66 - My white border, not quite what I had in mind...

 

Allium

White is not a colour, my art teacher taught me.

For most people it is, though, and so what? For me white is very important, because the white sets off the vibrant fiery colours I so love to use (my orange and yellow nasturtiums in my balcony garden give me daily joy) and compliments the calming blues and lavenders I also love to use.

The famous  white Sissinghurst garden in England was the first garden I saw (only in a book, alas) that was all white, and it sparked my imagination. So serene, so lovely.

But when I was shown an all-white garden by someone I know it was a disappointment to me. I thought it quite bland and boring! So why could Vita create such a wonderful garden and this enthusiastic Dutchman's creation fail to move me?

It is all in the colour green, I decided.

White needs green to offset it. Vita understood this, my friend did not. She had very sensible things to say about it too: "I like muddling things up; and if a herb looks nice in a border, then why not grow it there? Why not grow anything anywhere so long as it looks right where it is? That is, surely, the art of gardening." 

Another thing about white flowers is that it is very hard to find a pure white flower. Most of them, if you look closely, have a hint of pink or a touch of green - the photo top left is a good example. From a distance this is a white flower! My friend had managed to choose proper all-white ones (roses and petunias mainly), which made his borders very ...the same. And not a green or silver-grey shrub in sight.

Now don't get me wrong! Taste is a matter of individuality,  and I would never presume to have it and think someone else does not. It's just that his particular garden did not set my senses tingling, whereas photos of Sissinghurst make me sigh with admiration.

My own white border so far is a work in progress and by no means as I want it to be! For one it is more green than white and has huge bare patches where white flowers ought to be, but they have not shown themselves...The white clematis is drought-suffering, although it has produced two flowers ( in desperation, I think!) And the white salvias I planted last October have reverted to red! The white lillies (supposed to get 1 m tall) are still locked underneath that concrete I have to call soil and the white sweet william I thought I had bought turned out to be multi-coloured. The silvery-white plants whose name I have mislaid are doing great though, so they dominate at the moment. And the alysum is valiantly holding on, as well as the vinca minor. The glaucus silver-green artichokes are there, but due to that drought have hardly grown.

All are contrasted beautifully by blood red poppies, who have appeared absolutely everywhere - surprise!! Do I tear them out of my white border? Of course not. Would Vita have? Hm, her quote makes me wonder.

The good news is that it rained this Thursday morning. Two short sharp showers no less, and more predicted for this afternoon. My garden has burst out in ecstatic song, I am sure.

The other good news is I harvested my first strawberries. And more, many more to look forward to. Great, it evens out the 4 trays of seedlings I could throw on the compost heap because they had shrivelled up despite my daily watering.

Read more about my gardens at Instagram@songsmith2962 and Pixelfed@DutchDeltaWoman . Have a great day! 

65 - To water or not to water?

 One day of rain since March 1st, plus one hour last week.

A short, ordinary statement, right?

But the consequences for our gardens here in Brielle are massive.

My allotment club is large but the amenities are modest. We have no mains water, no electricity. So every garden has its own way of managing the water supply.  A lot of allotmenteers have huge square water butts of 1000 litres, as well as the smaller round classic ones. I have 4 square and 3 round, all fed from the roof of the shed, so you'd think I have no shortage of water. But by now 2 round ones are empty already and 1 square almost is, the other square is 1/4 full. For me, with my small amount of vegetables and refusal to water the flowergarden, it is worrying and annoying, but not dramatic. I'll sit this drought out, I think, will manage. But a few of my neighbours have almost depleted their supply.

This is a thought-provoking fact. Will I share my water with them, once theirs has run out? Yes, I will. 

Meanwhile, whilst I am on hands and knees trying to wrestle the weeds from my concrete-like dried-out cracked soil, I reflect upon the parallels with water shortage worldwide. Will we share our water with other countries? I wonder... Humanity has not such a good track record with sharing.

Mental health

Another thought that pops up, quite frequently to be honest, is that this garden is my salvation. It was mental awareness week in Britain, and there was no surprise at all to hear experts declare that working in a garden does wonders for your mental health. I know mine certainly does! It helps keep away those 'blues' I so dearly love to sing about, but wrestle with in daily life. Scent plays a large part, I find, especially that of my greenhouse and that of neighbour Yvon's huge fig. I can actually feel my brain relax, and I feel an uplift of my emotions.

