Whatever you make of the garden, this house is one to go a little green at the gills over: lovely location right right near the park and the river, big Victorian pad, bet it's lovely inside. Does the front garden do it justice though? Just add your thoughts below: please start your comment with a "hot" or a "not" so I
can tally the votes.
Do send me a picture of your garden if you want to be subject to the scrutiny of the HPON judges (by which I mean, you readers). Reg Wickings did, and his garden, which was HPON number 7, got a resounding 15 "hots" to one "not".
I promised a blogpost on Anna Pavord's talk at the Garden Museum on October 1 and hey, presto, 14 days later, here it is!
Anna was talking about her new book, Bulb, which took her four years to write, and you can see why - it's an erudite, beautiful piece of work that deserves to be pored over on many a cold winter's evening to come. The talk was full of gems - her bulb planting mix recipe (two scoops of John Innes no 3 to one scoop of 6ml grit), what bulbs to pick ("the simplest route to growing bulbs is to find out what likes you and grow lots of it"), and her description of Narcissus cyclamineus as looking "like a surprised piglet caught in the wind".
What was most reassuring to me was her emphasis on the importance of remembering that it is an "unreal expectation" to asume a bulb will flower every year: even in optimal conditions in the wild, many only bloom sporadically. So it may not be your fault when your tulips don't come back year after year! If you want to get more of a flavour of what she said, read this piece in the Independent. Here she is above signing copies of her book after the talk.
I was so inspired I went straight home and planted loads of bulbs the following weekend, and ordered many more. Incredibly, I've never grown paperwhite narcissus, so I'll be giving those a try for the first time this year, and using this top tip of giving the bulbs a nip of vodka to stop them falling over (funny, that - it's the reverse in humans!) And whatever the Garden Monkey says, I'll be growing some hyacinths (white ones, probably) because I like them, and that's that.
Also in the audience were the garden designers Dan Pearson (who I'd never met before) and Cleve West (who I already know), and I got to meet Christopher Woodward, the Garden Museum director, in person for the first time. Have a look at the Guardian gardening blog for my post on the museum's latest exhibition, The Good Life: 100 Years of Growing Your Own.
The first brave soul to volunteer a picture of their garden for your appraisal is Reg Wickings of Sydenham, South London. He writes:
I have a
small garden, divided into two areas. I am interested in the
Mediterranean and Japanese style of gardening and the gardens reflect these
interests. I also a Buddhist and the garden has busts and statues of the
Buddha and wood carvings from Buddhist temples.
He sent a panoramic shot of his garden, which I've had to crop somewhat, but I hope it'll give you a flavour. But what do you think of Reg's efforts? (Do bear in mind this is a domestic garden, not a big place with a team of gardeners...) Just add your thoughts below: please start with a "hot" or a "not" so I
can tally the votes.
HPON? Number six,
a container of plants on display at Garden Organic Ryton, gardenered six "hots" and nine "nots".
While I'm about it, I must say how encouraging it's been to see you embrace HPON. We've had many illustrious commenters, from the indomitable garden critic Anne Wareham of Thinking Gardens to the Scarlet Pimpernel of the garden blogging world, The Garden Monkey and all points in between. Keep up the good work!
Ok, this one's a pot rather than a plot, but hey, I make the rules, right?
I spotted this container at Garden Organic at Ryton, near Coventry at the weekend. It's certainly got volume, but what do you make of the planting mix? I didn't manage to catch much of the pot itself, but as I recall it was a fairly plain terracotta or stone job.
Just add your thoughts below: please start with a "hot" or a "not" so I
can tally the votes.
HPON? Number five,
at Kingston Maurward in Dorset, was the first plot to get the thumbs up
from you discerning readers, with 13 "hots" and a couple of "tepids"
from those awkward beggars among you.
If you want to look back at all the previous
HPONs, go here.
On a slightly different note: the apple and pumpkin day at Ryton (which I mentioned in my piece for Weekend last Saturday on gardens to visit for autumn highlights) was great fun, albeit cut short due to an increasingly poorly child (who was nonetheless mesmerised by the Coventry-based Morris group Elephant Up a Pole, who were performing that day).
