I hadn’t been to our garden in Somerset for two weeks. I expected the grass to be as high as an elephants eye but to be fair it wasn’t that bad. Needed it’s first cut of the season but it wasn’t too daunting a task. Especially in such glorious weather.
What I hadn’t expected were the tulips to have burst into life. I had potted up a dozen or so pots and had left them on the rear terrace. The terrace is south facing and I bring the tulips on there ready to be played at the front of the cottage where there is sun for only part of the day. So with some assistance we heaved the pots through the house to the front.
Two days later with this weather the majority had opened. Last year was the first time I had grown tulips at the front and it was a huge success. I like to change the front so this year the tulips weee changed too. My mother would have said it was showing off. To be fair I couldn’t disagree. The cottage is right on the road. You can’t help but notice the tulips.
Ian is no gardener but he saw tulips he liked at the Malvern show last year so as he showed an interest I decided to buy them. So the pots were planted with Brown Sugar. His choice and separate pots of Purissama -mine. As usual with the generous advice of Karen from Peter Nyssen I ordered others as well. Too many as usual so I have planted a lot in a cutting patch. Which will all flower when we are not there.
The Purissima are stunning opening into great big blousy flowers which at a quick glance look like they have a bee inside. They are stunning and close up tight again when the sun passes.
The pots have opened well and to be fair look great at the front of the cottage against the warm Somerset stone.
Back in London I grew tulips in one window box and two large containers – and with very different colours to the Somerset tulips. I hadn’t used them in window boxes before but good old Karen assured me they would be ok.
These have opened beautifully in the morning sun – and have been a joy.
The pots at the back have spring into life this weekend. Tulip Belle Époque has opened and there are a few rouge Brown sugars in there too. I didn’t mention earlier that these also have a lovely scent.
Tulips are a new one for me to be fair. But on the basis of how they have been over the last two years they are here to stay!
We also had a wander around Lytes Cary a NT property on Saturday where they also had some amazing Tulips. I have a list as long as my arm of what I’d like to grow next year thanks to the Instagram,twitter and Facebook posts of everyone’s favourites. At Lytes Cary these were added to my list. Such a beautiful colour and in the sunshine just dazzled.
It Was also good to see that the professional gardeners get a rogue tulip here and there too.
This one was very obvious! Along with what was probably one of last years that missed being dig up!
I don’t feel so bad now with the odd one here and there that I have found out of place!
So it was back to London for a busy week ahead – I know. I’m retired. But I’m busy! But first to water. When I left on Thursday the tree ferns were good. They had kept a lot of their fronds over winter. I hadn’t had to put straw in their crowns. But I get back and all hell has broken loose. The two days of sun has made them spring into action and they are about to burst forth. As long as Fred stays out of the crown that is.
I love tree ferns and we are lucky that we have a micro climate in the small ( tiny) garden we have here. But the tree ferns. The olive. The banana do well.
Hurrah. Hurrah. The first of this years Rare Plant Fairs was a local one for me – held at the The Bishops Palace Wells in glorious surroundings and in a part of the Cathedral I’d only visited for the Wells Festival of Literature . In the dark. So I didn’t know what to expect! Why hadn’t I been before…
Surprisingly for me I didn’t take too many pictures of the stands – I was too busy looking at the plants!
Glorious hellebores did take my eye though. I have very few in the garden here in Somerset. I don’t know why really – to be honest there are some stunning plants out there.
These fritillaries really did get my attention. A house close to ours had a spectacular display two years ago but they seem to have disappeared. These were such strong large and beautiful plants that I was tempted. But I resisted. For now anyway.
I did manage to buy plants. No big surprise there then. After some huge indecision on my part – returns to stands more than twice I had decided on two roses – some foxgloves – and a monarda Jacob Cline I had been looking for. Added to that a selection of herbs – some strawberry mint – which I had never seen before which will be good in pimms! I was tempted with so much more as there was a great selection. But I had that voice ( Ian ) saying do you really need that. You can tell he’s not a Gardner. When did need enter into anything when plants or seeds are involved.
