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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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 meis 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.
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…
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.
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.
An escape to the coast that sort of worked; an update on working life right now; looking beyond the drought; bee holes galore; allotment toms and more – it’s all in here and more besides.
Hi and welcome to my garden journal, a personal record of my place right now where gardens, gardening and nature are concerned. [ Note: Due to a malfunction this is a delayed posting of this journal entry from August – edition No.8 to follow tomorrow! Bonus back to back editions! ]
Generally Speaking
Escape to the coast…In my last garden journal I looked forward to a summer break ‘swooshing around delightful gardens, gallivanting around the countryside and lying back on a sunny beach’. Well, that plan mostly worked, although not before a bout of illness swept me off my feet, followed swiftly by Storm Floris which delivered a less-than-ideal start to the holidays.
It wasn’t all bad however, although during the break I did chose not to visit any gardens, which ordinarily should give cause for concern; especially considering some quality heritage gardens were in the area visited, including Bodnant no less. (Maybe next time eh…) It was a family holiday though, and whilst the lure was undoubtedly there, this time I felt a need for a complete break, sweeping both cobwebs and gardens away. An explanation for this might be gleaned as I write on, but if not do not concern yourself, you’ll never keep me away from gardens for too long!
Can’t resist a little sea holly, to look at though, certainly not to touch!
I must say that the much-anticipated week away in north Wales did settle down swiftly after the storm, and all turned out well in the end. Okay, so some of the days may not have gone entirely to plan, but the weather turned out well, and we were blessed to have some much-needed time away from the treadmill. Crisp sea air filled my lungs, the eyes bathed in some incredibly beautiful landscape, and my spirit was indeed refreshed.
On the work front… I can’t be drawn on the details, but I have some quite involved stuff to deal with in the coming weeks, a process that’s already forced a good deal of reflection on my career journey thus far. Suffice to say that like many others, my career’s had its twists and turns, and whilst at times I’ve taken an unusual route, each turn has brought valuable experience. Needless to say, my horticultural journey is far from done yet.
Taking the helicopter view of where I’m currently positioned, I can see that it’s good sometimes when change comes unexpectedly, otherwise there can be a tendency to plod along and accept the hand we’re dealt. Right now, though, with my cards scattered across the floor, I realise that I might have been guilty of accepting my path in recent years, feeling somewhat powerless to challenge a system I knew to be flawed.
Time waits for no one of course, and whilst I’m a little at sea with it all right now, those recent years have certainly not been for nothing, I know that for sure. Looking ahead, change is unavoidable, and however things work out, I shall continue to adapt and grow just like I always have. To mention this at all is partly to capture where I’m placed right now, but also as affirmation of how I wish to move forward. More on this anon.
In the Garden
A touch on the dry side – Don’t worry, I’m not going to harp-on again about how dry the garden still is, as I sufficiently covered this last month. I was of course hoping back then to tempt fate, and whilst some liquid refreshment came during the stormy period, this is now a fortnight gone, and the ground again is fissured.
I’m resigned to the fact that as tough as gardening is just now, that’s just the way it is, and whilst extreme weather does cause significant issues in some locations, adapt to the circumstance we must. (Adapt seems to be my word of the moment!) The conditions I describe aren’t just local to me here in Warwickshire but are widespread, so we’re all facing the same challenges to one extent or another, and as gardeners we must learn from it and rise to the challenge.
So here’s my simple strategy: Firstly, a key focus for the cooler months ahead is to boost my water harvesting capacity, both in my home garden and for the allotment. Then secondly, I shall ramp-up again my autumn and winter soil care by introducing organic mulch that will feed the soil whilst helping both with moisture retention and drainage. There’s a lot of science to it but trust me, the soil and I will figure it out for ourselves.
Both tasks aren’t going to fix things in one season alone, but incrementally, I’m looking to make a difference.
Wildlife – On the face of it, wildlife must be having a tough time of things just now, and some species couldn’t be blamed for keeping a low profile. In my own garden, aside from the odd peacock butterfly or pigeons who regularly arrive to quench their thirst, there’s little to shout about. Even my beloved swifts have upped and left.
If I zoom in a little closer though the garden is still full of activity, and to the fore jumps the flying specialists such as hoverflies, wasps and bees. The wasps I have noticed have developed a particular interest in my box shrubs, visiting throughout the day now for the last three weeks or more. I can only assume they’re either searching for food, such as aphids, or they’re hooked on the liquid feed I’ve been using on the foliage – if you have the definitive answer I’d love to find out for sure.
