The Hellebores are coming!

Like many gardeners, I have been drawn into the recent increase in popularity of the Hellebore. I doubt I will have the beautiful display that you can get in a Woodland setting (Garden Poet, that's you) but I wanted to give it a go. So I got 2 Hs from the rescue corner at the Garden Centre and planted them in the back corner of the garden under the overhanging branches of a neighbours tree. As usual when I'm planting, I had a lot of hope but little expectation.

The first thing I've got to say about Hellebores is that they are tough buggers. This is probably because even the cultivated varieties are pretty close to the native plants. They have been living cheek by jowl with a Hosta I was kindly given by the in-laws when we moved in and you can see a real difference. The Hosta is with us so briefly that it may as well not be - it unfurls some pale green and white striped leaves and then they are gone. Slugs do not seem to be attracted to the thick and glossy leaved Hellebore leaves.

Somewhere in the middle of that badly taken photo, there is a greenish white bud. While some gardeners might expect that this would happen as a matter of course, I am invariably astounded. So, the Christmas or Lenten Rose (as it is also known) is budding up and I should have flowers soon! Happy Christmas to me!

Some Early New Year Garden Resolutions

I've been doing a bit of pottering today in the garden as well as reading through some beautiful gardens and I've come up with 3 resolutions for things I will do in the garden this year:

1) Keep the palette simple
I have a relatively large range of plants already so this year I'm going to add more things that I have already. Another Astilbe, another Gillenia Trifolata and more Zebra Grass - these plants have grown well for me and look great at several seasons of the year. I would like to introduce some newcomers but will do so sparingly - Garlic Chives and Dahlias are two that I'm trying in 2013.

2) Cut my losses
Sweet peas are wondrous but don't have the longevity in the Scottish climate to be the centre of 2 displays. I'll grow a white set in a pot at the back. I'm also not trying Bluebells again (2 years of failure) or Cosmos (I assume my thank you letter from the slugs is in the post).

3) New approach to the front garden.
Another fairly unmitigated disaster. Looks horrific and is currently the repository for all the crap plants I inherited and needed to plant somewhere. Some nice research in January and February and acceptance that for next year we won't get much light as the builders across the way still have a year to go.

It's not as grim as it could be

In general I am very vocal about my dislike of winter - no gardening and no sunlight makes Liza a dull girl. And December and January really are the pits as far as I am concerned. But here are some reasons why it's not as grim just now as it could be.

Look at this cat - what an utter fool and pleasure he is. Right after this he spent 10 minutes playing hide and seek with Jamie in the bed.

This Astilbe is still looking remarkably good,might get another next as it's grown on me and gives good value even when out of season.

This Zebra Grass is still elegant and tall - I'm glad I persevered with grasses because this one has repaid me in dividends.

Rampant Winter Jasmine is having a whale of a time right now.

And this combo of Hebe, Thyme, Convulvulus and Black Grass has happened almost completely by accident but doesn't it look amazing? My aesthetic of small leaves, herbs and silvery and green tones has actually worked here.

The High Line

The Garden Poet brought my attention to the High Line in New York, following my recent interest in Dutch Heem parks. The High Line is a public park built on an old freight rail line in Manhattan which was founded by the local community in 1999, and although it is owned by the City of New York 90% of its operating funds are currently provided by non-public sources. The line itself dates from the 1930's and was an innovative transport solution aiming to remove dangerous freight trains from the streets. The line closed in 1980 and was destined for demolition (or development depending on your own perspective) when the Friends of the High Line stepped in. The design competition was won by James Corner Field Operations (landscape architects) and Diller Scofidio + Renfro (architects) and the plans were displayed publicly prior to the project starting on site. Most crucially, Piet Oudolf was a consultant on the project.

Piet Oudolf

I find this project very inspiring in terms of the beautiful planting and the great synergy of design and conservation. I'd recommend a visit to their website which is http://www.thehighline.org.

Chelsea, Woopitty Woo

So, my dreams are to come true in 2013.... No, I haven't had confirmation from the gods that sweet peas will have a great year, but I am going to the Chelsea Flower Show on the 10th anniversary year. I have been waiting impatiently for the non-RHS members ticket booking window to open and when it did (at 9.30am on 1st December) I was ready with my finger on the 'Book Tickets' button. This year Jamie and I are buying each other holidays instead of presents, so in May we'll be taking a short break based around the wonderful show!
Lucky old Petch.

Ballerina of my dreams

I may have missed the boat, but today I have planted my tulips for spring. There were various sets of advice about when to plant these bulbs, however I chose to go with Monty Don's advice which was anytime up to Christmas as long as it's before the frosts set in. Well, today is before Christmas so I got one right. I was inspired earlier in the year by the tulips in Joe Swift's Chelsea Garden, the orange Tulipa Ballerina. Their brash orange colours and delicate linear form really caught my eye and it is these I have planted. I moved my ugly plastic pot that I grow salad leaves in out to the front and sank half the bulbs into that, and the others are dotted around the front flowerbed.
So if luck is on my side, in the spring I should have Tulips, Alliums and Snowdrops meshing with survivors from last year - crocuses, bluebells, fritillaries and narcissus. Could be beautiful.

