It was a beautiful warm, still, sunny day. I keep finding more signs that spring is approaching. In the so-called Italian garden in the turning circle, a group of purple dwarf iris have suddenly burst into bloom. The last time I looked there were just the snouts of new buds emerging through the gravel. Now there's an entire bunch of flowers, and another clump nearby not far behind. In the back garden one witch hazel is fully out. It is the mid-orange flowered variety Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange Peel', and I sniffed the spicy fragrance on the air before I saw it. The scent of witch hazel is a curious thing. I seem to notice it more in wafts in passing than when I stick my nose right up against the flowers.
I hurried along and pruned the vines around the veg patch. This is a task I meant to do before Christmas, or at least between Christmas and the New Year, as vines bleed badly once the sap is rising, and you are advised to finish pruning early. I don't know why I didn't do it then, except that I was engrossed in other things and maybe the vine is not top of my list of concerns. Due to errors and omissions in my record keeping process, I don't know what variety it is. The grapes are white, and I'm sure I meant to choose one that was capable of setting edible fruit out of doors, since I never had any ambitions to make my own wine. A couple of years ago I tried hard to do things by the book, and pruned it at the correct times, and thinned the bunches of grapes ruthlessly, and the fruits were still small and extremely pippy, though the chickens liked them. The main job of the vine is really to clothe the wire rabbit fence that runs round the veg patch, and provide the odd leaf for cooking. I quite like stuffed vine leaves, and it gives a smug feeling to be able to use home grown fresh leaves, instead of tinned.
I cut a couple of branches experimentally, and sap didn't gush forth, so I got on with it, since it was one of those jobs where the situation was only going to get worse the longer I left it. It still didn't seem to be bleeding by the time I'd more or less finished, so with luck the sap is not rising that much yet, and it won't. Maybe it will start later. I'm not an expert on the cultivation of vines. It makes a vast amount of growth each year, throwing out new shoots that are 3-4m long and longer. Normally I keep trimming these through the summer to try and keep the whole thing in check, but the veg patch was mostly fallow last season, as I tried to catch up with everything else.
Another job that should have been done last autumn, ideally in September, was to scrantle* the meadow. We did the back garden in the middle of that month, but never got on to the meadow. I'm not sure why. I think the Systems Administrator, who basically dislikes trudging up and down for hours pushing a power scythe and then having to collect large amounts of grass, hoped that it could get by without a cut every year. I'm not crazy on the task either, and dislike repeatedly asking anyone to do anything, in case it could be construed as nagging, so we ended up with a communications failure, and it didn't get done. We ended up scrantling the meadow this afternoon, as it has daffodils planted in it and I was beginning to worry that if we didn't do it soon their leaves would be through. My part of the job is to rake the fallen grass aside, to clear the way for the next passage of the scythe. I didn't check the exact time we started, but it must have taken us about an hour and a half, during which I raked continuously. That should have burned off a couple of mince pies. We'll leave it for a day or two in the hopes that it might dry out in the wind, and the SA will put the lawn tractor over it, and I'll have to rake it again. We now have two trailer loads of weedy and rank grass to dispose of. I'm hoping that they'll burn, chucked on a lively bonfire a forkful at a time.
*We borrowed this useful agricultural term from Stella Gibbons to describe the act of cutting long grass with a power scythe, since there isn't a verb specifically for that. The exact nature of the original operation remains a mystery.
Addendum I have done my bit to sabotage an on-line poll in the Guardian, while telling the exact truth. It goes to show how misleading statistics can be. The question was, will you be spending less in the sales this January than last, to which my response was No. However, that doesn't have any positive implications for my confidence or spending power this year. It's simply that since I spent nothing in the sales in 2011, I certainly wasn't going to spend less in 2012. When I took part, with an hour to go until the poll closed, 80% of respondents had answered Yes. I'm sure you shouldn't tell people how other people have voted on the same question if you want an accurate result, in case it influences what at least some of them say.
Showing posts with label dwarf iris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dwarf iris. Show all posts
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
some March flowers
I've just taken a stroll round the garden to see what's blooming. It's drizzling and 4.0 degrees C outside, and most of them look as if they wish they hadn't bothered.