As for the bees, we fixed a second bee hotel to the fence back at the beginning of summer, one of those little boxes filled with hollow bamboo canes that some solitary bees are drawn to. Due to its newness, I didn’t expect to see any guests this year at all but have been surprised to see rooms in the hotel already pressed into use.
The bee hotel taking its first guests, and beautifully nibbled plugs to seal each section. The wonder of nature…
The hollow tubes attract female bees who construct a series of little chambers to deposit eggs and food, before neatly capping the end of each pipe with a moulded leafy plug. It really is a work of art, and if that wasn’t incredible enough, the leaf sections used to plug the tubes in the hotel have been nibbled from nearby Wisteria and rose leaves, which now resemble pieces of Swiss Cheese!
If it’s not too cheesy to say, it’s worth adding that we’re considering listing the accommodation next year on Air Bee-n-Bee… (Sorry not sorry!)
@AllotofPotential allotment – Aside from watering, the last input the allotment received was a flying visit just before we headed for the holiday hills, and that occasion was mostly restricted to giving key areas a thorough soaking – notably the glasshouse.
I’m glad to say that whilst it’s a pain to program, the solar powered watering system has again worked like a trooper this year, sucking up water from a tank inside the glasshouse and delivering it to the base of each tomato or courgette plant. I’ve dealt with feeding separately, and water the beds more thoroughly once a week if I can, but otherwise they’re left to themselves (I do use a shade net on the glasshouse).
The first of the tomatoes cropped this season, plus some French beans and courgettes – to balance the chocolate consumption…
Around three weeks ago the first tomatoes ripened for picking, albeit not from a purposely grown plant, but a self-seeded one. It popped up in a convenient place, so I went with it, and it’s now delivering some incredibly tasty cherry-sized fruits. Plants are good at figuring things out for themselves I find…
Elsewhere on the plot I just about managed to drop in some leeks before leaving the plot to its own devices, but having visited since, I’m happy to report they’ve settled in okay. Recent re-sowings of carrots and beetroot are up and away, as too are radishes that are always quick off the mark. The less said about parsnip seed the better, but if it’s not showing itself by my next visit, it may well have missed its chance this year!
Looking Ahead
Right now, I’m enjoying a sweet scented second flush of roses and the brightest red honeysuckle berries in my home garden. Out and about though, you can rest assured I’ll be looking to enjoy every drop of juice the summer season has left in its tank; I do hope you’re able to do the same.
I’m not wishing the summer away of course, but as the season cycles, I always anticipate the delights the ever-shortening days will bring. Whether it is golden seed heads catching an afternoon breeze, leaf silhouettes dancing across the fence or the last of the fiery red pelargoniums cascading from pots at the allotment.
Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ giving a second flush – it’s been a good year for the…
Now the home lavender trimming is safely in the rear-view mirror, I’m also looking ahead to tasks that’ll need doing across both home the garden and allotment. I’ve still to plant some brassicas for winter/spring harvest, compost desperately needs turning, and onions, potatoes, tomatoes, courgettes and cornichons need regular harvesting.
As if all that isn’t enough, whilst the no-dig approach appears to be working well, couch grass is quietly creeping in from the side paths, so that will need rooting out soon too. It may not be the most productive plot at the allotments, yet, but its care does demand focus and energy, which is what makes allotmenteering so appealing!
~
I shall sign off for now, by wishing you all the very best.
Hello again and welcome back to my garden journal, a place to record my gardening world right now, look at where I’ve been and peer into the future.
Generally Speaking
Right now…I’m a tree…A few weeks have passed by since I last updated my garden journal, and despite the pause in posting I can confirm that I have been as busy as ever. Gardening aside, time has taught me that my personal motivation for writing does naturally dip during summer, so rather than squeeze out posts or journal entries I simply pause for a while. It’s not like I stop writing, I’ve just learned not to force it, to park the F.O.M.O., care less about social stats, and get on with other things.
All that said, whilst there might have been some beautifully long, slow and sultry days since the summer solstice, mine do seem to have been filled with a lot of stuff. Suffice to say that between roving around gardens for work, burying my head in books for research, private garden visits, (see image below!) a garden show and activity in my own garden and allotment, there genuinely hasn’t been much time to think – let alone write!
