Dahlias – Gardens. Travel. Life.

Posted on February 29, 2024February 29, 2024 by happyretiredblog · 2 Comments

Let’s get ready to ramble. On ~ & ~ on.

I can’t quite believe we are already two months in to 2024. How did that happen. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind two months. Christmas in London. Finally a new floor laid at the cottage. And endless rain. It never seems stop. That’s in the UK. In Spain it is the polar opposite. In Somerset the ground is so wet that whenever it rains it just runs off. I have had enough now.

In Spain we haven’t had enough. And when we do I cheer. It’s bonkers how different it is. The reservoirs are low. It’s winter and the Costa has water restrictions. It has rained. But it’s few and far between and the forecast there looks like no rain for weeks.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Somerset. Work has finished on the new floor and whilst that was happening we has some dry days to get out into the garden. To cut things back. To clear and tidy. The birds had stripped most stuff that could be eaten and it was time to cut the perennials right back. A little earlier than usual I think but with the weather ~ have I mentioned rain – you have to do things when you can. And when we are here. Not there. Or over there.

There’s nothing like a hard frost to make a dull garden look pretty. Not that we have had many frosts to be fair. Not enough in my opinion. But with Ian’s help the garden has been tidied ready for a spring awakening. Roses pruned ~ some within an inch of their life. Apples and pears pruned. Gooseberries and currants pruned. With all the garden waste ~ well nearly all taken to the dump. Which is under threat of closure with council cut backs. Don’t get me started on the logic of then having to drive 13 miles to the alternatives whilst reading the councils green policy. Not whilst driving. That would be foolish.

The grass is green. Still growing but far too wet to cut. The ground is ripe for growing rice this year but at least I can turn the soil over easily unlike in Spain where I need a pick axe to do the same.

I am not keen on mahonia ~ but throw a bit of frost on the leaves and it makes for a good photograph. It’s planted by the river bank and to be honest has never done very much. Possibly due to my neglect but I have given it a bit of TLC and I will see how it goes. It’s only been there for about 25 years.

I’m pretty desperate to get a cut on the grass ~ I’ll keep the bottom of the garden longer and let the daisies stay with a path down the middle. You can’t call it a lawn ~ it’s too embarrassing for a lawn. We have talked about reseeding it. Take out the lumps and bumps but a perfect lawn wouldn’t look right. It’s not a formal garden. It’s a higgledy piggly cottage garden with random planting. Pretty. But random.

It’s a shame the constant rain doesn’t drown the bindweed and the ground elder. It’s a constant battle and one I’ll never completely win. I’m a bit more relaxed about it when the plants hide it but watching it start to poke through is a constant irritant ~ and weeding does my back in.

Things are starting to show their leaves. The phlox is through , the alliums are romping away. Especially summer drummer which is one of the tallest. The pruned roses are showing their leaves. There are buds on the fruit trees.

This is one of a few small clumps of crocus that come year after year. I can’t even remember when and if I planted them. But I’ve obviously moved soil around as they have appeared in a few different places. Always the first thing or one of the first to flower. Bulbs and corms aren’t great in the back garden. The ground is very wet. Very frosted and if they do flower in year 1 they rarely get past that.

The primroses are starting to flower. I remember as a child walking the rusty line ~ an old disused railway line and picking primroses. I’ve planted a few more in the last two years and I’m hoping they will spread.

The only clump of daffodils in the back garden which come back year after year and are planted under the really ancient apple tree. But. They opened and the water from the river flattened them. I lied. I’ve just looked out of the bathroom window and have spied a lone daffodil in another part of the garden.

These are looking sparse around the garden this year. Usually the river bank is covered but the only thing that it’s been covered in over recent months is the river. Not all the time. But I think they have been washed away. Sad as they are great early pollinators. Pulmonaria ~ common lungwort

I always am a little anxious with the tulip pots. Usually right up until flowering. Have I planted enough ~ probably yes as I stuff the pots with as many as I can. Have I planted too many ~ as in have I stuffed them too full. Will they grow ~ have I planted them upside down. At times when there’s no sign of them I think they will flower in OZ.

But they are through and now I’m worrying about ‘are they growing too fast’ and have I been bonkers with the colours. Only time will tell.

This is the difference between a few weeks growth. So far so good.

I was late in planting the tulip pots and window boxes in London but they too are starting to show through. Obviously not as advanced but they are on their way.

