Well, it’s obvious that this isn’t a monthly blog anymore. Not just because I keep going away on holiday – the next trip, to South Africa, is only a few days away and Simon will be holding the fort while I swan about on safari.
It’s also because that first year was full of new experiences and surprises so there seemed to be a lot to write about. The garden isn’t any less lovely in the second year – in fact we are really happy with the bits we’ve improved so far. But there’s probably less to remark upon the second time around as gardening is, of course, cyclical.
Drought
I’m writing this a few days after we had our first rain for at least a couple of months and just after the second official episode of extreme heat this summer. The weather, and especially the absence of rain, is on everyone’s mind. Wessex hasn’t been declared by the Environment Agency to be in drought, but that doesn’t mean things in the garden are rosy.
Some trees seem unhappy and there’s a lot of leaf drop, as though autumn has come early. Hydrangeas, usually tough as old boots, are drooping and putting on fewer flowers than last year. It’s bizarre to see plants that seem effortlessly to flourish – asplenium ferns and London Pride for instance – go pale and wilt pathetically. And quite likely fatally.
We are trying to reuse water from the sink – washing up water, or the surplus that runs through when you’re washing vegetables or making sure it’s cold enough or hot enough. Dumping it into watering cans and putting it on selected plants.
I’m watering the pots and hanging baskets, and the vegetables. Everything else has to look out for itself.
That day of rain, although it won’t make much difference to the dry conditions, was so good for the mind. I woke that morning pleading with the universe for the rain to come and not just keep moving away as all those 30% forecasts in the weather apps seem to do. I loved standing at the window and watching it come down.
Now, if we could just have some more please, Universe.
Wildflowers – a work in progress
Only a few things have come up where we planted wildflower seeds (a bit late in the season). To be honest the foxgloves we transplanted into that space have been the winners so far. I’ve made sure to scatter their seeds here and elsewhere for future flowers.
It’s a bit weird to see things emerge that would likely be considered weeds elsewhere and resist the urge to pull them out. It doesn’t help that I’m almost completely ignorant of British wildflowers and couldn’t identify any of them if my life depended on it. But I’m holding back and hoping that next year will confirm we’re doing the right thing there.
In fact the only thing I have pulled up since we sowed the seeds have been a few dozen sedge grass seedlings that took advantage of our efforts at cultivation. There were great clumps of it around the place last year and we got most of it – but evidently not before it managed to drop seeds.
I will NOT be beaten. If you see a sedge grass seedling anywhere in my garden, you have my permission to yank it out.
I suppose it has to look worse before it looks better
Simon’s making good progress with clearing the slopes at the top. It’s hard labour, especially with the cow parsley’s strong roots and an infuriating tangle of ivy to fight through. There are also a couple of old stumps from before our time – an oak and a sycamore – which are too firmly established and are having to stay put.
It’s not looking all that great in the dry weather and there needs to be a lot more digging and breaking down the soil to create (optimistically) a fine tilth. Right now it’s more like fine dust. Hopefully by September, assuming it ever rains again, it should be ready to sow with grass seed.
Now, you may be wondering “grass? why not more wildflowers?” I suspect that was what our predecessor attempted but ended up with a handful of dominant species that he simply left to grow after a while. Wildflowers, counterintuitively, need work.
I’m in two minds at the moment. I think it would look good either way, and certainly better than it does now. But it’s largely Simon’s project and he wants grass. So grass it is. We can always change our minds later.
I can see my house from here
As part of the slopes project, we want to further open up the view from the top across the Vale. There’s a large hawthorn nearby that’s covered in beautiful flowers in springtime. It had a junior hawthorn next to it – maybe 10 feet tall and spindly – that had been pruned into an unnatural shape. When not covered in leaves, it reminded us of Pinhead in the film Hellraiser. It wasn’t attractive and it added to the enclosed feeling we’d like to get away from up there, so we cut it down.
Let me tell you, the “thorn” part of “hawthorn” is well named and it was a deeply unpleasant task. But it feels lighter and more spacious – and the view from the hammock across the Vale is so much better.
We’ve also trimmed back a bit of beech hedge, to help create that open space and views within the garden, not just beyond it. We can now enjoy (if that’s the right word) our vegetables and cut flowers from above, and we can see more of the house, framed by acers, cherries and conifers. It’s looking really attractive.
Tangling with more thorns
We’ve got 3 rambling roses, whose flowers we largely missed this year as we were in America. One is engulfing the Persian ironwood – there’s more rose than tree in places and it’s getting very bulky.
So the team got together to tame it a little. Laura and I pointed out where we wanted it cut back and Simon laid into the stems and whippy bits with the pruner. It was hardly precision work and the rose is unlikely to suffer; in fact next year’s growth will no doubt be even more vigorous.
Other jobs in the garden
There’s also the usual maintenance and some of the regular jobs for this time of year, although not a lot of mowing (who has any grass left in this weather?). But amongst other things, we:
- trimmed the box blobs – there are about 15 and not a single one is actually spherical, but they do their best
- weeded pathways and beds, and removed old wild garlic
- strimmed bank by beech
- cut back laurel and overhanging roses on the drive
- dug up weeds from the grass (not exactly lawn) outside my study
And finally…
Simon’s been away a lot, helping out his mum who broke her wrist in a car crash. She’s fine, but the wrist is a bit limiting. So the past few weeks have been very quiet around here.
That is, apart from 2 cultural highlights. First there was the Shaftesbury Fringe in July . Once again we went to as many events as we could – I think the total was 24 over 3 days.
And then we celebrated my birthday in mid-August. I had a party for the lovely folks I’ve met since moving to Shaftesbury. We’ve been very lucky to get to know some great people in that time (despite spending the first 6 months in lockdown).
I tidied the garden to within an inch of its life (so much leaf blowing!) and the heatwave at least meant we could rely on enjoying the party outside (definitely not your usual English summer). I’m pretty sure everyone had a good time – I know I did!
(Bonus track)
I was looking for songs about summer for this post’s title. I stumbled across Bananarama along the way, so I figured why not? The title seems apt for the drought and heatwaves, even if the lyrics are not.
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