The admission price of the fair ( discounted by £1 for RHS members ( remembered my card for once) also included access into both the garden and into the Bishops Palace Itself.
At the fair end of the stalls stood a magnificant Magnolia which was stunning in its size and shape and flowers. Too big for my garden that’s for sure but pretty magnificant.
It was heartening to see such a busy fair and to run into a few familiar faces and put faces to twitter handles – folk who I follow but haven’t met before.
The gardens and surroundings are stunning and very varied – we only saw a fraction of it to be fair. ( no pun intended) There are 14 acres of gardens so it’s not surprising we didn’t get to see it all! But we will be back.
The community garden is an interesting space where volunteers can learn new skills. Looks a lot like allotments!
Euphorbia is stunning against the ruined walls in the East Garden – and looked magnificent. . We had some stunners in our garden when we moved in but where have they gone now I asked myself. ( reminder – you didn’t like them 20 years ago so you probably pulled them!)
The daffodils were out in force all around the gardens – except the formal garden – shame it’s not replicated in mine. I planted I don’t know how many Pheasants eye last year but none have appeared. I know not why! I know I was late planting and I don’t think I planted them upside down!
The banks of the moat were planted with colour and the famous swans were doing their bit for the tourists. Introduced in 1870 they were taught to ring a bell for food which they still so today. Somehow it won’t work for me at home.
The garden is interesting not just with plants. The buildings – the walls – the remnants of the great hall – the history.
I shall certainly be back if only to see the Dahlias in the hotbeds. As you’d expect in these surroundings the beds are planted with Bishops. Not your actual Bishops but those of the Dahlia varieties.
As well as the gardens we got to amble inside the BIshops Palace and the chapel. Well worth a visit.
What more could you ask for. A plant fair. Plants. A good walk around a lovely garden.
There are more Rare Plant fairs scheduled for the rest of the year – take a look at the schedule on Rare Plant Fairs – do go. You may buy a plant or two. Or three.
I’ve said it before. I got into gardening through my parents. They loved their garden and it was something they were proud of. Loved the attention when in full bloom. For years had borders full of roses. Gorgeous scented beautiful roses. Mum picked some. But not a lot if my memory serves me right. I recall her deadheading them. Every time she walked up and down the front path. She was obsessed with deadheading. No bad thing really. Dad did the planting. The pruning. Mum admired. And bought more.
I spent a day with Sara Venn last week in our garden in Somerset. The person who looked after our garden had sacked us the year before – yes we were sacked. Long story . A very long story and since I had retired ( early – keep repeating it Andrew) I had been doing the work myself. With some success. What I didn’t know I asked. But I was worried about pruning. The roses. The fruit trees. Some of the shrubs. But the Roses. I could hear my mother tutting. A lot. Her saying. ‘Your not like your father’ He would have pruned them all. On time. And properly. She said that a lot. ‘ your not like your father’.
Last year we were due to start an extension so I didn’t prune the roses. When the schedule was moved it was too late. Sara said. Leave them this year. We had roses. But not as good as in previous years. We were supposed to start the extension in the Autumn. And then the Winter. I could put it off no longer. If I had to dig them up later so be it.
Sara agreed to come and spend a day with me in the garden to give me advice on how and what and when. But it was more than that. It was the push I needed to get going again. I’d been in limbo with the garden. Would I have another year of the flower beds?. Should I move things. Should I wait. Should I extend the beds? Was this space the right one for my new greenhouse? Don’t mention the greenhouse to Sara. Please. Don’t mention my greenhouse.
So Sara arrived and we set to work. Talk of a practical. It was practical. Practically exhausted by the end of the day. Talk of a hard task master who encouraged me up a wobbly ladder – no elf and safety in this garden. But it was fun. Practical. Encouraging. And confidence boosting. I hadn’t made a total hash of the garden this last year.