I had a spell of buying old chimney pots to use in the back garden in London. It gave some height to the planting. There are now two planted with tulips and three with rosemary by the front door. Recycle reuse. Replant.

I am not a galanthophile ~ we have only one clump in the garden. Which reappears under the old apple tree every year. Yet never bulk up. Every year I think I’ll buy some in the green. But don’t.

The one thing that bulks are the Spanish bluebells. Another must do. Replace with British. But the list is endless. Maybe next year.

It’s a waiting game now. Waiting for things to slowly appear. To flower. To dry up. Or in Spain. To have a soaking.

It’s not been all rain and gardens. There has been some walking. . A visit to the Newt ~ a walk cake and coffee. Once it dries up it’s a nice walk from the cottage along the green lanes but at the moment there is not a chance.

I love this bridge ~ for its shape more than anything else. Not withstanding there’s coffee and cake at the end of it. Or the start depending on which way you approach it.

We ventured further making use of our NT membership. a short drive on a cold and frosty morning to Stourhead.

So there is time now to do some garden planning. The tulips are in and there is nothing I more I can do. Except watch for the poo bags being lobbed into the pots. Yes. It happens.

I’ve dug over what may be a dahlia bed. So spurred on by my friend Siobhan I’ve been on the look out for new dahlia for 2024. Last year I loved the honka’s. So I’ve ordered more from my go to supplier peternyssen

I’m hoping that some of lasts years will have survived. They won’t have died off from frost but they may have rotted. Another waiting game.

More reds and oranges to be bought form Toddsbotanics

The canna last year were excellent. A little late to the party but flowered until the first frosts. Then in a blink of an eye the foliage was mush. I didn’t lift but mulched heavily so again it’s fingers and toes crossed. But whispers I’ve been on the World Wide Web again looking for some new tall ones.

So we head into March. Today’s is a leap year. I wouldn’t mind leaping to sunnier drier days to be honest.

Posted on September 13, 2018March 10, 2021 by happyretiredblog · 7 Comments

Summer of Love – Dahlias Dahlias. Dahlias.

Can there be too much of a good thing where flowers are concerned? Can you suffer from dahlia overload?

It may seem like that this summer for me. I love them. But sadly through the beast of the east and two seasons of neglect in our Somerset garden I had none of my own. Previously I had a lot which I boldly left in the ground. Year on year. But this year the weather and my inability to manage the garden beat me. I then beat myself for the neglect. But a new project and a new house and garden has been all consuming. But you already know that.

I have therefore had to rely on the generosity of other peoples gardens for my dahlia fix. Oh. And what a fix it has been. There have been open gardens – Jack Wallington and Alex and Joe ( The Gardening guys ). There has been Common Farm. And Instagram and twitter. A quiet start to the dahlia season and then. Boom. They were everywhere.

Well not everywhere obviously because there weren’t any in my garden. At all. Some people also struggled. Later blooms. Smaller flowers.

Yet look at his one. A big fat dinner plate dahlia as big as my head. Taken at Jack Wallington and Christopher Anderson’s open garden last weekend. Emory Paul. A dahlia I recall seeing at RHS Chatsworth last year and thinking. Blinky blonky blimey. Look at the size of that. Which I did and thought I want – no says Ian I think you mean you would like. Which I do and I will next year. Even if its just the one in a big pot on the terrace in Spain. It’s magnificent. But truth be told its never just the one. Never just the one plant. Never just the one trip. Never just the one bar of chocolate.

Jack and Chris opened their Clapham garden twice this year for London NGS, and I was pleased that I could make one of the two. Jack likes a dahlia or two. Or thirty three and grows most on his allotment and had picked a lot of the dahlias from there. ( Hint. Maybe an open allotment day next year!) I say picked but I think he stripped the allotment of all the blooms.

A bright blue sky always helps a photograph look better.

The varieties and colours were fabulous and not only did he fill a room with single stem dahlias he and Chris erected a dahlia arch over the front door, so there was no escaping what house was having an open garden day as you turned the corner.

Having watched an insta story the night before of Jack trying to put the arch up I wasn’t that hopeful to be honest. Sorry Guys! You had even turned the sound down so we couldn’t hear the angst. But patience is a virtue and it was brilliant.

