Saturday, 17 October 2015

I love our garden

Well, we've reached that time of year once more.  The chill in the air, the nights closing in, Monty Don announcing that next week's Gardeners' World is the final episode of the season.  It's mid-Autumn already, and gardens across the hemisphere are closing down, including here at Oak Tree Drive.

All, however, is not lost.  The gardener's work is never done, and planning is already well underway for next spring.  I'm finding bargains galore with a whole host of perennials, today picking up all the below plants for under ten pounds.  There's a big lavender, presumably reduced because its flowers have gone over and it is starting to look a little leggy (easy to remedy - simply cut back and allow to grow on again next spring.)  There's a dahlia Happy Days which has flowered and is now looking sorry for itself (why not lift the tuber, store over winter, and replant next April?)  There's a buddleia, which again has done its thing for this year (simply plant out, cut back, and let it grow!)  There's a littler patio rose Sweet Dreams (in perfect condition, we'll just nurture it over winter.)  And there's Juniperus chinensis 'Blue Alps', an evergreen shrub bought specifically to fill a gap, and heavily reduced.

Ten pound bargain - reduced perennials






























A couple of weeks ago, I harvested my brilliant crop of outdoor tomatoes.  Apparently, blight is ripping through the outdoor tomato crop nationwide, but it obviously hasn't reached my plot, where I've had my best ever year.  Harvesting tomatoes always presents a dilemma for me - do I eat in salads and sandwiches, or preserve for the cold season ahead?  This year I decided to make tomato chutney - both the green and red type - which will extend that wonderful flavour to Christmas and beyond.  In fact, we'll still be eating it when the first crocus bulbs open next February, and the cycle starts anew once again.

Tomato harvest

As Autumn establishes itself with firm grip, so the wildlife responds.  There's been a marked change in garden life recently - the grasshoppers have all gone, as have most of the bees (a late bumble, settling on a white aster earlier today, was a rare and beautiful sight.)  I was very happy though, to discover a young slow worm slithering from leaf-to-leaf in my vegetable garden.  At only 10cm long, it was much smaller than my sightings earlier this year, and strongly suggests that slow worm breeding has been taking place on-site.  This delights me, as our gardening techniques have been so geared towards creatures just like this.  I bothered our newest tenant for a couple of minutes with my camera, before letting it escape to the shelter of a thyme plant.  I was left grinning from ear-to-ear - this sort of thing really does mean so much to me.

Young slow worm
Young slow worm

So here we are, mid-October and the garden shutting down for year.  Of course, there's plenty of boring, non-plant jobs to be doing over the winter (move the water butt, relocate some old paving stones...) but for the delightful side of gardening, that's going to be it for us until the new year roles around, and we are once again wading through snow drops, daffodils and vibrant blue hyacinths.  We'll catch up with all the bees, frogs, slow worms and butterflies then, and already, I cannot wait.  A year of hard work, lots of joy, a few set backs, but plenty to be thankful for as we reach this season of change, all of which makes me realise just how much I love our garden.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

National Badger Day

The Badger in the spinney is the true king of this land.
All creatures are his tenants, though not all understand.

Didicoi red and roe-deer, gypsy foxes, romany otters - 
They squabble about their boundaries, but all of them are squatters.

Even the grandest farm-house, what is it but a camp
In the land where the singing Badger walks the woods with his hooded lamp?

A farmer's but a blowing seed with a flower of crops and herds.
His tractors and his combines are as airy as his words.

But the Badger's fort was dug when the whole land was one oak.
His face is his ancient coat of arms, and he wears the same grey cloak.

As if time had not passed at all, as if there were no such thing,
As if there were only the one night-kingdom and its Badger King.

Ted Hughes (extract from What is Truth)

Badger at dusk (source: The Ecologist)