2025/54 - Oldies but Goodies!

 Merry Christmas! And if you are of another part/inclination, happy holidays, happy weekend, happy life!

And a special 'great to see you!' to my readers in Hong Kong, Mexico and Singapore!

May it bring you all you desire. May it bring us all peace!

Us delta-dwellers being in the midst of bleak, grey winter, there is not a lot to mention about my gardens. So I decided to give you some highlights (with my never before published photos) of the five years I have now been gardening at my allotment.

By the way, Puck & I raided the bushes on our walkies late last night, to make you all a quicky wreath.

Very close to the entrance to the allotments is a 'sloot' with willows. This is in spring 2021. I frequently meet a barn owl along this narrow road in the early morning, when it swoops over our heads, scaring Puck.

The bare bones of Hunky Dory in May 2022. I had spent the winter months clearing all leftover potatoes and weeds from it (missing a few), laying the paths with woodchip and digging the frog pond. As soon as I put that white gravel down, I hated it! And I was taken aback and dismayed by the utter lack of invertebrates in my soil.

By September I had assembled two planters, to give the garden some much needed height, and the struggling plants some proper soil to grow in.

By April 2023 the perennial beds had filled out considerably, and I started spotting earthworms, millipedes, beetles and toads amongst the slugs.

By July I counted 5 different kinds of butterfly where before, in 2021, there had been none.

Part of my harvest in August 2023. Whatever they say, it DOES taste better!

My drumstick onions in all their glory in July 2024. I think they are such fun! And they last for ages. Mind you, by now (the tail end of 2025) they are disappearing a bit, I should plant some fresh bulbs. The Verbena Bonariensis seeds itself all over the place, from the batch of seedlings I planted out in the first year.

By August 2024 the woodchip paths had been changed to grass, and the perennials had really taken off. I chucked all the woodchip into the borders in early 2023, hoping the invertebrates (and plants) would thank me for it.

The same bed in October 2024. Already heading towards winter, but still quite interesting.

The other side of the garden, looking towards the road and my compost heaps, is where the Artichokes dominate. In 2025, due to the drought of more than 7 months, the flower heads were very small compared to previous years. So far this perennial bed has been quite a struggle. Most plants I put there, do not like it, but some thrive. Grasses, mostly! And that silver Pine on the left has taken it as its mission to grow a metre a year. It was sold to me as 'a dwarf species' ! Ha!

Before the summer storm blew them down to the ground this year. Mind you, I tied them up against the obelisk again, but they took a beating.

I do grow a varied crop of tomatoes each year, liking to experiment with types I haven't grown before. These are yellow zebras, lovely for salads but useless to cook with.

2025 was a terrible year for butterflies... But my scabiosa always attracts the ones that do show themselves.

Early morning last April, sunrise over the misty (river) Brielse Maas. The best time of day to my mind. Nobody out, just the birds, Puck and me. And the very occasional beaver.

And thus we are full circle to spring.

Have a lovely weekend, try to take some time to watch the birds, feel the wind and smell the flowers (if you have any near you).

Visit me at my website Renée Grashoff Schrijft

And do visit me here, you are very welcome!

Renée Grashoff 

2025/22 - Republished

 It's unnecessary telling you that we have not had rain since mid-February, for I have been keeping you up to date with the lack of water in my part of the world. Time to rename my Dutch Delta? Dutch Desert?

Although on the one hand I am really enjoying the sunny days, by being outdoors for most of the time, gardening, walking, cycling. And sitting out on pavement terraces having coffee. On the other hand I am getting really worried about the water table. In some parts of the Southern Netherlands there is a ban on spraying water on the fields for farmers already. In my part no ban just yet, but I can feel it coming.

Almost dry...

   My frog pond 1000 l. water tank has been empty for over a week now, which is a first for me. Last year it was overflowing due to the months of rain...Now my frog pond just holds some watery slush, and my waterlily is really sad and suffering. 

   Due to rock hard soil I could not plant my seedlings, so in desperation I planted them on the edges inside the frog pond. When those Calendula and Cosmea actually survive, I'll let you know! Who knows, perhaps I'll set a trend.

