rearranging the tunnel

The countryside in autumn isn't the haven of tranquillity that some people might like to think.  A few weeks back the plant centre resounded to the noise of hedge cutters working their way around the lanes, and today it was the clatter of sugar beet being dumped in the farmyard across the road.

The older gardener survived his unexpectedly prolonged trip to Cambridge, and the younger one completed his jury service without getting caught up in a trial that took months to complete.  I've never been called to do jury service, and don't actually know what happens in the case of potential jurors whose business or exam prospects or whatever would be ruined if they had to take six months out, rather than a couple of weeks.

My task today was to move clematis from one end of a polytunnel to the other, tidying off dead leaves as I did so.  We have begun bringing plants inside that don't want to sit too wet in their pots through the winter, and they are standing where the climbers were all summer.  To make room the remaining climbers are being budged together.  By the end of yesterday the space vacated by climbers so far had been entirely filled, so no more plants can come in until all the climbers in that half of the tunnel have been moved.  Trimming dead leaves off clematis has a quite pleasant, meditative quality, though each time I began to get into a really good rhythmn of mindful tranquillity the phone rang.

Somebody wanted a mulberry.  That was good, as we had mulberries.  Somebody else wanted a particular Sedum, and we had two of those left.  A third person wanted Davidia involucrata, which we had, and a shrub said to be a type of rhododendron, which neither the manager nor I had ever heard of, despite her claim to have bought one from us before.  Another caller wanted Amelanchier 'Ballerina' and we had those, though I stepped in a puddle by mistake looking at them.  We also came up trumps with three lavender 'Hidcote' and a Cistus x purpureus.

I dismally failed to get my replacement Teucrium, as they had all been sold, so I shall have to exhume the roots of the previous one, put them in the greenhouse, water them very carefully, and say my prayers to Saint Fiacre.  (As well as being the patron saint of gardeners, he is also the saint of taxi drivers, not the most obvious of pairings).  I did get a very fine and luxuriant young Rosmarinus officinalis 'Green Ginger'.  I wonder if cuttings would root, struck this late?  Also a pair of Phuopsis, to bulk up my homegrown plant which is looking quite cheerful about life in its current situation.  That made one deliciously scented plant, and two that smelt of fox.