potting

I've been potting on some of the plants I grew from seed.  They were becoming miserable in their pots, roots congested and compost unable to hold a day's worth of water and running short of nutrients.  I'm hoping that they'll busy themselves over the next couple of months rooting into all that lovely fresh compost, and last comfortably until spring, giving me more time to plan where they're going and clear whatever weeds, moribund shrubs or overly enthusiastic spreaders are occupying the space at the moment.

Kalimeris incisa went up to two litre pots a couple of weeks ago, and is already looking happier. This is an Asian relative of the asters, with daisy like heads of pale blue rays around a yellow centre.  It is not very tall growing, and reputed to tolerate some drought and shade even if it would prefer full sun and moister soil, so I thought it would be worth trying in one of the more fertile stretches of the meadow.  Nurseries mostly sell the named variety 'Blue Star', but I'm trying the straight species raised from seed to see what it's like and how well it does.  My packet of seed cost me under three pounds from Chiltern, plus five pence a litre for the compost, while a single 'Blue Star' from Beth Chatto would set me back £4.80, so I might as well test out the growing conditions on home raised plants first, then go and see if 'Blue Star' is perceptibly nicer.  I grow the species of Gaura lindheimeri when every tall, white flowered plant in commerce seems to be labelled 'Whirling Butterflies', and the un-named plants are every bit as attractive (actually, I'm not sure I could tell the difference).  It is also long lived with me, despite Gaura's reputation as an unreliable, here to day and gone tomorrow sort of plant.

Lysimachia atropurpura 'Beaujolais' has gone up a pot size.  I started them off thinking I would plant them in the vegetable patch for cutting, but now I'm not sure about that.  In the meantime they had become desperately pot bound.  The roots are a pinkish colour, I've discovered.  They produce spikes of dark red, funnel shaped flowers, or will if they recover, and are not long lived in my experience, all the more reason to sow your own rather than pay three or four pounds a pop.

Verbascum chaixii var. album has gone up to two litre pots.  There's one odd plant in the garden, that's lived for years outside the conservatory where it is gradually being swamped by the hydrangeas, and it's been such a good doer that I thought I'd like some more.  My sowing last year came to nothing, but the remains of the packet that I sowed this spring germinated readily, and I've got quite a few plants.  Those that ended up in the shelter of the greenhouse have remained much leafier than the ones I stood out on the concrete, that cooked rather in their nine centimetre pots, so I've potted on the latter and am optimistic that they'll grow on now they've got the space.  At least some verbascum varieties can be propagated from root cuttings, a hint they might be good at regenerating from the roots.  I've held back for now on repotting the happier looking plants in the greenhouse in case I could find a home for them this autumn.  My former employer's labels for V. chaixii included the advice that they were better on alkaline soil, but ours is acid, and the plant by the conservatory is fine.  Some verbascums are biennials, and some of the perennial varieties can be short lived, but based on my unscientific sample of one V. chaixii does not suffer from that problem, another reason for planting more.  Verbascum nigrum is reliably perennial, by the way, but its sulphur yellow flowers might not be to all tastes.  I like them, but am aware that not liking yellow flowers is considered a mark of refinement in some circles.

While I was occupied with potting I pulled enough shoots off a reddish brown, tiny leaved sedum that is energetically covering the ground in the railway gravel to make up two trays of cuttings, at twenty-four modules per tray.  It may disappoint me and decide that life within six feet of the hedge is simply too shady, but I'm hoping it will agree to cover the ground between some of the Systems Administrator's model houses.  The SA was talking about planting heathers in the gaps, but my advice was that they would swamp the buildings in a couple of years.

I had to go and buy more compost before I could do any of this.  I'm currently using B&Q's Verve brand, which still seems good, though you never know with compost.  The same make is liable to vary wildly in texture and whether or not it is capable of supporting plant life even within the same growing season.  I buy the 125 litre bales, because they are so much cheaper per litre than the small bags, and as I was about to start manoeuvring the two bales from my trolley into the boot of the Skoda, a stranger stopped his car, got out, and with barely a word came and helped lift them.  I have to admit it is easier with two.  People can be very kind.  Somebody on yesterday morning's train, hearing us debate whether we'd find three seats together as we got on at Colchester, spontaneously swapped seats to free up a third for us.  Fate does not always reward good deeds as it should, since while today's benefactor received my thanks he also stubbed his toe on my trolley.

I am experimenting with the Verve peat free compost.  If I could find a peatless compost that worked I'd use it, not being insensible to the beauty and ecological value of peat bogs, but some peat free composts are truly and diabolically awful.  I only got a small bag, and have potted a few Verbascum and Lysimachia using it to see how they do in comparison to the others, labelling them as PF.  Initially I mixed them up with the other pots on the concrete, so that they would receive identical treatment, then began to worry in case the two composts had different watering requirements, and scrabbled around among the verbascums until I'd found the peatless ones so that I could group them together and water them according to their apparent needs.  How random should a random trial be?