Winter?

So we’ve had the shortest day, Christmas and now New Year, that normally means we’re about half way through Wintery days and looking forward to the coming spring. I’m still waiting for the garden to find this out; currently it’s a mishmash of being Autumnally Spring out there with warmish damp days and plenty of plant growth.

Here in Cardiff we’re still waiting for a frost and along with the Snowdrops coming out I’ve also seen Crocus and Daffodils up while having the Pelagoniums from last spring in flower. Normally at this time of year gardeners retire to enjoy the lull in good weather and plant activity, it’s time to keep warm, drink tea and potter through the list of maintenance jobs with the occasion guilty delve into seed and plant catalogues.

Winter is a chance for nature to reset as well. Cold helps clean the garden of pests and diseases, aphid production and weed growth plus after a good frost or snowfall the garden takes on a magical quality. It’s not just the glistening of morning light on dew crystals it’s also the chance to stand back and admire the view without cause of too much distraction. The rest of the year it can be hard to sit still when you’re surrounding by lots of small quick jobs which ultimately take much longer and drag you back into the swing of things. Whereas a garden frozen under frost seems caught in the moment, you can stand and feel as though just for a second nature has paused allowing you time to relax. Plus you can’t do much with everything covered in frost, especially no walking on lawns putting a lot of the garden out of bounds and allowing a guilt free gardener.

Having said that, as gardening is also my job I am out and about through the winter (when I’m not snowed in), which brings me back to the current climate of damp, warm days and confused gardens/gardeners. In thirteen years of gardening I’ve never known such a mild winter with no idea whether it will simply blend into spring or be a sudden cold snap pulling us up sharp.
It is of course still great to be out, especially now the days are lengthening and the promise of sun is within tasting distance whatever we have to go through to get there.

If you fancy getting out there too I can heartily recommend it, there’s a great therapy to be had in getting your hands mucky and sprucing up the garden, even at this time of year there’s always something to be done and it’s easy for the garden to fall into a neglected state. Reconnect with your soil, give some love to the plants and you’ll appreciate it in the spring when growth starts its yearly race skyward.
Watch out for bulbs coming up as they may well be hidden under leaves and tidy back the debris from around plants and off the grass. A lot of garden advice at the moment points to leaving shelter such as leaves and dead seed heads for overwintering wildlife, this is good up to a point but everything has its balance and leaving all the years discarded growth can lead to an unhealthy garden. Pest and diseases are able to overwinter too and young shoots may well be smothered or rot off if under too thick a layer. I recommend tidying back borders at least along the edges and keeping the lawn clear and in the current weather drained too, the up side to these mild days is that most wildlife if disturbed will be able to find a new home without being too cold.

Oh and don’t forget to make yourself a cuppa and stand for a while, it might not be a frozen moment but it’s a joy anyway.

The hidden gardener

Amongst the many roles a gardener takes on one of the most important in my eyes is that of their invisible nature. In the same way that a good painter doesn’t have to stand next to their picture and say “Here, look what I’ve created” a garden shouldn’t need an over the top personality pointing out all the hard work they’ve done. When I’ve finished for the day I like for my clients to come out and enjoy the site of a landscape in balance, often only spotting me secreted away in the depths of a bed as a second thought.

The whole idea of a relaxing garden is one in which people can sit with a cup of tea or glass of wine and not feel the need to jump up and tidy away an offending bush or compromise where they sit to avoid the view of an unsightly corner. At the end of the week I’m lucky enough to finish my work in a quiet self enclosed large garden where I’ve been given free reign to plant and cultivate as is my whim. A garden of this size not only requires a lot of regular work to keep it under control but all produces a lot of garden waste most of which goes back into the garden in one way or the other, whether that’s in the form of compost of the use of prunings for pea-sticks.
Tucked away in a shaded corner behind the pond sits the leaf mould piles, here I’ve spent the last week toiling away creating woven hurdles to segregate the different bays and sifted through last years leaf mould to spread on the herb beds.
It was whilst doing this I discovered another hidden gardener when I lifted a carder bees nest out from the undergrowth, thankfully they were very understanding and once I’d put them back down and replaced the leaves they left me to it.
The point is that what used to be a purely practical corner where my clients chucked garden waste but did their best not to see, has now been incorporated into the general feel of the garden whilst still fulfilling its role most effectively, plus it’s cheered the clients up no end. On top of this it’s still invisible to those strolling around the garden but not due to it being hidden but because of the fact it simply blends in with its surroundings.

