When Clouds Dull The Day

| Gary Webb

Well, these first few weeks of the year certainly haven’t done anything to water down the notion that our nation is rain-soaked and dreary. I mean, yet again during daytime hours I find myself writing whilst knowing that I really should put the big light on! Nevertheless, as gloomy and wretched as the weather has been yet again today, beyond the large windowpanes all is brilliantly bathed by the sun’s light; even if filtered by a wishy-washy veil of grey cloud.

As I look out, raindrops cause tiny splashes as they spit spot across paving stones, with yet more droplets tapping lightly on the doorsill. Nearby and across a shallow pool surface silvery rings quickly erase each one that came before, and sky-lit watery beads build beneath branches, readying themselves to free fall into saturated soil below. Everything shows signs of moisture in a garden that’s already full to the brim.

Undeterred by the murk, fascination is still to be found everywhere out there however, my view being into a gardener’s garden of course. Mind you, it must be said that even for this all-weather gardener, today is one of those days to engage with the outdoors from this side of the panes, feeling warm and dry.

Having opted for the great indoors then, what I’m drawn to notice on this grey given day is the sun’s light, not direct due to low cloud, but with an intensity and presence that’s hard to ignore. Some folks may grumble when clouds dull the day of course, but always our powerful sun will find a way to make our day.

Looking down for a moment to balance my thoughts, I notice how light falling through the window comes to rest on a textured rug, across which my gaze moves to a pair of slip-on shoes by the patio door; there in case a need to step outside ever takes me. With adjusting eyes, I begin to see how the rug, shoes and a hundred other items are lit from one side only, long shadowy lines running away from the sun’s glow. Everywhere I now look I find myself processing a soft light and gentle shade.

Looking beyond the windows once more a brighter kind of scene now comes to light. Some materials offer just a hint of a glow in response, whilst some hold a mirror to the sky as if they themselves were a source of light. I also have sight of grey light returning from pitched rooftops; rain glossed tiles mimicking the sky’s colour just as the sea might.

Pulling back from the still rainy view, out of nowhere the idea of my garden scene as a stage set comes to life. Houses across the way and fences become scenery, utilitarian features like the compost bin and bird feeding station too. Then foreground features such as pots and planters seem placed as if to frame the scene; even unseen areas off to each side become the stage wings.

But what of the plants, are these not also actors cast specifically for this play, each one according to their taste for the sun? These plants surely have a role to deliver, each character a living and breathing performer beneath nature’s spotlight.

As such, a troop of ghostly white birch stems spear the sky to stage right, a leafless life-drained guelder rose sits stage left, with a host of vigorous new shoots at their feet looking up in support. Then centre stage and stealing the scene, two striking leading actors vie for attention; a golden feather reed grass almost toe to toe with its fiery counterpart; a villainous orange stemmed dogwood.

At this point and afore I get carried away, and also knowing my cast to be stuck in a perpetual pattern of rehearsals, I shall call myself back to the stalls. Instead, whilst bringing down my curtain of consideration on a rainy garden kissed all over by light, I shall sit here a while longer and dream of a time not too far from now when I might once again take to my stage.

When Clouds Dull The Day, by Gary Webb. February 2026.

a black and white image of a small garden pool covered in circles, with a garden beyond with bird table and silver birch tree

Rain falling, still, across a reflecting pool…

Garden Journal (No.12) – Outside Influence

| Gary Webb

Welcome to my garden journal, the place where I pause to consider my current gardening journey and look to the days ahead.

Firstly

It’s great to be back journaling again though it does seem an age since the last one, even though it was only December. I’m also delighted to confirm that this entry marks the journal’s first full year, so I’m giving myself an imaginary pat on the back as I write.

Mulling over how to celebrate my journalling accomplishment, I thought I’d remind myself of those traditional anniversary markers, and it appears that one year can be honoured with a paper gift. Paper of course plays to my writerly ideals, so now I have the perfect excuse to purchase yet another notebook. Like plants, there’s always room for another notebook!

