Following my nose

Rain again…in fact a ferocious storm, with sheet lightening.
Further south from here the storms were terrible and many people were flooded. Here it was short and very sharp.  
Afterwards it was warm. The air was clear and is almost fizzing, washed clean.
What did people say - you could smell the ozone? 

That combination of warmth and rain liberated some of the earth smells and the newly mounded earth on the potatoes, felt warm and smelt spicy and earthy.
Walking on up the steps I can smell apples, it is the green sharp apple smell of Rosa rubiginosa, Sweet Briar or Elgantine. This rose has single pink flowers in June/July…and is pretty enough, but you should grow it for the wonderful scent of apples that follows a summer shower.

Close by is Madame Isaac Pereire, a full blown dark, dusky pink rose with the perfect old rose scent; and she is so generous with that scent that she perfumes the air around the blooms; intoxicating.

On through the woodland paths and the deciduous azaleas are still scenting the damp warm air, and as I go further up the steps there is that honey scented area. I have never been able to pin down exactly where that scent comes from, but it perfumes the air almost all year….maybe I'll stop looking and just accept it.
Around and on to the open hill side and the birch trees have that glorious peppery tang.
And this week I have been putting pots of night scented stock into corners near to where we will walk in the evenings. In 2 weeks I hope to smell their wonderful sweet-shop scent of the tiny stock flowers when I drive in around dark. Aahhhh.

My top five favourite garden smells: (for today)
1. Balsam poplar
2. Lily of the valley
3. Honeysuckle
4. Old roses
5. Dianthus Mrs Sinkins (And a sneeky number six -  Sweet peas - of course)

M Davidson

Winter woodland walk

Since we have returned from New Zealand I have walked through our garden and woodlands most days. 
It is usually late afternoon before I start up the hill, well wrapped up against the cold with fleece and my wonderful possum hat from New Zealand.

Daylight is drawing out markedly now. I am still finding the mornings very dark, but the evenings are stretching nicely and it is now well after five before it is dark. Hoorah!

This late afternoon light is special.
We are having a quiet cold spell just now and the light on Loch Ness is great.
I always think of Loch Ness as steely grey and it looks wonderful, arctic cold glinting in moonlight and mirror glass calm by day. 

December was very wet and the footpaths are still greasy in places
The last of the leaves are brown and damp and the air is heavy with the humus smell of woodlands.
Bark and branch dominate the foreground, with pockets of dark holly and Blechnum spicant; the elegant hard fern; on dry banks.

Of course snow drops are through and the garden looks well, temperatures have not been below -4.  Fingers crossed.

M

A Woodland in November

I decided it would be good to walk through the garden once a month to share the highlights with you,
Often weeding, moving, lifting and sweeping..… you lose the wood for the trees. So this is my monthly exercise - finding the woodland.

I am starting near the bottom of our steep drive. We have a row of beech trees near the road, planted when we came here 28 years ago, they are now magnificent specimens. Each autumn they take their time, slowly, yellow, gold, a flash of red and then in October the colours deepen to a wonderful glowing copper bronze. They have been wonderful.

The wind is now taking them away, but there is still pleasure as they swirl and gather in groups at the edge of the tarmac.

Walking up the hill you pass the magnificent Acer Bloodgood. Can an Acer be too big?  I see that it’s winning the battle with the white lilac next to it. It is being squeezed out.

Up the steps and into the woodland and the first splendour that you meet is the Witch hazel. Our shrub is Hamamellis pallida, which has lovely pale lemon spidery flowers each winter, on the bare stems. The leaves are large and a clean acidic yellow, very noticeable this autumn. As the leaves fall off I can see myriad swollen flower buds. It will be a great show.

Hamamelis mollis

Rodgersia aesulifolia

Collapsed Hosta

The Rodgersia are colouring and collapsing, the Hostas are suddenly collapsing and they all flare with colour before they go down. As always the grasses are at their best before winter sets in. The most satisfying this year has been Calamagrostis x acutiflora 'Karl Foerster', its bolt upright stems standing wonderfully well and mixing with Rudbeckia.

They look wonderful together in vase. 

As you wander up the steps you can’t but see the evergreens. They take on a glossy glow that lasts through the winter. Holly and Ivy both gaining prominence as the colour show fades.

Finally up to the big oak at the top of the garden.  The most magnificent plants we have and a gorgeous deep bronze colour.  Just now it is full of Jays, who have decided to turn up on Loch Ness and eat their way through the acorn crop.

They are noisy. Screeching and airborne when you or the dog appear. They remind me of scaled down Cockatoos. Squawk.