The bees nest did draw my mind to something else however. The workers of the garden tend to blend into the background too, oh there’s the occasional exception to the rule most predominantly seen in a butterflies wing but on average the workers colours tend to be on the muted side. Bees, ants, birds and other associated toilers of the landscape go about their business with a “Don’t mind me I’m just passing through” ethos.
Taking this on board I like to see that I myself have also calmed down in the colour department, gone are the days of multicoloured trousers and bright colourful t-shirts, an effect that no doubt made me look more like a paint factory experiment and welcomed is the attire of mossy greens, muddy browns and faded khaki’s.

This is not to say that I have anything against a more colourfully dressed gardener but I do think that we should take second or even third place to the plants and wildlife we are surrounded by on a daily basis. Maybe if we became part of the background more, rather than striving to be in the fore we might start to not only see the beauty of the world we live in but also come to realise that we ourselves are part of that beauty.

Gardening as art.

It’s early morning, Little O is back in her cot sleeping, the cat is curled up in the first rays of the day, Anna sleeps on from the night and the garden is cool and quiet; the perfect time for a cuppa and a morning stroll barefoot across the lawn. Nothing sharpens the appreciation of a garden as when it proves to be the most perfect balance to everything else.

When the outside world gets a bit hectic it’s our own personal retreat, whether that’s to sit with a cuppa and appreciate or get the tools out and go for a bit of shake up. This is one of the joys of gardening, the ability to work alongside your mood, to do whatever you feel the need to that day. In the same way artists can express themselves through paint, stone, poetry, and various other mediums we can to do through nature. If you looked straight down on a collection of houses and gardens you’d have a set of paintings as interesting as anything hanging in a gallery and a stroll in a garden can be as textural and grand as any sculpture.
The difference being, that when a painter has finished with a canvas they can put it to one side and start a fresh, they don’t come back to it the following week to find that the red is spreading, the fine lines have begun to blur and there’s tiny blobs of weedy green appearing everywhere. On the other hand they can’t after a couple of years decide that the picture would look better if slightly rearranged or a whole new section incorporated.
A well balanced and pleasing garden is one that you don’t notice as a created space in the same way you don’t see the lump of rock that is the sculpture or the paint that is the picture. Plants should have their place in the garden whether that’s as a specimen or part of a more complete display, too often we hang on to a struggling or ill placed plant even though it throws the rest of the garden off kilter.

The logical side of this is that we as gardeners should feel free to see ourselves as artists, after all the connection between artist and garden is an old one. If we looked at the garden like a snapshot, a well timed photograph then maybe we’d be more inclined to be a bit adventurous, I’m not suggesting we go as far as to divert the local stream to make the garden more picturesque like Monet did, but a smaller change could be just as bold.
Down near the sea I have the pleasure of working for two neighbouring gardens, along the top of their dividing garden wall grows a vigourous ivy with hebe, holly and bay trees either side. Long has been my battle to keep this clipped and under control until recently I noticed a natural circle appearing in the foliage, with a bit of neatening not only does the ivy have a focus of interest but each neighbour gets glimpses of colour and interest from the next garden without disturbing privacy.

I recommend going out and having a good hard look at your garden, see it as the vast moveable canvas of plants and features it is. Does it need a splash of colour somewhere or edges redefined? Maybe a new coat of wood stain on the shed or a climber to ramble over new heights?
You don’t need to go all Capability Brown on the garden but at least consider having a little play with what you’ve got. You might be surprised at the artist inside you.

