Lavender dayzzz...

The lavender is a-buzzing.

 

This is one of life's good things.

I have lavender in pots, but my main lavender event comes in the form of twelve L. angustifolia 'Hidcote' plants that edge the ends of my flower beds.

... That fuzzy softness...it needs off-setting with a tidy lawn (or better still, stone or brick).

L. angustifolia is fully hardy, and covered in deep purple, two-lipped flowers (which you can see are not out yet). The is the perfect time to harvest some stems for drying, (although do leave some for the bees - lavender being ultra-rich in nectar). To dry, just gather a handful, and tie the ends of the stems with a rubber band. Hang it in a cool dry place, upside down for a couple of weeks, and then you can make lavender bags, or get creative in the kitchen.

Here's my lavender sugar (same concept as vanilla sugar) for which I plucked about a tablespoon of lavender buds and added them to a jar of caster sugar. I'll leave that to infuse for a couple of weeks and then make biscuits or ice-cream, or something.

If you want to grow lavender in a container (and look how delicious it is with terracotta), choose a large pot, because you want to allow your plant to grow into a great big wafty hummock, and make it a beautiful one too, because lavender is no flash-in-the-pan plant, and then just mix up some peat-free multi-purpose with John Innes no 2 and keep it watered (though not fed).

Of course, angustifolia is not the only lavender - there is L. x intermedia (often known as English lavender), which is rather smaller, and with rather more rounded leaves, and then there is L. stoechas (or French lavender) which has those funny bunny-eared bracts, - deeply chic, but do watch out, because it is only borderline hardy, and a hard wet winter will nuke it good and proper.

 

It's nice to sprinkle dried lavender on the floor, or on a table near a lighted candle for scented winter evenings, although with the extended winter we have just endured, I have been using Charlotte and Co's exquisite scented candle from their collection of lovely lavender things, which took me straight to summer whenever I used it. I also have their pillow spray, to which I have become rather addicted, because I am convinced it helps me get to sleep faster, and dream about good things.

I rather long to be a person who wafts around in a silken dressing gown....perhaps this is my little piece of that...silken..ness.

But back to reality...I can't post on lavender without sharing how I prune. This is pretty much the only plant in my garden (bar box) that I am fiercely strict with when it comes to chopping. The problem is that if you don't do it, then you lose that gorgeous mound-thing and you pretty much have to start again with a new plant.

So...when the flowers are over  and the bees have had their fill, I cut them all off, (down to the top of the leafy bit of the bush).

Then, at the end of September I chop the whole thing down brutally to about one-third it's original size:

...just like this. You will hate yourself, and it will feel terribly wrong, but it's not wrong, it's right. This way your plant will never get leggy or woody. It will always be like a soft, purple pouffe.

x

Bunny tails, realised

Just a quick one to show you those bunny tails I planted with Babety way back when. ...Yet another illustration of the fact that plants will pretty much grow, no matter what you do, or DON'T do to them.

..by which I mean:

that the seeds were less scattered than plonked

that the watering was slapdash, and sporadic

that the whole thing dried out to a crisp during the heatwave

that the plastic tub was dropped, and up-ended, and the contents splattered all over the floor, and had to be shoved back into place...MORE THAN ONCE.

 

...and, no doubt, more felonies that I am conveniently forgetting to mention...you get my drift.

I have never met a plant with such exquisite feel-appeal. I wish I had sowed squillions....for my garden.

Living pinkly, with Kaffe Fassett...

When I was about eleven I was given a Kaffe Fassett knitting kit for a stripey batwing sweater. I hadn't taken to knitting much before this, but the promise of that stipey confection made me stitch and stitch until it was finished. Scroll down to a lifelong love affair with everything Kaffe Fassett. His textiles for quilting are heart-stopping...the way he uses colour is always gorgeous, crazy and seemingly SLAPDASH (even though it probably isn't)...I like this...a LOT.

...Also, I think he's about the handsomest man in the whole wide world apart from Jeff Bridges. Kind, laughing eyes...always does it for me....

...so my heart pounded like a crazed fan when I spied him in a gloriously kitted-out hut at RHS Chelsea. I was crazed enough to accost a passing photographer and make her snap us...

The hut was painted a delicious pink...a kind of unidentifiable pink. He told me it was his version of 'dried blood'. I'm not sure I've ever seen dried blood so pretty, but there we are.

Here he is again....with bunting.

