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There are hardly any flowers left in the garden now, so almost everything is in shades of green, with a few leaves turning yellow here and there. (There are still the purple leaves of the smoke bush in the front garden. With a bit of luck, these will turn some interesting shades of yellow and orange – if they don’t get blown off first!)
During the last week, I’ve seen a bit of colour from fruits and berries in the garden. We finished picking the fruit from our apple trees a couple of days ago…you can see the last of the fruit on our Braeburn tree above. Our other apple tree is a Cox’s Orange Pippin which had already had its fruit picked a little while ago, so the Braeburn’s apples give later colour.
Near the apples we have a holly bush. I was considering cutting it back a lot this year because it has grown somewhat tall and spindly. I’m glad I didn’t do it, because this year there are more berries on it than I’ve seen before. This means a feast for the blackbirds!
The blackbirds (which are my favourite garden bird – alongside the robin) must do quite well here. We have two grapevines, one of which is huge and shades an arbour. The blackbirds seem to be constantly in and out of this when there are ripening grapes. We only eat a few of the grapes ourselves (they don’t get very sweet), so we don’t begrudge them to the birds. There are plenty of other berries, including the orange-red berries of our rowan tree and, later on, the ivy berries. It’s just as well that we have these to distract the birds, because blackbirds are partial to apples too… 🙂
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It is raining, it has been raining, and there is more rain to come…
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you will probably have noticed that I frequently mention that we have a dry climate here in the east of England. Drought is something I worry about in the garden and I try not to have many plants that require moist ground.
Not raindrops but melted frost drops from last winter.
This week has felt quite strange because it has rained and rained. In fact, this summer was unusually rainy and our grass even stayed green. I’ve read that the heavier rainfall may be a part of global warming (because warm air can hold more moisture) but this does feel unexpected.
Because it has been so wet, I thought it appropriate to post some watery pictures. However, I have a confession to make…they aren’t raindrops, but drops of melted frost photographed last winter. (It has been much too wet and grey for me to want to take the camera outside.)
We have been lucky here. Storm Babet hasn’t caused much disruption. But elsewhere, especially in Scotland, people have been forced to leave flooded homes and much damage has been done. Sometimes the forces of Nature can be thoroughly alarming!
The golden oat (Stipa gigantea) looks at its best when covered in frost, even if that frost has melted.
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This year was a worrying one as far as tiny visitors to the garden went. In spring and early summer it definitely felt as if there were fewer bees and other pollinators around. Butterflies, too, seemed scarcer this year. Things improved in the later part of the summer and there were days when there were a fair number of insects around, but not as good as previous years.
Last winter was a very cold one, with much harder frosts than we usually get. Presumably, this must have made it harder for hibernating insects to make it through to spring. I’ve also read that last year’s drought didn’t help insect numbers. Hopefully the wetter summer this year will have produced an improvement.
Common Carder bee
It was a relief to see bees and butterflies appearing as the summer progressed. But there were some things that I didn’t see here, such as the Small Tortoiseshell butterfly in the photo below.
Peacock butterflies were a rare sight here too, but Red Admirals appeared in good numbers. (They are the commonest butterflies in my garden, along with the Cabbage Whites.) The largest number I saw was on a particularly sunny day, when about a dozen Red Admirals and a solitary Peacock were feasting on a buddleia. For a few warm days there were enough of them around to swirl past me whenever I walked along the path and brushed against our butterfly bushes.
Small Tortoiseshell butterfly photographed in a previous summer
There was an increase in dragonflies visiting – they have obviously become more aware of our pond. It was amusing to watch these fairly heavy creatures try to settle on the nearby stems of evening primrose, which quickly bent and swayed under their weight. To give them better lookout posts, I pushed some big birch twigs into the pots of a couple of the pond plants. I hope they appreciated them!
Although this appeared to be a poor year for insects, there are some signs of hope in the attitudes towards their welfare. I’ve noticed a lot more wild plants and food plants for bees and butterflies in garden centres and nurseries, a response to the growing interest in gardening for wildlife. And, much to my delight, our local council stopped mowing many grassy areas. This means that the green that runs in front of the houses here is being allowed to become wilder. I’m hoping that in a few years we’ll have a decent little wildlife meadow out there!
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Summer is gradually morphing into autumn here. Despite reaching the autumn equinox, the days can be sunny and warm, making it feel as if the season hasn’t yet changed. Most of the leaves on the trees and shrubs around us are still green. The red leaves here really aren’t autumnal at all – they were photographed on a visit to a garden in early August.
North American readers may recognise these gloriously-coloured leaves as belonging to Cercis (redbud), a native of their area. I believe this is Cercis canadensis ‘Forest Pansy’, which has leaves of a deep reddish-purple. (They look much more red here, because I’ve photographed them with the light shining through them. However, the two below were just starting to become a bit more red before turning to the more orange shades of autumn.)