Anyway, before I veer too far off the garden path….

On the work front…

Believe me, there’s a lot I could say on the work front, but whilst I’m in the midst of planning for the next leg of my horticultural journey, I will take this opportunity to pause just one last time to remember the most recent past. Last weekend, you see, saw the completion of four particularly valuable years working in my garden and parks consultancy role, so I could hardly sign off without a brief moment of reflection.

The G&PC role was always going to present a steep learning curve for yours truly, and though objectives were generally pretty clear, existing in the space was far from straight forward. Often it felt as if I was working in the shadows, but nonetheless it was a fascinating role and hugely rewarding, having influence of sorts over some very fine parks and gardens. Indeed, what might have begun as a simple attempt to broaden my horticultural experience, grew to be so much more.

Throughout the years, many audiobook listening miles were travelled, all balanced of course with some long hours living inside a laptop. Meetings were enjoyed and endured in some wonderfully historic attics, basements and ballrooms, although the best of them were always those hosted in gardens themselves, where lunches were often consumed amongst veteran trees, with tuneful birds and butterflies.

Sometimes the coffee hits the right spot… 100%

I’ve sipped from mugs of steaming black coffee in some of the most memorable and forgotten garden bothies ever there was, and stomped miles across parklands in cross-discipline teams discussing everything from ancient archaeology to arboriculture. There was even the odd time here or there working on the tools planting bulbs, or collecting debris after yet another flood, plus numerous round-table discussions with colleagues strategising over one garden initiative or another.

That last line brings me swiftly onto the folks I’ve worked with throughout, those who teased, tested and tried me, but equally brought out the best of me; ‘my’ gardeners, colleagues and friends. If reading this, you’ll know who you are, and should also know how much I’ve valued your counsel these last four years, I couldn’t have done it without you!

It’s been an absolute gift to have worked with some of the most resilient and talented gardeners going, who collectively turn out some of the most evocative garden spaces on the planet. Having witnessed their intellect and creativity, their tenacity and commitment, and for seeing what they’ve achieved in the tightest of situations; I have nothing but admiration for them all.

This section of my journal is therefore to record my thanks to you all, it’s been one heck of a ride. Next time the coffee is on me!

In the Garden

I’m devoting little time to my home garden and allotment section this time due to my own gardening activity being somewhat in short supply. That is not to say that I haven’t been interacting with gardens; I’ve needed plenty of garden face time in order to get me through some trying winter weeks.

Whilst reduced gardening activity is pretty standard at this time of year for non-professionals though, the turbulent weather certainly hasn’t helped in terms of motivation. Sunny days have been swiftly followed by rain, the local River Avon has gone up and down like a yoyo, and frost has touched down one day and vanished the next.

Close up image of a fern plant, the edges of its fronds touched by frost
I’ll just let you lose yourself in these leaves for a moment…

Frosty days, despite testing our metal, do however offer a visual treat only snow can improve upon. During winter’s lull when, let’s face it, many gardens are less than attractive, a dusting of frost can be magical. In my garden even commonplace fence and post tops can sparkle, which combined with a range of silvery leaves makes for a budget winter wonderland; it’s only my establishing ‘Spider’s Web’ Fatsia that complains by drooping sorrowfully – it’s always first to feel the chill.

Seeing frost up close often reminds me of my mom’s words way back in my primary school days. ‘Jack Frost’s been’ she would say, which I now realise was intended to build excitement and enthusiasm for yet another icy cold walk to school. (Luckily, I always had my Readybrek glow!)(Google it…)

Today, after many full snow moons have passed I still get a sense of excitement at the sight of a glistening garden, and Jack’s always quick to jump into my mind. I lose myself ever so easily at the sight of a crispy white lawn, some mondo grass blades or the lattice-like fronds of an evergreen fern. Thanks mom, I guess I’m saying; I do believe you’re the one who first opened my eyes to the infinite beauty of nature – your gift keeps on giving to this day.