The display of Hamamelis x intermedia is coming to an end. The red ones are lasting later than the orange and yellow, having opened after them, with the variety 'Rubin' the last. The hazels are showing what genetic variation there is in the wild population, as some still have bright yellow catkins while others are going brown and shrivelled. Daphne bholua 'Jacqueline Postill' still has plenty of buds, and the white form hasn't really got going at all yet. The Viburnum x bodnantense 'Charles Lamont' has flowers open, but the overall effect is a bit pink and brown. The Ribes laurifolium is still blooming, but I think that whatever animal is terrorising the back garden has had a chew at it. Mahonia japonica is flowering quietly in its corner. It got rather overshadowed last year by a rambling rose that is supposed to be growing up a tree, but instead flopped around and over the mahonia. I have a feeling I shall be returning to the question of training roses up trees.
Shrubs that are new blog entries for March include Corylopsis sinensis var. sinensis, whose yellow flowers are just opening. This suffered dieback last winter, but seems untouched so far this one, despite it being colder. Maybe the fact that the deepest frosts came before Christmas this winter helped, if it is less vulnerable to cold damage when still tightly in bud than when the sap is rising. I think it is going to be far too large for the space where I have put it, and I wonder if I can trim the tips back after flowering. I don't think the books recommend this treatment, but Chris Lane says it works for witch hazels, which are not supposed to like being pruned. We visited Cornwall a few years ago, and I noticed how many of the gardens had terribly tall specimens of Corylopsis, with bare trunks at eye level and the flowers carried way above our heads, so some pruning to keep new growth coming low down might be a good idea.
There are a few flowers on the winter flowering cherry, but I'm sure that when it comes into leaf there will be a mass of dieback. The water table has risen under it and it's sitting far too wet. I've been eyeing up possible spaces for a replacement in the front garden. Pieris 'Katsura' is opening its dusky pink buds like giant heather bells as if nothing had happened, which is surprising and delightful after the winter weather. I've a feeling the frost danger for pieris is to the emerging leaves more than the flowers, and the flowers were still in very tight bud when the worst of the weather came. No flowers on the Edgeworthia, though.
At ground level the hellebores are looking good, the Lady series and their offspring in the front garden and assorted hybridus forms and their seedlings in the back. A yellow form that has not been so vigorous is doing quite well this year, with several nice solid butter-yellow flowers. H. x ericsmithii is flowering profusely, with petals of yellowish cream with pale plum backs. 'Pirouette' was a new purchase last year, and has made a chunky plant so perhaps it is a good doer. It is a pinky plum with a formal double centre, and I planted it partly for its own sake, because it is very pretty, and in the hopes of some exotic babies in that part of the garden. It got rather shaded last summer as a shrub rose leant all over it, but seems none the worse for the experience. New hellebore varieties are so tempting, but not cheap, so I tend to try just one the first year and see whether they seem to have a robust constitution in a garden setting.
The primroses and polyanthus are starting to get going. I love the wild yellow primroses, but like the pink ones too, and the more highly bred polyanthus, which I have in soft and strong yellow, and all shades of pink from pale and grubby to magenta and purple. Some were from an alleged woodland walk seed mix, which came less true to description than any other seed I've grown, and some particularly vigorous yellow ones in a good clean shade of dark lemon were half price at B&Q. The violets are starting bloom under the roses, my ambition being to cover the ground entirely with them and other ground cover so that there's no room for weed seedlings at all. The white bergenia has two flowers on it, and not as many leaves as it should have, so something is eating it. Driving back from Colchester today we passed a mass of a pink flowered variety, which reminded me how full and lush bergenia should be looking at this time of the year, if it is happy. There are a few pulmonaria flowers out, in mid blue, bricky red, and a good red-blue with bright violet and purple overtones. The pulmonarias started out as named varieties, but over the years self-seeding and the destructive effects of birds and animals on stick-in labels means that I don't know what most of them are.
The snowdrops still look good from a distance, but close up you see that they are starting to go over. There are some flowers of Cyclamen coum, but not great sheets as I would like. I plant a few more each year and they gradually spread and bulk up. Something has dug up the majority of the crocus bulbs from the borders, though not so far from the grass. I need to go over the borders and smooth down every last hole and scuffled area, then inspect them daily for fresh signs of digging to work out how often whatever it is comes. We tried the trail camera on one badly affected bit of border one night, but didn't photograph anything. It has been set up on that area again for tonight, and we'll see what we get.
The dwarf iris have just gone over, but Iris unguicularis is still sending up new flowers.