Still, in just a few weeks’ time I’ll be taking a little break so I must be patient. Yes, that dream of swooshing around delightful gardens, gallivanting around the countryside and lying back on a sunny beach each day will hopefully be realised. Naturally, I intend each night to kick back and watch the sunset with a long drink, a head full of inspiration, an open book and fully loaded pen – well that’s the plan. Until then I have some serious stuff to deal with on the work front, so I’ll keep searching for that balance between all that needs doing to keep the pennies rolling in (and the kids fed), and I’ll daily remind myself that I’m not weary, I’m adaptable and resilient, just like a tree. (Let’s hope nothing falls off in the meantime!)
A favourite image from a recent visit to Morton Hall Gardens with the Japanese Garden Society – a lovingly crafted Japanese Tea House.
In the Garden
Bring on the Flowers – Although we’ve enjoyed some rain these last few days, since last writing we have had to endure some warm and windy weeks – flaming June having broken records yet again. It has been weather to kick back on a beach with an iced coffee or float around in a cool pool, but as for the gardening community, it’s been a challenging time for sure – beautiful sunny skies that have brought on the flowers, but tough under foot in more ways than one.
In my home garden, even though the ornamental borders were heavily mulched earlier in the year when the soil was moist, the ground has still dried, and cracks have appeared large enough to swallow a mouse whole – even after the weekend rain. At this point though and with such shrinkage, there’s little point in watering copiously as we might have done in days gone by, but instead zooming-in just on those plants that need it most and watering thoroughly.
Cracks in my garden foundations, but little to be done – they will come and go…
Yes, if you’re willing to take the hit on your water bill the hose is there and waiting, and nobody would probably notice. But really, in a private garden setting, and unless the plants are rare, I’d let them fend for themselves, urging all to conserve our water resource where we can. I’ll store my soapbox away now…
Wildlife – Even having a soft spot for wildlife, I was still a little miffed to be woken by some strange snorting noises coming from the garden one evening last week, a little after midnight. The snorts were regular, somewhat dry, and coming from somewhere underneath the plants in the front garden – but hanging out of my window with a torch couldn’t reveal exactly what it was.
Out I went then, clad in PJs with torch in hand, (ready to run if the need arose), only to discover not one but two hedgehogs, who suddenly went very quiet. The hogs were large and healthy it seemed and were clearly enjoying a night on the town.
Nevertheless, with it being a rather warm night I backed away, only to return with a dish of water to quench their thirst – the neighbours must have thought I’d lost the plot! Anyway, when next viewing from up above I could see they’d moved on, but as my head once again hit the pillow, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for interrupting a night of passion!
Niwaki – With work on my home garden presently reduced to plant feeding, deadheading, occasionally ‘topping’ the lawn and watering, progress, for want of a steady word has been slow. Where I’ve channelled my gardening ambitions therefore in a calming, meditative kind of way, is through some topiary work, trimming cloud pruned box shrubs and formative pruning a young hornbeam tree.
My ‘Niwaki’ tree, if I dare be so bold was planted maybe three years back and has been left alone to settle in whilst I plucked up courage to get busy with some pruners. Earlier this year though the time came to get involved and trim out the leading stem, as I don’t really have room for a forest-sized tree in my back garden!
I know, it doesn’t look much yet but give it time…
In early summer I selected the side branches I wished to keep, most evenly spaced and with a good spread around the tree. Then came ‘special branch’ training, where I tied canes onto each branch to straighten them over time. Stone weights then followed, tied to each branch to lower them down a little below horizontal until the whole tree, all eight or nine feet of it began to look quite arty – trussed up, but artfully so.
All that worked for a while, but after some weeks observing and studying, I have now moved in for a second piece of work, upgrading my training system to canes and black string instead of stone weights. Whilst still in full leaf, the training system is now relatively well hidden, although close up I might easily be seen as a control freak! In my defence, I’d just say that I do like to experiment and stretch myself horticulturally, and after all – I’m only here once!
I shall keep you posted as to whether the tree thrives or turns it’s toes up!
@AllotofPotential allotment – Although it’s been steady-ahead in the home garden, the allotment has called for a little more input. Being free draining, holding on to moisture in the ground can be something of a challenge, although somewhat unsurprisingly, the wildflowers (weeds) do tend to cope admirably. Irrigation has therefore been increased to keep things green and growing in the heat.
The delicious broad beans have done well so far but have run out of steam now, and the strawberries have come and gone – mostly before I could get my hands on them. (I do need to up my strawberry game for next year). Tomatoes are racing up the canes in the glasshouse and the first fruits have been harvested from the courgettes, whilst pumpkins in their patch are sending stems here and everywhere, showing off their bright yellow flowers and immature fruits to an excited world. Seed-wise, whilst later than hoped, the first rows of carrots, parsnips, beetroot and radish have been sown, so fingers crossed there for some good growth beyond the full moon.