Just a light touch from Jack Frost today…

The influence of ice crystals in the garden can of course fill it with beauty, moving the most ordinary element to an art piece, yet for wildlife, it can be a different story. It’s important then, when delighting in a few frozen moments to give a thought or two to our feathered friends.

Already in my garden we have blue tits fighting over the nest box, making our efforts to keep fresh water and some seed available through winter worthwhile. If only for the tits, a blackbird, a couple of robins and pigeons, our small offering goes a long way to keeping our local birds alive and singing. (Note: Occasionally, between refreshing bird food it’s good to disinfect items, so as to reduce the risk of spreading disease).

Looking Ahead

In the days ahead I do have to acquire seeds for the season including potatoes for chitting, and there’s a pruning session to look forward to; an establishing Wisteria in one corner of the garden in particular. I’m quite looking forward to giving my pruners a run out to be honest, and might even roll onto the roses afterwards for good measure.

Aside from the pruning, for the foreseeable future in my home plots at least, I’m happy to continue edging quietly closer to spring. Imbolc arrived with the beginning of February, the Celtic festival which amongst other things signals the mid-point between the winter solstice and spring equinox. To that end, whether you follow the Celtic fire festivals or not, we can be reassured that brighter days are ahead.

My final words for this garden journal are therefore to recommend that we all find a few quiet moments to spend in our own garden spaces, so to think for a while on the type of year you’d like to experience. Might I also suggest some gardening intentions: A training course? A new container display? A new tree? A new garden?!

Whatever you decide upon, write it down on a post-it note and stick it somewhere prominent, as that way you’re more likely to make it happen.

On that note, I’ll sign out of my garden journal number twelve and wish you well for Imbolc and beyond. Spring is on the way!

All the best, Gary. Gardening Ways.

January Garden

| Gary Webb

Possibly the grimmest day of the year so far, but somehow my garden pulls me through, giving much food for thought in the process. Potpourri, anyone?

In my neck of the woods most gardens would be considered ‘damp under foot’ for the duration of January. Unless you’re a professional or serious amateur gardener though, there’s probably not a great deal you’d want to do in the garden just now anyway. After all, January soil can be wet soil, I don’t want to play soil, stay away soil. It’s probably better to let the January garden be, if I’m totally honest.

Birch and Viburnum leaves amongst others cloak much of my own garden soil today having layered themselves down like sodden potpourri. Initially having tumbled down, they’re now compressing after recurring rainfall, sealing the soil and locking out light, thus preventing growth of too many wild plants.

A mixture of brown leaves laying soaked on the ground, their ribbed and textured form still clearly visible in January.
All the leaves are brown…and the sky is… 

In the right quantity wild plants have always been dear to me, and decade upon decade my gardens have become more welcoming to their presence, softer around the edges you could say. Musing on wildflowers and gardens, I remember when wildflowers were once allotted a specific space in gardens, but now see further softening to their presence. Gardens now seem to be shape shifting, re-forming tradition through a shared desire to heal the world and help our pollinators; a kind of No Dig for Victory, I hear people say.

Where this will lead gardens I cannot say, as I’m unable to read a crystal ball, but a creative gardener’s desire to shape and improve will certainly see each place adapt and evolve. Not that a ‘traditional’ garden fixed in an old form is a bad thing, whatever a traditional garden is, that is. There’s certainly room for a heady mix of traditional and wild, old and new, as long as they’re nature rich gardens. As Alexander Pope once penned: “In all, let Nature never be forgot”.

Tripping over the labels we attach to gardens and gardening styles sometimes leads to words wasted, I feel, but questioning what a garden is can be fruitless too; a garden being something different to each and every person. USP’s aside, each garden is an intrinsically personal space to someone, even if it’s a shared space, so various opinions will exist as to how it should be formed or re-formed; and most will be just fine as long as nature’s requirements are considered.