Anyhow, I wished immediately that my own hut was painted that colour, and then I remembered that I still had to paint my daughter's wendy house. Her favourite colour is pink (it changed from orange to pink a while ago)...I think it is somehow unavoidable this, because I have taken great pains (well, SOME pains) to bring her up to favour green or blue, or yellow...it hasn't worked. And seeing Kaffe's hut kind of sanctioned the whole pink thing.

 

 

As you can see, I couldn't quite get Kaffe's pink (I had a grand total of two hours to buy the paint and do the deed, so no mixing or agonising allowed)

But I DO love it so.... and it's echoing my cistus and my roses, and making them sing even more, if that were possible...

The small person is rather taken with it too...

 

Pod love

I adore the London Eye...I went on it when it was born and I think it's one of London's better things.

...Plants make it even BETTERER

This was Andy Sturgeon's one-day pod-fantasy conceived for a project called Cityscapes.

...It is very, very very pretty, especially when the Thames is all a-glitter....

Plant list is simple:

Cydonia oblonga (definitely one for my lust list)

Cenolophium denudatum (was going to be angelica but the cold got the better of that idea)

Deschampsia caespitosa

Hesperis matronalis

 The perfect spot for a picnic...

Enough with the rain already!

Here are some edible flowers ... eye food as much as tummy food, and an antidote to this chilly rain...

Lilac is one of my favourite velvety petal foods. Fling it in salads or on top of a cake.

...but there is also sweet cicely

 

...and forgetmenots (of which I have an embarrassment) ... and if this is just too cutesy for you, then have a look at my myosotis strawberry pot over here

 

Cakes are a good way of dealing with a rainy day. These ones are from a recipe in this book. If you can cope with the fact that the lady who wrote it looks a bit scary, then it's really rather good. These cakes are proper delicious...better than victoria sponge ones, in my humble opinion, and really easy to make. I use tiny paper cases instead of big ones, and they produce the loveliest mouthfuls ever. Reduce cooking time a bit if you're going miniature.

 

 

 

My mother's camellias

...She hasn't space for bushes...so instead she wall-trains them.

...It takes a while....

These have been here for as long as I can remember - (the pink one was given to my mother at the birth of my older brother)....What I'm trying to say is that they're older than ME.

I don't remember them ever flowering so abundantly as this year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...leaving a trail of luscious bounty....

 

Too many blooms to carry indoors, (like so many precious babies) and float in bowls

 

...So they get used to anoint topiary...'n stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'll write a recipe for this one-pot-wonder once I've grilled my mother on her secrets.

a bientôt

x

The Greens

Tulipa 'Spring Green' This, and T. Princess Irene are probably (PROBABLY) my favourites....although I won't be HELD to that.

New, baby box leaves. The velvety softness of them, and that wonderful smell of NEW....best part of spring? Quite possibly.

 

Lovage - starts off all curly and shy, and then it turns proudly into a goose-foot...- my preferred stock seasoning. Delicious raw, or, or as a sauce (see my book), or shredded into natural yoghurt for curry night.

 

An Honesty Meadow

Here's the poppy garden that I posted on way back when... All done up with honesty and erysimum...

The owners don't go in for any fancy gardening....

They just SCATTER seeds, and do nothing else..

Very bad photos...sorry.

 

April Blues

Three blue things making my heart sing this month:  

Forgetmenot (myosotis) - which carpets and spreads so obligingly. It was here when I arrived, and has now migrated to every pot on my terrace. I don't mind a bit. The most perfect of blues ...in my humble opinion.

 

Bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) - I THINK these are English ones (deep blue with white pollen) but if you think they're naughty spanish ones then do let me know and I'll yank them out (with sadness)

 

Pulmonaria 'Blue Ensign' Exquisite blue, low growing. Mottled leaves.  Need more.

April whites

Pear blossom - this one is Concorde. There is something about pear leaves, and the clumsy, hopefulness of them.

 

Clematis montana - exquisite, rich scent. Don't know what this one's called, because it's not mine...I 'borrow' it, from my neighbour. If anyone knows do please tell me.

 

Choisya 'Aztec Pearl' - just bursting open and pumping out honey scent.

 

Sweet cicely... prettiest and most underrated herb on the planet.

 

Leucojum vernum

 

 

April Newness

S'been a while since I posted 'the garden' Some time last year I stopped taking monthly pictures (just because)...

But now I've discovered Pinterest,  so I'm starting again.

Here's my April image...and my leading ladies - the tulips (which, by the way, were planted not last autumn, but the autumn BEFORE).

