Day 320: the overwintered pelargonium

November is no time for reticence or squeamishness, at least, not when it comes to pelargoniums…

Read more
Follow

Day 60: winter work

Now that we can officially declare that winter is over – I'm not quite sure that I would, though, notwithstanding the backing of meteorologists everywhere…

Read more

Day37: home wrecker

Someone could live here. Days are drawing out, and thoughts inevitably turn to spring, I can I feel the urge to get involved with the wintery detritus…

Read more

Day 3: Belonging

Winter presents the ideal opportunity for getting to grips with the brambles, but who really belongs more in the garden – the weeds, or the gardener?

Read more

Day 344: focus

Winter strips away distractions and, while the skies might seem more vast and the landscape more open in the absence of abundant leaf cover, I find myself drawn to the small details…

Read more

Day 277: houseplants and heating

We’re so used to tracing the passage of the seasons by the signs we observe out of doors – what the trees or the leaves or the sky is doing…

Read more
Follow

Day 49: winter honeysuckle

Not much of a looker, and kind of patchily bald in winter. But you plant winter honeysuckle for its scent, rather than its looks…

Read more

Day 37: Hylotelephium 'Matrona'

Everyone loves a dazzling floral display in summer, but those plants that can maintain interest through the colder seasons are greatly to be prized…

Read more

Day 36: frosted ironwork

There’s a moment just as the sun rises on a clear, cold winter’s morning, when the growing light still has the blue tinge of night about it…

Read more
Follow

Day 35: Daphne bholua 'Limpsfield'

I think William Morris would have approved of the evergreen, Daphne bholua ‘Limpsfield’, seeing as how it manages to be both useful and beautiful…

Read more

March in the garden

March 2018 – what the heck was that? Just as we were beginning to enjoy the first signs of spring, the Beast from the East brought snow and cold weather from Siberia. Twice. Thankfully for us, rumours of its return at the end of the month proved to be groundless, though our friends in the north were less fortunate. We just got very wet instead.

Read more

January & February in the garden

From a dull grey start to a bitter, snowy end, winter has been topsy-turvy, and is now in the throes of a tantrum at being asked to go home. We may struggle to keep up; the garden, of course, takes all this in its stride.

Read more
Follow

#thatwinterspringthing hashtag project

To the uninitiated, hashtags are probably the most confounding aspect to social media. But a little delving reveals them to be a powerful tool for cutting through the online flotsam and plucking related content out from the relentless flow of global chatter. As winter turns to spring, I’m launching a hashtag to encourage Instagram users to share their seasonal images.

Read more

November & December in the garden

It’s new year’s eve, but I’ll leave the annual gardening retrospective for others. For me, that doesn’t feel right till winter’s done and sowing seeds can begin in earnest, and we’re not quite there yet, although the seed catalogues are beginning to look well-thumbed. But I’ve not yet had a chance to look back through November and December in the garden as seen through my Instagram feed, so I hope you’ll join me as I review the past couple of months.

Read more
Follow

February in the garden

As trailed in my previous post, I’ve decided to start a series on the blog using highlights from my Instagram gallery to chart the garden through the year. And so, without undue ceremony, let me welcome you to the first post in that series. This week, as we get ready to leave winter behind, I'm taking a look back at February 2017.

Read more
Follow

Waiting for snowdrops

January can be a miserable month, so a few weeks of bright, dry weather make for a welcome start to the year. Refreshingly chilly conditions in which to while away the garden hours until the first flowers of spring appear. 

Read more
Follow

December light

Light is in short supply this month, and so it makes sense to make the most of the little we have. For reasons of sanity, not to mention Vitamin D. It’s as good a time as any for garden photography, and the more familiar you are with the behaviour of the light, the better your images will be.

Read more
Follow

November chill

The garden might be closing down for the year, but there’s so much to see in autumn. Far fewer hours in which to see it, though, so best to be up and out with the first rays of light.

Read more
Follow

Taking steps

Autumn, windy and mild, with no sign of a frost. The leaves, like embers in slow motion, glow brightly as they fall, fast fading to dull ash grey and brown. Much of the garden’s energy retreats below ground at this time of year and, with a good proportion of the season’s growth now lying either upon the compost heap or the bonfire, access into the borders becomes considerably more straightforward. Conversely, passage through the garden becomes increasingly difficult. The winding grass path, charmingly informal throughout spring and summer, has by mid November become a muddy cart track, rutted and slippery, making each trip through the garden a messy and potentially hazardous affair.

O, for a red brick path! Solid under foot, and easy on the eye. Throughout my various excavations in the garden, I’ve managed to unearth a small pile of imperial red bricks in fair condition, but nowhere near the quantity I’d need for the path. I keep a beady eye out for the small ads, and auctions of reclaimed bricks on eBay, but somehow, something more pressing and grown up always seems to require paying for – a new boiler, or a replacement cross-member for the chassis on the venerable land rover. Even – dare I say it – plants. And in the meanwhile, sure as eggs is eggs, the path turns to mush.

This winter, I’m taking steps to avoid the quagmire. A roll of grass reinforcement mesh – the kind of stuff you find lurking just beneath the sward of the overflow car park at a country fair – which I unrolled and immediately split down the middle with the aid of a pair of tin snips.

Snip. Figured I only needed a 50mm strip down the centre of the path
A hideously cheerful, bright glossy green – quite revolting – but thankfully grass has already begun to grow up through the holes, and is doing a fair job of obscuring the playground-bright colour. With at least another three months of potential sogginess before us, it’s early to form a definitive opinion but, so far, I am impressed by the difference it’s made. No substitute for my lovely brick path. But, while I’m pining for that, at least I can get to the end of the garden and back.

Not pretty, but already disappearing
Follow