So. Doctors should prescribe gardening instead of anti-depressives and sleeping pills (which I refuse to take).

My flowers are mostly hanging on, although they have almost stopped growing. A good example of this are my digitalis and verbena bonariensis. The four, 2 of each, I have planted on my balcony on the same day I put their siblings in the garden, are three times as tall and wide and far greener. The verbena is almost in flower, whilst in the garden there is not a bud in sight.

Early one morning I disturbed a hare, who was stretched out enjoying the sunshine in a clump of poppies against my greenhouse. He raced away when he saw me. Probably a guilty conscience, because he had nibbled on Hans's beans! 

Jemima definitely dislikes the branches in 'her' frog pond, she repeatedly tries to dislodge them. She cannot, so she chucks in the logs that decorate the edge, just to make a statement. I fish them out again, and thus we keep each other busy.

But oh, oh, oh, would I welcome a rainy day, or what?!

You can follow my garden(ing) on Instagram@songsmith2962 and Pixelfed@DutchDeltaWoman . Have a lovely day in your garden!

64 - Balcony Tales

 With all the tales about my struggling allotmentgarden, you could  almost, but not quite, forget that I started out with a balconygarden, which is going strong despite the weirdly dry spring weather.

Obviously the magic word is watering. I do water my planters, otherwise those plants I cherish would be dead within a week, with my always blowing wind. And to be fair I have learned through trial and many errors which plants like to live 16 metres above ground, with a prevailing SW wind and lashed by regular gales with shattering rain.

That first summer (moved in in June, together with a guinea pig and masses of plants)I had my beloved cottage plants - lobelia, sweet peas, roses, lilies, honeysuckle, lavatera, fuchsias, busy lizzies and then some. And they all took a second look at the balcony and said no, thanks, we are not happy here! 

It took an episode of Gardener's World (it was James Wong, I remember) to open my eyes. Crickey, I had moved those plants from a sheltered back garden to a cliff top! No wonder they did not feel at home.

The second summer I bought cliff top plants. Grasses (carex and festuca), scabiosa, daisies, campanula. Together with the lobelia which proved tough enough, they did well, but it felt ... sparse. I like my garden to be lush. So I moved in hostas (no slugs on the 3rd floor, I thought, and boy was I proved wrong), who did fine, and then I went wild and grew courgettes. Big mistake, they took up so much room I could hardly sit outside to enjoy their massive leaves, and new stray dog Puck kept trying to sqeeze in as well. And I fell in love with two roses, so they competed for space-with-thorns-on.

The third summer I broke my arm and had to rely on help, so kept it simple. Still, it looked good with heather, lavender and the herbs, nasturtium and calendula which were already there before The Launch. (Puck launched me when she tried to chase a cat. I realised how strong she actually is during my maiden flight, Puck felt very guilty afterwards and the black cat just about sang nana-na-naaaaa-na).

This is the fourth summer. Because of the cost of my allotmentgarden I have only bought 3 geraniums, 2 begonias, 1 scabiosa, 1 wallflower, 1 clematis, 5  lobelia and 2 verbena. (Ha!) The discovery of this year is the heucheras I had put in in Autumn to replace the lavender (not happy). The heucheras actually like my conditions, and I really really like them back. It is a gorgeous plant, with its dark brown-red undersides, especially when the sun shines through.

Foolhardy (yes, know thyself) as I am, I could not resist to put some self-sown digitalis and verbena bonariensis in my planters, just to see if they would survive bolstered up by the sage and rosemary. We shall see. You can be certain I will take photos when they do.

You can read and see more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962  and Pixelfed@DutchDeltaWoman  . Enjoy your Sunday.

63 - A sub-tropical fantasy

Rhubarb flower spike

 My massive rhubarb had produced a just as massive flower spike in only two days, I do not joke!

One of the things I know, and I certainly don't know everything, is that you have to remove flowers when you want the energy to go to the leaves (thank you, Monty). So I cut it off yesterday. But when I threw the rhubarb leaves onto my compost heap, I did not have it in me to destroy that impressive flower as well, so I took it home. And will you just look at it now!

