Optimistic or plain foolish?
Despite the fact that gardeners have to be full of hope: that our young plants will survive the onslaught of slugs, that cabbages will escape the predations of caterpillars; that winter will be mild and that we will live long enough to see that tree mature, I am not blessed with abundant optimism. I always prepare for the worst and more often than not I get what I expect! I am sure that those of a ‘happy go-lucky’ disposition simply don’t notice the chaos they leave in their wake.
But I don’t want to be too negative on a Sunday morning. The weather is being gentle, we have had some decent rain and the garden is breathing a sigh of relief. But the question posed by the title of this post came to mind when we took our (irregularly) routine walk down to the strawberry farm. Yes, I grow strawberries but I took my eye off the ball a bit and the old strawberry beds suffered in the drought earlier in summer and are not very productive this year – not that they are big enough to ever supply all the strawberries I want.
A steep bank beside the road has been covered in a shroud of woven weed-suppressant fabric and planted, at the top, with creeping plants to tumble down and cover the fabric. Personally, I hate the use of these fabrics in the garden. They can stop the growth of weeds but they don’t allow the soil underneath to be improved and don’t allow good planting. On the flat, they are usually covered in bark or slate chippings. Too often, troublesome weeds like bindweed or mare’s tail pop up through the planting holes and look awful. Most ground cover plants like to root into the soil as they spread so won’t cover the fabric that well. But something vigorous does have a chance, if the soil is prepared and the spacing is reasonably close.
But aubrieta?
What is slightly cheering is that a few weeks ago the aubrieta were struggling against weeds in the planting holes and that these had been removed to show off the aubrieta. But this is optimism bordering on the foolish.
And it is hideously ugly. Rubus tricolour or a creeping cotoneaster or juniper may have worked, but aubrieta?
In my own garden, some optimism has proved the right course. The callistemon, planted last spring, not only survived the winter, it grew and is covered in bloom. I was unsure of whether it would be OK but it seems happy. And relax!
After many years of trying, and failing, I finally have a mophead hydrangea not just alive but getting bigger. I was not sure why I just couldn’t get one to settle in. This one was potted up and kept in a pot for a year so it was bigger when planted out. It got through the winter and had a very light prune and has decided to bloom. It seems ungrateful but I am not that keen on the colour – it seemed a good idea at the time. But I hoped it would grow and flower and put it beside pittosporum ‘Bannow Bay’ that, seasonally, has pink/purple foliage that makes a good match.
And, at last, the fig in the polytunnel has decided to crop. Other years the figs dropped off when small and I was not sure why. But this year it has a good crop. I ate the first before it was fully ripe, partly in an attempt to get it before the birds. But I forgot that it is ‘Rouge de Bordeaux’ and should be red when ripe. I was underwhelmed by the taste. The birds are right to attack the strawberries and leave the figs. But it is a crop!
And when I moved the Musa basjoo in spring, frosted to the ground, I was not sure if it would survive. I dug in lots of organic matter and have fed it every time I passed with the bucket of fertiliser, and it seems happy to be in its new home. It will stay here and I think it will perform better than in its previous home which was too shady and dry, though protected from radiation frosts, to some extent, by an overhanging hedge. I will make the effort to protect it this winter and hope it grows strongly.
That word ‘hope’ again.
The Biking Gardener 
I do enjoy visiting your garden… always so much going on…
Thank you. Well there is always more to do!
Always…
Working within landscapes that are not mine is both fun and not so fun. I get to work with interesting species that I would have no use for within my own garden, which can be fun. I also work with species that I dislike, but that are appealing to others, which is not so fun. Weirdly though, after working with some of the species that I dislike, I eventually get to enjoy them. That is how I met ‘Black Lace’ elderberry.
It is always best to have an open mind – not that I will be planting a bed of ‘wax’ begonias any time soon!
I must say I do like that Hydrangea colour! I got P.‘Bannow Bay’ recently. Planted it in a spot I’ve been redoing, changed my mind so it’s back in a much larger pot awaiting a new spot.
I am not sure but my gut tells me that ‘Bannow Bay’ is a variegated sport of ‘Tom Thumb’. I have only had it two years and it seems very compact. The colour is so extraordinary that it needs careful placement I think – my ‘purple’ hydrangea seems similarly unnatural so I am happy to leave them to fight it out for attention.
Ps. Did mean to comment re your Briza maxima. I sprinkled seeds along the lane out side the informal hedge/ shrubs – for the enjoyment of the walkers. I foolishly thought it was thick enough at the base not to come back through! Not at all, dogs, cats, hedgehogs et al have made pathways carrying the seed heads and now I’ve a line of it within the garden waiting to be weeded. Next stop my borders. BEWARE! Briza media is actually prettier and much less invasive. I could send you seeds if you would like.
I am aware of its spreading ability, though I don’t have hedgehogs to spread the seeds – the wind does a fine job all by itself. I am happy to tolerate this for now but I am aware that it could quickly become a nuisance. It is strange what will selfseed. THe ‘Lauren’s Grape’ poppies have not produced a single seedling in the bed they inhabited last year, though the calendulas self seeded madly. Keep a few seeds of media in your pocket please and we can swap again later in the season with some luck 🙂 Thank you. The diascias are doing well and flowering like mad. I am very appreciative of them.