In my own January garden, a diverse range of carefully chosen ornamental plants hold their stations, each either having gone to ground or is presently delighting me with some winter form and colour. Again though, labelling plants themselves as ‘ornamentals’ undervalues their role in the place that is my garden, a space where all the plants are fulfilling an important role in the local eco system. Yes, they’re aesthetically pleasing, but they’re useful in other ways too, be it for food or refuge.

Not especially useful to some people, as gardens go, my garden is completely useful to me, and to local wildlife. In the drier, warmer months my garden gives space to breathe and retire from the world, offering various niches where to relax and unwind. Right now, even though I fear to tread into it on the dullest of winter days, my garden entertains. Perimeter planting waves in the wind, cloud pruned box reminds me where I’ve been, and raindrops animate a mirror pool. Yet it is the plants, regardless of their origin, that stand up to the grey day, offering life and foraging places for wildlife.

Whilst I ponder January and observe the seasonal wheel as it turns, rain continues to fall across my garden. It may not be an easy time for all natural things, or for gardeners come to that, but for this gardener on the grimmest of days, my garden’s seeing me right. I believe it’s time for a winter brew.

Gary Webb.

Garden Journal (No.11) – New Gardening Ways

| Gary Webb

With ten garden journal posts now published this year, I hereby give notice, that just for this entry I’m having a little shake up – think of it as a snow globe edition if you will. In here my usual journal sections have temporarily disappeared in a miniature blizzard and are lost amidst swirling bright white flakes.

Instead, what comes into focus as the fake snow slows is an update on my gardening reality; a wintry tale of working that is not weathering well just now. For this post only, I’m aiming to summarise this year’s lengthy journey, one I can no longer process properly with pursed lips. These words are not angry words however, they’re therapeutic ones, chosen to help me both process what is done, and move forward with calmness and clarity.

Note: The text below radiates from my present core role in the charity sector as a gardens and parks consultant, which follows decades working in landscape and garden management. I also wish to confirm that I write here in a personal capacity: these words do not represent the views of any other individual or organisation.

On the work front…

I’ve previously alluded to a work issue that’s been ongoing since early July. The situation has been frustrating and trying to say the least and believe me those are two of the kindest words I could use. Essentially, as for many organisations and businesses just now, the cloud of redundancy came over, putting many hard-working folks under a great deal of stress.

Now that winter’s under way, I’m in a position to look back and process the journey so far, and it helps me to think of it as thus: for a while there, we were effectively walking the narrowest of cliffside walks. For sure, appeals could be submitted to the powers that be, which at least gave hope that valuable people might somehow be saved from slipping into the foggy void below, but the way ahead for all was not clear cut.

For a lucky few of us, an added hint of optimism occurred when brand-new roles came into sight. Yes, new spaces were actually made on a sustainably sourced bench up on a higher ledge. That path to the plateau though was steep and twisted, and the risk of falling ever present, but once up there, if the weather cleared, that view would surely be magnificent.

Individually we dared to climb, and a couple of worthy adventurers even made it up onto that grassy ledge, and internally I rejoiced that two of my kind, at least, had reached safety. For the rest of us though, ill equipped it seemed for the challenge, one by one we were forced to turn about and shuffle back down the path; whilst contemplating still empty spaces up there on the bench. Some things are just not meant to be.

After our trial, that narrow path crumbled and fell away behind us, almost as if it was never there at all. With wide open eyes though, I could at least take solace in finally having received a date for the whole sorry affair to conclude – February 2026. Mind you, whilst a few of us had given it a shot, there were a few others who, ahead of time, had chosen to float into the voluntary redundancy mist. After so many previous meetings and garden tours, not to hug being able to properly wish them farewell was a wrench indeed.

A black and white image of a Webb mower in a garden setting
Fossil fuel free mowers with no charging or battery concerns…

Thankfully, I’m now back on firmer ground and a normal (ish) service has resumed, albeit with one eye on a distant horizon. Without digging into the whys and wherefores a moment longer however, and a few sleepless nights aside, I can say that I am genuinely at peace with it all. For sure, having one’s career train suddenly derailed at my time of life does leave one in quite a hole, but I’m adept with a sharp-edged spade and a PC, so I think I’ll be okay.