Don’t ever go on that telebox programme Through the keyhole” guys. This room would give you away when they say ‘ who lives in a house like this’ Um. Must be Jack and Chris. I loved it but boy I was nervous. I stood at the edge and admired and took photographs. Too nervous to put my size nines anywhere near the flowers. I still wonder how Rumbles – the cat , not their nickname , doesn’t just go in and paw each single stem. Fred our cat would. One by one. I loved the dark red/black dahlias in the brown bottles. Recycling at its best there!

But just look at them. Gorgeous.

It wasn’t all about dahlias at their open garden – in the garden were Rincus, Jacks fern wall, coleus (sorry guys I am old and they are coleus to me), salvia, great seed heads on the clematis, shadows on the leaves of the banana and great foliage plants. But this is about dahlias. Just dahlias. There are more pictures of the other plants on my Instagram feed and Jack has a blog on the foliage plants on his feed.

Oh and course there was cake.

Another dahlia fest for me this summer were my days at Common Fam Flowers. A working flower farm. With rows of dahlias. Dahlias for picking. Dahlias for bouquets. Dahlias for weddings. Not just dahlias of course.

The thing about going there in the summer is that you are guaranteed a dahlia or two. To be honest it was Georgie who made me realise that I did actually like a dahlia. I ordered some flowers from her early on in our friendship and the bouquet included dahlias. I was hooked. Much more interesting shapes colours and styles than grown in my parents garden decades before.

Growing up my parents grew some. Not many. Pretty dull ordinary dahlias. Yes there are such a thing. I hated them. Always full of earwigs. Which fell out as you picked them. It put me off for years. I was sent to pick them to bring indoors. Which my parents always did – had flowers indoors – there was none of ‘ flowers are just for the garden’. That’s where i got my gardening habits from. Amongst other habits. Like talking constantly like my mother. Her deadheading obsession.

I digress. The dahlias of Common Farm Flowers never cease to amaze me. This year the Cafe Au Lait were and are stunning. Another one for my one pot dahlia on the terrace in Spain. Spectacular in arrangements or in a brides bouquet or equally gorgeous in a single vase. Such beautifully formed petals.

Now please dont think of asking me the names of all the dahlias. I know the names of three. The rest are either pretty dahlias, pink ones, pom-poms or cactus.

This one took my eye when we were preparing the flowers for a big wedding. 85 jam jar posies. 8 large arrangements for the table centres. Pew ends. A huge ball to hang from the ceiling. Garlanding. Buttonholes. Included in all but the buttonholes were dahlias. All colours. All sizes.

This is American Dream. And it is. A definite Dreamy dahlia. Sat quietly in a bucket I zoomed straight in on it. The flower was in the bucket. Not me. That would have been silly. And required a large bucket.

The petals shape size and form on Cafe au lait are just fabulous. I don’t mind that its not my usual big loud blousy colour choice. It’s just beautiful in its simplicity.

I was given a jam jar posie from Georgie when I called in last week which included dahlias. And a big fat Cafe au lait included. Not one. But two, lucky lucky. Worth a stop on my way to the cottage.

Here’s a few, just a few of this years delights. None of which I can take credit for – though the photographs are mine.

I think I maybe all dahlia’d out for this year. Is that a thing? I need to move on. I have.

To the bulb catalogues for tulips and alliums. For Canna and agapanthus. Tulips and alliums ordered already.

But I have one more wedding at Common Farm to help out with at the beginning of October and I am sure that there will still be blooming lovely dahlias about then. In the meantime I have made a list of what I would like to try in Spain next year. It has to be a short list. A very short list. But don’t tell Ian.

Posted on August 7, 2017August 7, 2017 by happyretiredblog · 3 Comments

Weeds. Weeds. And more weeds.

No it wasnt funny the first time said Ian. A grown man standing in the garden. Squeaking. Weed. Weed. I guess he’s too young to remember watch with mother. Bill and Ben the flowerpot men. With Weed . Behind the potting shed. Which looks nothing like the lovely potting shed of Karen Gimson. She knows I have potting shed envy. That I’m going to move into hers.

Anyway. As usual I thought it was funny. Obviously not. But I was here to weed.

Having bought our new Spanish house and having a new garden to manage and with spending more time there the garden in Somerset has been a bit neglected. Ooh. A lot of ands there.

It hasn’t helped that we have had sun. Rain. Sun. Sun. Rain. So the garden has grown. You can watch it grow. From the dryness of inside the kitchen window. Plants are taller. The weeds stronger. I maintain I have the national collection of bindweed. Hideous weed. The plant. Not the Bill and Ben character.