   On the happy side, some of my established plants are doing fine. They obviously have put their roots down deep enough to get some moisture. But yet... I have been thinking if it might be prudent to change my garden design to cater for those extremely dry spring months we have been having for years now (except for last year, when my garden was under water).

The only things holding me back so far are:

 1. Money (lack of)

2. This is a predominantly veg growing allotment community. I feel hesitant to throw in a load of pebbles and grit.

Mind you, if I owned the plot, I would!!!

Still, I will look hard at my plants this year: which ones hate being in that dry rock hard clay, and which don't mind at all? My roses enjoy their pots so far.

I adore looking closely at my Alliums, they are so pretty!

And so are the Iris.

The Artichokes are dwarfing the Salvias as usual. And the Clematis is growing outward instead of upward, it seeks the light.

I am so happy with my yellow Raspberry, it is doing very well. The Redcurrant behind it seemed dead, but I pruned it very short and now it is growing again. But oh my, look at how dry everything is, the grass is scorched.

The Daisy and Campion in the orchard are enjoying themselves.

Right. Time for a coffee for me, and perhaps for a second one for you. If you are curious about my website, here is the link: Renée Grashoff Schrijft

I'll leave you with an overview of Hunky Dory from the back. Have a great weekend, wherever you are!

Renée Grashoff 

177 - EXTRA PHOTOS

 Both my gardens are LUSH. Here are the extra photos I promised you in blogpost 177/177E.

As you can see, Hunky Dory is still predominantly pink and purple. Some white, some yellow, a very little orange/red. I tasted the first fig 😕 unripe so not a good taste, but there are many more to come.

Bye bye, take care!

Renée 

176E - How mighty are the strong?

 Gardener's World  (TV) is my go-to garden information guide, that is not a secret. Last week Adam Frost said something that made me think. Or rather, he asked a question: should gardeners plant only those plants that easily survive our current climate, or should we make the effort to grow plants that are struggeling with it?

My front plant bed.

   So I asked myself: didn't I decide recently to just plant the species that have proven to take my soggy heavy clay in winter and my summer concrete in their stride? This decision was the effect of my frustration and lack of funds. Buying new lovely perennial  seeds, bulbs or plants, only to see them struggle and then die within a season, is actually shitty and silly, and a waste of money. But when everyone does the same, and only uses the same limited range of survivors, then we are stuck with a very limited range of plants. Because growers aren't silly either, and have to earn their living with it, so I fear they will only grow the same survivors.

My beloved rose in the raised bed

Take my beloved Desdemona rose. She can live her best life only because she's in the raised bed. My other two roses with their feet in the clay, are struggling, despite expensive rose fertiliser, extra water, dilligent deadheading and peptalks. They are alive, but that is it.

The same goes for the huge fennel that shares the raised bed with Desdemona. I have another fennel, a red one, pining in the hot bed, which is not a 100th of the size of the one in the bed on the right.

One of my garden neighbours complained about her seedlings which simply did not come up this year. My seedlings were also disappointing. Is it our soil? Our skills? Both?

My 'hot' border

   In my hot border the 'cool' plants (for lack of a better word) are doing great. Take a look: the asters (no colour yet), the sedum (same), the grasses, the white gauras, the wormwood, the teasels, they are doing fine and are spreading. But the crocosmia, the expensive redleaved shrubs, the rust coloured lilies, the many orange/yellow kinds I have planted: sad strugglers they are, so far. Except the self-seeded buttercups, they are doing great and trying to take over my entire garden.

The result is that it isn't 'feeling hot, hot, hot'🎶, but looking green, green, green. Very restful, but that wasn't the plan. It should be my little pad of tropical South-America in Brielle!

   Perhaps I should dig it over and turn it into a Japanese Zen garden. No, only joking, I can't afford that.

Forest bathing, just about

Very cool, though. But impossible, I cannot see myself rent a crane to lift the huge rocks (to create the mountain) over the ditch. No, that's not happening.