I put it in water, and I swear it has grown another 25 cm. Wow. That is some growing power. I am in awe. And, obviously straight away, for I am forever curious, I wondered if this strength to keep alive will make it produce water roots. If and when it does, it will get a nice large container on the balcony, and become a companion for my beloved hostas.  Large leaved plants are super cool. 

The jungle vibe

The sub-tropical gardens of Cornwall and the Scilly Isles are a wanna-create dream of mine, but knowing that my heavy clay will never be able to allow me to create a garden like that, perhaps I will be able to create a Dutch Delta equivalent, using the only plants that seem to thrive here. Like rhubarb. And artichoke - the proof that they survive my soil is around me on my own allotment club. The next experiment is going to be courgettes and squashes, bananas being out of the question. And I'll try cannas, cannot not try, it goes against my nature. According to gardening God Monty Don cannas do well in heavy clay, as long as you feed them. He says liquid seaweed, well, my garden centre does not sell that, so ordinary plant manure will have to do.

The frog pond

Meanwhile, my frog pond is teeming with what I suspect are mosquito larvae, so I am thinking about putting signposts up for those frogs that still have not found their way there. Jemima has been absent these past days as well, perhaps she's in a huff about the large branches I have secured the waterlily with.

The good news is that the cup-and-saucer-vines (all 6 of them) have survived their first few nights away from the greenhouse. They are already climbing up their bamboo frames, made for me by mentally challenged people another gardener knows.

Right. Time to go walkies, Puck says by deep sighs and sideways looks.

You can read more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962 and see some more photos on Pixelfed@DutchDeltaWoman . Not bad eh, for a semi-digimoron? Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

62 - The mystery of the floating log.

 Mr Waddles is elusive, but now I have a new resident who is not!

Jemima Puddle-Duck

 Meet Jemima.

 Being a Beatrix Potter fan, I   could not give her any other     name.

 I told you some weeks ago   something large had pushed   one of my logs into the frog pond, and I could not figure out what. Well, on a morning a week ago I disturbed a sleepy wild duck, who was floating in the middle of my tiny pond, head tucked away beneath a wing,  looking very much at home. She is properly wild though, so when I tried to sneak up on her she was awake in a flash and having none of it. She walked out, literally, as the water level is so low it only comes up to her belly, and hid behind my neighbour's kale.

Naturally she is welcome to stay, bring her lover to dinner, have her ducklings take their first dip in my frog pond. 

My son raised a duckling when he was twelve, he used to take her swimming in the large pond behind our house (he in his rowboat, she paddling madly behind), and she came back to our garden in spring for years, proudly showing off her ducklings. We recognised her by her slightly wonky right wing.

See, Jemima, I have duck history!

We rescued ducks, pheasants, crows, jackdaws, hedgehogs, a hawk, two swans (do you have any idea how large a male mute swan is?!) and the most amazing angora rabbit. Perhaps I'll tell you about him someday. In hindsight I realise we had wonderfully tolerant dogs! I often tell Puck about those dogs, but she only gives me the stink-eye. In her opinion a good dog makes certain nothing on 4, or 2 legs with feathers, is able to get within 10 metres of me.

It being Easter last weekend  I had the allotment mostly to myself, and risked planting out my many Digitalis alba plants. They had outgrown their pots, and were crowding the greenhouse, so I said right, outside with you. They immediately greened up my flowerbeds, hurray. They will not flower this year yet, I expect, but never mind, as long as they are green. And  my clematis had grown 3", so I had something to tie up, yay. Mind you, the seeds I had sown in between the verbena on my mound seem to be sprouting...fingers crossed. I have forgotten the name (what else is new), but it is perennial, and the same colours as the wallflowers beneath the mound. Who seem happy, by the way, good!

Whilst planting my Digitalis I noticed some potatoes showing their heads above ground, but not where I had planted my first earlies! Oh dear, some stowaways from last summer I think. I'll leave them be, green is green, and bar some weeds everything green is most welcome. And I ended by sowing my beetroot now that there was some space in the greenhouse again. Let's hope it fares better than the salad leaves, which have so far been nibbled by either the dreaded slugs or mice. Or do you think Mr Waddles could be a vegetarian?

Jemima in the meantime makes a right mess of the frog pond, the silly duck. She seems to like dunking the plants. I've tried to secure them with the lava rocks now, let's hope it suffices.

More about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962  Have a great week!