I’ve tried for weeks to get to the cottage. But every time I have a day or two it rains. It pours. Horizontal rain. Wind.Great British Summer. I’m a wimp. I’m a fair weather gardener. Don’t judge me. You know who I mean!

It’s sad to see that the garden isn’t as pristine as I usually have it. Pristine is the wrong word. It’s not a show garden. I’m not a gardener. I garden for me. I grow what I like. Where I like. But I usually have more time. The grass had been cut but there was work to be done. But yes. There were some lovely plants in bud. In flower. Seedheads. New beginnings.

The roses I pruned with Sara Venn earlier in the year were budding like crazy. The second flush of flowers coming through now. I had a great day with Sara and she taught me a lot about pruning fruit trees. Maybe I can persuade her to come to spain!

The apple tree we pruned is loaded with fruit. The best I’ve seen in years. We were a bit ( I say we – Sara ) worried about the tree with the red apples. But it’s done amazingly well. Some have been picked and brought home. The tree was supposed to be a Laxton superb. My mothers favourite apple. You can’t beat a laxtons she used to say. Well someone has beaten me. This ain’t laxtons superb.

Everyone knows I like a dahlia or two and I planted a couple of new ones this year – well more than a couple to be fair.

Bought and planted. Before I knew we would hopefully be on the move. Two have flowered beautifully. But. Hello. Cafe au lait where are you hiding? Not under the bindweed. Surely not. I first saw cafe au lait at Georgie Newberry’s Common Farm Flowers And fell in love with it. I have had so many suggestions over the last year for new dahlias I can’t keep up.

The dahlia bed was doing ok. The tubers I had left in had come through. Beaten off the slugs – and a couple were blooming lovely. Black Jack. Rip city. A couple of bishops.

There’s a couple of things I’m rubbish at. – gardening things. Staking is one. Always on my list. Rarely crossed off. Remembering when the plants get straggly. Or there is wind. The other. Labelling. I have had the intention of a plan. Labelling the plants. Putting them down on paper. A proper plan. So I don’t forget the names. It was a plan. But 23 years later it’s still a plan. I’m trying not to make the same mistake in Spain. I’ll tell you how I get on. In 23 years time

But thankfully I have the invoice still from Withypitts so have identified Peach Delight and Shooting Star.

The bees havent deserted me. The Echinops all a buzz. Two for the price of one.

The weeds are bad. So bad that I have a helper. Quite how Ian has decided to help I don’t know. Obviously there is no tennis on the TV But he has. I might have to turn a blind eye at his technique and the odd pull of a plant that is not a weed. Today he’s keen. Carry on regardless.

It’s amazing. Often there are plants which run away with themselves. This is one. I swear that this year it’s two foot taller than usual. I like them. Great for cutting but boy are they invasive or what!

The monbretia. Yes I know it’s all crocisima now. But my parents called it Monbretia and old habits die hard. This clump has never previously flowered. I mentioned it last year and moaned about it. Someone said that they always flower. This year the clump is flowering. Like crazy. Have indeed me anything different. No. Not that I can think of.

I planted an Emily McKenzie and it’s in bud. I’ll miss the flowers this year as I am away again.

The garden photographs well. Looks good. Even if I say so myself. But please don’t look too closely. Bindweed and groundelder are everywhere.

We have a grape vine at the back of the house. It catches the sun. But I thought that this year we had no grapes. They aren’t sweet and last year for the first year I picked them. Ate one. Even sourer than me. So I made grape and Rosemary jelly. Went down a bomb. So I started to hack the growth back – full of horticultural technique me – and lo and behold hiding under the growth were bunch after bunch of grapes. Larger than last year and hopefully with some Aug sun ( please ) they will get fatter and juicier. Chateau Pitcombe if wont be. But good old grape and Rosemary jelly again. And again.

Rhubarb. Not picked for ages. So I have. No need to force this rhubarb. Looks like I’d need to force it to stop. There will be rhubarb gin and rhubarb and star anise cordial. Some for next door for a crumble. The gin to add to the sloe gin supply gently brewing in the kitchen cupboard.

The poppies are over for another year. The seed heads are drying ready to explode and sow themselves for another year.

So now I ache. My back. My arms. I’m weeded out. But do you know what. Give it another three weeks and on my next trip and I’ll be doing it all over again. Whether I want to or not.