The display of Hamamelis x intermedia is coming to an end. The red ones are lasting later than the orange and yellow, having opened after them, with the variety 'Rubin' the last. The hazels are showing what genetic variation there is in the wild population, as some still have bright yellow catkins while others are going brown and shrivelled. Daphne bholua 'Jacqueline Postill' still has plenty of buds, and the white form hasn't really got going at all yet. The Viburnum x bodnantense 'Charles Lamont' has flowers open, but the overall effect is a bit pink and brown. The Ribes laurifolium is still blooming, but I think that whatever animal is terrorising the back garden has had a chew at it. Mahonia japonica is flowering quietly in its corner. It got rather overshadowed last year by a rambling rose that is supposed to be growing up a tree, but instead flopped around and over the mahonia. I have a feeling I shall be returning to the question of training roses up trees.
Shrubs that are new blog entries for March include Corylopsis sinensis var. sinensis, whose yellow flowers are just opening. This suffered dieback last winter, but seems untouched so far this one, despite it being colder. Maybe the fact that the deepest frosts came before Christmas this winter helped, if it is less vulnerable to cold damage when still tightly in bud than when the sap is rising. I think it is going to be far too large for the space where I have put it, and I wonder if I can trim the tips back after flowering. I don't think the books recommend this treatment, but Chris Lane says it works for witch hazels, which are not supposed to like being pruned. We visited Cornwall a few years ago, and I noticed how many of the gardens had terribly tall specimens of Corylopsis, with bare trunks at eye level and the flowers carried way above our heads, so some pruning to keep new growth coming low down might be a good idea.
There are a few flowers on the winter flowering cherry, but I'm sure that when it comes into leaf there will be a mass of dieback. The water table has risen under it and it's sitting far too wet. I've been eyeing up possible spaces for a replacement in the front garden. Pieris 'Katsura' is opening its dusky pink buds like giant heather bells as if nothing had happened, which is surprising and delightful after the winter weather. I've a feeling the frost danger for pieris is to the emerging leaves more than the flowers, and the flowers were still in very tight bud when the worst of the weather came. No flowers on the Edgeworthia, though.
At ground level the hellebores are looking good, the Lady series and their offspring in the front garden and assorted hybridus forms and their seedlings in the back. A yellow form that has not been so vigorous is doing quite well this year, with several nice solid butter-yellow flowers. H. x ericsmithii is flowering profusely, with petals of yellowish cream with pale plum backs. 'Pirouette' was a new purchase last year, and has made a chunky plant so perhaps it is a good doer. It is a pinky plum with a formal double centre, and I planted it partly for its own sake, because it is very pretty, and in the hopes of some exotic babies in that part of the garden. It got rather shaded last summer as a shrub rose leant all over it, but seems none the worse for the experience. New hellebore varieties are so tempting, but not cheap, so I tend to try just one the first year and see whether they seem to have a robust constitution in a garden setting.
The primroses and polyanthus are starting to get going. I love the wild yellow primroses, but like the pink ones too, and the more highly bred polyanthus, which I have in soft and strong yellow, and all shades of pink from pale and grubby to magenta and purple. Some were from an alleged woodland walk seed mix, which came less true to description than any other seed I've grown, and some particularly vigorous yellow ones in a good clean shade of dark lemon were half price at B&Q. The violets are starting bloom under the roses, my ambition being to cover the ground entirely with them and other ground cover so that there's no room for weed seedlings at all. The white bergenia has two flowers on it, and not as many leaves as it should have, so something is eating it. Driving back from Colchester today we passed a mass of a pink flowered variety, which reminded me how full and lush bergenia should be looking at this time of the year, if it is happy. There are a few pulmonaria flowers out, in mid blue, bricky red, and a good red-blue with bright violet and purple overtones. The pulmonarias started out as named varieties, but over the years self-seeding and the destructive effects of birds and animals on stick-in labels means that I don't know what most of them are.
The snowdrops still look good from a distance, but close up you see that they are starting to go over. There are some flowers of Cyclamen coum, but not great sheets as I would like. I plant a few more each year and they gradually spread and bulk up. Something has dug up the majority of the crocus bulbs from the borders, though not so far from the grass. I need to go over the borders and smooth down every last hole and scuffled area, then inspect them daily for fresh signs of digging to work out how often whatever it is comes. We tried the trail camera on one badly affected bit of border one night, but didn't photograph anything. It has been set up on that area again for tonight, and we'll see what we get.
The dwarf iris have just gone over, but Iris unguicularis is still sending up new flowers.
