Wish You Were Here?

As it's quietish at work, I took some time off and headed down to the West Country. I have many happy memories of a dippy hippy summer there when I was 19, travelling round the area by local bus which is a great way of exploring. Now that I'm an old lady, this time I took a little more than the sleeping bag which was all I needed then. My only regret about that holiday was not spending more time in Wells, so I made a leisurely tour of it, and ended the day with Evensong in the Cathedral. Magic, if that's not too heretical a word.
Then I visited Kelways, THE peony people. I've already placed an on-line order with them, but couldn't resist buying just one more and some iris. I popped in to their trials ground, which was a dreamworld of colour and scent. Led, literally, by the nose, I wandered happily, finding another two varieties to add to my list, Coral Charm and Felix Supreme. Life as a public sector employee feels very insecure these days, and my house is tied to my job, so maybe it's foolish to invest in the garden but I can't help it. The next day I went to Hestercombe, a beautiful place which has a wonderful landscape and a formal Lutyens/Jekyll garden, pictured above. And yes, I couldn't resist some bargains in the shop, galega, sisyrinchium and another iris. With the car now resembling a greenhouse, I trundled back up the motorway then home through winding Borders roads.

Exception

Recently we were discussing "The No Brown In Town" rule on Edith Hope's brilliant blog. How I   wholeheartedly agreed, having always thought that brown carex in particular was vile. To-day however, I realised there was one brown I'd never be without - Bronze Fennel. It's been a mainstay in my last three gardens, where it fills me with joy to see its feathery new growth each spring. The rabbits love it too, but are easily deterred by leaving the old stems in place for a while. These stems then make wonderfully aromatic kindling.
Mmm. Have to go and see a man about Brown Trout.

Leaf it out

The garden seems terribly quiet now those rackety squaddies, the Praestans Fusiliers, have completed their tour of duty. It's the first time I've grown these gorgeous scarlet tulips, but from now on there will always be a place for them. I bade them a fond farewell like a Victorian maiden watching the garrison leave town. To the regiment!
Meantime, I'm learning to appreciate the textures created by the (entirely unplanned) juxtaposition of foliage. Could I be developing Good Taste? Fat chance. Round the corner my rescue rhoddendrons are billowing masses of Barbara Cartland pink and Papaver orientalis Brilliant is hovering in the wings.

The flowers that bloom in the Spring (tra la)

Why is it that no matter how hard you've been working, a boss only appears the second you sit down? Since 7.30, we'd watered, fed and sprayed the bedding, inventoried the herbaceous perennials, shifted shrubs, moved hanging baskets utside to harden off, built a frame to keep the containerised trees upright and secured them to it, helped the Future Jobs Scheme boys with their annual border, planted up the beds in front of the bothy and weeded the Peace Garden. We'd just sat down for a cuppa when along came a foreman. Ach. Some days, you just can't win.
Took a wander after work and saw the tree paeonies (P. delaveyi) were in flower. I love these deep maroon flowers with their golden anthers, not least because I grew them from seed three or four years ago. The seeds are very large, black and shiny. They germinate easily but slowly, needing two winters in a cold frame. The feathery leaves make a nice contrast with the rhodies.
I've enjoyed seeing Chelsea, but some of the coverage has been truly apalling. To-day they cut to Carol Klein in the vegetable tent and I thought, good, this'll be interesting, but they immediately switched to that stupid woman with the strangulated vowels and weird jerky gestures, wittering on about the language of flowers. Could the director be the same eedjit who's ruined Gardeners' World?

Dahlia iacta est

Perhaps I spent too long in the sun weeding. It was lovely to work so close to the earth again after months in the greenhouses, and when I got home I just carried on and planted my third lot of gladies, meconopsis grown from saved seed, oriental poppies, catanache and finally, the dahlias went in. My "cutting garden " is almost complete, just the chrysanths and sunflowers to come. And of course, the staking. But that's enough for one day, and now it's time to go and lock up and hurl abuse at some rabbits.

It's a beautiful May evening, clear blue sky and only the faintest of breezes. This means a frost is likely so I went down to cover the hanging baskets with fleece. I shut Chocolate in the greenhouse as she seems to think billowing fabric is a big monster she needs to defend me against. She could be right. It took me an hour, there was just enough wind to make it awkward and I ended up looking like some nightmarish version of the dance of the seven veils.
We're all pretty tired now, just fifty more baskets to make and the golden moss to prick out and the summer bedding will be done. Yipee! I'm on watering duties this weekend, but I reckon I'll go mad and have a glass of wine. Slainte. Or wassail, as I believe they say down south .

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit...

It was, I know, too good to last.For the last few weeks, the garden's been bedecked with colour: sapphire, amethyst, garnet and gold, as pretty as a book of hours. This unusual state of affairs has been down to a distinct lack of rabbits, only a few rather haggard individuals having survived the winter. The pest control officer tells me they've been hit by a disease, not mixy but something equally fatal.
Alas, poor rabbits. I almost felt sorry for them, but the memory of the marmalised espaliers is still too fresh. And now, they're back!
Yesterday morning, there they were, four baby buns. Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Dough Head (there's always one).
Yes, they're cute. No, they haven't started on the flowers (yet). But we all know that they will breed like, well, like rabbits.

Dear God, please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.