Sometimes flowers don’t survive here for long. Last year these autumn crocuses were growing in little wall-mounted pots by our front door. Really, they needed to be planted in the ground. However, because they’re very toxic, I decided that it would be best to keep them somewhere out of reach of our cats.
So this year they haven’t come back. Totally unsurprising, given that they had so little space to grow in. But that’s OK – sometimes I’m happy to have a plant that I know will just be temporary. It can be enjoyed at the time (and of course, photographed), and valued for the brief enhancement it brings to the garden.
Most of our plants do come back from year to year. Others are a fleeting glory that remains only in memories and photos. For me, they give a bit of variety to both the garden and my photography.
These autumn crocuses may be gone, but, having given me something new to photograph, their images will remain.
A very wet weekend means that I am forced to stay indoors – unless I fancy a thorough soaking. But that’s not bad, because it gives me the chance to think about what I’m doing next in the garden.
I’m still working on building a pond and a new border running along that side of the garden. This has been my ‘Covid project’, although it actually started back towards the end of 2018. (Hubby offered to help this year, but I decided to continue on my own because it has given me a sense of purpose during this strange year.)
It has felt as if digging the pond would go on forever, partly because our dry ground is practically impossible to dig in summer. Also, I have found that the site for the pond has much more of a slope than I first realised. (It’s amazing how invisible a slope can be until you start using a spirit-level.)
I thought I’d finished digging the pond back in May. But the smaller sizes of pond liner were sold out when I tried to buy one, so I decided that I might as well make the pond bigger. More digging! (More soil to shift too.)
At last I’ve got to the point where I need to think carefully about the border around the pond. This area was always pretty awful – overshadowed and impoverished by huge conifers in the neighbouring garden and swamped by the few thuggish plants that could grow there. (The worst ones were two types of deadnettle. They’re valuable for bees but in our soil they just keep spreading…and spreading.)
Which brings me to the flower above – a Japanese Anemone. I’ve mentioned how invasive they can be in previous posts, but they are beautiful. This one was growing in a raised bed in the ‘pond border’ which was acting as a temporary nursery area. I’ve just cleared that bed away and potted up all the plants from it. But now I have to think about where to put them in the new border and whether they may cause trouble.
Since I know the anemone is a little trouble-maker, I’ve decided to keep it in a pot. (Probably many pots eventually…) It’s not the only plant that is making me pause for thought. I’ve just read that some ferns are allelopathic, meaning that they emit chemicals that suppress the growth of other competing plants. So does this mean that the particular ferns I want to plant out will damage the plants around them? I haven’t been able to find out so far. Maybe my ferns will also have to stay in pots.
Other plants are making me wonder too. Like the perennial sunflower I photographed back in August (Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’). After struggling to grow for years, this has suddenly grown tall and wide. Will it now try to take over?
As it rains outside, I’m busily Googling all these plants. I need to find out which are safe to grow together without some being bullied out of existence by their bigger and more boisterous neighbours. Sometimes being a gardener feels more like being a referee!
Although it’s late autumn, there are still some flowers in our conservatory. We treat it as an ‘indoor garden’ rather than as a sitting room and try to have a few plants in there all year. (We haven’t actually got that many yet – I’m working on it!)
The most eye-catching of the flowers there are those of a young bougainvillea plant. This is just its second year and it has been well covered in flowers. (So has the floor – I seem to be always sweeping them up.) I love the showiness and flamboyance of the bright flowers – really I should say bracts, rather than flowers.
Apart from the glorious colour, these have a nostalgic attraction for me. My parents spent over 20 years in Spain when they retired, and had exactly the same colour of bougainvillea growing by their front door. So this bougainvillea brings back happy memories of spending time in the sun with Mum and Dad.
Seeing bougainvillea in flower in Spain always made me wish I could grow it too. There was a garden centre close to my parents’ apartment and I frequently went there to buy plants for their garden. That was a great excuse for spending ages wandering around looking at all the exciting and (to me) exotic-looking flowers, shrubs and trees. (If you’ve been reading this blog for a little while, you’ll know that time spent discovering plants makes me happy.)
The bougainvillea flowers will soon be gone from my plant, but I’ll look forward to seeing them again next year and to the sunshine that comes with them too. By then, I hope we’ll all be able to get out and discover the things that make us happy.
Now that we’re so far into autumn, I have already photographed most of the flowers that are left in the garden. So I’m catching up on a bit of photo-processing from earlier in the year.
The clematis here (‘Samaritan Jo’) was planted late last year, and I had been excitedly waiting to see what the flowers would be like. In early summer, a mixture of single flowers and double flowers appeared, and even one (at bottom) that didn’t seem able to decide which it wanted to be.