If there’s one thing that puzzles me, it is how I’ve managed to remain so composed throughout it all, but then, with a family to support, maybe the brave face I’m sporting for my kids has somehow stuck. Whatever it is, now is the time to draw a line in the sand, and this journal entry most definitely marks that line. I now need to be looking ahead, exploring new paths and stepping through new doorways. Your destiny awaits; is a line that keeps running through my mind.

Being practical, for the next couple of months I am very much committed to my present role, but beyond that, well, I shall be up for grabs. In this moment therefore, I guess I need to advertise my wares, to put myself out there as it were.

I’m quite a versatile and practical person, but as you’ll by now realise, I’m also something of a reflector, a character trait not given the time of day in most meetings, discussions, or even interviews come to that. Nevertheless, whilst I can tend to dwell sometimes, it does lead to considered decisions with positive outcomes.

It’s taken me far too many years to work it out, but I’m very much a creative, one that dares to dream. My qualities may not be unique and as an individual I might be hard to figure out, but my ability to dream and aspirational approach to life has served me well in horticulture across the years. After all, no one can manifest a finely considered paradise garden if they can’t dream it from within, surely?

The bottom line though, is that whilst it’s fine to be something of a niche horticulturalist with a book dream, I do have bills to pay. In my mind’s eye, an opportunity like redundancy is a chance to step back, to reconsider and possibly to retrain. On the shelf, however, is a little Christmas elf who annoyingly prods and pokes at me daily, his speech bubbles saying, “just get another job, and quickly!”

To these ends, I’m a creative horticulturalist, or gardener if that’s easier to grasp; a hardworking, loyal, nature focussed family guy, deeply rooted in south Warwickshire. I have all the usual tickets, sharp pruners, and have improved and made more than a few gardens over the years. Oh, and whilst I’m particularly fond of heritage gardens, I do have a very broad field of vision.

At this point I’m at risk of falling into C.V. territory, so I shall check myself and call time on this somewhat unconventional garden journal entry now. I gave this post much thought I can tell you, and apologies if it’s a shock to the system, but the best way for me to navigate this process is by writing my way through it.

There are many more challenging things in life to deal with, I realise, and my intention was never to harp on, or cause upset. My horticultural journey has been forty years in the growing though, so you’ll have to excuse me if this comes across a little snappy; this is challenging stuff, whether people depend on you or you depend on yourself.

To conclude therefore, whilst my diary is full for the foreseeable, in the near future I shall myself be released into that foggy void, and I’m very much open to all avenues. My pruners, as ever, are as sharp as my pencils, and my topiary trimming is just as tuneful as my keyboard tapping. I’ve managed teams here and there, for sure, but I’m also completely at peace in splendid isolation; and many would be surprised by my garden design skills – old school but effective!

Thanks for reading to the end, should you hear of anything within range of south Warks, I’d be very much obliged if you would tip me the wink.

Until next time then, when my garden journal will return to its usual format, I bid you good day.

Kind regards, Gary Webb, Gardening Ways.

Old Spades, New Gardening Ways

| Gary Webb

This article is a reflection on the shifting nature of gardening and considers how old methods like double digging fit into modern, sustainable practice.

I’m sure this could be applied to many activities, but if there’s one thing I’ve come to understand about gardening, it is that nothing stays the same for long: places, processes, people and of course plants themselves continue to change. There are many examples of how change plays out in life of course, but the one I pull from my gardening hat today concerns an old gardening task known as double digging.

Whilst in practice double digging wasn’t expected or carried out nearly as often as one might think, by the time I encountered the technique it was long established; a trusted method for preparing compacted or depleted ground. Whether working an allotment or old kitchen garden therefore, digging down two spits deep, incorporating organic matter and inverting the soil was considered a route to success.