Guest entemologist blog.

Many people have a way of marking the beginning of spring, and usually the first sign is noticed in the garden, the plot of green space closest to our brick and concrete abodes. For some it is the first daffodil, or the first swallow flying overhead, or the sight of birds collecting nesting material. In these days of calendars, atomic clocks and “accurate” weather reporting, the arrival of spring is one of the few things that people still turn to nature to decide.

As an entomologist, I tend to notice the smaller things and notice them in stages. For me the first sure sign of spring approaching is the appearance of the flowers on what is variously known as Sallow, Goat Willow or Pussy Willow. Without fail, these attract the first flies of the year, usually including the honey-bee mimicking Drone-fly and the elongate and stripy Marmalade hoverfly, both common sights in the garden from spring onwards and two species that, unusually for hoverflies, hibernate, so require an abundant early nectar source upon awakening.

These are shortly followed by the appearance of the first bumblebee, always a queen at this time of the year, and usually a huge hulking beast of a bee. This early in the year they need to go about constructing nests and feeding the first brood of worker larvae, so at this difficult time of year they appreciate as much floral abundance as possible. They too also visit Goat Willow flowers, but also early-flowering Heathers, Peas, Crocuses, Primroses, Comfrey and Bugle. At a time when bees are disappearing, the conservation importance of early-flowering plants in the garden cannot be overstated as these help to set up the nests for the rest of the year.
One particular species, the brown Common Carder Bee, can be seen gathering moss on lawns at this time of year to make its nest. Later on in the spring it is fascinating to watch the workers working together in collecting and untangling the moss and transporting it to the nest.
The next bee to show up is very common, but frequently overlooked by the gardener. It has the unfortunate common name of the Hairy-footed Flower Bee, but I much prefer its much more elegant Latin name, Anthophora plumipes. This is a large solitary bee, nesting in holes in walls. The moderate-sized gingery male is usually the first to appear around mid-March, closely followed by the much larger black female. Both are particularly fond of Lungwort, and this is where the first few are usually seen, but also visit Comfrey and similar plants. Their skill in hovering and the speed they travel between flowers is simply incredible given that it is often still cold at that time of year.
The next on the scene are often first noticed by the appearance of small holes surrounded by volcano-like mounds of soil in the lawn, particularly if there are any bare patches. These are caused by the mining bees which, like Anthophora, are solitary, although often many nests are found in a small area. I have particular fondness for two species that be found in gardens, the dark-ginger, furry and friendly-looking Tawny Mining Bee and the black and grey Ashy Mining Bee. Both are non-aggressive and have a very weak sting, and are excellent garden pollinators, particularly of current bushes and fruit trees.

But, even though by this time the garden has begun to come alive with insects, flowers and nesting birds, spring has not yet sprung for me. The temperature is still cold and the weather still very unpredictable. For me it comes when I see the first of a creature that needs warmth to go about its daily business.
For me, the start of spring proper is when I see my first bee-fly. These are curious insects, flies that closely resemble bees, frequently seen hovering, but darting away when disturbed faster than most garden insects. Most noticeable is their long proboscis, which they use to get nectar from tubular flowers such as Primroses, Cowslips and Violets. When close by they emit a tiny whining noise. Their larvae are parasitic on ground nesting bees such as the two mentioned above, but they do not pose a big threat to them. The females can often be seen “dusting” in dry bare earth, the reason for this being a bit of a mystery. They can also be seen flicking their tiny eggs onto short grass and bare earth, not necessarily where the bees are nesting, but where they are likely to be nesting, which gets them over the messy business of encountering angry bees if they were to search more carefully.
Two species are found in gardens, the Dark-edged Bee-fly, with a long dark bar across the top of the wings, and the much rarer Dotted Bee-fly, with lots of small dots on the otherwise clear wings. They cannot even walk below 12°C and need it to be about 17°C. When the temperature is colder, they will rest under a leaf and remain immobile for a week or more. Sometimes, I think, nature has got things just right! So when I see the first bee-fly, I know it’s time to throw away the winter sweater, dig out my shorts, sit outside with a good book and look forward to the summer.