The deep magenta/purple edging to the petals was what initially attracted me to this clematis. The faint magenta lines along the midrib of the petals and the slightly greenish tips add to the beauty of the flower, and make it a delight to photograph.
This clematis was named in honour of the volunteers who work for the Samaritans. (Apparently they are all known as ‘Samaritan Jo’.)
It seems to have settled down quite well in the garden. (I have lost a few clematis by planting them in areas where they got really baked by the summer sun and didn’t have enough moisture in the soil around them.) ‘Jo’ is in a position that doesn’t dry out too much and has a bit of shade to the base of the plant.
Hopefully there will be lots more pretty flowers on this lovely clematis next year. (A happy thought right at the moment, with rain falling here and the wind suddenly sending leaves flying everywhere!)
I managed to photograph these rudbeckias (coneflowers) before they got too weather-beaten to use. (They’re actually gone now – only the brown seed-heads remain – so I was just in time.)
The rudbeckia below (and at bottom) is ‘Goldsturm’ and it has given a rich touch of gold to the main border for weeks. I’d though of moving it to a position that would give it a little more moisture but it seems settled where it is. (Moving it might be risky too, I’ve lost them a few times, both back in Scotland and here. I think they got too dry.)
The rudbeckia at the top of this post is, I think, an annual. Hubby grew it from seed as part of his collection of potted plants in the front garden. (That part is his domain!) Sitting in its big pot, it has added a welcoming glow by our front door. It must have been in constant flower for a couple of months and now that it has gone over, I miss it!
There’s a new yellow tint seeping into the garden now as the leaves gradually change colour. Somehow at this time of year, we always seem to have a week or two of very rough, windy weather. So the leaves get blown off before there’s time to fully appreciate that yellow. If the wind does let up for a little while, I might get the chance to nip outside with my camera. (But I suspect I’ll end up collecting fallen leaves instead and photographing those.)
This week my garden is full of Michaelmas daisies. I would call them asters – but that isn’t necessarily true. Actually, I do still call them asters, even though some had their name changed a few years ago.
My preference for the old name is because the new name for some asters is such an awkward mouthful. ‘Symphyotrichum’ isn’t exactly easy to say and is even harder to spell. (If I’ve got it wrong, I can blame the RHS website, which is my usual go-to for spelling plant names.)
And if that’s not bad enough, many other popular asters were given a different name – ‘Eurybia’. Well, at least that one is much easier to spell, but it makes life more complicated for gardeners. But then there’s also ‘Galatella’, ‘Doellingeria’ and others – argh!
In fact, I have no idea of the names of all but one of the Michaelmas daisies here. I know that the flower below is Symphyotrichum laeve ‘Les Moutiers’ because I bought it from a nursery. But the small blue daisy above and the dark pink one at the bottom were both given by friends and their names are a mystery to me for now.
(I think the top photo – taken in a garden I visited last year – is probably Aster x frikartii ‘Monch’. It’s a plant I’ve been meaning to buy for a while, but it will have to wait until it’s easier to go plant-shopping.)
Whatever their names might be, I love seeing the colours of these daisies at a time when we’ve been plunged into dull weather with grey skies and lots of rain. They cheer me up and remind me that there’s a while yet before winter approaches.
More importantly, the bees are busily (and buzzily!) making the most of the nectar and pollen provided by these flowers. Having flowers for bees and other pollinators as late as possible in the year is one of my aims for the garden. The asters are a big help with this.
Whenever I do get the chance to buy plants again, I’ll just have to make sure that I’ve written down the names of any Michaelmas daisies that I want. (And then I’ll have to check it carefully, because most of my books and quite a few websites are out of date.) That way I’ll have a better chance of remembering the names of the plants I want!
It’s very wet and windy here and has been for a few days. So no chance of close-up photography in the garden. (Although, if I feel up to getting rather wet, I may go out in search of drip-covered spider’s webs later.)
For now, I have opted to stay warm and dry indoors. But what to photograph? Luckily, I don’t even need to go outside to pick some flowers. That’s because I tend to gather up odd bits of dried plant material and other natural bits and pieces that catch my interest, like these dried bougainvillea bracts.
I am fascinated by the structure of plants. There is such a variety of shapes and of ways that the parts of the plant are constructed. Looking at them from close-up allows you to see all the little details – sometimes much more than you would have expected from a passing glance.
Photographing these bougainvillea heads under studio lights gives the lace-like veins of the bracts a clarity and crispness. The strong light enhances the translucent bracts and also helps them to stand out against their plain white background.
