Wordless Wednesday - sitting on passion flowers

Things I have learnt

It has been 18 months since our son Thomas was born. A steep learning curve for all of us; not least Thomas, who has had to learn to cope with his parents’ novice attempts to bring up a child.

Over the past 18 months, I’ve found it rather difficult to do all the normal stuff I did before, including blogging, allotmenting and gardening. The allotment has been given up, for now at least. I admire those parents who can carry on a normal life with small child in tow, being able to keep on top of everything, be well manicured, and still have time to knit their own tofu. To be honest, I wasn’t well manicured before – a good number of years of pulling ground elder and horsetail out of the allotment would have put an end to that anyway. I think I have developed a permanent small groove in my finger from pulling horsetail up – if Lamarckian evolution were true, Thomas would be a more efficient puller-up of this weed than I, already equipped with said groove.

I’ve learnt a lot over the past 18 months. Mostly about poo, it has to be said. But I won’t share those with you on this platform. What I do want to share is what I have learnt, and what Thomas has taught me, about gardening and how I view my garden. Though I note that I still write *my* garden, so perhaps I haven’t quite ceded it all to Thomas just yet…

 

Things I have learnt:

- That weeding whilst in charge of a toddler is difficult. You spend more time trying to persuade them to spit out stones they have put in their mouths than you spend pulling up rogue plants. And when they’ve finished chewing pebbles, they run off with your weeding tools and plonk them in the bird bath.

- That the most fun in the world to a ticklish toddler is to be whisked back and forth through the frothy heads of Stipa tenuissima. It’s such a good feeling, he even tries to tickle himself with them.

- That planting a willow wigwam in the cold November rain will be worth it when the toddler is old enough to sit still in it for more than five seconds.

- That day lilies cope remarkably well with pre-emptive dead-heading. That is, a small child pulling off the buds before they even have a chance of flowering.

- That enthusiasm for watering is more important than accuracy.

- That trying to balance a snail on an allium flower will occupy a toddler for quite some time – much more time than toys, “fun” singing time with mummy (I use the quotation marks wisely - you haven’t heard me sing…) and painting all added together. It only really ended because the snail got bored and wandered off. Slowly.

- That borders spring back remarkably well after a small child has taken to reversing into them and then sitting down.

 

- That plastic bulldozers can make a nice garden ‘feature’. Possibly.

- That the more you treasure a plant, the more likely it is to be sat on, have the flowers pulled off, or be flattened by aforementioned plastic bulldozer.

- That a few weeds don’t really matter, in the scheme of things.

-That a few weeds can rapidly multiply into a raging mass of weeds if you don’t keep on top of them by spending 5 minutes in the garden after bed-time (his, not mine, though there isn’t much time difference between the two at the moment).

- That bumble bees, generally, don’t mind too much if they are poked by inquisitive fingers. They may just wave an irritated middle leg, in the way that a great-aunt might shoo off her over-exuberant great-nephews and nieces.

- That the small pang of pedantry I feel when a hoverfly is described excitedly as ‘bee’ is far exceeded by the joy in watching Thomas start to name the world around him.

-That I can’t wait until he’s a little older so we can sow seeds together and share the magic of watching them grow.

When Thomas was born, I thought I was going to be the teacher, the font of knowledge. But I’ve been taught so much. Mostly, relax – it’s only a garden.

Wordless Wednesday - Fresh

Cake and friendship

Not gardening-related, but I wanted to record for posterity the most gorgeous cake, and thank the person who made it, who has come to be a friend of mine.

A few years ago, I was head of the department in which I still work. I didn't like being head of department, but that is another story, thankfully another one with a happy ending. A lady came for an interview to come onto our Foundation Degree in Food Technology course, of which I was the course manager. She sat in my office, and explained that it was a long time since she had been at school, had brought up a family, and had a young daughter. She wanted to do something for herself, and that something was to do the foundation degree.

We went through the course and what it entailed. As I explained the modules (which have a heavy science and technology bias), Sam came out with: "I can't do science" and "I can't do maths". But she could. She could combine study for a foundation degree (equivalent to the first two years of an honours degree), with being a mum to a lovely daughter. OK, so quite a few "mature" students do that. But Sam's daughter has Spina Bifida and is confined to a wheelchair. Sam combined undergraduate study with being a mum, and regularly going with her daughter to Alder Hey hospital for complex operation after operation. To while away the time at the hospital, she would even take her assignments.

Sam completed the Foundation Degree, and took the brave move to top this up to a full Honours degree with us. Let's face it, by year 3 of a degree, even full-time students tend to have sobered up and to start working hard. Combining this with looking after a family and all of the time she and her husband spent with Beth, and working with Go Folic (see Sam and her daughter here) and the effort is Herculean.

This September I saw Sam graduate with a 2(i) Honours degree in Food Technology. I was so proud of the lady who sat and told me that she couldn't do maths or science.