These pumpkins have @allotofpotential…(have a look on Insta!)
Overall, after a sluggish start, things are moving along nicely on the allotment growing front. On the allotment wildlife front though, I was ecstatic last week to see a ‘charm’ or group of goldfinches descend on the plot, focussing wholly on some self-seeded cornflowers that were left to grow in a floral border. The goldfinches, which never appear in my garden just a mile or so away, were a real treat, as were the skylarks who serenaded a delightful allotment gardening session.
Looking Ahead
Needless to say, that with record temperatures forecast in the days ahead, a heavy workload and the holiday season fast approaching, I’m not setting my gardening bar very high for a while. I shall just aim to keep things alive and well fed, with a little clipping here, a little tying in there, and a wish that all will be well.
Maybe I’ll be taking a leaf out of Mother Nature’s book and accept that with shortening days, there is a need to slow down, calm the pace and pause. Think of those cool early mornings when nothing stirs but the birds, or long summer evenings when plants cease moving and fresh air is nowhere to be found. Vibrant flourishing growth witnessed during spring and early summer is maturing, the frenetic activity we experienced has slowed, so things must give as we crest summer’s brow.
There’s much yet to come but remember the value of sitting back and taking time to appreciate our midsummer gardens, taking stock of the highs and lows of the year so far. With that frame of mind, I shall be looking myself for gentle contemplation and will make time in the days ahead to study plants more closely, observing how they’re responding to this highpoint of the year. I’ll be sitting down to watch bees extract goodness from the flowers, I will meditate on sunlit grass heads waving gently back and forth, and if I’m lucky, I will harvest some home-grown food here and there – that will be me for the foreseeable.
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Wishing you all the very best, until next time, Gary, Gardening ways.
You presently find me fully inspired after a visit to BBC Gardeners’ World Live at the N.E.C. in Birmingham. If you know me personally, the mention of attending a garden show might take you aback, as my preferred place of comfort would by choice be somewhere much calmer: a quiet corner of a wildflower filled garden, maybe a woodland trail, the allotment or seated on a bench in my garden. After a successful show visit therefore, to now sitting back reflecting with wholly positive thoughts, feels pretty good indeed.
Generally speaking, thinking of how we’ve moved from the local village garden show to the likes of BBC GW Live is hard to fathom. Dozens of trade stands, bottle-necked thoroughfares and variegated willows whipping you in the face when least expected. Weary stall holders wilting under the heat of a marquee alongside their perfectly grown plants, and bite-your-lip moments due to those infuriating push-me pull-me show trollies; possibly the very best and worst garden show product that ever there was!
The Plant Based Garden, by Nick Bailey
It might all sound a bit much, and in some ways it is, but there is a reverse side to the coin: a glorious and gigantic garden show in the blazing June sunshine that features the very best early summer flowers. Garden shows of this size, therefore, are meant to be exciting and busy places, and can assault your senses; but there is balance and payback if you seek it. I like to think of large garden shows as magnets, working as super central places where all and sundry converge on one location which is, let’s face it, as convenient as it gets.
Hello again and welcome back to my garden journal, a place where I look to capture my gardening world right now, record horticultural highlights from the preceding week or so, and look ahead at what’s up ahead – my work is a whole other subject!
Generally Speaking
Where I’m at…Roses are in full bloom and the lavender’s buzzing with bees as June seems to pick up speed. The remainder of the garden’s charmingly green, lush and fulsome, its thirst having been quenched of late. Chelsea for another year fades, its medal winning gardens now erased forever from the Royal Hospital grounds whilst closer to home, new gardens are built for Birmingham’s BBC Gardeners’ World Live which opens tomorrow – summer has arrived!
I find myself sitting in an armchair, door open to the morning garden whilst contemplating the world of gardening I find myself in; honestly, I struggle to locate myself most of the time. Whatever is happening though, I have a gardening mind that drives me forward, an allotment, home garden and family that requires regular input, and a pond pump that reliably runs around the clock – what more could I possibly want?
Don’t mention the weather – After harping on about it in my previous journal, the last thing I want now is to jump straight into a weather conversation. However, as the weather’s shift has been quite the thing of late, I simply can’t ignore it. All I will say is that in stark contrast to last time, water butts and reservoirs across the land should mostly have taken their fill, spring plantings and recently sown seeds have resumed normal growth, and the garden brims with life once again – all seems well for the weeks ahead.
