Sunday 5 April 2020
It’s raining! They promised clear, blue skies. Clear blue skies ALL DAY LONG!
I’d added sun-oriented jobs to my (let’s keep busy) ‘Things to Do’ list. Weeding the (pretty much weed-free) borders, sweeping the (immaculately clean) paths, a spot of pruning and then later a quick flick through ‘The Garden’ (the monthly RHS magazine) with a healthy glass of chilled, grape liquid!
Then, unexpectedly rain stops play! So revert quickly to Plan B: A trip to the local Tesco for provisions as the sun is clearly running late now (11am now forecast). Coats on and off we trot… out into the clear, blue, sunny skies!
Bournemouth town centre is deserted, quiet and eerie. It’s like walking through an abandoned film set, our footsteps echoing a little too loudly on the block paving. Silver-grey, steel window shutters pulled down in front of every shop window, the remnants of a Twix wrapper rustling too noisily around the base of an empty rubbish bin. Electronic advertisement boards telling the empty square ‘CORONAVIRUS KILLS, STAY AT HOME’. This isn’t any deserted film-set. This is REAL life. This is OUR life. This is ALL of OUR lives.
A queue of three people outside the supermarket soon clears and we’re back home before we know it, bag full of essentials, and safe. And it’s clouded over!
The sun continues to play hide and seek behind high, hazy clouds but eventually clears. Shorts are donned, dusty sunglasses retrieved from the back of a drawer and our first al-fresco meal of the season.
Friends are face-timed (is that what we call this lap-toppy, video-type communication thing?). Happy, chatty, smiley. And it gets better still. Peter makes a super, ridiculously high, fresh cream Victoria sponge and all is (sort of) well with the world.
At 8pm we sit, Vicky sponge in hand, ready for our Queen to address the nation. This is ONLY the fourth time the Queen has made a broadcast outside of her usual Christmas speech; the ‘Diana’ speech being the last; or was that Helen Mirren? The Queen, as always is stoic, strong and serene. She said that, as during the Second World War, the country must take comfort in the fact that once again, “better days will return”.
We go to bed…. Proud to be British. Proud to be British in the face of adversity.
Monday 6 April 2020
￼￼A most acceptable start to Monday with the sun clocking-in well ahead of ETA (clearly felt bad after yesterday’s unacceptable tardiness). ￼￼Pleased also to see that the unnecessary and unwanted cloud cover has been left behind to allow the sun unobstructed access to me and my garden. So before prevailing weather conditions changed their mind,￼ shorts were quickly￼ donned, sunglasses retrieved (again) and genuine Steer Hyde cowboy hat plonked on noddle. Also and very importantly, slathered myself in SPS factor 50. Smelling like a moist coconut macaroon is preferential to a potentially life threatening skin melanoma. I really￼ can’t emphasise enough how important protection from the sun is, especially for us gardeners who spend so much time under its loving gaze. Sermon over!
￼A productive morning weeding borders. In all honesty the garden has never had so much attention lavished upon it. The borders are practically weed (and snail) free now.￼ Curiously, I have also become rather accustomed to the usually rather unacceptable stink of chicken manure pellets, which were thrown onto the borders last week. Probably rather beneficial that social distancing is currently in force, as having to explain the aroma around oneself as being ‘Eau d’Chicken Poo’ might be a tad embarrassing.
The rather stunning, zingy apple-green stems of Cornus flaviramea are beginning to leaf up.￼￼ It’s at this time of year when the leaves start to appear that some, if not all of the stems should be cut back hard to about 5 cm. It seems particularly brutal, but will pay dividends as the fresh new growth will retain the vibrant, strong colours into next winter￼￼. Clearly, the stems can be left unpruned, but expect them to be slightly muted￼ in colour during winter.
As a garden designer I’m always wittering on about the importance of seating in the garden. Nothing beats breakfasting by the buddleia, lazy, lavender-scented lunches with a chilled Lambrusco and/or an ambrosial al-fresco meal nestled adjacent to a perfectly perfumed honeysuckle. And so, this evening we decided to take our repose with a cheeky, pre-dinner drink on our beloved, chalk-white Lutyens bench. Somewhat late to the party, I arrived, Pinot Grigio in hand and placed myself wearily upon aforementioned pew. No sooner had tush met ￼timber when a resounding crack saw us plunged onto the patio paving. To say I was upset was an understatement; I literally hadn’t drank a drop of my Pinot Grigio!￼
Tuesday 7 April 2020
Somewhat shocked to be woken by a crackling radio announcing that our Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, has been moved to intensive care with Coronavirus￼. This is going to get harder before it gets easier, that’s for sure.
In lighter news, ￼following Lutyens-gate yesterday, our bistro table and chairs have been temporarily￼ re-sited onto the ‘Lutyens Patio’. Investigations are currently underway to:
- Determine the cause of the Lutyens’ demise after ONLY three years use, and
- Source an affordable replacement￼
￼The results from investigation ‘1’ (above) are in. We bought cheap!