‘Forest Pansy’ is a cultivar that I’ve seen in some of the larger gardens that I visit, but it is not common around here. I do see it available in garden centres, so maybe there will be more of these delightful trees in our area in the future. I certainly hope so! Their heart-shaped leaves are a beautiful sight, especially when the low sunlight catches them and makes them glow.
Cercis (Redbud) leaves
An update: it turns out that the comment box was black because the Orvis theme (for some weird reason) now shows the text and the box as the same colour. (It only happens if you have a white background. It works OK if your background is black.) The ‘Happiness Engineers’ were quick to help, but the only solution was to pick a different theme. (This is Libre 2.) Hope this is helpful for anyone having a similar problem. 🙂
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Spring brings the start of the garden-visiting season for us. This year, one of our first visits was to Columbine Hall, a timber-framed house built in about 1390. It was originally the gatehouse of a medieval manor-house and stands beside an even older defensive moat.
This attractive historic home had its gardens open to visitors as part of the ‘Great Garden Trail’ in aid of Suffolk’s St Elizabeth Hospice. The gardens here were begun by owner Hew Stevenson and his late wife, Leslie Geddes-Brown and developed with the aid of their head gardener, Kate Elliott.
Columbine Hall’s gardens have a dreamy air. The ancient house is surrounded by its moat and gardens (which are a mix of formal and very informal), with views to open fields and the Suffolk countryside.
Formal lawns within the area bounded by the moat. A parterre lies alongside these, and beside that is a much more informal area.
Traditional lawns surrounded by tall clipped hedges (above) provide calm, quiet spaces which contrast with the wilder, nature-inspired parts of the grounds. I particularly loved the area in the below, right-hand photo. Here white and ‘Spring Green’ tulips mingled their way through cow parsley, below rows of pleached limes.
Left: Part of the bog garden, where moisture-loving plants flourish along the edges of a narrow stream. Right: Beside the parterre is a wilder area where tulips grow through cow parsley – one of my favourite parts of the garden.
There are a number of different areas to the garden. A parterre provides a formally-structured area near the house, with rows of pleached trees, clipped cubes of box, and climbers on obelisks. In summer it will be full of flowers, including irises, alliums, hardy geraniums, lavender and Alchemilla mollis.
Nearby, the planting gradually becomes wilder and less formal as it gets closer to the edge of the moat. In a couple of weeks or so, the cow parsley in this area will have reached its full height and its mass of tiny white flowers will create a wild and romantic froth.
A bank with bluebells lies in front of the Mediterranean garden (to the right). Above and to the left is the edge of the orchard.
Outside the space encircled by the moat are other gardens. There is a bog garden, where moisture-loving plants grow, and a walled kitchen garden which, in summer, will be full of colourful vegetables, roses, dahlias and sweet peas. There is also an orchard – which was in full of blossom when we visited – and a Mediterranean garden. (You can see part of both in the photograph above.)
Some of the tulips at Columbine Hall
A few weeks earlier the garden’s collection of Engleheart daffodils would have been in flower. (Columbine Hall holds a part of the National Plant Collection of daffodils bred by Rev. G.H. Engleheart in Victorian times.) Now though, it’s the tulips that demand attention in this garden. (Thousands of tulips are planted every year by Kate Elliott and her assistants.)
There are tulips of a wide range of colours in the garden, even in the vegetable garden, where white tulips look very well with the bold silvery leaves of cardoons. My own favourites amongst the tulips were the dark, reddish-black ones, which you can see below. (I have ‘Black Parrot’ and ‘Queen of Night’ in my garden, as well as the white and green ‘Spring Green’.)
Tulips, irises and fennel in a border beside the house.
My visit to Columbine Hall was thoroughly enjoyable and it gave me both inspiration and food for thought. Seeing the gardens there has encouraged me to wonder how I can combine wild and cultivated plants in my own garden. It would surely make it more appealing to wildlife if I did. I wouldn’t have thought that tulips would look so at home with cow parsley, but it works and looks really lovely. At the same time it provides a better habitat for wildlife.
I hope I’ll get the chance to visit Columbine Hall again. It would be very interesting to see how it looks later in the year. I’m sure it will be beautiful in summertime. I’ll be keeping a lookout to see when their next garden-opening is!
White and ‘Spring Green’ tulips with cow parsley under the pleached limes give an informal, nature-inspired feel.
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With January over, I hope that the cold will begin to ease. It feels like it’s time to get back to work in the garden, but I don’t fancy getting frosted when I do!
We haven’t had any more freezing mornings in the last week, so perhaps these will be the last of my frosty pictures for this year. I’ve been very glad to have the heavy hoar frosts around to give me something to photograph. They have made some very unremarkable parts of the garden take on a new interest.
I’d normally have deadheaded this rose, but this year a few rosehips were left and the frost found them.
Some plants, like the Knautia macedonica (top), are generous in producing late flowers that are likely to get frosted. That makes them an obvious subject for me to photograph. But many of the other plants look much more ordinary until the frost decorates them. So plants that I might not have thought of photographing earlier in the year suddenly demand my attention.