Anyone aware of my previous rants about lack of refreshments in gardens will be relieved to hear that Garden Organic has a wonderful organic restaurant plus a good cafe. We didn't get much time to see the gardens, but I did ogle and consequently desire an amazing giant Chinese quince (Chaenomeles cathayensis - see below): imagine the jelly you'd get from that fella!
When the people at Wiggly Wigglers offered to send me a new model of wormery to try out, I couldn't resist giving it a try: I've become a bit of a wormery enthusiast - it's an excellent way to deal with kitchen waste, and my daughter loves looking at the worms. Up until now, the Can'O'Worms was my wormery of choice: superior to all-in-one models in that the "tray" system made for easy harvesting of worm compost. I've had my Can'O'Worms for a year and a half and haven't had many complaints, but it does have a few shortcomings, which I have already written about: the legs can get a bit unstable when it's really full, the ventilation holes on the lid also let in a lot of rainwater if it's left outside, and I also had a problem with the drainage tap (although I understand this was a faulty batch of taps).
Anyway, I've been using the Worm Cafe for a couple of weeks now, and so far the best thing about it is its shape: while the C'O'W is round (and therefore awkward to fit in the corner of sheds, taking up more room than it should) the Worm Cafe is rectangular. That means it's more stable and takes up less space. The other huge bonus is the hinged lid - also made possible by the rectangular shape. With the C'O'W I am always juggling with the lid in one hand and a crock of kitchen waste in the other: "feeding" the Worm Cafe is far easier, the lid can be lifted at either end, and then it's held in place by hinge while you check on the worms or give them a feed.
There's one other big advance: the ventilation holes on the Worm Cafe are on the side and not in the lid, so you can leave it outside without the contents becoming soaked by the rain. In the winter the worms will stop eating if it gets too cold, so it's advisable to cut down on the amount of food waste you're adding (trench composting will handle any excess) and either move it to a shed or garage, or wrap around an old woollen blanket as insulation, making sure not to block the ventilation holes.
Any downsides? Not so far (I'll let you know if that changes), but my main quibble with the Worm Cafe and most other wormeries come to that is the price: most companies, Wiggly Wigglers included, sell them for between £80 and £100 for a kit including worms, bedding etc, which is big outlay for a "non-essential" item for lot of families* (although there's a special offer to save £10 on Worm Cafes at Wiggly Wigglers right now). I am still not sure why wormeries are so expensive - perhaps it's the fact that they're not sold in high volumes so the margins aren't that great - or perhaps the plastic box is expensive to manufacture. With a little bit of ingenuity and time, though, you can build one yourself from some cheap plastic boxes and just buy in the worms and bedding. There are some decent instructions on WikiHow.
While we're on the subject of wormeries, I got a great tip from Kathy Roach regarding the problem of ants in the wormery which I've blogged about before: a sprinkling of cinnamon apparently drives the ants awat, according to this post of the Wiggly Wigglers blog (which also identifies some of the other things you might find in your wormery).
*On a related theme, I just noticed that Recycle Now is no longer offering subsidised compost bins in England. It's a shame, but their argument, I think, is they've reached most people they were going to reach, and cheap bins are widely available now, so they're focusing on giving advice. Hmm... not so sure that's true, but what do you think?
Mike E emailed with a question about sagging fittonias, a low-growing houseplant that's often offered for sale in garden centres.
I have a red veined (Pink Anne), a white veined,
and two "Pink Frankie" fittonias. All but the "Pink Frankies" are growing
nicely with no leaf drop. The 2 "Pink Frankies" are smaller, purchased at Wally
World, and have suffered from considerable leaf drop. All are in 3 inch
pots in same soil as purchased. Have not repotted or fertilized any since I
bought a month ago and my room temp. varies from 70 to 80 degrees with
humidity recorded between 50 and 65%.I keep all in a planter box on a table 2 ft.
high next to a sliding glass door window (remains closed). Only
light is coming through a South facing sliding glass window with vertical
venetian blinds partially open.