What I forgot to say is that Sam has a host of other skills, and one of these is cake decorating. She runs Top Tier Designs. And she made Thomas' first birthday cake. It's perfect. Thank you, Sam x

Green(ish) wall

Bittersweet

Ten years today since the saddest day of my life.

One year today since the happiest day of my life.

Happy first birthday, Thomas x
Happy birthday, Dad x Something nice to celebrate on your birthday now x

Miss you always, Mum x

New Year Revolutions

Pah! to resolutions - made in haste and broken even faster.

No, this year, I thought I'd try something a little more fun. A little more of a challenge. I thought I'd try and kick a bit of bottom, horticulturally. OK, so it'll end up as a damp squib, but at least I will have got a few things off my chest. We want a Revolution!

So I shall start 2013 with an attempt to get a few New Year Revolutions going. Perhaps I can change a few things, to make the world a better place - for me, at least...

Revolution 1:
First against the wall will be all gardening journalists who refer to a few clashing flower colours as "outrageous" or "courageous". No, just a bit bright.

Revolution 2:
Start up a new gardening magazine. It will contain normal sized gardens. Too long have I had to put up with a single patronising "small gardens" issue per annum. Yes, I'm looking at you, Gardens Illustrated. Of course, it will flop as I expect I'm the only person who would like to see interesting smaller gardens. I suppose others prefer to see identikit rolling acres with huge herbaceous borders and natural swimming ponds the size of a small sea.

Revolution 3:
Singlehandedly make candytuft the "must have" plant for 2014 (I thought 2013 would be pushing it). It's so retro it's futuristic. Candytuft will be in all the Chelsea gardens in 2014, mark my words. By 2016, it will be everwhere, and the plant snobs will begin the backlash.

Revolution 4:
Develop a new form of parasitic nematode. It will parasitise smug proselytisers, such as rabid organic souls. Parasites can do some really weird things to their hosts. Good. I try to garden organically, but find it ironic that organic gardening allows a range of chemicals which I find hard to believe could be classified as "organic".  I've wondered about organic gardeners' use of Bordeaux mixture for some time, as it is harmful to wildlife, but at least is is being banned from Feb 2013. I have to say, I'd develop a similar parasite to attack those gardeners who have spraying regimes which would put the American army's use of Agent Orange to shame. Blackspot isn't the end of the world, you know. Sorry, that one was a bit of a rant. Still, it is *my* revolution - I can rant if I want.

Revolution 5:
Ban any more bl**dy heuchera cultivars. Especially those that are the colour of sick (i.e. most of them).

Revolution 6:
There is no revolution 6.

Revolution 7:
OK, a garden can be critiqued like a piece of art, but some people really do visit just because of the coffee and cake. They have busy lives, and think about lots of other stuff in a deep way. Perhaps they just want to take a deep breath and admire the achilleas. Chill out about it, please!

Revolution 8:
Require that all references to bumblebees are superceded by the term "foggie toddler". Any non-compliances will be dealt with severely (i.e. forced to give garden room to spray-painted heathers).

New Years Eve addition:
Revolution 9:
Er, helloooo! Gardening magazines (or those contributors asked to write the "25 must visit gardens" reviews). Please note: once you get north of Oxfordshire, there aren't just barren glacial wastes. There are a few gardens up here. Well, I say up here, but I only live in Cheshire, and there's quite a lot of the UK above me. I realise that in these straitened times travel expenses might be reduced, but not every garden up north has been dug up by whippets wearing flat caps and drinking stout. I think Scotland and Wales might want a word, too.

Happy new year. And remember, if you want to be ahead of the fashion for 2014, get growing candytuft!

Nothing says 'Christmas' more than a...

...banded mongoose, I think you'll find.

My dear, meerkats are just so 2008.

Merry Christmas to you all, and a happy and healthy 2013 xxx

Oh, the shame...

A knock on the door yesterday afternoon. SomeBeans answered it.
"Hello. Would you like your front garden tidied?"

 Oh dear.

If only the chap had come by in February, when the dwarf irises pierced through the soil and early crocuses offered their throats to the sunny skies.

Or April, when tulips and forget-me-nots waltzed together in the borders. Or May, when the Centaurea exploded like blue fireworks.

Or June and July, when the peonies managed to dodge the rains and flowered like the most plumptious of scented pompoms.

Where was he in August? Aster 'Monch' was the star of the show.

 In September and October, other asters took over, to the delight of bees, hoverflies and butterflies. In November, Japanese anemones were still flowering.

Even a couple of weeks ago, the garden was shining. Frost scintillating on spent flowerheads and on evergreen foliage.

And then it rained. For a couple of weeks. Sparkling flowerheads offering their seeds up to goldfinches have turned to brown mush. Cardoon and Japanese anemone foliage has slumped and blackened. Fuchsia leaves have dropped.

And someone offers to tidy my garden.

Oh dear. For now, I'll continue to watch the goldfinches, blackbirds and wrens foraging through the sodden udergrowth for food. And then I'll get round to a bit of tidying. Probably.

11 years...