I always say I garden. I’m not a gardener. The garden is well established. We’ve been here 22 years. But I am rubbish at staking. I don’t plant deep enough. But I’m getting there. Slowly. Like my train journey this week accompanied by Doris.
It hadn’t mattered I’d not pruned. The fruit trees were ok. Ish. The roses leggy but not dead. So We pruned. Cut back. Laughed. I fought with the rose prunings. They won and it didn’t matter I wore gloves. They just went for the jugular. We tidied up. Had tea and cake. She gave encouragement. Orders. Ate my cake. Took one home for Mr Venn. As promised.
To be fair if we were being filmed it would have been more ‘Carry on Gardening’! Than big dreams – It was gardening made fun. ‘What do you think you are doing!’ was said a lot. And do you think you can wobble less’ what said I? As in walking or up the ladder? Both!
The roses don’t look like this now obviously but now have had a severe short back and sides. A proper job. Like my Dad would do!
Thinkimg of my parents garden got me thinking of their roses again All were bought in Woolworths when Woolworths had a gardening department. All grew well. Flowered strongly. From the department at the rear of the store. Memory is a wonderful thing. Before mum lost hers she could tell you the names of the roses. Each one. Not from the label. So I want some new roses. I looked up to see if I could get the named roses from their 1970’s and 80’s garden as I’d like to have a few. Josephine and Ernest were therir names so I may start there. Along with Superstar. That was my favourite.
Who knew Woolworths won not one but five RHS Chelsea golds! I didn’t.
Woolworths history
Superstar; Iceberg; Ena Harkness; Blue Moon ! ; Peace; queen Elizabeth ;Just Joey; Josephine Bruce; Ernest Morse. fragrant Cloud; the Fairy. Compassion
Those are ones I remember. None of that David Austin stuff for them. It was the wonder of Woolies !
I’m lucky enough to live close to Common Farm Flowers in Somerset and I’m even luckier to be able to say that I’m friends with Georgie Newberry. So I never miss an opportunity to go to the flower farm and help out when they are busy. Or to go to a workshop. Or two. Or three.
Don’t get me wrong. Help out is a bit of a grand sweeping statement. I sweep the floor. I make the tea. I talk a lot. I might pop some flowers in buckets ready for the artistic bit to be done by others. But what I do get is to be around some of the most lovely British grown flowers that you can find.
And to be with some lovely people and to eat cake. I always take cake. I think cake is the answer. To any question.
It also means I get to see Lorraine aka @lorraines_veg – queen of the jam jar posy who is there too. Not just for the cake though that helps but to help as well.
Getting to know Georgie, Sharon and the flowery folk has meant that I now look to see where the flowers I buy are grown. Drilled into me. Buy local. Grown not flown. These flowers are all British and dispels the myth that you can’t get British flowers except for the summer months. You can.
By and large I always buy British. But like lots of things sometimes you fall off the wagon. There is the odd occasion I don’t. Hands up. Guilty. Particularly when I am in London and I can’t source easily and I want flowers for the house. But more and more places do stock British.
Our garden In london isn’t a garden. It’s a back yard. Great for pots. For tree ferns. . But no room really for a cutting patch. Well not at all. There are flowers but not enough to pick. There for show . . For colour. Unlike Somerset where I can and do grow for cutting. ( I’d say picking rather than cutting!).
I digress. It’s about the flowers. Not me. For once.
So armed with thermals, vest.,Long johns and a Scarf. Oh. And cake I turned up for duty. You don’t heat up a flower studio – I learnt that bit very quickly! The first thing that hits you is the colour. Then the scent. Gorgeous sweet scents.
I love spring flowers. Well actually. I love flowers full stop. The ranunculus were stunning. The tulips fresh. The anemones like little jewels. The daffodils and narcissi wafting their scent across the studio. The foliage complementing the flowers. Individually lovely but put together in the bouquets – truly gorgeous.
Anemone jewels
I did manage to take some pictures. Well. A lot of pictures to be honest in between doing what ever I was told to do.
