There’s not a lot happening in January and February. I guess that’s a good thing because it’s freezing and wet, and that’s no fun. But it’s frustrating when, at other times of year, there’s almost too much on.
Don’t tell me, it’s laurels again
One thing that can carry on, whatever the weather, is the never-ending task of clearing laurels. I wish I’d counted them before we started – there must have been 40 or 50.
Some are small, barely established shrubs with their shop labels still on, that even I can pull out of soft ground. Others are clumps of youthful growth, tall but still more or less easy for Simon to dig out.
And then there was were a handful of huge, tree-smothering giants which needed chainsaws and hard hats, and whose roots are never budging from the ground. It’s a lorra lorra laurels.
Opening up the owl path
The latest laurels to be cleared grew alongside (and tangling across) the area we call the owl path. It’s where I’ve most often glimpsed one of the tawny owls that lives here, amongst a stand of conifers. On one side there’s the fence between us and the neighbours, and we think our predecessor’s quest for absolute privacy is why he filled it with laurels.
There are other trees besides the conifers, although you’d be hard pressed to know it. In July last year I found a stifled camellia, flowering months after the others because it finally reached up and found enough light to do so. The largest of the magnificent magnolias faces mostly in the other direction, but why not give it a chance to enjoy some more space here? And there’s a slender mystery tree with reddish, speckled bark. Perhaps it’s a maple – we will find out when it comes into leaf.
Once we started clearing, we found other shrubs amongst the laurels. An etiolated rhododendron, all long thin branches with just few yellow leaves. A couple of straggly boxes which were never given a chance. Plenty of holly – mostly the dark green, viciously spiky kind, but also an attractive pale green which is staying. The rest came out with the laurels.
And doesn’t it look so much better, when you can see the wood for the trees? Or is it the trees for the wood?
Welcome to the bluebell wood
With more dappled sunlight and open space, my friend Mark suggested we plant bluebells. Happily, we had quite a few come up last spring. Most of them were in the “wrong place” – in other words in beds and borders, rather than in the grass and under the trees.
So if only we could remember where they were, we could transplant them. I set about closely examining photos from April and May and identified some candidates. Their growth is already well underway in late February so it’s easy to find them.
We levelled off some of the ground where a combination of dumped builders’ spoil and our own digging made humps and holes. Then Simon and Laura set up a “mud relay” to transport soil from the bottom of the driveway, where it’s in the way, to the future bluebell wood, where it’s needed.
After that, it’s a matter of digging up and replanting. Sounds simple, right? But remember all those allium and tulip bulbs that went into the beds and borders in the autumn? It does make it a bit of a challenge to dig out the deep bluebell bulbs while not disturbing the new ones. Nevertheless it’s looking very promising. I’m not sure if they’ll flower this year, but this kind of planting is all about the future.
Hell hath no fury like a woman storm
[groan]
The winter weather has been uneventful. Cold, but not amazingly so. Wet, but no more than usual. No snow, but I guess there’s still time. Ordinary.
That is until Storms Dudley, Eunice and Franklin rocked up within the space of a week.
Storm Eunice – such a genteel name – came with Met Office red warnings for wind. Shaftesbury was under an amber warning but so tightly sandwiched between two reds that the difference was academic. Dorset Snow tweeted about the projected wind gusts.
All in all that was not a day to have a garden full of tall trees.
At first, in the morning, we stood at the window oohing and aahing at the drama. Then as the storm grew, it just became a bit TOO dramatic. Simon had to stop looking at one multi-stemmed conifer in particular – with every gust it looked as though it was going over, until it inexplicably came upright again. For now.
We’re thankful that we had a tree survey in the summer and all but one of the trees had a clean bill of health. And we’re especially thankful that we had that one cut down, or I’d have never been able to take my eyes off it.
What’s the damage?
It wasn’t until late afternoon that things felt calm enough to venture outside and view the damage. Hundreds of thin branches and twiggy bits on the ground, a few smallish conifer branches and one panel in the roof of the crap gazebo. The blue cedar lost a branch about 15-20cm diameter, which lodged itself further down the same tree and may fall on the drive one day. Or not.
I think we got off lightly. But I could have lived without Storm Franklin throwing his weight around a couple of days latter, adding to the piles of twigs we had to clear up. A minor mountain of broken bits, a couple of car boots and 3 wheelie bins full. I guess “lightly” is a relative term.
I’m a Windy Wellingtonian no more
When I first moved to the UK I thought the air was too still. I missed the fresh flowing wind of my home town. It is famously windy – apparently there are wind gusts over 32 knots (37 mph) on 173 days in the year. That’s gale force.
But I’m over it and nowadays when I go home, a few days of proper Wellington wind gets on my nerves. I remember clinging to my mother’s hand and being blown off my feet when I was wee, and the power of the Wahine Storm is one of my earlier memories. Maybe that contributed to my storm nerves. I’m much more of a light breeze person these days.
Other jobs in the garden
We cleared a few things that we didn’t get around to last year, with great satisfaction. There was a weirdly-positioned and -shaped hawthorn that we removed with glee. We cleared some scrappy roses, ivy and other rubbish from the bottom of the drive, immediately making it a bit smarter and much easier to use. It’s nice opening the passenger door without ending up in the weeds.
Spring is definitely around the corner
I mentioned the bulbs we planted in autumn – well they’re popping up all over the flower beds, and the grassy drifts of daffodils are getting ready to flower. We had our own miniature Snowdrop Festival. Lords and Ladies are emerging and the first shoots of wild garlic have appeared too. And camellia flowers are opening in ones and twos.
Not just a vanity blog
I started this blog as a kind of diary, to record what happened and when. It has already been really useful to look back and compare what was going on at the same time last year, and to see what I can expect. So even when it’s a bit of a chore to write, I’m very glad I’m doing this.
I promise I’ll try not to mention laurels next time.
Be First to Comment