The arches look a little wonksome, don't they. I think it's my camera skills

The tulips are in my cutting patches. They are in lines. This is because I don't want to disturb them when I plant all my cutting garden stuff later on, and also because my grandfather used to have tulips - all one type, and in VERY straight lines - like soldiers. Fondness prevails.

The beds are edged with erysimum (not the psychadelic orange of last year)...I'm going to miss it I think.

And lastly, a picture to show everybody that a fritillary meadow of ones own IS possible..even if you only have three square metres to do it in. This is very much my favourite part of the garden.

Stay tuned for some April colour highlights.

Lip bump bliss

The garden is looking rather delicious...in spite of me.

Tulips up and out and better than they were last year. Sometimes I think the secret to this whole gardening lark is to be rather minimal when it comes to work.

I'm going to take the tulips' portraits and post them soon, but right now, it's holidays again. I have learned from my mistakes, and this time I am determined not to end up in the foetal position.

I have stuff planned.

...THINGS, tucked away in cupboards

One such thing...a lip-balm kit from the Homemade Company, gave us a lovely hour of wholesomeness this morning.

(We call it lip bump)

It all comes in a pretty box, and everything is included for you to make four little pots of lovely lip balm.

...and it's all natural, chemical-free, biodegradable (even the plastic) and completely safe for mucking about at home with.

Best of all, it's made in Blighty.....ALL OF IT.

 

 

A rose and sweet pea arch

My new book, Sweet Peas for Summer is in the SHOPS, so I thought I'd do a little recipe in its honour

I've been wanting arches in my garden for quite some time now, (for sweet pea frolics and in order to satisfy my climbing rose fetish) and I've been holding back mainly because I thought it would be expensive, but then I spied these and realised it'd be silly not to really. True - it's not like having a proper blacksmithed confection, but, well, it's going to get covered in roses and sweet peas anyway.

So, for your gorgeous arch you need:

An arch like mine (or you could fashion one out of sticks and stuff if you were ... handy.

Two climbing roses. I have three arches, and I've used Rosa. Cecile Brunner on one, R. Blairii No. 2 on the second and R. Constance Spry on the third. The first two are eulogised in more detail here, and the third, well, I bought my roses from here with the kind help of Tom (talented flowersmith, who should definitely write a blog, and we all need to bully him until he does just that). Tom convinced me about Constance Spry by telling me that an arch full of it would be 'utterly camp'. Sold.

Sweet peas. It depends on the girth of the arch you're going for, but each of mine got about six sweet pea plants planted on either side. You can get sweet peas in the shops right now. Mine were sown in October last year (I know...get me!) and came from here. This is the first time I have ever done autumn-sown sweet peas. It is deeply satisfying but in my HUMBLE opinion it's not necessary unless you're planting hundreds of the things.

Some well-rotted manure (optional, but great if you can get it). Otherwise, chuck in some 'soil improver' also sold in bags.

A nice, weed-free, fertile, sunny site (i.e. the holy grail). I cleared each end of my raised vegetable beds to do this project. Don't worry too much if things aren't perfect though. Sweet peas are terribly obliging. They will give it a good go, whatever you do to them. Roses are a rather longer-term proposition, so do pick one that's suited to your site.

Some natural-coloured garden twine. (String, to you and me)

Some pea sticks or netting for those tendrils to climb up

Method:

First you need to erect your arch. Mine came flat-packed and I'm VERY glad I had a power drill to drive all those screws in (otherwise it would have taken me all day). It wasn't taxing though...just boring. Stick it into the ground and make sure it's properly secure. I know that I'm going to have to reinforce my arches some wintertime, because once there are roses all over them, then the wind will rock them (wind-rock is no good for roses, or anything else planty). This will probably involve driving a stake into the ground or something like that. At any rate, it's far too boring to think about right now. Once my arch was up, I stuck a twiggy pea stick into the ground to proved something for the sweet peas to climb up. You could equally throw some netting over the arch and tie it down securely.

Next, plant your roses. If they're in pots then they won't have put out roots yet so don't be surprised if all the compost falls away when you take them out. Dig two pretty deep holes at either side of the arch (you want your roses planted about 4cm deeper than they were in their pots). Put some well-rotted manure at the bottom of the hole and mix it with the earth that's already there, so everything is nice and soft and there aren't any big stones or obstacles to the roots getting down to find water. Put the rose carefully in its hole, looking at the stems and placing it so that they look like they're in the best position to start climbing, and back-fill carefully, firming the whole thing in really well with your foot. Water your roses diligently and continue to do so every day for at least two weeks, with a can of water for each one.