There were bouquets to make. Pussy willow to cut. Hand ties to do. Boxes to pack. Cake to eat. But there were flowers. Flowers everywhere.
I just loved the ranunculus. Beautiful red. Bright orange. Gorgeous yellow. White. Strong upstanding. Majestic. I brought some back to london on Monday and they are still making me smile.
A few of my other favourite pics
A stunning hand tied bouquet.
A selection of the lovely ribbon used to tie the posys and the bouquets.
To be honest in the past I was never a big snowdrop fan. I don’t know why but I suspect it wasn’t something that my parents grew but as you get older ( and I am) things change. I garden more. I listen to proper gardners read their blogs.
Last year I managed to go to the Chelsea Physic Garden for one of the snowdrop days. Interesting but the snowdrops were a little late. I was a little early. But I was staggered at the range and the variety. I missed the garden bloggers get together there this year which looked great fun. Thank you For inviting me – I will try to come to something!
Last years snowdrop theatre was interesting and I was tempted to buy some snowdrops.. but I’m always tempted.
I had a wander last week along the Thames path and found a couple of clumps of snowdrops in a small park along the river. The King Edward memorial park is currently being dug up in places for a new sewerage to the dismay of the locals. I hope they leave these alone. Thames Water. Not the locals.
I’m lucky though. The lanes near the cottage in Somerset seem to have burst into life with snowdrops. There are little drifts along many of the lanes – I’m not sure I’ve really looked before. The green lanes I know and have used for years are full of wild garlic but somehow I’ve missed the snowdrops. Probably as I’m a bit of a wimp and don’t walk so much when it’s cold. The two pics here are of a clump as we drive out of the village on the hill. Just one of many dotted around.
We have one clump in our garden. One measly clump. I think I need to order some in the green quickly.
We are also lucky enough to have a fab tea room 20 mins walk away from the village. Cole Manor Tea Rooms a gentle stroll across a field called Rye Ash along the river to Cole. Most of the ash trees have now gone. Just like in the opposite field Alders – which once had alders lining the river bank.
The tea room reopened at the beginnning of February for the season to tie in with the snowdrops in their garden. This year they are awash with them. On the banks of the river. Under the trees. By paths. Great carpets of white which from a distance ( q Bette Midler song) looks like a blanket of snow.
I popped in yesterday for a cuppa tea and a cake (and a quiche and a cake) and thankfully had my camera with me. To be honest I’d probably need an operation to remove it these days. If I haven’t got it at least I have my phone.
Great place for lunch or afternoon tea and for now with the added bonus of a great snowdrop display. You may see me there eating cake.
How have we already got to 16 Jan ? Where has the time gone ? Seems like only yesterday I was dodging the over filled shopping trolleys indicating it was some holiday.
I’ve started the year with my RHS Chelsea tickets booked. My RHS Chatsworth tickets booked. Both of which I’m looking forward to. Chelsea for me is a tradition – lunch first at Poulet au pot in Chelsea then a potter around the show. It’s become so familiar and samey but I darent miss it. But I’m more excited about Chatsworth. Last year I loved Malvern. Next year I’m aiming for Tatton Park.
I’ve been lucky to have had two outings already so far this month. A hot date with Georgie from Common Farm Flowers to At the Chapel to the first of their 2017 events – a talk by Satish Kumar. A thought provoking talk on Soil Soul and Society. Helped along by putting the world to rights in the bar after the event.
We are lucky to have Hauser & Wirth on our door step and the wonderful Piet Oudolf garden. It’s a stunning garden. Thomas Piper has made a film of Piet Oudolf and his projects which is beautifully shot and has some great music. We were lucky to have them give a preview of the film at a sold out Hauser and Wirth event followed by a Q & A after the film with them both. Piet Oudolf movie is definetly worth checking out. As is the garden at Hauser and Wirth. In all seasons. Was interesting seeing the comments on instagram after the event and realising that people who I follow and who follow me were there as well. Next time. Badges.
January is a dreary month in our garden in Somerset. More so this year as I’ve put off jobs as we weren’t sure of the timing for some work on the cottage which meant the borders would be moved. Looks like I may have another summer out of them.
So in need of some advice I’ve persuaded the lovely Sara Venn to come and visit. That is if she ever stops to take breath. She’s here there everywhere and I can’t see a hairy biker without thinking of her!
The last time we were together we were like naughty school girls at a workshop at Common Farm Flowers. So I need to make sure I feed her cake and lunch. And listen and learn.
I’ve ordered seeds from Mr Higgledy – where I’ll get said seeds and a note written in really writing. In ink. That is if Flash hasn’t eaten the seeds. Or the pen. Or Ben.
I’ve a pile of catalogues to look at – gardening ones not Grattan or Freemans ( some not all will remember them). Dahlias to plan. A greenhouse to research. When I retired ( early. I have to keep saying that) I was given money towards a new greenhouse. That’s been on hold and the old one strapped together and glazed in parts with plastic. So…. decisions.
It’s not all been gardening though at times like this weekend it’s been all I’ve done. Looks like the year has started as it will go on. A call to see if I was around and if I could have the boys for two days. Well it was one and I offered two. My hat goes off to parents. I don’t know how you do it full time. I can give them back!! Didn’t help I had to be a responsible adult with a 10 and 12 year old. In central London. In the lego shop. And the M and M shop. Or being embarrassed in the Chinese supermarket in China town as the 12 year old said ‘ Uncle Andrew – you need to check the sell by date on those crisps’. Thanks I said. It’s in Chinese. He picked them up. Turned them over. In front of the person behind the till. And said. Yep. They are ok. I forgot. At 12 he’s learning Chinese.
So we’re at back in London where I have geraniums still flowering on the first floor window and where a white agapanthus is in bud.Theres a micro climate on the patio – the frost hasn’t caught them. There’s a potted orange by the front door. With blossom. It’s madness.
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.
Ian’s birthday
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.
Junior bake off. Making Bara Brith
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.
Afternoon tea at the Crown Wells
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….
Me with the inspirational Sara Venn
To breakfasts at Hive Beach cafe with Ian on a Monday morning in October watching the sea from the cafe.
Hive Beach 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.
Hello. It’s me
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.
You’ve got to love a Welsh cake
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
Annual river clearance River Pitt
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.
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.
Have I told you that I have retired? Ok. I have. On more than one occasion I know. Well I’m still getting used to it – it’s nearly 9 months now. How fast time goes when your having fun
When I retired I decided that once a week I would have a day off. A day off Ian remarked. Surely every day is a day off now. Ha. I said. Look at the list you’ve drawn up. Septic tank. Boiler service. Alarm service. Flood gate service. Garden. Weed. Tidy. Check this. Cancel that. ( please don’t mention the attic or the cellar. That’s winter work) I’ve enough to keep me busy for months.
That and school runs. Courses. Jeremy Kyle and Tipping point. I need a day off all duties and it’s called Me time. So I rebelled and I have. Well not every week but some of them. In London I go to galleries. To lunches with friends and ex colleagues. Who happen to also be friends. I walk. Have coffee at my favourite coffee places. Breakfast at greasy spoons. Alone sometimes. With friends other days. But it’s always what I want to do. Selfish. Me. For those days. Yes.
In Somerset it’s been lovely to visit villages and places that I haven’t been to for a while. Or for some not at all – which – having been here 22 years is a bit shocking. There are places still on this years list. I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t been to the garden at Hauser & Wirth this summer. It’s a glorious prairie garden designed by Piet Oudolf and is only a 5 minute drive away. Shocking. There’s also a fab gallery and the great Roth Bar and Grill
Last year at Hauser & Wirth
So today I have had a lovely trip to Bradford on Avon. A short drive from the cottage but we were last there over 10 years ago on a wet and miserable Sunday where there was little open. I know it was over 10 years ago as it was pre two god children and we were there with their parents. All I remembered was this cute tea rooms The Bridge Tea Rooms in the centre of the town where we ate cake in damp clothes. It still looks exactly the same. Well it would really given the age of the building! – former blacksmiths cottage c1502. Previously we didn’t see the canal. Or the Tithe Barn. We saw very little now come to think of it. Except clotted cream. Scones and some sandwiches. Oh. And rain.