Investigations into ‘2’ (above) are somewhat thwarted by “the current situation”. Finding an online retailer who will ship at the moment is proving difficult. Bistro table and chairs stay in-situ then for the time being.￼￼
Whilst most garden centres are currently closed and locked down, I do, luckily, have access to a rather smart trade-only nursery locally. This is a godsend, as I am able to source chicken manure pellets (to feed the borders) and an impressive selection of shrubs, perennials, climbers and grasses. In fact you name it, and they’ve probably got it or can get it. As it stands, I was only looking for a beautiful Helleborus sternii ‘Silver Lace￼’, which I had planted for a client earlier in the year, and then realised on Monday (better late than never) that I really wanted it for myself. Somehow it didn’t seem ‘the right thing to do’ to dig up the seven I had planted in her garden￼; call me old fashioned?!
The evenings are still a tad too cool (flippin’ freezing) to sit outside and sat watching ‘bad’ TV just isn’t floating my boat just now. As such, in a semi state of desperation, we continue to plough through the complete box set of ‘￼￼Call the Midwife’. If the gardening gig doesn’t work out for me, I’m pretty sure I’d make a fine midwife…. “Come on lovely, push…., breathe now…, that’s right…, now quick, short pants…..”! You’re impressed, aren’t you?
Wednesday 8 April 2020
Boris still in intensive care. Get well soon sir! Your country needs you!
Continuing great weather (thank goodness), so straight outside and off to the greenhouse for roll-call. All present and correct and (thankfully) no casualties, which is always reassuring. It’s that time of year when my dahlias are beginning to wake up, after being treated to a splash of water (just enough to dampen the soil). My two Abyssinian bananas are also showing signs of new growth too. Beautiful burgundy-red and pea-green coloured foliage is slowly winding its way up from the growing point and pushing through last year’s tired leaves. A good water and (tomato) feed will work wonders for these two now. And then, on warm days like today, a few hours outside in the spring sunshine will prepare them for life outside the greenhouse in a few weeks time. A sort of ‘horticultural parole’, I guess.
Late afternoon (I am talking after 5pm) and the lawns and I are calling out for some liquid refreshment. The cold water is received gratefully by…..? Well, I’ll leave you to work that one out… hic!
Thursday 9 April 2020
Lockdown is beginning to feel like that ‘no-man’s land’ time between Christmas and New Year, except with good weather and no turkey sandwiches. I actually find myself checking my phone each morning to remind myself what day of the week it is (the date seems somewhat incidental now). It’s Thursday!
Amazingly 68 people ‘tune in’ to witness me wandering round my garden (LIVE) again. Incredulously, they all stick with it for 38 minutes, and more join in. People are clearly stuck for things to do.
A local trade plant retailer (mentioned earlier) is still open and delivering. My order of five Helleborus sternii ‘Silver Lace’ arrives… (along with!) Calamagrostis ‘Karl Foerster’, and eight ‘fizzy’ red Heuchera ‘Cherry Cola’ arrives. Hurrah! I needed a plant fix. Incidentally, there are plenty of fantastic on-line plant retailers with mail order service. Click here if you, like me, also need a plant fix! The link takes you to a comprehensive list of participating nurseries and specialists.
Thursday evening is (unbelievably) the third ‘Clap for Carers’. I love the wonderfully positive and heart-warming sentiment behind this. It also brings with it a great sense of ‘we’re all in this together’ community spirit. It has literally brought tears to my eyes each week. CONGRATULATIONS to all of our NHS workers, and indeed anyone who is on the frontline or a key worker. We APPLAUD YOU ALL.
Friday 10 April 2020
It’s Good Friday. It’ll clearly not as ‘Good’ a Friday as we’ve been used to in previous years, so I’ve re-named it Good (for gardening) Friday. And it will be. The fantastic weather is on a most welcome ‘groundhog day’ routine. The warm sun on my face and the azure skies above have lifted the mood of the nation. I rush out to the greenhouse to check the ‘kids’ are OK before setting off on my morning walk of the ‘estate’. Five minutes later (clearly use of the word ‘estate’ is a slight exaggeration) and it’s breakfast (fried eggs on toast, our annual GF treat).
Out into the garden we trot and sit basking in the glorious heat. It is VERY clear to us now that things are currently VERY different. In any other year, Easter brings rain, grey skies and wind. How ironic that lockdown prevents us tripping out to the forest or the beach with our Tupperware’d sandwiches and quiche and a Thermos of (dubious-tasting) coffee.
This morning Cosmos seedlings are pricked out of seed trays and transplanted into individual plastic modules. Like many of us I’m trying to eliminate the use of plastic, but these modules have a few more years use still, so I’ll continue to use them until I really have to consign them to landfill.
Next it’s off with the hellebores’ faded flowers, which are all heavy with seeds. Hellebores self-seed readily enough, but the offspring never (or very rarely) come true. The young hellebore flowers are generally ‘muddy’ shades of pink, yellow or red. Not acceptable in this garden I’m afraid.
And so I wish each and every one of you a very Happy Easter. Yes it will be different for all of us, but let’s all try and make it different in a positive way. We cannot choose a lot of what is happening around us at the moment, but our approach to dealing with it is something we can￼ (second sermon over).