Spring!

I have a confession to make.

I should be doing other wordy things right now, but I just had to take a moment to say how much I love this time of year. SPRING!

Outside is the place to be at now. Wherever you are the feeling and energy of Spring will be coursing through the world around you. Trees budding and bursting to leaf, lawns growing and wafts of fresh grass clippings on the air, bulbs bright in the clear morning light, even the light has a new intensity. In the centre of a busy city you can feel Spring filtering itself through your senses and calling to the child in us all that simply wants to roll on the grass and run bare foot over the warming ground.
You can probably pick up my slight enthusiasm for this season by now and if you saw me gardening these days you’d no doubt notice a spring in my step, a tendency to sniff mown grass and laugh whilst looking around me. It gets into you as much as the plants, it’s not only the trees that are feeling the rush of sap and energy, we are too and there’s so much of it to go around. This is the force that pushes shoots through concrete and delivers sap to the tip of the highest branch, from the moment the sun breaks into the sky till the drawing of night nature is behaving like a toddler that’s got drunk on squash concentrate; exuberant, everywhere at once, manic and over flowing with energy.

As I said before I should be doing other writings at the moment but such a natural celebration has once again distracted me away from the jobs that should be done to those I fancy doing. Admittedly most seasons inspire me this way and there’s something unique that makes each one my favourite at its time of arrival. I’m sure by the time the year is beginning to run its course I’ll be looking forward to the settling down and Winter.
But right now we’re at what many see as the beginning of the seasonal year and I can’t wait to watch it unfurl itself over the coming months. Garden shows, hyperactive lawns, fresh food gluts from the garden and evenings drinking wine on the lawn...for such a fresh, clean time of year it can also be wonderfully decadent.

Enjoy.

Guest entomologist blog

Many people have a way of marking the beginning of spring, and usually the first sign is noticed in the garden, the plot of green space closest to our brick and concrete abodes. For some it is the first daffodil, or the first swallow flying overhead, or the sight of birds collecting nesting material. In these days of calendars, atomic clocks and “accurate” weather reporting, the arrival of spring is one of the few things that people still turn to nature to decide.

As an entomologist, I tend to notice the smaller things and notice them in stages. For me the first sure sign of spring approaching is the appearance of the flowers on what is variously known as Sallow, Goat Willow or Pussy Willow. Without fail, these attract the first flies of the year, usually including the honey-bee mimicking Drone-fly and the elongate and stripy Marmalade hoverfly, both common sights in the garden from spring onwards and two species that, unusually for hoverflies, hibernate, so require an abundant early nectar source upon awakening.
These are shortly followed by the appearance of the first bumblebee, always a queen at this time of the year, and usually a huge hulking beast of a bee. This early in the year they need to go about constructing nests and feeding the first brood of worker larvae, so at this difficult time of year they appreciate as much floral abundance as possible. They too also visit Goat Willow flowers, but also early-flowering Heathers, Peas, Crocuses, Primroses, Comfrey and Bugle. At a time when bees are disappearing, the conservation importance of early-flowering plants in the garden cannot be overstated as these help to set up the nests for the rest of the year.
One particular species, the brown Common Carder Bee, can be seen gathering moss on lawns at this time of year to make its nest. Later on in the spring it is fascinating to watch the workers working together in collecting and untangling the moss and transporting it to the nest. The next bee to show up is very common, but frequently overlooked by the gardener.
It has the unfortunate common name of the Hairy-footed Flower Bee, but I much prefer its much more elegant Latin name, Anthophora plumipes. This is a large solitary bee, nesting in holes in walls. The moderate-sized gingery male is usually the first to appear around mid-March, closely followed by the much larger black female. Both are particularly fond of Lungwort, and this is where the first few are usually seen, but also visit Comfrey and similar plants. Their skill in hovering and the speed they travel between flowers is simply incredible given that it is often still cold at that time of year.
The next on the scene are often first noticed by the appearance of small holes surrounded by volcano-like mounds of soil in the lawn, particularly if there are any bare patches. These are caused by the mining bees which, like Anthophora, are solitary, although often many nests are found in a small area. I have particular fondness for two species that be found in gardens, the dark-ginger, furry and friendly-looking Tawny Mining Bee and the black and grey Ashy Mining Bee. Both are non-aggressive and have a very weak sting, and are excellent garden pollinators, particularly of current bushes and fruit trees.