Saturday, 5 February 2011
dwarf iris
In the past couple of days the first of the dwarf iris in the middle of the front garden have started to open, which has concentrated my mind on weeding the gravel around them. They will show to their best advantage standing like little jewels among the stone chippings, not as they were this morning emerging from a mat of low growing weedy vegetation. First to open in quantity is a relatively large dark purple flowered variety with yellow splashes, and there are plenty of less advanced clumps to come. I see from my records that I've planted 'Cantab', 'George', 'Harmony', 'J S Dijt' and 'Katherine Hodgkin' at various times, but apart from 'Katherine Hodgkin' I've lost track of which is which, having not gone for the pets' graveyard approach of labelling each individual clump. 'Katherine Hodgkin' is an unusual mixture of blue and yellow, strange and lovely. I think the large and early one is 'George', and 'Cantab' will presumably be light blue. They are all very pretty, purple or blue iris flowers standing above strappy foliage, which lengthens as the flowers fade to 20-30cm tall, but quickly dies down.
These are hybrid forms of Reticulata iris. They have a reputation for not being reliable repeat flowerers, partly because the bulbs can break up after their first flowering into many small bulbs that take years to grow back to flowering size. I called the other day at the house of a very knowledgable and experienced gardener who had one early 'Katherine Hodgkin' out by her front door, and as I admired it she observed that they tended not to last with her. I said that they were fairly perennial with me on very light, poor soil and she replied (with a hint of asperity) that her soil was pretty well drained. I don't claim any credit for ours, but the conditions do seem to suit them. I start them in 1L pots so that I can plant them out in the spring when I can see what other bulbs are there, so they grow in an island of multipurpose compost plunged into extremely light acid soil. They are mulched with gravel, and receive no kind of top dressing of organic material because of the gravel. They get sun for most of the day and are exposed to the south westerlies. Annual rainfall is around 21 inches or 525mm. Some say that if you plant the bulbs deeply they are less likely to split. Mine get potted with 2-3 inches or 5-8cm compost above them, which is dictated by the dimensions of the pots, and I plant them out to the same depth. And that's it. They seem to last for several years, and I periodically top them up.
As well as the dwarf iris there are Scilla siberica, Chionodoxa and miniature tulips. One of these has been seeding itself and I kept finding tiny bulbs amont the weeds, which I buried again. This area of the garden hosts an annoying fine leaved annual grass which is entirely absent from the heavier soil further down the slope. I did find a seedling Genista aetnensis, which I ought to pot up quickly while it is small as I rather think they dislike transplanting. The gravel needs topping up, but with any luck there'll be enough in the thick bits round the edge of the drive for me to take it from there. I'm going to have to order another load one of these days, but I'd rather not at the moment, as there are enough jobs to do already without saddling myself with a large pile of gravel in the front garden urgently needing to be spread out.
These are hybrid forms of Reticulata iris. They have a reputation for not being reliable repeat flowerers, partly because the bulbs can break up after their first flowering into many small bulbs that take years to grow back to flowering size. I called the other day at the house of a very knowledgable and experienced gardener who had one early 'Katherine Hodgkin' out by her front door, and as I admired it she observed that they tended not to last with her. I said that they were fairly perennial with me on very light, poor soil and she replied (with a hint of asperity) that her soil was pretty well drained. I don't claim any credit for ours, but the conditions do seem to suit them. I start them in 1L pots so that I can plant them out in the spring when I can see what other bulbs are there, so they grow in an island of multipurpose compost plunged into extremely light acid soil. They are mulched with gravel, and receive no kind of top dressing of organic material because of the gravel. They get sun for most of the day and are exposed to the south westerlies. Annual rainfall is around 21 inches or 525mm. Some say that if you plant the bulbs deeply they are less likely to split. Mine get potted with 2-3 inches or 5-8cm compost above them, which is dictated by the dimensions of the pots, and I plant them out to the same depth. And that's it. They seem to last for several years, and I periodically top them up.
As well as the dwarf iris there are Scilla siberica, Chionodoxa and miniature tulips. One of these has been seeding itself and I kept finding tiny bulbs amont the weeds, which I buried again. This area of the garden hosts an annoying fine leaved annual grass which is entirely absent from the heavier soil further down the slope. I did find a seedling Genista aetnensis, which I ought to pot up quickly while it is small as I rather think they dislike transplanting. The gravel needs topping up, but with any luck there'll be enough in the thick bits round the edge of the drive for me to take it from there. I'm going to have to order another load one of these days, but I'd rather not at the moment, as there are enough jobs to do already without saddling myself with a large pile of gravel in the front garden urgently needing to be spread out.
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