The "Pink Frankies" are 4.5 inches high by 4 inches
acoss and the other fittonias are 7 inches high by 7 inches across (plants-not
pot size). One of the "Pink Frankies" has six main
stems in its pot. The leaves have completely dropped on 4 of the
stems-the other 2 stems are fully leaved bottom to top. The other "Pink
Frankie" has 5 stems in the pot with four bare of leaves and one stem fully
leaved. There are newer leaves coming out on the bared stems but they
seem to drop off after about a quarter inch long. Could you give me any suggestions as to why my
"Pink Frankies" are suffering so much leaf drop?
I had to Google "Wally World" but it seems you may be referring to Walmart? Anyway, anyone who's bought a fittonia may be nodding their head in agreement with Mike's sorry tale of dropping foliage.
I will, if I may, quote from my favourite houseplant tome, the Gold-Plated Houseplant Expert, in which DG Hessayon notes: "Many people have bought a specimen to add novelty to their collection ... only to find that the plant has died within weeks. Unfortunately the standard large-leaved types are very difficult to grow under ordinary room conditions".
Sadly, this is true for many of the houseplants on display at your local supermarket or garden centre: caladiums, dizygothecas, codiaeums, and anthuriums, for instance. These plants are all divas, demanding conditions that most living rooms won't be able to provide: high humidity, steady temperatures and no draughts, primarily. For most of us with busy lives, these plants are out of bounds: a waste of money. If you insist on growing them, you're better off getting a large terrarium to put them in: fittonias are small enough to work in bottle gardens, too. (And as I've already noted, bottle gardens and terrariums are back in fashion right now - bonus!)
That said, Mike's growing conditions don't sound too off the mark: humidity of 50-65% isn't bad for most houseplants, although it would help to stand the plants on a drip tray containing pebbles and some water to help moisten the air a little more for the fittonias. The leaf drop on Mike's plants may have been set in motion by events well before he bought the plants: were they stored incorrectly in transit, exposed to deadly cold, under or overwatered? A plant that looks perfectly healthy when you buy it can suddenly die from the shock of travelling from the cosy confines of the shop to your home, too. If I were you, Mike, I'd cut back the de-leafed stems and hope they begin to revive. Also, it's worth looking for the small-leaved, white-veined fittonias (Fittonia argyroneura nana), which tend to be a bit tougher and less susceptible to turning up its toes.
The lessons here are several:
1. Buy from a reputable supplier who knows about houseplants: they're more likely to have cared for your plant before you bought
2. Keep plants protected on the journey home, preferably wrapped in bubble wrap if you're buying them in winter, and never buy houseplants from outdoor markets - in the summer they may be burned by sun, and in winter the cold will kill them
3. When you get them home, put the plants in a bright place out of direct sunglight to give it a chance to acclimatise before choosing its final position
4. If your plant dies, remember: it's not your fault, it's the shop's!
Sheesh, you guys are an ornery lot. The outcome for the begonia-ridden front garden seen in HPON number four was six "hots" to 9 "nots". So far none of the plots has been given a collective thumbs up by Horticultural readers. Let's see what happens for this garden, which is at Kingston Maurward in Dorset.
Just add your thoughts below: please start with a "hot" or a "not" so I can tally the votes. If you want to look back at all the previous HPONs, go here.
I am currently reading - and adoring - The Morville Hours by Katherine Swift. It's a book about the creation of a garden in Shropshire, but so much more than that: astronomy, agriculture, history, geology and countless other areas of knowledge feed into Swift's description of turning a bare field into a series of gardens inspired by former residents of Morville. (This woman's learned, writes beautifully and created a huge, wonderful garden, Yes, I want to be her.)
This book has thrown up a hundred different trains of thought in my mind, but the current one is the different forms of inspiration for creating gardens. Swift's garden conjures up an imagined place inhabited by different characters from the past: but others seek inspiration in eveything from quantum physics to the music of Bach. Last Sunday I visited a garden inspired by art: not individual paintings, but the style of an artist.