Now plant your sweet peas. I dug two trenches (little ditches) for mine, either side of the bottom of the arch (so that some peas will climb 'inside' the arch, and some will climb 'outside'. Put some well-rotted manure at the base of your trench and mix it in with the earth, then VERY carefully remove your sweet peas from their pots and plant them in the trench. If you have bought sweet peas, then there will most probably be several in each small pot. Do NOT separate them, but just plant them as they are, in a clump. Sweet peas hate their feet being fussed with so the less disturbance the better. I know that sweet peas are supposed to be spaced apart from each other but I promise this works, and if you try and separate the clump the plants will suffer (I've tried both ways!). If you really feel that things are too congested then you could just snip out a couple of the weakest looking seedlings at the base of the stalk.  If you have single sweet peas, then plant them 20cm apart. Firm it all in well, then gently gently gently tie as many shoots as you can in to the arch. This may not be possible at first, as your seedlings may be too small. You can see that I have stuck in some sticks (the sort you get attached to orchids with those funny plastic hair clips) to start them off in the right direction. You can do this too if you like (but do NOT spear those roots!).

It's fiddly, but worth doing all the tying in at first, so your peas know where to go and don't just trail along the ground, looking lost and sad.

Now water your sweet peas, and keep watering every day to get them off to a properly good start.

This is a ridiculously long post, so I'll post again to give maintenance tips for this project.

If you give it a go, do post a pic on my Facebook page - would be great to see it.

An Easter Nest

I love nests

I am the nesting type.

Around this time of year I can usually be found fashioning things to hold eggs...chocolate or otherwise.

I recently spied this lovely thing on the Marfa Stewart website.

I had pussy willow (because I always end up buying it at this time of year)...and my old, dried, crispy Christmas wreath, looking forlorn in a dark corner...crying out for me to dismantle it. The result is nothing like the perfection of Martha's...(I was time-poor, and the instructions are vague) but I love it all the same.

You need:

Some nest material: I used dried grasses from a selection of miscanthus and bunny tails that I'd just pruned from the garden, and the old, crispy foliage from some gladiolus callianthus that I had tied up aeons ago in my basement. Basically, a mixture of flat/thick and fine grasses....the sort of thing a bird might choose to make a comfy nest with.

Pussy willow: In all the shops right now - One bunch...mine came from the supermarket.

A wreath form - mine is about 35-40cm diameter

Some thin wire - mine is green

Wire cutters - I use sectaurs....*gasp*

Some fishing wire or thin, clear thread, and a thick, blunt needle (or 'bodkin' as my mother calls it)

Method:

First, take your wreath form and make a sort of dream-catcher out of it with your wire like this:

 

Next, separate your base-grass (in this case, my gladiolus leaves) into three or five handfuls and secure each of them with wire, and then attach them to the wreath form, just as you would if you were making a Christmas wreath (by placing them at regular intervals and securing them to the form with a long piece of wire like this:

 

So far, so messy, but don't worry (birds don't worry, do they).

Next, add in your thinner, prettier grasses. I just wove them in - I didn't need to wire them because I had the framework. Concentrate on the outside of your nest - don't worry about the base of it too much yet..you can fill that in later. Keep adding grasses until you have what looks like a bird's nest with a hole in the bottom.

Now you're ready to add your pussy willow. It's really amazing how pliable this stuff is. Start by pushing each individual stem into the base of your nest, weaving it in and out of the criss-crossy wires so that you have what looks like a child's drawing of the sun:

 

Then take the first stem and bend it firmly round the wreath form. Don't worry about breaking it - go tighter than you might think possible. Martha says you can just tuck them in and that's that...but my pussy willow had other ideas, so I threaded up a really long piece of fishing wire on a needle and 'sewed' the nest tight, holding each stem down as I sewed around it with my needle. There's no denying that this is fiddly, but once you've got the hang of it, it becomes pretty easy to do.

 

Fiddle around with the nest until you are happy with the look of it, and then line the bottom with some more grass (and I used a bit of sphagnum moss and a few feathers from a forgotten hat too). Make sure it's suitably messy (birds don't do perfect).

 

My egg is a duck-egg - blown and dyed with pink food colouring. This is very easy to do.

Even better, store your favourite chocolate eggs here. There is something about this nest that says 'hands off...I'm precious, and rare'.

