles so I am generally a bit jumpy about planting out slug food. This does not, however, appear to be the main problem. The main problem appears to be that my border is neatly situated in the middle of an extended game of volleyball between my children and the kids next door.

For normal domestic goddess behaviour on my part a bit of warning of such antics is required. Didn’t get it. Rocketed out of the kitchen door shrieking “For the love of CHRIST! What are you doing to my PLANTS!!” Pause. Deep breath. Very calm. “It looks like a lovely game darling. Now, could you please be a little bit careful and not squash this, and this, and this...”. Resilient things, plants.

On page 7ish of the Garden Media Guild newsletter there is a picture of Joe Swift, Cleve West and James Alexander Sinclair doing their Three Men Went to Mow thing. A trio of fine fellows engaged in jolly japes. And a picture crying out for a caption competition, methinks (something political, like off Have I Got News For You, maybe).

On the subject of mowing, or not, the picture is of dandelions and if you have lots they make quite a nice wine – if you like that sort of thing and you are about 12. When we made it I was about 15 and being clearly more sophisticated than my sibs I preferred the damson version. Still an alcoholic syrup, but one with a bit more body to it.

All eyes on Chelsea Flower Show. Will it or won’t it? Flower, that is. My money is that every show-related greenhouse in the land has its heating turned up nice and high and all will be fine!

Comments

The Essential Apocalypse Skillset

Let me tell you a story. Several years ago, I was painting the bathroom of a house in Bristol. The window was open and it was a pleasant sort of day and people were wandering past. Around about four o’clock I heard a couple of sets of feet come down the hill and then stop. “Look, cherries!” said one voice (female, mid to late teens). “No, I don’t think they are. They can’t be.” Said the other, doubtfully (ditto). “Well, they look like cherries. Let’s try them!” “No, they are probably berries. Completely different. Some of them are not red, they are blackish. They are probably poisonous.” “Oh. Yes, I suppose so.” (disappointed) The feet moved on. I looked out of the bathroom window at the large and heavily laden cherry tree leaning over the wall of the garden opposite and wondered what the world was coming to. Red Sky in the Morning, Shepherds Warning ((c) N Slade) I am actually still wondering. When my grandfather was a child, he and his brothers (and a dog) ...

On The Road

Galanthus 'Fly Fishing' at Bellefield House . My latest snowdrop crush. Back in the dim and distant mists of time, when dinosaurs roamed the land and pterodactyls were frequent bird table visitors, I spent an enjoyable few years managing rock bands. There were headline gigs, support gigs. Mainstream venues and pubs. In some places the PA was state of the art, in others you thanked your stars for the decent size amp in the back of the van. Some nights the crowd was ecstatic. Others, the bar man, his dog and a couple of regulars would sit there, nodding and comparing the band to musicians that had died before the lead singer was born. Occasionally people listened to the first thirty seconds, got bored and went off to get drunk and find someone to sleep with. So it goes. I have just finished a modestly epic tour of the land, promoting The Plant Lover’s Guide to Snowdrops . And, as I pull myself vertical, brush off the debris and straighten out again, there are som...

A Different View

Sharp angles and offset rhomboids: Heligan in Winter I woke up this morning convinced that it was late. The light was grey behind the curtains and the room was silent. Reluctantly, I looked at my phone and discovered that it was in fact early. It has been a busy few weeks, but walking up the road, the magnolia buds are suddenly swelling in furry promise, and lilacs pertly tipped with green; Crocus tommasinianus have appeared where there were none. Acer griseum and white-barked birches stand bold, in full knowledge that their spare charms will soon be overwhelmed with spring. Time has passed while I was not looking. So as the season creeps forward - and faster it does, when ignored - I am looking back, with a kind of regret. The thing is, that although gardens are considered 'off peak' in winter, there is often no better time to see them. This is the point where they show their true colours and strengths. As a visitor, you can read their geometry and detail without ...

Electric Green

Search This Blog