Posted on October 27, 2016November 16, 2017 by happyretiredblog · 1 Comment

Happy Anniversary to me

So this time last year I was preparing for my last working day. My office had been cleared of 28 years of stuff. Precisely that – stuff. Clients had been told. Lunches had been had. Today was to be the day I retired. Not Monday the last day of the month when it was expected. Today. I would go to work as normal and at lunchtime I would depart quietly. A few goodbyes. But with no fuss. No ceromonial handshakes and the usual bollocks. An email set to go out after I had left the building. Thanking those I had respected. Valued. Loved. Saying goodbye would be bitter sweet.

I can’t believe I’m a year older. A year of retirement. Me. Retired. How did that happen. 52 weeks of not having that Monday morning feeling.

I saw friends last week who I hadn’t seen in a while. Go on they said – admit it – your bored. You must be bored by now.

My response – a huge belly laugh. Bored. Bored. You must be ‘aving a laff. What have you been doing then they asked.

Let me see. I posted A blog a few months ago on my first 6 months. That was a period of adjustment I said – but think ducks and water. Fat ducks. Lots of water.

I had lunch yesterday with an ex colleague who I hadn’t seen since Jan. You look really well she said – a comment that has been said so much this year. What have you been up to. I keep getting asked the same question and my reply is I’m busy all the time – this and that. Actually I don’t know what I’m doing. It just happens. Either that it’s on the list. Ian’s list. Of jobs.

I have had a great summer in Somerset. Gardening. Growing fruit and veg. Actually picking it and using it too. Picking tomatoes. Cucumbers. Apples pears. Grapes. Runner beans. My dad would be proud. Except I didn’t dig a trench. That’s a big black mark from him.

I picked dahlias. Constantly. Along with a whole load of other stuff from the cutting garden. Grand. What I mean is that the whole gardens for cutting!

Socialising. Spending time with my godchildren. Continuing the School runs. Being a manny for a day here and there whilst their mother worked. Think Mary Poppins but heavier and a better beard growth. Me not her. Although I’m sure hers wasn’t ginger and grey. Oh. And I can’t sing. Well I think I can I’m Welsh after all. I did annoy the kids singing raindrops on roses whiskers on kittens. And changing the words just like my mother used to.

The London boys reminded me when I picked them up from school that I used to sing with them in the car. They asked me to put that song on again – oh dear. smarty pants by First Choice. They are now 10 and 13. They remind me that i changed the title. So I did again.

We used to sing it when they were 3. It also reminded me that We had a horror with one of them. We had taken Kai to the zoo. He must have been 2 or 3. On the way home we stopped to get cakes. Me in the car. Kai in the back. Ian got in and asked what was the matter. I said listen to Kai. Closely. We are gonna be in trouble. He listened. And was horrified. He looked at me and said. That’s probably my fault. We thought he was saying F off. I turned to say no. Then burst out laughing. He actually was saying fork off. He had broken the little fork lift truck car his grandad had given him. Phew. I digress.

Having time to have days out with the children. Taking my god daughter for a ride on a steam train on a day I was looking after her. – was that for her or me? We went despite an earlier tantrum on the doorstep where I nearly said thanks but no thanks to her mother. Take her away.

Cooking with her brother – a 13 yr old 6ft rugby playing young farmer who over the summer has grown from a mono syllabic teenager into an interesting young man who can bake and talk sheep.

I’ll lead you’ll follow. Young shepherd.

And at a cost of a new pair of rugby boots and trainers he looked after my greenhouse whilst I was away. Taking a 13 year old to buy clothes was an experience in itself. He had a very definite opinion on what he wanted.

I have attended talks at the Wells festival of Literature – Vince Cable. Rev Richard Coles. Mathew Parris. Intersting. Funny. Being taken to afternoon tea by my friend Helen with whom i had days out to Bradford on Avon.

Attended courses at Common Farm Flowers Been a Saturday boy there. ( well Friday’s really) when they have had a big wedding on. With my friend Lorraine – queen of the jam jar posies Helping out.

Lorraine Queen of the jam jar posies. Bloody lovely she is too.

Me Queen of everything obviously – but on food and beverages and large arrangements. Being allowed to assist the head honcho. Not making a complete Dick of myself.

To me the highlight of my summer if I am honest. Spending 2 working days at Common Farm Flowers with Georgie Sharon and Lorraine was such fun. I’m hoping to be invited back for more in 2017! Please….