A little positivity: my Physostegia has settled in my middle bed. She's on the verge of flowering, so there will be photos soon. She has gone walkabout, and forced my shocked scabiosa to the edge of the paving, where it is now sulking. That is a thing: plants love to walk! I can't blame them, always staying in the same spot, boring!

Along the Watersingel, where I walk Puck, has been a huge lythrum for years. I adore it. So last autumn I waited until I could gather some seeds, and sowed them next to my frog pond. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Lythrum, which we call cats tails

   To my joy, this has worked. She has chosen a spot in the middle of my woodpile, next to the papyrus, that has walked herself out of the pond and thought the woodpile a good spot too. The lythrum colours beautifully with the buddleia on the other side of the frog pond, and with the verbena bonariensis next to her. This morning a large, stunning dragonfly perched on the papyrus. Obviously it flew away just as I wanted to take a photograph...just my luck. That's just the way it is...

This week I have added an extra page of photos, because there is a lot to enjoy.

   Have a lovely weekend!

Renée 

176 - Het recht van de sterkste?

 Gardener's World (BBC) is mijn go-to tuininformatiegids, daar heb ik nooit een geheim van gemaakt. Afgelopen week zei Adam Frost iets dat me aan het denken zette. Of eigenlijk stelde hij een vraag: moeten wij tuinliefhebbers alleen die soorten planten neerzetten die het huidige klimaat met gemak overleven, of moeten we juist ons best blijven doen voor de planten die er nu mee worstelen?

De voorste border

   Ik ging bij mezelf te rade: had ik niet juist deze winter besloten alleen nog planten te 'gebruiken' die in de voorgaande paar jaar bewezen hadden dat ze mijn winterse zompige, vette klei en zomerbeton konden hebben? Dit besluit was ingegeven door frustratie en zuinigheid. Steeds enthousiast planten opkweken/aanschaffen, die vervolgens binnen een seizoen het loodje leggen, is gewoon shit en zonde van het geld. Maar als iedereen dat doet, alleen overlevers neerzetten, dan houden we een zeer beperkt scala aan planten over. Want kwekers zijn niet achterlijk en moeten hun brood ermee verdienen, dus kweken dan alleen die overlevers, vrees ik.

Desdemona

Neem mijn geliefde Desdemona roos. Zij trekt het alleen in mijn tuin omdat ik haar in die verhoogde bak heb gezet. Haar twee voorgangers, die wel in de volle grond staan, hebben het ondanks dure rozenmest, extra water, vlijtig de dode bloemen eruit knippen en peptalks, zwaar.
Ze leven, maar daar is alles mee gezegd.

Hetzelfde geldt voor die enorme venkel waarmee de roos dezelfde bak deelt. Ik heb nòg een venkel, een rode, in de hete border en die is nog geen 100e van de venkel in de bak rechts.

Een van mijn buurvrouwen klaagde over haar niet-opkomende zaaigoed. Mijn zaaigoed is ook teleurstellend. Ligt het aan de grondsoort? Aan onze skills? Aan allebei?

De 'hete' border

   In mijn achterste, hete border, doen juist de 'koele' soorten het prima, kijk maar. De Asters (nog geen kleur), de Sedum (idem), de grassen, de witte Gaura's, het Boerenwormkruid, de Kaardenbollen, ze hebben het naar hun zin en breiden zich uit. Maar de Kaapse lelies, de dure roodbladige heesters, de roodbruine lelies, de vele oranje/gele soorten die ik geplant heb; zielige worstelaars zijn het tot nu toe. Behalve de aangewaaide  boterbloemen, ja, die doen het uitstekend en proberen de hele tuin over te nemen.

   Met het gevolg dat het weinig 'feeling hot, hot, hot' 🎶 is en juist veel groen, groen, groen. Wel rustgevend, maar dat was niet de opzet.

Het moest tropisch spetteren! Mijn stukje Zuid-Amerika in Brielle!

Forest bathing, bijna

Misschien moet ik het hele bed op de schop doen en er een Japanse zentuin van maken. 