Sunday afternoon along the Canal

Click your heels to go Heem?

Today I have been mostly thinking about urban bio-diversity. Strange you might think, and a thought pattern that has been stimulated by an unexpected source. I have been reading Waterlog by Roger Deacon which, if you haven't read it, is a gentle and cleansing read around swimming in natural surroundings and the heritage of this. I'm avoiding the use of the phrase wild swimming as it seems superfluous and a media attempt to make swimming in the sea an extreme sport. It's a lovely book which rightly challenges our lack of connection with the natural landscape and the fear that has developed around doing things like swim in a river. It also talks about a lot of local history and it was here that I first experienced prickings of discomfort.
As a history graduate and lover of vintage, I regularly look back at other eras and look at some of the beauty and culture that we have lost along the way, however I never lose sight of the fact that I would not have wanted to be born in the 1920s because I would not have had any of the opportunities I have now. The change in our world which I would hesitate to call progress does mean we lose things along the way but does also mean wins that few would argue aren't a boon. I'll give you an example, we can look back at village life through rose tinted spectacles but in reality many of those people would not have had access to the education, length of life and basic standards of living that they have now. I see so many examples of people going back to a 1940s existence of living in the country and being self-sufficient but this is not achievable for all of us and there must be another way.
Linked with my interest in gardens and garden design, this has prompted a personal desire to research and educate myself on how we can make cities more ecological and bio-diverse with appropriate strategies for urban life rather than a River Cottage style retreat. I decided to start with the Heem parks which came to my attention while reading about the gardens created for the Olympic village.
 So, Heem means habitat or home and these urban spaces started to be developed in the 1920s for wildflowers that were disappearing. They were meant to be places of education and still are, however over time the emphasis has changed to being places to appreciate. Several Heem parks are situated in a suburb of Amsterdam called Amstelveen and the most famous is the Jac P Theisse park designed by the landscape architect CP Broerse. Theisse or Thysee was  a great Dutch conservationist and ecologist and his ideas were the inspiration behind the park's design and ethos. The park is 24 hectares and initially was to provide a green corridor along the edge of Amstelveen. In comparison to the traditional manicured and ornamental appearance of British parks, the Heem parks use the distinctive native flora of area in its natural surroundings. I looked for a photograph to show you what they look like but the design is so natural as to look like a wild park. They have however been strongly engineered to look this way. As you walk through the park you walk through different 'rooms' of habitats and species, however in comparison with British botanical gardens the effect is strikingly natural.
The concept of a green or blue corridor is vital with urban biodiversity, linking green areas of the city to allow free movement of flora and fauna and simply to give it space in the cluttered urban tapestry. Green corridors are usually woodland or wetland and can also have an important part to play for drainage, particularly as so much of our urban space is now sealed. An area as seemingly unimportant as the embankment of the cycle path and the railway line at the end of my street can have far-reaching implications for the city's health and ecological wealth.

When am I cleaning windows?

Like most people, I don't look forward to house-work. My list of least favourite jobs includes emptying bins, cleaning loos, mopping floors, dusting.... and cleaning windows. As a result I am sitting in my front room in a haze of blazing sunshine but cannot see anything outside in the street. The effect is rather like frosted glass, which is of course what I was going for. 
This weekend Jamie and I were supposed to be doing DIY, however the Friday holidays we had taken to do it had to be cancelled due to work. There are many upsides to this, the chief of which is not having to actually do the DIY,  however it does also mean that we have to live with the gaps in the skirting and dirty hall for a bit longer. 
Instead I will be doing the usual things on my weekend - friends and food. I've already fitted in dinner with Laura last night and will be off to brunch later today. I've also got new glasses which I'm getting used to - Jamie said I look like a secretary, which to a vintage-lover is a great complement. And maybe some garden action too.

Edinburgh changes her colours

Today Jamie and I spent our Sunday wondering through Edinburgh. We walked up to Bruntsfield first where we had a lovely brunch at the incomparable Three Birds Restaurant - treacle bacon with poached eggs and hollandaise made to perfection. On the way we saw this beautiful Hornbeam hedge.

We then walked down the undulating path that crosses the Links and then crossed back over the Meadows before finishing the home stretch along the canal. The trees were very beautiful today in the thin light.

They are moving from reds and oranges to golds and yellows, as the colours start to run into the death of winter. Winter can be a beautiful season and is necessary, but each year we all die a little and that's getting closer now.

Woken by the Light

This morning at half eight I was woken by the sunshine seeping through the curtains, and feeling this is going to become an unusual occurrence, I manoeuvred myself out from under the snoring cat and put my wellies on.

The lavender continues unabated and even in the cold air I could smell its wonderful scent. Today the antiseptic notes are pre-dominating, perhaps as an effect of the cold air or my only shortly-awakened nostrils.

This clematis has been a confusing member of my garden menagerie up to now. In the first year it flowered in the spring with pale lilac flowers and last year it flowered in the late summers with maroon flowers. This is particularly trying as the pruning instructions for clematis vary considerably whether they are early or late flowering. As it has flowered late again this year, I have decided it must be a Viticella and I will be pruning it this year. Once the flowers have stopped of course.