To breakfasts at Hive Beach cafe with Ian on a Monday morning in October watching the sea from the cafe.

Continuing visits to National trust properties on our days off. A bit of travel here and there. A bit like taking a gap year except more sedate and a little more luxury. I’ve seen the Alhambra. The museums of Amsterdam. The east coast of Portugal. The wonders of Vienna. The delights of Madrid. Sat up most of the night in Italy listening to the referendum vote. And going to bed at 5am and saying to Ian. We are doomed.

Short European breaks going through the EU passport gates thinking it may be the last time. Who knows even now.

A big trip to Canada – a trip of a lifetime. Bears and whales & Vancouver. A sea plane. Long car drives. Bears. Lots of them. So close you could smell their breath. Making new friends. People. Not bears.

Cooking. Baking. More cooking. Making cordials lots of them. Jellies. Cakes. Standing in the tractor bucket 20ft in the air picking bullace and making a version of sloe gin. Not whilst in the bucket but at home later! Planning for an extension that has flexible timescales. Very flexible. More flexible than me. Now maybe into 2017.

All things my time in retirement has allowed me to do.

Throw in the annual river clearance where I get to wear rubber. Waders. coffees with friends and Neighbours who are also friends – chatting with the coffee roasters at Bean Shot whilst purchasing beans and ground coffee. Or lunching at Cole Manor Tea Rooms

So that’s what I have been doing. Looking back I’ve done a lot. Throw in my endless trips for dental treatment over the summer where I travelled intercity like the men due ( anyone remember that ad) on my cheap day returns ( always an excuse to go into Selfridges) – my trips to the theatre. Continuing trips to exhibitions – Oh. And I stayed in a premier Inn. Shopped in Lidl. Pounsaver. Aldi. Eaten a ton of Lidl stollen bites set aside for Xmas.

So. I enter year 2 and whatever that brings.some things I know already. I have my annual trip to Italy booked. My trip to Chelsea flower show. The new show at Chatsworth. I have theatre booked. Hamlet. Roaencrantz and guildenstein. Mary Stuart. All booked in already.

No doubt there will be more child minding duties both in London and Somerset. More common Farm Flowers. More courses. ( billingsgate. And a Bread one are on the list) – garden planning. Meetings within the architect. Maybe an extension. More short breaks.

But whatever the next year throws at me I won’t ever have that Monday morning feeling again.

Oh. I’ve also bought myself s new camera. You may have gathered. I’ve been snapping away like my life depended on it. Ian won’t stand still. He hates his photo being taken. I’m Still rubbish at selfies.

So. Have I had a good year. Do bears ….. in the woods? They do. And in the rivers. I can vouch for that! So the answer. . YES.

Ps. If your wondering. Yes. I still have the list from Ian – the attic and cellar are still outstanding. But You’ll be glad to know the septic tanks been done. Thereby hangs another story.

Posted on September 20, 2016March 10, 2021 by happyretiredblog · 5 Comments

Dahlia love 2

I used to hate dahlias growing up. My parents grew them – not a lot but they grew some. But I hated them. They largely grew Pom Poms. They were always plagued by earwigs. Which seemed to creep out when I was near them. Or picked them.

Decades later I received a bouquet from Common farm flowers which included dahlias. Beautiful colourful dahlias which looked amazing in a vase. I was hooked and decided to grow some. I put in a small cutting patch of dahlias. This year I added a few more. Next year is an odd one. We are possibly doing an extension which means changes in the garden. But whatever happens there will be dahlias. From Peter Nyssen

On Friday I was at Common Farm Flowers for the day. And there were dahlias. Some gorgeous colours. Shapes. In the brides bouquet. In the jam jar posies for the tables. In the larger arrangements. Mixed with rose petals in the confetti.

Here are a few pics of this years flowers. Some are Common Farm Flowers. Some from my garden in Somerset.

Posted on July 29, 2016January 12, 2021 by happyretiredblog · 6 Comments

Dahlia love

Growing up my parents grew a few dahlias. In the back garden. Never the front. Me. I hated them. Yes they were colourful. Yes they were large. Looked great in a vase. But I still hated them. The reason. Earwigs. I always associated dahlias with creepy crawly earwigs. Out of the layered petals. Out of the Pom Poms. Out of the cactus flowers. Jumping out all wriggly. . Making me scream when they appeared on your arm as you carried them in. Getting told off for virtually dead heading the blooms by violently shaking them before I took them in to rid the petals of those horrible little critters. Nope. Nothing persuaded me.