Nee, geintje, daar heb ik het geld niet voor. Wel cool, overigens. Maar onuitvoerbaar, ik zie mezelf al een hijskraan huren om de enorme rotsblokken (voor de bergwand) over de greppel te tillen. Nee, dat gaat niet gebeuren. 

Even positiever, mijn Physostegia heeft zich inmiddels heerlijk gesettled in de middelste border. Ze staat op het punt van bloeien, dus binnenkort krijg je een foto. Ze heeft al wandelend wel mijn witte Scabiosa verdrongen; die hangt nu een beetje zielig tegen het tegelpad aan. Want dat is dus ook een dingetje: veel planten houden van wandelen! Geef ze eens ongelijk, altijd maar op dezelfde plek, boring!

Kattenstaart naast de kikkerpoel

   Langs de Watersingel, waar ik met Puck loop, staat al sinds jaar en dag een flinke pol kattenstaarten. Ik vind ze prachtig. Dus heb ik verleden jaar gewacht tot ik daar zaad kon verzamelen en dat toen bij de kikkerpoel uitgestrooid in het kader van nooit geschoten is altijd mis. Tot mijn vreugde is dit wèl gelukt. Ze heeft zich middenin mijn takkenhoop gesettled. Ze kleurt prachtig bij de vlinderstruik aan de overkant van de poel en bij de Verbena bonariensis naast haar. Haar buurvrouw is de vanuit de poel naar het droge gewandelde Papyrus, die de takkenhoop ook een goede verblijfplaats vindt. Vanochtend vroeg zat er een enorme, prachtige libelle op. Natuurlijk vloog hij meteen weg toen ik een foto wilde maken. That's just the way it is...

Deze week voeg ik weer een extra pagina met foto's toe, want er is een hoop moois te zien.

Fijn weekend!

Renée 

175E - From mwah to yay!

 On Tuesday I trimmed my grass, just before the rain pelted down. Fair is fair, those black clouds in the background do create  dramatic photos.😀

Judge for yourself: nicely trimmed grass, eh?

I was the only one there, but I was there at 09.00, because of the yet again dramatic weather prediction. Heavy showers, heavy gusts and thunderstorms. The first two I can handle, but I'm a little afraid of lightning. Once upon a time I was on holiday in Looe, when a sudden thunderstorm raced in from the sea, and a fisherman was struck by lightning on the banjo pier. I've had a healthy respect for lightning ever since. Puck is terrified of it, she must have good reason.

But, anyway, my garden: all is well, except one teasel, which is leaning against its neighbour like a groom on his stag night. I had to prop it up, but forgot.

My Desdemona is blooming again

What I did do, was prune the top of my small horse chestnut. To be honest it isn't a happy tree, so I thought right, off with its head, perhaps it will work. If it dies, I have tried.

A plant that does shine, is my lily. A few years ago I planted three (expensive) bulbs, and only one has come up, but it is a beauty.

Sweet!

   Who are doing very well also, are the summer bulbs in my greenhouse border. I first had two, but by now they have spread. Very pleased with them, although even my trusted plant determination app Plantnet says 'name unknown'. So if you happen to know what bulb this is, please tell me in the comments? Thanks! They only bloom one day, like daylilies. Here they are:

Anonymous

Very unusual pretty flowers.

By the end of this week, it got warm, warmer and hot. Now that I am writing this it is Friday afternoon, and my thermometer says 31°.

The internet has overheated as well - apparently something has gone awry with a software-update, and now 'the Blue Screen of Death' has taken entire computer systems hostage. It sounds like the plot of a techno thriller. I immediately admit I come from the Stone Age, and this is far too technical for me. But it sucks when you were planning to fly, or waiting for an operation. Hopefully they'll solve it soon!

My cool frog pond

   Should you be utterly overheated by now, either from the heat or my words/the realisation that we are subjected to the fickle whims of the computer gods, I have put my stone age take on a hot tub on the left here. Enjoy!

   Have a great weekend!

Renée