2026/2 - Hunky Dory Dormant? Not quite!

 January is a month when your garden is dormant, when you live in my part of the world. At least, it used to be. When I was a child, we had night frosts, and often day frosts as well, and sometimes weeks of snow. And if it didn't snow, it would pelt you with freezing rain. But those times are gone! Nowadays, the garden is taking a bit of a rest, sure, but there are lots of plants that do not go to sleep at all.

Take my beloved Desdemona rose for example. She says "what do you mean, it's January?" I always deadhead it, but wait with really pruning until March. This year she is refusing to go to sleep. You can tell by the yellowing leaves that she is a bit confused about it all.

The Malus Red Sentinel which I planted especially for the birds (who ignore it) is hanging on to its apples, and keeps on looking gorgeous. If ever I have the opportunity to move to a house with its own garden again* (instead of keeping an allotment), I will make certain I plant a larger version of this super tree.

* I will need to win the lottery for this.

Going strong as well is this Pyracantha "Teton". I treat it with great respect, as its thorns are so vicious that they pierce my leather gloves with ease. I used to have one that covered the front of my old house, and every year a pair of blackbirds would make their nest in there. They were totally secure, my cats did not dare climb the shrub and brave those thorns.

The Ixia are still blooming all over the garden, they will not give up. But from a pale pink in October, they have gone to a hard pink. It makes them stand out against the brown and green. They spread themselves, I planted 10 bulbs I think, and now they are all over the place, and very welcome.

This 'weed' is pretending it isn't winter either. It belongs to the same family as the Fleabane and can be a terrible thug. I tend to pull it out in Spring, otherwise it would dominate my entire garden, leaving no room for other plants. But now, in winter, I am happy to see it, as it brings sunny joy.

My silver Pinus is showing it is very healthy and happy. Although it is growing at an enormous pace, much too fast for my plot really, I love it. It goes to show you cannot believe all information given on labels...this was supposed to be a dwarf variety suitable for rock gardens. It towers over me already.

They are a bit nibbled, but very welcome all the same, my Primula. They appear in our shops in February, and go as a typical spring house plant, and usually I get gifted one or two. Very much appreciated, as I tend to enjoy them as long as they flower, and then move them into my garden to live on  there.

This shrub has gone through some name changes. I used to know it as Veronica as well as Hebe. It is from New Zealand and tough as old boots. Eventhough I cut it back hard every year, as it is getting much too large for the border it is in, it flowers all year long.

This calendula has self-seeded and doesn't take any notice of the chilly, wet weather. Such a cheerful, dependable little plant. It is a great starter plant for children, as the seed almost always grows successfully. Mind you, the allotment mice love to steal the seeds out of my seed trays, as I have found out to my dismay. So it is a lucky thing the plant spreads itself around.

Another plant I really like, or a shrub really, is the Viburnum Tinus. Very dependable, and it flowers just when you need it to, in the gloomiest, bleakest winter months. This one did not like my cloggy clay much, so it took three years for it to find its feet, but now it grows and it looks lovely. I need to help it a bit against the Artichokes, that is true. I planted that entire bed too close to eachother, not realising that some plants would dominate the others. Those Artichokes! They are the garden bullies, they really are.

Garden ivy, common as muck. But look closely at those glossy leaves, with their lovely veins! I deliberately planted it against my fences, for the birds love to nest in it, and insects use it to hide and hibernate. And when it grows too vigorant, I simply cut it away some. And, also very important in January, it stays stubbornly green. I use it for my Christmas decorations every year as well.

I'll leave you with Puck, as she also brightens up my January days. This was when she was in her prime, she is a lot older and greyer now. Next month she has shared my home for 7 years already. She was an adult when I got her, age unknown, and very traumatised. She will never be a happy-go-lucky dog, but she is a great friend.

Every December she gets progressively stressed out by the fireworks, up to the point where on Dec 31st I cannot drag her out any longer. So she holds her pee until all goes relatively quiet (this year that was at 04.00!) and then we race outside. Every Jan.1st we joke together that now WE will make some noise, but she never does, she is much too polite.

Have a good weekend, wherever you are, and bye bye from Puck and me.

Renée Grashoff 

Have a wonderful weekend, wherever you are.

2026/1 - Have you made your green new year's resolutions?

 Not yet? Well, get a move on, then!

My Regular Readers (yes, capitals, as I do adore you) know that I paint for fun. This was my Christmas card for 2025. But it serves this blog.

Shall I give you a hand? With those resolutions, I mean?