The tiny yellow flowers of the pond plant below (Sisyrinchium californicum, aka yellow eyed grass) are long gone and have been replaced by its seed pods. The frost has turned these into odd-looking spiky growths, almost as if they’ve become some strange winter flowers reaching towards the frozen pond.
Pond plant Sisyrinchium californicum takes on a different appearance when covered in hoar frost.
Sometimes there are non-plant things for me to photograph on a frosty day, like the spider’s web below. I can’t help wondering if the spider has survived the very cold spell – maybe it’s hiding in a warmer spot under some leaves somewhere. At any rate, I’m sure that any spiders and other creatures in the garden will be much happier when it warms up a bit.
However, since I began writing this, I’ve noticed that the latest weather forecast has promised us some very chilly nights. So I may have to be patient and wait a while yet for the warmer weather. (But roll on spring!)
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A climbing hydrangea (Hydrangea anomala subsp. petiolaris) grows in a cool and rather dark spot in our garden. It is beside our main seating area, under a laurel that has grown into a large tree.
The laurel’s shade is a very welcome protection from the hot sun in summertime, both for us and for the hydrangea. Without that bit of shade, the hydrangea would struggle to cope with the way heat can build up here.
The RHS describes this plant as ‘best grown in partial shade in a moist but well-drained soil’. Unfortunately, the soil here is rarely moist in summer. (Winter is a different matter!) This was something I did not realise when I planted it many years ago. Nor did I make much allowance for how dry the tree roots must make the area. Nevertheless, the climber has survived, though growing slowly.
From May to July the hydrangea’s white flowers add a cool note to my favourite place to sit. I get to enjoy their grace and airiness from close quarters. By winter any remaining flowers have turned brown and leathery, but a light dusting of frost makes them graceful again.
You can see the summer flowers of Hydrangea petiolaris in this post.
Frosted hydrangea flowers in a shady corner of my garden.
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The winter chill continues here, with more frozen mornings. Frost brings an icy elegance to the remains of last year’s plant growth. Amongst the most attractive of these frosted plants are the seed heads of Stipa gigantea (golden oats). They become especially lovely when they are coated with a filigree of tiny crystals and backlit by the low morning sun.
The mix of frost and winter sun has brought out the golden tones of the seed heads and made them stand out against their dark background. It’s as if they’ve taken on new life for a short while. On mild days these same seed heads would look drab and dead and would go unnoticed in the garden. A dusting of frost is all it takes to bring subtle details to our attention in winter.
It won’t be long before life is starting again all around the garden. Old leaves and seed heads will be stripped away to make room for spring growth. (I don’t remove these in autumn because they provide shelter for overwintering insects.) For the moment, though, the frost creates its own magic upon the most ordinary of things.
(If you’d like to see how Stipa seed heads look with melting frost, see this post from last year.)
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These well-frosted leaves belong to Sambucus nigra ‘Black Lace’ (a black cut-leaved elder). I was captivated by the way that the shapes of the hoar frost imitated the lacy shapes of the leaves, giving a very decorative effect.
We rarely get hoar frost here. Temperatures don’t normally get low enough for long, but we had a very chilly period before Christmas. For several days we had hard frosts and then snow. It created a magical look to the garden, so I made the most of it and got out there with my camera.
This elder would usually have lost all its leaves by December, but the milder weather in the weeks before must have delayed its urge to shed its leaves. Some leaves, as in the picture below, hadn’t even changed colour but remained a deep blackish-brown.
Right now I am very happy that I have a large stash of frosty photos from last month to use here. It is very grey and wet outside, so the urge to stay warm and dry indoors is strong! There isn’t, anyway, a lot to photograph in the garden in January. (However there are always some jobs to be done whenever the weather is dry enough.) I’m looking forward to the time – not far away – when the new growth starts and the garden comes fully alive again.
Frosted leaves of Sambucus nigra ‘Black Lace’ (black cut-leaved elder).
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It’s time to say goodbye to 2022 and welcome in 2023. I hope that this coming year is a good year for you and treats you kindly. If you celebrate today, I hope you have fun!
I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions but I do look back at what I’ve done over the previous year and make a few small plans for the future. One of the main areas that I plan for is, of course, my garden. The biggest step forward with it in 2022 was the completion of the pond, which delighted me by bringing more wildlife into the garden.
In 2023 I have more work to do in the area around the pond to create a bog garden. I also have plans to create more small wildlife areas and perhaps a bit of space for growing veggies for ourselves. It’s very unlikely that I’ll manage to do all the things I want to, but it feels good to have an idea of where it’s all heading. (I might even take time away from the garden to do a bit of printmaking… 🙂 )
Whatever your hopes and plans for 2023 are, I wish you a very Happy New Year. May it bring you health and happiness and peace!
Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature 