Tag Archives: flowers

the language of flowers

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Yesterday, along with the usual cries of “Where’s my games kit, who stole my lunch bag, I’ve only got one shoe”, Matilda threw in a request for a bunch of flowers. Her friend Issy had phoned in tears because their cat had been hit by a car. Poor Issy, she was distraught. I’m not sure whether or not the flowers helped, but it was nice that Matilda chose to express her sympathy this way rather than sending a text full of emoticons.

Though of course it’s entirely possible that she sent one of those as well :(

ferdinand’s last hurrah

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At the end of the week in which I said farewell to R. Mme Alfred Carriere, and resigned myself to five or six months without roses in the garden, I found R. Ferdinand Pichard lurking in a clump of Macleaya.  It’s rather late for it to be in flower – June to October is the normal range – but I guess it’s because we’ve had such a mild autumn and, whatever the reason for its late appearance, I was delighted to find it. I doubt that the other buds will come to much, but I’m enjoying the one that has flowered: its distinctive splashy stripes have such fine streaks at their edges one could easily be fooled into believing they had been painted on. It also smells divine. As the rose responsible for my passion for the plants it seems fitting that, of all the roses in my garden, it should be Ferdinand Pichard taking a final curtain call as winter sets in.

slim pickings

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Autumn has returned and although I was enjoying the unseasonal warmth of the evenings, I’m quite glad it’s back. I was starting to find the heat of the mornings, particularly at 7am when it is still almost dark, a little strange and rather confusing even.

This morning was reassuringly grey, with the promise of blue skies and gentle warmth later. And now, at half eleven, the weather has delivered, flooding our kitchen, which faces south, with the low, slanting light that I so love about this time of year.

Out in the garden the choice of plants for picking narrows by the day. Luckily my appetite for *Fennel and Knautia macedonica remains undiminished. It doesn’t seem to matter how hastily or clumsily I arrange them, or fail to arrange them, they still look good.

Sadly, after only a few weeks of glory, the Virginia Creeper is on her way out.
Still, she put on a good show and has earned her place on the fence.

* With a little achillea thrown in for good measure, depending on my mood.

today’s crop

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I have various posts lurking in my draft box: a post about the triffid-like nature of nasturtiums, several on our holiday in France, and another about Cotehele which we visited way back in May. All are waiting for their photographs; photographs which have yet to be sorted. We had an iPhoto melt down at the start of the summer and my files have yet to recover. But in the process of sifting, sorting, rebooting and backing up, we have unearthed missing photographs from 2002 and 2005, which the girls had hysterics over last night – Martha outraged that she wasn’t in any from 2002, even though she wasn’t born until 2004. Anyway, the long and short of it is that sorting all these bloody photographs is agony for my wrist – my mouse mat is not the best, and the mouse is rebelling and I am feeling the strain, so posts may be slow.

Meanwhile the months gallop by and the seasons change, and this morning I noticed that the sedum I planted at the top of the last set of steps has finally turned from pale green to rich red, prompting me to run for the scissors. The knautia is looking amazing and clearly trying to give the verbena a run for its money.

As ever the name of the sedum has gone awol, but it is a tumbling, recumbent variety so should be easy enough to track down, and when I do I’ll post details here in a PS.

PS As promised, a plant ident. update: Sue, my mother-in-law has suggested that the sedum with no name is possibly S.Ruby Glow

the last of the sweet peas

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This morning I picked the last of the deliciously scented sweet pea, King Size Navy blue. I thought it was over when we left for France two weeks ago, but it was going strong on our return. Seen here with Verbena bonariensis and Fennel flowers. On the list for next year.

back

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On our return from France yesterday afternoon I was hit by a delayed panic about the garden: had it survived without being watered for two weeks? I braced myself for a scene of devastation – beds filled with scorched, parched vegetation, bare earth etc.

Instead, my nasturtiums have formed a hedge and the verbena towers over our heads.

The nigella has flowered and the sedums are starting to take on their autumnal blush.

And last, but by no means least, my anemones are looking rather lovely, better than they’ve ever looked before in fact. Phew!

Then again, perhaps it’s been raining.

pick of the week

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Back in May, when I planted up the newly terraced beds, I was worried that I’d left it all too late for there to be any chance of the garden looking interesting this summer. But three months later, although in no way finished, the garden is full enough to provide me with a daily fix of flowers. Not massive bunches for huge vases, but small posies just large enough to fill a stem vase, little jug, jam jar or tin can. The bunch above, which includes roses, fennel flowers, sweet peas, sedum and achillea (I was guided by the colours on the golden syrup tin), was picked at the start of the week for a friend’s birthday.

The next morning I gathered the slightly garish little selection above for the bathroom windowsill. It’s not the most tasteful affair, but something about the clash of the nasturtiums and achillea with the soft mauve of the Verbena bonariensis, and the hazey blue of the catnip pleases me – it feels slightly 70s for some reason, like a jolly wallpaper design for the kitchen. Later the same day, rather obsessed with the nasturtiums, which seem to be taking over the garden (more in another post), I picked the flowers below.

The need to keep the sweet peas producing prompted the picking of the next bunch, that and the desire to have the scent filling the kitchen. Incidentally, this vase is my best bargain ever – 25p in a charity shop. I don’t know anything about it, it has no mark, but I love its nipped in waist and the graphic grey, black and white stripes which are enlivened by little raised dots of orange and teal – odd and lovely in equal measure.

By midweek my inner Constance Spry had awoken fully, and I found myself tip-toeing through the flower beds in my pyjamas, scissors in hand. No plant was safe. Sedum in particular has been a regular target – fortunately I have a lot of it – and it has proved to be not only a very useful filler, propping floppier flowers up and bulking out the little bunches, but also a star in its own right. I like mixing it with knautia and fennel fronds -

and with verbena bonariensis, which I also have in abundance.

Yesterday I went all out and just cut a bit of anything I could reach without falling over: the last of the buddleja (Black Knight), more verbena, knautia and nepeta, sweet peas, again, some roses – Gertrude is in flower once more –  scabiosa and a lone anemone.

It’s not a great picture, but this little jug of flowers smells amazing – the combined scent of the musky, honeyed buddleja, the heady sweet peas and the fresh sweetness of Gertrude Jekyll is out of this world. The perfume curls up the stairwell from the kitchen so that every now and then you catch a little waft as you move around the house.

The jug, one of a pair, is a bit of junk shop treasure rather than a charity shop bargain, and it’s perfect for flowers. I’m planning to use it for the Nigella which is about to flower any day now.

the remains of the day

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I picked these flowers last night, just before some friends came over for supper. I took a photograph with a view to finally writing a post about how much the garden has come on in the last month – the table was nice and clean, there were candles, all very lovely. But due to entirely predictable seasonal difficulties (all of which involve children in combination with one or more items from a long list that includes dog, water, food, clothing, bed, tv, wii, door slamming, mud, lost stuff, squabbling, money, nits, and even gorillas) and the added stress of a complete iphoto meltdown, in which it appeared that an archive of some 11,000 photographs had not only become corrupted, but also ballooned to over 22,000, that post has not materialized.

In its place I give you the flowers as they were this morning. They look like this still, only the milk has finally been put back in the fridge and in its place there is a bottle of red wine and the remains of supper.

Garden update to follow soon.

ferdinand & gertrude again

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The first ‘proper’ bunch of flowers from the garden. Ferdinand Pichard is looking magical, filled with buds and fresh green leaves. But there is also quite a lot of powdery mildew, despite my efforts to control it. I am also concerned that the spot I’ve chosen for Ferdinand is less than ideal – the reach of the hazel is such that the rose sits in shade for a large part of the day. I think the loppers will be out this weekend.

Gertrude Jekyll is producing beautiful fat flowers on a daily basis, despite being less that 2ft tall, though she is already beginning to creep up the wall.

I cut some nepeta, the first peachy-pink Iceland poppy, and a sprig of tarragon for height, and packed them all in an old marmalade pot along with the roses.

This is how they looked this morning. For those who are interested in these things, Ferdinand outperforms Gertrude on the perfume-front, which is impressive as Gertrude Jeykll is a renowned for its fragrance. And my mother, who has a Rosa Mundi (which looks similar to Ferdinand Pichard, but is a good 2-300 years older), says that Ferdinand Pichard has the upper hand there as well.

NB: Both Roses came from David Austin.

rain check

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I never thought I’d be quite so delighted to wake up to rain in late May, especially as I live in Bristol where it rains, and rains, and rains. Or at least that’s how it feels. But this morning, the sound of heavy rain on the skylight at the top of the house washed away the guilt I’d been feeling about my neglectful ways down at the allotment.

As one child is slightly under the weather, and at 8.30 was deep in hibernation mode, I was relieved of the school run and so spent the next half an hour inspecting the garden instead. I love the way fat rain drops sit in the pleats of poppy petals and fill tightly packed rosebuds. On the leaves of Alchemilla and Nasturtium, rain drops look like beads of mercury, but as neither of those two plants are really in their stride at the moment, I wasn’t granted that particular treat this morning.  The top two photographs are William Lobb; and the bottom one is the Iceland poppy, Papaver nudicaule ’Party Fun’, which pops up as pure white, fiery orange, electric yellow or this rather pretty, pearly pink.

As you can see, the rain brings out the Iceland poppy’s other fans as well…

We tend to think of snails as slow creatures don’t we? Well this particular poppy was gone in an instant. There wasn’t much point stopping the carnage, instead I watched transfixed as the snail gobbled up the petals, one by one. Then I plucked him off and threw him on the ground where the birds would see him. I’m a bit hopeless about actually crushing snails myself, but happy enough to put them in the path of certain doom. I’m not sure what that says about me.

Tomorrow I’ll be writing what I hope will become a weekly post in which I review or profile a local shop, designer or artist. I have taken a two year break from journalism, and although I haven’t missed it much, I do miss writing about people whose work I really admire, and would like to share with others. Tomorrow’s profile will also involve a really lovely giveaway, so come back and follow the link.