These are very simple photographs to take but the results please me. It shows how worthwhile it is to gather up things like these – nature’s tiny creations – and to take a close look at them. Next, I really ought to go and photograph the flowers that are still on the bougainvillea plant. Luckily, that’s in the nice dry conservatory!
This year I decided to grow cosmos ‘Seashells’ (above), but it has taken a long time to come into flower. For a while, I didn’t think there would be any flowers at all. Now, however, the first few flowers have opened and there are plenty more buds for flowers to come.
I was worried that I had sown the seeds too late. (Sometimes there are just too many things wanting to be done at the same time in spring.) Even so, I hoped for a late show of flowers from them and they haven’t let me down.
I belong to a gardeners’ group on Facebook, and some of the members had been discussing the lateness in flowering of their cosmos plants. One of the group came up with the information that it’s simply because the plant is sensitive to day-length and needs a short day (long night) to be able to produce flowers.
That’s something that I would never have thought of before. Living in the UK, I tend to assume that flowers will want the longer days of summer. (I imagine that people who live in areas where cosmos are native or naturalised will be much more aware of the effect of the day-length.)
Apparently there are new varieties which don’t need the short days and can flower earlier in the summer. So next year I can either buy these seeds, or relax, take my time, and sow the older varieties a bit later. Or maybe try both – you can never have too many pretty flowers!
The white flowers of passionflower ‘Constance Elliot’ have been gradually appearing over recent weeks. There are never many at a time, but the sprinkling of delicate blooms feels like something very special to me.
This climber has only been in the garden for a couple of years, so it will no doubt spread and have a greater number of flowers in time. That’s if it can come through the cold of the winter!
There’s something about growing plants that are not really hardy or are only borderline hardy in your area that makes it all the more exciting and satisfying when they survive and flower.
Having lived most of my life in Scotland, it was a surprise to find that we could grow such things as passionflowers and grapevines here in Suffolk – and a tempting novelty! (Of course, there are things we could grow in Scotland that won’t grow here – rhododendrons particularly.)
Right now I’m trying to work faster in the garden to get as much as I can done before the weather turns wet and windy and winter arrives. Autumn can be a busy time, with plants to be split and moved, but this year there is plenty more to do on the new pond border. I’ll probably find myself working outside through the better weather of winter too – there’s so much to do! But for the moment, I must remember to take the time to enjoy the beautiful flowers that appear so briefly in the garden, especially these passionflowers.
From my recent posts of zinnias, heleniums and echinaceas, you might be thinking that my garden is a blaze of bright colours at the moment.
But, in fact, it isn’t. There are areas of softer colours too, mainly because there are so many Japanese anemones. (They spread and get everywhere if they get the chance.) There are two pink ones – ‘September Charm’, which is the paler of the two, and ‘Hadspen Abundance’. (That’s the one in the top photo, complete with a little ladybird.)
The third anemone is ‘Honorine Jobert’, a white one that doesn’t seem to spread as aggressively as the other two.
Despite their desire to take over the garden, I’m happy to see the mass of soft pink anemone flowers. It’s a restful, relaxing colour. Next year, I’m thinking of moving some of them beside our main sitting area and combining them with pale purples, such as perovskia (Russian sage) and silver foliage. This should help to create a laid-back area where we can allow our cares and stresses to float away…hopefully!
Another soft pink, this time unexpected, has been a second flowering of one of the delphiniums. To be honest, I don’t expect these delphinium plants to last long here, but I couldn’t resist them when I saw the pink that also has tones of mauve. These plants really like to be well-fed and don’t like too much heat and drought, so our garden is very unsuitable. I shall just have to try to remember to water them with tomato food and enjoy them for as long as they survive.
A soft blue with a slight blush of magenta pink is a colouring I especially love and can be seen in the geranium pictured here. I’ve no idea what the variety is. (It was already in the garden when we arrived.) It manages to produce flowers over a long period and grows in the dry soil beneath several shrubs. Really, I ought to move a piece to somewhere where it would have more space and moisture, just to see what it can do.
The last of the more delicately-coloured flowers for this week is the blue scabious below. I find that scabious loves the sun and well-drained soil here. They flower over a long period and attract bees and butterflies, so there’s more than the pretty colour to enjoy. They’re almost finished for this year, but can produce the occasional late flower when you’re not expecting it.
It feels great to find a plant that is both delightful and happy in the conditions that you can give it, so next year I’ll be planning to plant more scabious varieties. And I’ll hope that there will be part of the garden that is full of gentle colours that bring rest and relaxation. (And, of course, bees and butterflies too!)