Possibly due to my working situations, I didn’t often get to put my double digging skills to use, but I certainly held faith in the procedure. After all, like it or loathe it, the DD process adds nutrients and humus, opens and aerates compacted soil, and helps towards that happy place somewhere between not too wet or dry – what more could anyone possibly do to help plants grow?

A black and white image of Gary Webb weeding a patch of soil beside a compost bin.
My good self, not in the act of double digging! (Not there anyway 😉)

The idea behind this text however, is not to deliberate on whether double digging or no dig is best, or if any gardening method is superior to another. My reflections here are wholly centred around the evolution of horticultural practice, of collective and individual learning, and of thoughtfully managing change.

Continue reading →

Garden Journal (No.10) – In the Midst of Autumn

| Gary Webb

Hello and welcome to the tenth edition of my new garden journal, a place where I pause time and take note of where my gardening world sits right now.

Firstly

Looking out from where I’m writing just now, except for a Dahlia burst of white and Japanese anemone flowers, my garden is full and alive with vibrant foliage. Despite cloudy skies this morning, light is captured by thousands of leaves all around, each colour intensified instantly by the merest hint of additional sun. Autumn is such a special time of year, and I’m repeatedly struck by its beauty.

Zooming-in to my home plot, I can usually take the yellow leaves of dogwood either way, but right now they do contrast pleasantly with the rich green lawn; and I’m beginning to see the fiery stems revealed once again too. Whilst I grin knowingly at the birch whose leaves are again late to turn, nearby a hornbeam Niwaki is busy transforming itself into a striking gold and copper sculpture. If it were a competition though, the blonde Calamagrostis seed heads would certainly take first prize, being the showiest of all, bursting brightly upwards before the blackened fence; it’s all keeping me in absolute captivation.

Bright blonde seed heads of Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ backlit by sunshine
Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’

Despite the grand display though, I know that all the plants are doing is preparing for winter, their last throws of visible life colouring my days ahead of hibernation. It’s a little way off as yet, but tough winter days are ahead, maybe even frosts by the end of the month, so like us, these plants are simply pulling back their reserves; surely, we should be taking a leaf out of their book and applying it to ours?!

Continue reading →

Garden Journal (No.9) – Heritage and Horticultural Matters

| Gary Webb

Hello and welcome to my garden journal, a pausing point and record of my garden focussed world right now.

Autumn begins… I began writing this journal on Friday last, holed up in the garden hut due to persistent rain which had teemed down for hours. Being on the coat tails of storm Amy and forecast for the weekend, I was thankful that all I had to endure was the regular tapping of rain on the roof.

Now though a full week has flown by, calmer weather has returned and another Harvest Moon wanes. Thankfully I can report that storm Amy treated us kindly, all told, and certainly better than up north where much damage was reported. Locally, paths and roadsides were peppered with twigs and fallen leaves, many still in the green, whilst acorns layered the ground beneath most every oak. Autumn, it appears, has introduced its turbulent self…

Pink Nerine flowers outside an orangery building at Calke Abbey
Perfect Partners: Nerines and Erigeron at Calke Abbey

Despite the hint of destruction mentioned above, it is important to remember that autumn brings positive vibes too. For many, autumn is a time where getting out and about takes precedence, even just to kick through some leaves, or warm souls with a hot chocolate or two. Others embrace the shoulder season by slinking into some kind of pre-hibernation state, where focus shifts towards hunkering down for winter, which surely means stacking up on books and sweet treats for those long dark nights, right?

Continue reading →

Walks and Wild Words

| Gary Webb

Won’t you come and crunch some acorns with me? Fact, fiction and times past, all woven crudely together and unravelled here, in this short story search for purpose.

Early one autumn morn during a country walk, I happened across an impressive holly oak tree, where I chose to sit for a while. There, I was to discover not just a handsome tree but a potent place, one that offered a lens through which landscape and life could be viewed.