But, even though by this time the garden has begun to come alive with insects, flowers and nesting birds, spring has not yet sprung for me. The temperature is still cold and the weather still very unpredictable. For me it comes when I see the first of a creature that needs warmth to go about its daily business.
For me, the start of spring proper is when I see my first bee-fly. These are curious insects, flies that closely resemble bees, frequently seen hovering, but darting away when disturbed faster than most garden insects. Most noticeable is their long proboscis, which they use to get nectar from tubular flowers such as Primroses, Cowslips and Violets. When close by they emit a tiny whining noise. Their larvae are parasitic on ground nesting bees such as the two mentioned above, but they do not pose a big threat to them. The females can often be seen “dusting” in dry bare earth, the reason for this being a bit of a mystery. They can also be seen flicking their tiny eggs onto short grass and bare earth, not necessarily where the bees are nesting, but where they are likely to be nesting, which gets them over the messy business of encountering angry bees if they were to search more carefully.
Two species are found in gardens, the Dark-edged Bee-fly, with a long dark bar across the top of the wings, and the much rarer Dotted Bee-fly, with lots of small dots on the otherwise clear wings. They cannot even walk below 12°C and need it to be about 17°C. When the temperature is colder, they will rest under a leaf and remain immobile for a week or more. Sometimes, I think, nature has got things just right! So when I see the first bee-fly, I know it’s time to throw away the winter sweater, dig out my shorts, sit outside with a good book and look forward to the summer.

Wifeys waffle.

Pete asked me if I would like to write a little something on here as a ‘Guest blogger’.

Truth be told I don’t really know an awful lot about gardening. I know a fair bit about herbs and there wonderful powers in food and also as medicine’s but I don’t know an Agapanthus from a Zandestachia!

I absolutely adore Pete’s enthusiasm and passion for gardening. As a novice I love hearing about which plants do what, how they have evolved and how some very innocuous looking types can kill you if you eat them - Daffodils, Foxgloves and even the humble Buttercup!

It literally is another world and one I feel I’m learning about all the time without conscious effort.
Our garden is looking quite sorry for itself at the moment, what with all those inches of snow for weeks on end and icy winds. Pete is busy nurturing other people’s outdoor spaces and I am busy with our little baby. I long for a quiet weekend when I can strap Orla to my back and Pete and I can get mud under our fingernails again.
We live in a bit of a concrete jungle, with no good parks or woods nearby so our humble garden is more than just a bit of grass and earth, it soothes our overcomplicated minds, helps our bodies relax and awakens our senses to sights and smells.

We are so overjoyed to have a garden now after spending 2 years in a 1st floor flat, gazing out over a car park. Looking back I realise how low I felt, not being able to walk outside in a dressing gown with a cuppa. I’m so happy we can introduce our girl so early on to her very own wonderland of mini beasts and faerie dens.

Today I had my first garden related incident of the year chopping logs (well trying) and falling over a pallet and twisting my ankle, cutting my finger and bashing my head on a compost trough!
Here’s to a hopefully less accident prone year of garden activity!!