Ooh! I know this means I am skating on thin ice, as most people don't like being told what to do (I am one myself). 

Over here we will be lucky if we can try to skate on thin ice this winter, as climate change means we will probably have no ice at all...but that is totally beside the point.

Hm, on second thought, perhaps it is better when I give you MY resolutions, and you can decide if they suit you as well. Here goes:

1. Despite it being a total disaster, as it has sprung a leak, continue to keep up (= fill up) my frog pond, to help out the animals that use it as their water supply during those freaky dry spring/summer months.

 It houses salamanders, so to fill it in with soil would be a crime, right?! But I know the  birds and the allotment cats and hedgehog use it as well.

2. Keep providing for my bees. 

That means building more bee hotels around my garden, and topping up the wood piles, and making certain there are enough pollen flowers around. This bumble bee was taking a lovely nap in the hydrangea, but for food it is a totally useless plant. The 'old' hydrangeas can stay (planted by my predecessor), but no new ones will arrive!

 

3. Appreciate and tolerate my 'blow-ins', even if they are in an awkward position. 

As this wild carrot was. The hoverflies and other flying insects love these visitors from the grass verges around my plot, so they can stay where they have planted themselves. If it means I cannot maintain my grass paths in the manner I would like, so be it.

4. Tolerate, and try to appreciate, the creepy crawlies of the slimy kind...

I know...hard, isn't it? I am kind of lucky in that many of them prefer to crawl to my neighbour's plot, as he grows lush veggies. But still, when they do munch on my plants, I need to remind myself that they have a functional role to play.

5. Only source new plants from sustainable organic local growers, and don't buy flowers for the house, but only grow them myself.

 This means I no longer have shop-bought blousy bouquets in winter to cheer myself up...Mind you, my house is chock-a-block with (flowering) houseplants, so I do satisfy my green itches.

6. Plant more roses.

Oh dear. This is a very selfish resolution, I am afraid. I cannot help myself, roses are my absolute favourite plant. But I do go to an organic grower to get them, promise! And I try to propagate them myself.

Right. Six resolutions are enough to be getting on with, I think.

I do wonder what this new gardening year will bring. Hopefully it will not be as dry as 2025! My garden really struggled, and consequently so did I. But I try to follow the climate as it dictates...if it means a different (more drought-tolerant) garden, then so be it. Us gardeners go with the flow by necessity, right?

As I am writing this (from my lazy chair at home), I can see a jackdaw really digging into the peanuts I hung up for the birds. So far it has been very mild, with only one night of frost. But jackdaws are opportunists that love a peanut. Whilst it is eating, it keeps a beady eye on me. It looks like a young one, who has not yet learned by experience that is has nothing to fear from me.

Have a good month, a good year, and keep gardening!

Renée Grashoff 

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 /44 - Absolutely Autumn

 'With a blister on my finger, got a blister on my thumb', to paraphrase Dire Straits. This morning I tackled my dried out Artichokes, and it was hard work. But very satisfying!

What do you miss here? Right! There is a void where the Artichokes used to be. Until this year my habit was to leave them until February/March, and then cut them. But this year that drought killed them off, and the storms blew them over, so I thought away with you. Those stems, as thick as an axe handle, are almost as tough as tree branches, hence the blisters.

I should have removed those unsightly ropes (needed to keep the plants somewhat upright after that storm) before I took the photo, forgot, sorry.

The weather today is pretty good! So the bumblebees were out in force, making the most of it. This huge, chubby one on the Aster was over 2cm, and happy as Punch.

 I met quite a few creatures; a large brown toad scuttled away from me, a blackbird took no notice of me at all whilst using the frog pond to bathe, and one of the resident brown rats took one look at me and then shot under my waterbutt.

The neighbouring Fig Jungle is producing lots of ripe figs. Most of them are too high for me to reach, and get eaten by birds and insects, but some I eat. And they are wonderful! Figs, in the delta...unbelievable. The scent is gorgeous.

My side border is a mix of spent Hydrangeas and very cheery Hebe and Asters. That Hebe is looking blergh all through Summer, but comes into its own in Autumn. I keep telling my plants to keep off the path, but they don't listen...

That Pampus grass, Cortaderia selloana 'Pumila' has turned into a giant! It is over 3 m high. And can you spot my yellow Heliopsis? The only survivor of the five I planted last year. The hanging plant in the white pot is struggling, but I give it a chance with the rains that we are promised by the end of this week. Normally we get enough rain for it to survive without me watering it.

My favourite colour blue. But this Salvia uliginosa has not done well this year. I need to get some fresh plants.