If you don't feel like doing quite this amount of fiddling, then I've written a cheat's guide to nest-making which will appear very soon on the Crocus website...I'll keep you posted.

 

Sweet violets for a heady concoction

The lovely thing about mothers is that they love you ... whatever. This year, mine will get this:

I used to grow all my sweet violets in pots when I only had a balcony to play with, and one of the first things I ever did when I got to my new garden was to plant them all in the ground near my apple tree.  They have thanked me for freeing them and are flowering now as if the world were about to end (I hope it's not, because my new book is launching tomorrow)...

If you want to buy violets then go to a specialist nursery and pick your favourites. I'd suggest sticking with Viola odorata, (I love V. 'The Czar') because although Parma violets look oh so tempting, they don't like frost, so need special treatment.

Violets do this funny thing to your nose: After that sensational initial hit, the scent sort of overwhelms the olfactory senses, and you can't smell anything any more. It's quite a feat for such a tiny little thing...and knowing you've only got a limited time to experience the sublime smell is all part of the charm methinks.

Anyway, I have enough now to make violet syrup, which was one of the first floral concoctions I ever tried. I used to drink it with champagne (those were the days) - as a sort of violet kir royal. Now I just lick it off a spoon with my daughter....smiling.

You need:

15-20 sweet violet blooms, stalks removed

150ml water

Granulated sugar

Method

Boil the water and add the flowers. Remove from the heat and leave to infuse for 24 hours or so. The next day, weigh your liquid and add twice that weight of sugar, heating slowly to dissolve it. Put a lid on the pan and leave it to infuse again for three days. Put it back on the heat and reduce it to a syrupy consistency. Strain and devour.

You can get a taster of my new book in You Magazine on Sunday. Very much hoping you like it...

x

 

Well Hello Darlin!

Magnolias, bursting...

They've got mink coats on...

...and nothing on underneath

Very eighties...reminding me of....(sorry) Dallas...

...So when they emerge, I always think about JR Ewing, eyeing up the ladies.

 

Did I ruin magnolias for you?

No?

Thought not.

Sunshine carpets

You make me wanna

...re-turf my entire garden and do this:

Narcissus 'February Gold' ....

Tens of faaaahhhzens of 'em

Making you feel glad to be alive.

Thanks Kew - that was spectacular.

 

Something to soothe

  Never parTICularly been one for an 'erbal infusion' (unless it's lemon verbena or peppermint)

I'm far more likely to munch leaves or a flower in a salad...

or cover it with sugar and put it on a cake...

 

... but stuff's wee bit stressy at the moment, and I went out to pick a tiny posy because I thought it was something rare, and non-computer-based...and then I found myself marvelling at these pretty things, and I picked up Jekka's Herb Book, and it said  that a tisane acts as a 'mild sedative'...'good for anxiety and insomnia', so I chucked some leaves and a flower in a cup.

Primula vulgaris are mighty easy to grow, particularly if you have a deciduous tree kicking around, under which they can live in a nice, moist, partly shady world.

Wild primroses are less common than they should be, so don't pick them unless there are absolutely loads, and certainly don't pull them up by the roots.

Colours vary from the palest of creams to much deeper, eggy yellows, and look how pretty the buds are:

 

You can grow them in a pot - just use JI No2 and water regularly, and you can divide them in the autumn if you've got big clumps.

The scent is sweet.

I think the small bottle of blooms did more for my jitters than the tea

My new book is coming out soon - and people - (people I admire and respect) are being SO nice about it. This is totally wonderful and deeply gratifying and NOT what I expect...So thank you English Mum and Fennel and Fern.

This site came under attack a while ago and I basically lost the whole caboodle. It was the brilliant Neil who resurrected it, and who is now helping me to improve it. My beloved Lust List has completely disappeared and I am re-writing it (slowly but surely...a little bit every day....). I am hoping to have it back up soon as poss.

 

February bells

Muscari (Grape Hyacinth) are out in the shops right now. You should plant bulbs in autumn and LOTS of them...in which case you could do a lot worse than create a river like this one at Keukenhof (oh to see that one day).

But for those of us with a little less space, they are perfect for a container, a window-box, or any piece of glorious china you happen to have at home...just employ a bit of judicious 'plonkage' and cover any plastic pot bits with sphagnum moss. Indoors, they will go over quicker, but frankly who cares?

They are perennial bulbs, which means they'll come back year after year for you and have these tiny little urn-shaped flowers. They come in deepest cobalt, and also white and lilac (but honestly, why on earth would anyone want anything other than blue?).