The Bridge Tea Rooms
The tourist attraction for the town is the canals. I’m not sure a canal holiday is for me to be honest. Enclosed in a small place with nowhere to go if I had a hissy fit. Which I have been known to have every now and then. Nowhere to stomp off to. But everyone seemed happy and smiley as they worked the boats. And the locks. Those amazing inventions. I’m sure we’d have a few rows with those. And the directions. We have usually had at least two before we navigate out if the car park at the airport. God help us on canals. I don’t suppose they have sat nag? Do they.
Canal Barges
Made me think of my mother. She had a saying ‘ oh. He has feet like canal barges’ – seeing these today made me think of that!
Even the dog looked cntent.
There’s a fab old Tithe hall. Beautifully crafted. Gorgeous light. Stunning open space. A 14c monastic stone barn. You couldn’t use it for dancing tho. The floor is too uneven and ridged in parts – so no dancing – especially in heels. Which I wasn’t wearing. Obviously.
It’s amazing how these structures are still standing and thankfully this is grade 1 listed. Looked after by English Heritage so it will be around longer than me.
You don’t go to Bradford in Avon to shop. If you want coffee or cake then that’s fine. Or to eat. Or more coffee. There are lots of coffee shops. lots of eating places. But there again there are lots of tourists. But it’s not packed out. Well not today anyway.
Lovely light & flowers in the alleyway
There are cute views. Small little alleyways. With a plant here and there.
There are narrow streets – the type I drove down unintentionally in Spain breathing in and praying I met nothing coming toward me. It worked. I didn’t. But I realised at the end it was a one way street. I may have or I may not have uttered a few swear words as I drove through.
Gorgeous views. The friend I was with likened it to Bath. Without the madness. The crowds & the high street shops. Which isn’t a bad thing.
She’s right. I will be back. And before another ten years.
Last week I ventured somewhere new. I had heard about it from friends. From Facebook posts. From witters on Twitter. But had never been. Shame on me. I was taken to lunch at The Walled Garden Mells
Tables near the cafe
A fab place for lunch. A great garden. Awesome pizzas and great quiche and the delight of a scone and cream. Jam first. Of course. There are lots of lovely sitting areas. It’s fab.
I don’t want you to think I’m entirely selfish and exclude Ian! We do manage to do some days out together. We have been making the most of our National Trust membership. This month we have visited Lytes Cary Manor a nice (ish) Manor House but I was more impressed with the borders in the garden and the lovely allotments.
Moody shot of the house
Fabulous allotments
We also returned to another we hadn’t visited for a while Stourhead
It’s such a lovely house and garden. We decided to give Kylie a run out and to walk around the lake. Just us not Kylie.
Kylie
The walk around the grounds is stunning and I wished we had taken a picnic to sit by the lake and take it all in. But we didn’t. So managed a takeaway tea and a sarnie. To be fair it wasn’t bad at all.
So it’s been a good few weeks. I’ve visited The BP portrait exhibition in London. Twice. Because once is never enough. I liked it more the second time and I had a few favourites.
There were some I didn’t get & some I liked more than others.
So the rest of the month is busy but with no days out. We have our annual river clearance coming up where for one day and one day only each year I don waders and long gloves and with the village people ( better phrased – people of the village- before you think Indian headdress leather chaps don’t really work in water) clear the river of debris and crap. Not your actual crap. That stopped flowing in the river years ago.
River Pitt – the river. The old bridge and the Heron
Then it’s off on our annual holidays! Together. Where no doubt there will be photos. And a bit of a blog.
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.
Gardens. Travel. Life. 