I am very satisfied with this Lathyrus latifolius though! I keep hearing this year was a terrible one for lathyrus, but mine has done quite well. I did water it religiously though, and deadheaded practically every day. It is perennial, so I am already looking forward to next year.

Better late than never...I suppose. The Cosmea were trouble right from the moment of sowing. I was in Rucphen last weekend, and saw entire verges with them, and thought 'What? How?'. Mine were on the cusp of withering away all summer long, despite watering. But they've had more rain in Noord-Brabant. My delta has been the driest area of the entire country, in the second driest year in living memory.

Next to the frog pond are the only summer bulbs that have flowers. I am quite upset: planted 5 different kinds and only these ones have flowered. The rest just produced a mass of leaves. Bummer!

Talking of leaves, this pretty scrambling Houttuynia cordata has removed itself from the planter and is now silently walking along the path towards the frog pond. I let it do its thing, much too pretty to pull it out. And I should cherish those plants that conquer my rock hard clay!

Okay. I have told you about all my climbers against my shadow nook-without-shadow dying on me for three years in a row, right? Well, today I planted a bell Hops. I found it next to my path, and listening to the herb lady wisdom that wild plants come to find you when you need them, I carefully dug it up and planted it in the nook. Fingers crossed that this one will survive, ramble away, and give me my much needed shade in summer! My neighbour says it is a thug, well, bring it on!

I'll leave you with a photo of the clubhouse of the Heemtuin in Rucphen. I am doing a six week medicinal herbs course there on the Saturdays. Beautiful garden, which I hope to be able to actually photograph. 

Have a great weekend, wherever you are, and do take a look at my website if you are in the mood for more blogs at Renée Grashoff Schrijft

 

2025 /43 - Autumn is in the air again

 The morning being lovely balmy and quiet, I took my secateurs and myself to Hunky Dory, to finish what I started yesterday - pruning the spent flowers, and the removal of all those pesky Solidago.

There's this 'thing' about Solidago: I like it for its cheerfulness, but only in the right spot. And that plant walks all over my garden, settles in all the wrong spots and makes itself at home. If I had got a Euro for every plant I pulled out over the last 4 years, I could afford a larger apartment. Or publish at least 10 more novels! So yes, I regret planting it.

Here is another wanderer. But in this case, it reminds me of J.R.R. Tolkien: "Not all that wander are lost." This Nasturtium can go walk-about to its hearts content! Every time I see it, it lifts my mood. It will go on until the first night frost, and then die overnight.

The allotments being deserted, I took a peek at the garden of my neighbour at the back of my plot, who has gardened there for more than 60 years. He is very much into veg, but we share many a conversation about my love of flowers, which he appreciates too, especially my Lilies. He planted these Courgettes, aren't they fun?

Me having managed to grow just one Cucumber this year, I was a bit sad to see his being abandoned a bit. I suspect he had that many that he can't eat them all.

I pruned my Elaeagnus ebbingei again. Now that I have done it twice, those bare branches are beginning to stand out, don't you think? Whilst I was doing it, my head was 'buzzed at' by many, many bees. They love the tiny cream flowers of this shrub, they do smell amazing, I must say. So far I have never been bitten, it is as if they recognise me as 'harmless'.

I do hope those hornets which are colonising my country from the south upwards pass by though! They sound quite tricksy.

The few showers we have had last week, have done this Artichoke a lot of good. Most rain has passed us by though...More is predicted for this afternoon, well...promises, promises.

Last year, my garden was a mass of these summer bulbs, Ixia. This extremely dry year, there are only a few, next to the frog pond.

But to my astonishment, the Cyrtomium falcatum not only survived that drought, it took it in its stride! Well, yay!

The Malus has so many apples, it is a miracle that the branches didn't break during that storm we had last week. Actually, I was near breaking point as well! Those 100 km/hr gusts around my balcony were driving me bonkers. I would not do well in hurricane country!

The trees on Brielle ramparts are turning now. It always makes me a bit melancholy. Winter in my part of the delta usually is a very wet, chilly, grey affair. I counter it by masses of bulbs.

The Asters, Michaelmas Daisies, are in full bloom now.

The pink ones are always a few weeks earlier than the white ones though.

The plan was that they would bloom together, hahaha. Best laid plans, eh?

Okay, I'll leave you with one of our national treasures, in autumn attire.

Do follow this blog when you like it, and if you are interested in my website, here is the link: Renée Grashoff Schrijft

The Dutch Delta is Willow country!

Bye bye,

Renée Grashoff