I think my favourite part of Kathy Brown's garden in Stevington, Bedfordshire was the Barbara Hepworth garden (pictured
above), which was sparkling in the
September sun. I don't know much about Hepworth but this garden certainly made me want to learn more, which was perhaps part of the point. There were other gardens inspired by Kandinsky,
Mondrian, Monet, Hokusai and Rothko, plus French parterres, a cottage
garden and an orchard: I'll try to upload a gallery of more images later in the week: in the meantime visit Kathy's blog and site for more info.
The other wonderful thing about Kathy's garden was its playfulness -
which was handy as I took my two-year-old daughter along. She adored the
playhouse and the tyre swing. She insisted on stroking a huge bumblebee
resting (along with
dozens of honey bees) on the Sedum spectabile 'Autumn Joy' but
fortunately it didn't sting her. She also loved the shells in the
Hepworth garden and the Humpty Dumpty figure on top of the Mondrian-esque
wall (just visible in the picture above). And the squash and chocolate sponge at the church hall afterwards went down very well, too.
Anyway, this garden, along with the Morville Hours, led me to thinking about the inspiration for my garden revamp (which I am hoping to get under way next year, building work allowing). Up until now I've been lusting over individual plants, planning shapes of borders, mulling over shades of patio stone and whether a pergola or an arch would be best. But perhaps there should be something more cerebral behind the pretty flowers? A overarching concept, a theme? Or is that a tad prententious for a 70ft garden on the back of a 30s semi? I wouldn't want anyone to think I was taking myself too seriously, after all. Advice welcome, in the usual way below.
I saw this garden last week and thought of you, readers. I'd love to know what you make of it, and that's why it's Hot Plot or Not? Number 4. If you're new to the concept, it's simple: I show you a picture
of a garden, and you judge it "hot or not".
Just add your thoughts below: please start with a "hot" or a "not" so I can tally the votes.
For those regulars among you, you may be interested to know that Hot Plot or Not No. 3 garnered 11.5 "nots" and 3.5 "hots" for what New Shoot reminded me was Minterne Gardens in Dorset. Funnily enough I remember liking the white hydrangeas but didn't even notice the bird bath: that may have been while I was raging about the lack of tea room, though ... If you want to look back at all four HPONs, click here.
I took this photo of the Victoria plum tree in my garden yesterday. As you can see, it's not exactly a picture of health. There's a few sad leaves clinging on, rusty and crumpled, and some fruits - just starting to shrivel - left on the tree.
When we moved to this house and garden a year ago, I realised the tree had been badly pruned in the past - some branches carelessly lopped, the water shoots that followed left to form a mass of whippy replacements and protrusion with sheared-off, jagged edges like an open door to pests and diseases.
I read up on plum pruning and did what I thought was best, following the received wisdom, leaving the job until the sap was on the move in May or June to try to prevent the disease silverleaf taking a foothold. I didn't tackle all the pruning in one go, planning a phased programme over three years. I used a sharp saw, made judicious cuts, took my time.
First to go were the three "d"s - dead, diseased, and damaged. Then branches that crossed with other branches or were rubbing against the fence. I didn't attempt much more than that for year one.
But from the look of the tree now, it seems pretty poorly (click on the pic to the left and you can see a close-up on the leaves): is it the dreaded silverleaf (which enters through pruning wounds) or something else? Was it my fault for attempting to sort out the mess someone else had made? Perhaps I should have just left well alone?
On the plus side, this tree's still a prolific fruiter, so I shall wait and see what transpires next year. I'd appreciate advice from anyone who can give me a diagnosis, too.
All the views expressed in this blog are my own and do not reflect the views of my employer. If, that is, Guardian Newspapers has a view on composting, dahlias and the best way to feed tomatoes.
Bette Midler on gardening:
"My whole life had been spent waiting for an epiphany, a manifestation of God's presence, the kind of transcendent, magical experience that lets you see your place in the big picture. And that is what I had with my first compost heap."