61- Our unpredictable climate

 On Thursday afternoon I was watering my parched pot potatoes (no rain for over a month) in my t-shirt, and on Friday morning I woke up to snow and 4 below zero temperatures. 

Woolly hat back on! 

As Puck and I slip-slided through early morning walkies, I thought back to previous years. Did I experience this abrupt weather rollercoaster before, ever? Well, my memories of previous April 1st celebrations (we have a huge street party in my town to remember "we" threw out the Spanish oppressor in 1572) are mostly of getting a thorough soaking just when you have bought some chips, and there is usually a lot of wind to make all those flags snap. But this huge a change...no, can't recall.

My balcony plants have taken it in their stride, but the allotment plants, hm, don't know yet. My experience is plants usually do not react well to rollercoasters, and simply put their growth on halt. Or die. I'm especially apprehensive about my clematis and artichoke, as they were put in under near desert conditions, and now have had to deal with sudden winter on top of that.

Some of my plants simply shrug and get on with it though.

And in the greenhouse all is well.

This morning I decided to plant out my Verbena bonariensis, as they outgrew their 9" pots, and I had no soil to pot them on once again. So I gave them a pep talk*,  dug them all a nice hole (pragmatically, i.e. at places I could get my trowel in), watered them in and left them to get on with it.

* "Well, here's the thing. You have been pampered since October, but no more. You are tough, you can do this! When you spot a slug, hit it over the head with a clot, Frith knows they are like concrete. Oh, and there won't be extra watering, so dig in those roots!"

The cauliflower are growing well, and I've planted some paksoi today, in between the salad greens (which so far are disappointing, but I have since read that they like light to sprout, ah. Well, in my defence, the earlier batch were covered and did just fine). As soon as I've moved the rest of the Digitalis outside, I'll prepare a bed for the radishes neighbour Yvon has given me, three kinds, no less.

And the beans have been moved outside as well, behind the greenhouse, next to the Apple trees. They were leggy...note to self: do not sow them that early next year!!

I have 5 days off work now, so there will be a lot more planting (on the balcony as well), so I will have a lot to tell you next week.

And perhaps, hopefully, there will be some news about the frog pond. Mr Waddles has moved himself back into the greenhouse though. I noticed him staring at me from behind the garlic this morning.

You can read more about my gardens at Instagram@songsmith2962,  where there are more photos of my garden as well.

60 - Oh my, March was terribly dry! And April started with snow.

 Spending time in my garden is one of my favourite things, on a level with making music, painting, reading and eating. But these weeks it certainly takes up almost all of my free hours.

My romping Digitalis

And the thing is, most of that time was spent watering, for it was like the Sahara desert in Brielle. In March we normally enjoy 60 mm of rain, and this year we had 1 mm. Watering on my plot means carting watering cans to and fro, and as my go-to waterbutt was empty by the end of March, it meant an extra 10 metres every time.

This afternoon  (I write this on March 26th) I planted 30 Crocosmia bulbs, and I was that worried the poor little things would not survive the desert conditions (extremely dry and sunny during the day, but freezing at night) that I decided to plant half in pots in the greenhouse, just in case the same thing happened as with the Narcisii...namely they could not push through that rock hard soil. I did put my giant Lilies in though...fingers crossed.

Cup and saucer vines

Greenhouse

I salvaged the slightly nibbled but not completely destroyed vines and put them on my highest shelf. The others I composted. And I showed my greenhouse toad, Mr Waddles, the way to the pond. He was slightly bemused, but then swam to the nearest pot of Carex and perched.

Planted 6 Cauliflowers, 3 Parsley, and 3 rows of salad leaves. I still aim to sow my Spinach, Courgettes and Chard in between the flowers outside, but will have to see what the weather does in April. So far we've had snow, frost and yet another two storms.

And I treated myself to a Tillandsia usneoides, which we call Spaans Mos.

Why? Just for fun.

As I said, I read a lot (approx. 50 books a year), and that plant evokes the Southern plantations of books I practically devoured. Ever read The Vampire Chronicles (by Anne Rice)? I only have to gaze at my Tillandsia and I am in Louisiana.

I managed to keep my obelisks upright during the last storm by putting heavy paving slabs on the bottom rungs.

That made me heave a deep sigh of relief, I tell you! You can read lots more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962,  and in the meantime love from Mr Waddles and myself, enjoy your hours in your garden!