 One plant that is relishing the season is the jasmine, who has decided to transform herself into a morass of twining stems punctuated in places by pink buds and little white flowers. Nice to see a plant patently enjoying herself and glorying in the season!

A picture of my not very attractive fence (must paint that next year as that brown is heinous). The reason for this shot is the light streaming through the trellis fence and the yellowing foliage of the Asiatic lily. You can see how low the light is.

There's that fence again. And my Eucalyptus in front of the neighbours tree which is really just a frame for Clematis (you're not actually seeing any leaves that belong to that tree).

Devon Odyssey - Trip to Marwood

 Jamie and I have just returned from a trip to Devon to see my parents. While we were there the 4 of us took an afternoon walk in Marwood Gardens near Arlington.

  

  Marwood is one of my favourite places on the planet so I was ecstatic to fit in a visit this time. You can see my entourage in some of these pictures.

 

 

 Here is the National Collection of Astilbes, technically not at their best at the moment but have a certain rusty splendour.

 I wonder if my stubby bamboo will:
a) Survive the winter
b) Ever have 1/20th of the majesty of this clump of bamboo.

The sound of the wind whispering and the stems bending was wonderful.

 Viburnum Grandiflorum, doesn't look inspiring until you appreciate the spiky structure, lichen and red leaves.

  Magnolia buds.

And bang, the mist is gone.

Yesterday it felt like the city has fast-forwarded to winter as we were plunged into a thick cloud of fog all day. At work, we couldn't see the other side of the road. Walking home I did wonder if a cheeky photo for the blog might be a good idea but then my inner scrooge rose up as I almost tripped over 50 million amateur photographers on my way home.
Later that night, my lovely husband was talking to me last night about data farms and quoting horrific stats about the number of photos a day posted on Facebook and asked me "Where do you think there are all stored?" Of course, I knew not but now I know they are massive sites and could rival landfill sites in the future. At this point my inner snob rose up and I thought about our modern obsession with recording everything (Yes I know where I am writing this) and how when you are at a gig nowadays half the audience spend the time taking photos and filming to evidence their attendance perhaps?
I think that there is a tenet of Zen philosophy we can all take on board - whatever you are doing, focus on that for the time you are doing it and do it as well as you can. If you are at a gig, enjoy each second. Washing up - focus on it and get it done. Of course having never worked on a factory line this might not be appropriate for all circumstances but it's a nice idea.
What I originally meant to write about today was bulbs, and damn it I'm going to. I've been brave this year, Galanthus planted a couple of weeks ago at the back and purple Alliums this weekend, also at the back. Next month I'm going to plant orange Ballerina Tulips at the front. All this should match up with the fritillaries and crocuses that are already there.
Bulbs are like hope. On a dreary autumn day surrounded by dying plants, you plant a dry-ish beige lump in the flower bed. You fervently hope that it will look as beautiful as the picture on the packaging but your experience tells you the results will be mixed. For a moment you remind yourself that there is still a long way to go and most of your plants still have to die back and many of them won't make it to spring. But a little voice says: "But it could happen, and wouldn't it look stunning?". Gardening for me is hope tempered with disappointment.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

 I don't remember the Gillenia Trifolata looking quite so good this time last year, but maybe seeing it in its prime across summer cleansed me of the memory. Autumn has a tipping point between decadence and decay and my garden is demonstrating that at the moment.

On another note here are my new black-stemmed bamboos which arrived by mail order last week and which I have potted on today in larger pots. If they survive the winter I am planning to plant them up in glamorous new pots (yet to be purchased) and use them to screen the decking to make it more private. Planting them in pots means they won't take over the beds - hopefully they will last the winter as I've not had much luck with bamboo in the past

While autumn may mean the slide towards decay for most plants, others are just coming into their own. The jasmine has freshened up and is going even more crazy by twining and reaching. And the pinky buds above are the precursor of the scented white studs we will see soon.

Normally I wouldn't be able to bear the drooping and decaying rose blooms, but decay suits Compassion because it mimics the old gold edging of the petals in late summer.

But some garden stalwarts look good in all seasons and lights - my love affair with the Eucalyptus continues.

Day Trip to Buchlyvie and the Scottish Home Counties

Made a lovely trip today from Edinburgh Waverley to Milngavie by train (drinking coffee and reading magazines in the sunshine of the train compartment was bliss. The wonderful Su picked me up from the train station and drove me through Killean and the Duke's Pass to a lovely pub for lunch. Then we visited her cottage near Buchlyvie for a lovely pot of tea and finally she dropped me back the the station.
Much chatting and catching up was had and in the process I feel like I've had a mini-break.

Sweet Pea, I Love Thee

Photography purists beware! Here come some very poor quality shots of my sweet pea hanging basket. I'm just happy they flowered and am not worrying about the fact that the flowers didn't come on the plants I grew patiently from seed.

So the moral of the story is that whatever you want them to do, plants often do something else but there is always the potential for surprise. Oh, and while I may have given up on bluebells I will never give up on sweet peas and will try again next year.