Prior to that deep-seated moment, I’d been drifting in and out of thought whilst stomping up a hill, upon which oaks and yews had lived for a century or more. Boughs from path side trees formed an impressive tunnel overhead, but my eyes were mostly flitting from fronds beside the path one moment, to fungi living on fallen wood the next: all the while crunching over acorns strewn all about, it being a mast year.

After a few minutes of continual climb, I was drawn by some light glowing from the side of the track, although given the seemingly never-ending weather pattern, it wasn’t so much a burst of sun, but a brief patch of brightness. Nevertheless, whilst standing there appreciating that burly oak’s silhouette, a narrow track appeared before me, so through the ferny foliage I duly stepped, unsure if I was simply exploring the place, or had been summoned to it.

Continue reading →

Garden Journal (No.8) – In Search of Stars

| Gary Webb

My record of autumn arriving as summer fades, of scarred soil, of garden friends and foes, plus tasks planned for the home garden and family allotment, it’s all in here and more besides. 🌿

Hello and welcome to my garden journal.

Generally Speaking

Autumn… for me is an important time of year, where I try to immerse myself and take notice of every garden moment. There always seems to be an urgency to these actions, as if the garden at any moment could up sticks and leave. I don’t know why but I’m drawn to write now more than at any other time of year, endeavouring each time to capture and hold each experience in words, like cupped hands carrying water from a fresh flowing stream.

A sunrise sky and silhouette picture, where buildings and young trees are highlighted by the glow of a rising sun.
One of the golden sun rises this week, when all is calm in the garden.

Normally around now I’m drawn to comment on how the summer’s flown by, and in some ways this is still the case – especially the holiday part which disappeared in a flash! Right now though, what I mostly recall are slow moving steady days, where the door to the garden was, for the most part, left wide open. As the seasonal cycle dictates though, that wonderful open-door policy was always going to change, and that soft changeover period is upon us now, as we inch ever closer to autumn proper.

Thanks to plenty of rain in recent weeks which ended the longest and driest of periods, my early autumn garden is once again lush and vibrant, if a little weary around the margins. Days have mellowed, nights are noticeably longer, and most mornings are decidedly damp and cool.

A little white pine growing on its merry way in my garden.

Not wanting to wistfully wave summer away just yet though, I feel it’s important each day to head outside and connect with nature and the season in some way. It’s all too easy to plough on through and chip away at the tasks in hand, but a few moments of fresh air with some sun on my face, or standing bare foot to connect with the ground really does reinvigorate my soul.

⚠️ Trigger Warning for molluscophobes and arachnophobes…!

The other day though, whilst out on one such garden visit, I found myself sharing the space with a large red slug who was making their way steadily across the patio. Unlike days of old, this time I simply thought – wow, that’s a big un! I took its photo and let it go on its way, realising this too signified change, bringing an end to late night bare foot strolls around the garden in search of stars. How times change eh…

A large red slug moving across paving in a garden
They do divide opinion, but they’re pretty formidable creatures IMHO…

In the Garden

The Ground Swells – and it’s been an absolute joy to have welcomed some much-needed rain over the last couple of weeks or so; it was certainly needed. Near me water has fallen from the sky frequently and in quantity, and in no time at all what might have passed for an old rush mat out front (but was actually a lawn,) is now transformed into a lush green carpet.

I do have concerns over the border soil though, as cracks from months of desiccation are still visible – as if the ground is scarred. Recent rainfall has helped but marks remain, and whilst it’s easy to move forward without concern, in the coming season I’ll have to consider how to better support and protect the soil from which my garden grows. I feel even more mulching may be in order…

Wildlife – I think it’s fair to say that conditions for many wildlife species have been less than ideal this summer, but at least conditions are settling now to something near normal – whatever normal is, that is!

The first of two species I’ve encountered of late is our beloved Ladybird which has returned to my garden in good numbers again. It may be a small thing, but I took delight this year in carrying two of these bright red soldiers across the garden and depositing them on a black aphid infested Dahlia stem. Thankfully, just two days later one of the lady birds was still there chomping away on the aphids, and today there are no aphids at all – happy days.