M

Romping away after the rain

It is grey and overcast today, but perhaps we are through the gales and lashing rain of the past two days.
It was very cool first thing and I left the house with five layers, It is now after 9am, and I am down to four.

There was fresh feel to the air, but none of the wonderful after rain smells that you get on a warm day. Is anything nicer than the peppery smell of your birch leaves, a pulse of wild garlic from the stream or the lovely sharp apple scent of Rosa eglanteria. I will wait for them to return with the warnth we are all missing.

'This is the time of year when you loose control'. I heard a character on the Archers say that, when I had it on in the car yesterday evening. He said that things race away from you, and they do. It is not so much the ever present weeds; though of course they are accelerating; it is the lush growth.  Warmed in April and watered in May, many plants are romping away.

So I walk along a path, peering eagle eyed for weeds; wheeking out the seeding bittercress (I try not to hold botanical grudges, but bittercress comes near!) and than I stop think, "Were there primroses in this bed? well yes, when you look below the Geranium Jolly Bee and the Ferns, there are some yellowing primrose leaves.

Early in spring everything has its place and there is none of this exhuberant growth, but you have to adnmire it.
This is the time of year when you loose the heart to cut down and banish the Campanula lactiflora seedings and the just flowering Jacob's Ladder.

NO No No this is definately a case of less is more, the garden will be the better for less Campanula...but I'll just let it flower.

Some days I think if we went away for a year and returned we would find the garden populated by Campanula , Hardy Geraniums and Bittercress of course!

Walking in a Woodland Wonderland

Walk along the tempting pathways. Dappled sunlight and bright foliage are everywhere. Just now the bluebells are out, they are fewer this year. Last year that the very air above them shimmered and they dissolved the daylight into a blue haze.

Instead of the blue we have a green lightness through the woods. The leaves of the rowans and birch are still fresh and salad green; the crosiers of the emerging ferns are elegant and beautiful. The oaks are a glistening bronzed green and out before the ash

Oak before Ash we are in for a splash
Ash before Oak we are in for a soak.

Good it is splash this year. , the ash are scarcely moving, even now in late May.
Throughout our woodland garden we have kept many native plants, but everywhere there are highlights and delights.

The subtle beauty of Solomon’s seal, tellima and the lovely sculptured form of emerging hostas. Hardy geraniums everywhere, but I particularly like the Irish Blue and Kashmir White at this time. Time for the pinks and magentas later.

Then there are bright islands of colour in the lighter glades. The Rhododendrons are magnificent these year and some of the large leaved forms that we have planted have done really well and are beginning to become a wonderful feature. And soon my favourites the deciduous azaleas will bloom…….. Golden Eagle, Fireball, Irene Koster and for the best scent of all, I am planting lots of Azalea luteum, the old fashioned yellow azalea found on many old estates.

Evergreens, that were very frightened by the winter are starting to shake off the brown disconsolate look; pieris has been wonderful, but osmanthus, eucryphia and even some Ilex have been very unhappy, they are much better now. It is a relief to see their new glossy leaves.

Taming the Sneaky Weed - Ground Elder

So it is now routine.
I rise around 7am and make my way to the kitchen to prepare coffee. I dress, still layers and wool, the early mornings are cool, and taking the hot coffee, go out to greet the day.

The days have been wonderful this spring. Dry, not freezing and bright, though often with a linger of mist on the Loch. The birds are of course so busy that they scarcely notice my passing. The dog is much slower getting up nowadays so they do not have to avoid his untargeted bounds and his nose poking through into bushes.

Most mornings I weed, I weed and weed and weed.

Ground elder is the target of my attention and there is something very satisfying, freeing a patch of ground from its encroaching spread. But is it is triumph of hope over experience. I know it will be back and I know I will miss some, but it still gives a glow of satisfaction as I drag another bag of weeds back towards the compost area. Yes we do compost it, but it needs to be in the centre of a heap and it needs to get Hot, so careful composting is the order of the day.

The other alterative is to leaves it to rot down in the bag. We turn all compost bags inside out so they are black side out, that means they not only look better they warm up better and so help composting start faster.

Of course you must be sure there are no holes in the bag…or it escapes. This is my secret fear, that ground elder will take over the entire woodland and strangle out all the bluebells and lady’s smock …this is the stuff of nightmares.

Hence I walk through the garden with my eyes downcast. I need to remind myself to breath and take in the fresh foliage and view, and I do, but I can’t afford to let the ground elder (or dandelions) slip.

Time for breakfast and as it is a bank holiday I will have some time to do some of that other most pleasurable part of gardening, planting.