Ne’er cast a clout till May is out – Gardeners’ often state May as a favourite month of the year for good reason, increased daylight hours, warmer temperatures and good moisture levels being first in mind. Herbaceous plants will have burst into life, often transformed from their below ground status to upstanding vigorous specimens, and deciduous shrubs and trees will be colouring and texturizing our garden landscape. If all this wasn’t enough, flowers will be coming and going everywhere from down low between grassy blades to the treetops, so do make sure you remember to look up for the flowers too!
Now May is out though and we find ourselves marching through June, the garden task list, like an overflowing water butt can be very full, and long days often lead us to keep on working. No sooner has the lawn been cut it’ll need cutting again, weeds seemingly sprouting up behind us, and almost everywhere we turn some little critter is trying to defoliate a favourite plant, snap a delicate tree stem or ruin a harvest. Amidst the busyness though I do look for the balance, and make time to sit back and take pride in a garden and allotment well-tended. It’s always important to pat ourselves on the back for making the effort, for creating each little oasis that speaks to wildlife as much as our wilder selves.
In the Garden
Getting knotted – Previously I spoke of a miniature landscaping project to create a Japanese themed gravel garden. All was complete for my last post except for a low fence to complete the scene, an element that was sent to test me. As symbolised by the little garden itself though, calm and peace was the overarching goal, so naturally I carried this mindset throughout the build – just.
The build, the last piece of the feature was a low bamboo-clad fence to add some height and presence to the space. On-theme I chose slimline bamboo canes that would be fixed in place with delicate little knots, so as not to dominate. The canes being no more than two feet long were a little fiddly but manageable, the decorative string though, or specifically the knots themselves, have been another story.
Still to finish, as fallen string may show, but almost a job well done…
I’m still not quite finished as I write this and I’ve a good few knots to re-tie before I can properly sit back and admire my handiwork, but it’s getting there. In trying to keep things real, I’ve attempted to use a traditional Japanese knot called Otoko-musubi, (think I’ve described that correctly) and whilst there are some good how-to videos on YouTube, none of them can easily show exactly how it’s done. I’m happy with my attempt though, as the knots arguably strike a balance between decoration and function, and I love how their tassels move in the wind.
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New bird on the block – Last weekend our garden filled with tension as two blue tits fledged, removing themselves to the garden ground where they spent two days each. They spent their time exploring, shivering, and chirping away so they could still be found and fed, but of course our concern was for predators, who were ever present and listening in. Of the two chicks it appears one made it through, last seen flying out and away from the fence top, and of the one left behind, well let’s just say it will rest in peace. That’s nature for you.
This was either Chirp or Cheep, the one that got away.
@AllotofPotential allotment – Wednesday brings the full Strawberry Moon, and predators allowing, I do plan to eat at least one allotment grown strawb’ in celebration; well, that’s the plan. As you might have picked up previously, I have been loosely following the moon phases when planting this year, and I mean loosely. If I’m to learn anything that is to be of use going forward, then my adherence to planting by phases of the moon must be tighter, otherwise nothing will be proven.
In my defence, whilst my back issues mentioned previously have subsided, they did throw out my allotment activity, so for a while I was forced to go with the flow. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about gardening though, it is that the best laid planting plans must sometimes adapt and change, whether due to weather, ground conditions or a sore back now and then. My moon phase planting efforts aren’t part of a scientific survey so they must flex, that’s all there is to it – and no doubt there’ll still be a harvest at the end of the season!
French bean seeds going into drills during a flying visit to the allotment.
Activity of late included: dwarf French beans sown; sweet peas planted; pumpkin patch formed and mulched (with new paths to create permanent beds); tomatoes planted in glasshouse; fig moved; more onion setts planted.
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Looking ahead
On the allotment I still need to sow some carrots, but the bed is nearly ready to go – although I’ll need to wait until the full moon passes. As the mulch-matting is now in place, young pumpkin plants hardening-off at home will be planted out in a week or so, and some gherkins will go into the glasshouse border – I’m giving them another go after a somewhat modest crop last year. (Any gherkin growing tips gratefully accepted!)
In the home garden I’ve a pergola project simmering in the background, with actual materials waiting in the wings. It’ll take a while to raise its head, but hopefully in the coming weeks its footings will be complete. Looking ahead, and hopefully before summer’s out, I shall be able to sit back beneath a new growing structure and raise a glass to another meditative garden project delivered – the best laid plans eh…
Gardening Ways 