The final species I’ll mention just now is a garden spider, one of the orb weavers if my I.D. app has done its job correctly. As architects and builders of some exquisite structures, their webs seem to be placed everywhere in my garden just now, spanning most gaps between sheds and garden stems. Maybe a little over a centimetre wide, they’re creamy beige in colour with dark markings. Interestingly, like a few folks I’ve worked with way back in time, sometimes they seem to hang around motionless for ages, and sometimes there’s no trace of them at all – I’ll mention no names but I always know who will have been most productive. 😉 If you can tolerate it, do study that web – it’s fascinating and holds some incredible cross bracing!

European Garden/Orb Weaver Spider

Like many, though a spidey-fan when growing up I must admit to not being drawn to actual spiders. Having gotten used to them over the years though I now just see them as garden friends, as long as I’m not getting caught up in a web that is! Mind you, as spiders are particularly active just now, my key tip would be to wave a short stick around the area in the border where you wish to work, as if you’re casting a magic spells over your plants… Option: Shout #Riddikulus to give your neighbours something to think about!

@AllotofPotential allotment – Allotmenteering has been a little hit and miss of late, although the summer holiday period always disrupts the usual flow of visits. In all fairness, the allotment is somewhat tatty around the edges, but all considered it is in fairly good order.

Stopping way short of a harvest festival write up, I can at least start by saying we’ve a small sack of good-sized onions hanging in the shed. I’m patting myself on the back for this growing achievement of course, as under-sized onions have been the norm in previous seasons. The focus on bulking-up organic matter in the soil is finally starting to pay off I believe.

A gardener crouched down, searching through soil for small potatoes
It’s not about the tan, but the tatties! Myself in action at the allotment…

Whilst the glasshouse courgette plants eventually succumbed to powdery mildew, it wasn’t until they had delivered a steady supply of fruits all summer. Pulling them out created space for drying and storing the pumpkins, which have grown and coloured up nicely. The glasshouse shade netting has also now been removed now, to increase light and heat for the remaining tomatoes.

Speaking of toms, they are finally on song now after a sluggish start, and although it’s fair to say the plants are a little unsightly (due to a lack of attention), we should be good for pasta sauce for the foreseeable. It didn’t help that one plant is seriously deformed with fasciation, but I have made a mental note to be more attentive to their needs next year in an effort to keep them on the straight and narrow.

Looking Ahead

Whilst it’s all too easy not to make the time and to save some pennies, I’m tempted again this year to plant at least a couple containers for some extra spring colour in the garden. Once they’re planted, it’s not only the anticipation they bring, but the little teasers they offer in winter as their new shoots break through, promising good things to come. Yes, they’re worth the effort, so I shall plan for those, maybe some tulips or miniature Iris, or some hyacinths for a change.

There will be some continued feeding of longer-term containers here and there with seaweed feed, and I’ll be looking to keep on dead heading, although things are slowing now. I need to lift some Stachys that is getting beyond its limits, and I’ll be raising some pots off the ground to ease their drainage – popping little clay feet beneath as many pots as I can.

More weeding of the allotment must not escape me, to check the advancement of couch grass roots into the borders. Also, as any rows become are clear of crops and weeds, and if I’m not planting with onions or garlic, I shall be looking to mulch with manure and cover them over for winter.

Outside there’s a season of compost to turn and re-cover, and a rather full bin at home, and hopefully there will be some good enough material amongst that to spread about and around. Inside the glasshouse in the coming weeks tomato plants will need to come out and the soil refreshed, so there’s plenty to keep me engaged and engrossed as always.

Rest assured that I won’t be far from my garden in the coming weeks, and I hope you’ll be in yours or visiting one or another, to experience this very special time of year. The Autumn Equinox approaches and some of the best days are ahead, so let’s get out there and embrace it!

That’s my gardening lot just now, and I’ve taken enough of your time, so I’ll sign off and wish you all the very best for the days ahead. Until next time, Gary, Gardening ways.