London Walks - my favourite starts with a garden

My favourite walk in London starts at St Paul's and takes you over the Millennium Bridge to the Tate and then winds it's way along the South Bank to Westminster. I did this walk with Lizzie several years ago and it's now an essential element of any trip I make to London.

As you cross the road before you go down the 
walkway to the bridge there is a garden with box parterres and pink and violet tulips.

And who is that behind the hedge in a blue anorak?

It's pretty simple but unexpectedly lovely.

Today is Primrose day

 I only have one and it's looking at its best right now, so here he is....

Orange - it can be classy

For the last 2 years I've struggled with the design and execution of the front-garden. For the last 2 years I have laboured at a hot-coloured potager, with the potager element dropped last year as I came to terms with the fact that I can't grow vegetables.
I have however maintained the focus on hot colours because they are such a contrast to the muted tones of the back and also because they are a nice greeting when you come home.
To the left are the wondrous Tulipa Ballerina that I have coveted, coddled and dreamed of. They symbolise the joy of gardening and are utterly worth the hard work that went into them. They, like all the uber-flowers will not last long, but burn most brightly.

There are also tulips scattered in the flower bed and here a Ballerina stands behind a jaunty Geum. Until recently I always secretly thought orange was a tacky colour that I'd normally steer clear of. The turning point was an uncharacteristic selection of some orangey-yellow Peoniolas that literally brought the sunshine into my dismal front garden (at that time). Since then I have become increasingly fixated on the greater strength and warmth that orange brings.
The brightness may start to fade when the Geum and the Ballerina fade, so I'll need to bolster them with some more Orange purchases.

Enough of orange, what of hot pink. This lovely Cirsium is on its way and it's a pretty hard working plant - its form is striking and the colour when it come will be stonking. The only downside is the by product of its form - it likes to lodge some spines in your flesh given an opportunity.

Springing from the ground...guess that's why they call it spring.... (from 27th April)

I've never made a secret of my 'amour' for fritillaries, and they are looking particularly gorgeous right now, with their improbable snake heads and cross-hatched petals.

This was the front garden beginning to awake - after the slugs have been up for weeks already. I think slugs and snails may be the new super-race as they seem tireless and impervious to life's vissitudes. I've ordered some nematodes from the internet that I've heard may be the answer.

I think the planting of this bed needs some work - the new Hebe at the front is the first step to an improved structure and year-round interest>

You can see these from Jamie's desk.

Here come the forget-me-nots.

These are Alliums.

Yet another Hebe.

Verdant is not the word.

Confession - I did not take the photos in this blog post. I utilised the skills and talents of The Man himself and I think the resulting photographs are stunning. Uploading pictures to the blog has proved well nigh impossible recently, hence the hiatus since my last offering.

Above is my relatively new Hebe, adding to the design of silvery and small-leaved plants. It overlaps (picture right) with the burgeoning Gillenia Trifolata that does not meet that part of the design at all but does have lovely white flowers.

Here is the token representative of the Bluebell quango.

We're in that window of time where the Acer looks like a stunning waterfall of freshness.

A haze of forget-me-nots rising from the Aquilegia.

Hopefully this clematis will make up for the one I butchered at the front gate. Note to similarly inexperienced gardeners, when gardeners say cut it right down to the ground, they don't actually mean the ground they mean about 80 centimetres from the ground. It is starting to bud again though, so I might get some leaves by October.

The Alliums are really promising a lot already and the structural contribution is substantial. They make me think of my forthcoming visit to Chelsea, as I've watched the coverage over the last few years and their pom-pom forms are always everywhere.