So for years when I started gardening and had my own garden I ignored them. No. Not years. Decades. They somehow fell out of ‘fashion’ too. You didn’t see them in bouquets. Yes you had the standard inter flora bouquet. Standard flowers. Standard price. Standard quality. No individuality. Flown not grown. Chosen by looking at a picture replicated in every town and county across the British Isles.

So what changed my view. I had a number of bouquets & jam jar posies from my friend and flower farmer Georgie Newberry at Common Farm Flowers ( I may have mentioned her once or twice in previous blogs! ) – which included some lovely flowers. Yep. . I was surprised. Amongst other flowers of varying degrees of gorgeousness there were dahlias. Guess what. I liked them. A lot. They weren’t your standard dahlia. To me. They were unusual in colour. In shape. They looked great in a vase. They lasted well. I didn’t expect to get dahlias. But then one never knows what your going to get from Georgie! What you do know is that you’ll get something different every time. Different because the flowers are seasonal. Oh. And beautiful. So encouraged by Georgie and introduced to Karen at Peter Nyssen I decided to grow some.

Last years dahlia

Last year was my first and I was pleased with the results. I had set aside a small patch purely for dahlias. Largely for cutting. Encouraged & educated as well by the excellent book by Andy Vernon ( dark prince of dahlias/big Mary flower fairy- his description. Not mine) – stop there. I’m not describing myself. Am I? So I had a bash at growing them.

How did it go. T be honest I could have done better but I had some great cut flowers right up until the Autimn.

I was rubbish at staking but that’s nothing new for me. I could have nipped them out a bit better at the start but I had blooms. And do you know what. I liked them. A lot. I am a dahlia convert. Am I any better this year! Mmm jury is out. But it’s been a funny old start.

The dahlias proved a great addition – it was fab to be able to pick some single blooms to sit around the house. Especially to use the single stem glass things ( good technical term ) I had bought at a fab Vintage Glass shop run by my friend Mr Glass in Londons Camden Passage. A small collection! – I have hidden the others for fear of Ian finding them.

Last year I loved the darkness of Black Jack Rip City. Chat Noir. The different shapes. Textures. If only dahlias had a scent!

Autimn came. Should I dig them up? Should I leave them in. Being lazy I left them in. This year the garden was going to be a big hit and miss. We were due to do an extension. Plants would need to be moved. Given away. Discarded. Replaced. Beds were to be moved. Reborn. – none of that has happened. Maybe next spring.

Our ground is also pretty wet during the winter. We are in the South West after all – but most survived the winter and later than I’d hoped have just started to flower. First to arrive was a Bishop. A Leicester. There’s a Llandaff in bud – has to be done as I lived in Llandaff in a past life though I’m not a huge Llandaff lover. The dahlia. Not the place. The place has a fab cathedral.my grand parents are buried there and a fab cross designed by Epstein. Like many things I think dahlia Bishop of Llandaff over rated.

But The bishops arrived first to welcome in the rest of the team when they decided to arrive. But most I think have come through. My nightly slug watch has been worth it. Though the little b….rs still appear. This is the year of the slug for me – certainly in Somerset. In London it’s been snails.

One of the first arrivals Bishop of Leicester

I have decided I have too many reds so I am thinking already of next year. I have seen some lovely yellows and whites and some orange Pom Poms. Not my favourite shape as I like them a bit of a spiky cactus or a bishop. Plus there’s more little places for earwigs. Like a bug box. But I need to get over it. I need to be brave.

Morning Dew on the dahlias this year

This week I was up early and was surprised at the dew on the ground. Armed with a cup of tea and my phone I wandered around the garden taking some early morning pics. Best ones were of the dark dahlias. Lovely shapes. Lovely form. Been a long time since I’ve been described like that !

So my hunt for new colours has started even before this years bed is in full bloom. I am still pondering tulips. But for dahlias I have a list already – Cafe au Lait. White star. yellow star. Veronnes Taylor Swift. Summer flame. A couple of the Karmas. Little snowdrop. But I need to be early if I want to get what I want! And realistic unless I increase the patch. Like my bald patch. Ever increasing. Year on year.

Any suggestions on personal favourites gratefully received!

A lone yellow

Big fat flouncy yellow dahlias seen in a florist in Paris last year.