ANNABELLE AND FRIENDS

Welcome to the nippy north of England.
I've been strimming, yes I've been strimming, and R has been pruning the bushes that grow on the banking in from of the house.

After 18 months I have got the machine out, filled it with petrol (and a bit of oil) and it started straight away (unfortunately) so I have been brush cutting the mess in the lower garden.
Now there is just the raking off and tidying up - and then more strimming and so on.

The upper bank is still brown after scything and raking and mowing but will recover and green up.

Here is a view of the far end - you can see where the willow tunnel was, the brown patches on the left. The fifteen new white birches will join the six already planted in the late autumn, early winter.

The bonfire was lit and burned well - all that is left is ash - good for the fruit bushes as a top dressing.

Well, that was drab series of photographs so here is one of rose hips on the Rosa rubifolia to brighten things up.

On the left we have Clematis heracleifolia var. davidiana - or a herbaceous woody stemmed non climbing plant with blue scented flowers - it is seen here with Perovskia Blue Spire on the house bank. I have just seen the dead foxglove on the right and will go out and save any seed from it before disposal. These blue flowered plants go so well with yellows and especially oranges. (Flowers not the fruit - I mean that would be asking bit much up in t' north.)

Annabelle -

This is Annabelle by the back door from which I have taken cuttings. You can see why I want more of these plants. This one has flopped a bit after rain - the weight of the heads becomes too much for the stems. (Somewhat like my knees - weight and all that.)

There are two other hydrangeas in the garden at present, paniculata 'Unique' on the lower banking and a macrophylla at the upper woodland fringe. This photo is a bit bluer than the actual plant.

It has been cold for August and I am sitting here typing with a fleece on. The fruit started to ripen and now seems to be marking time (except for the Vicky plums).

Talking of birds - well I wasn't but I am now - there I was standing on the twelfth tee (yes, I am one of those little white ball bashers who regularly spoil a good walk) when a bird flew down and landed six feet from me. Sparrow hawk I thought but no, it was not - it was a cuckoo, presumably on migration south and too tired to be bothered by a load of aged golfers.

The trees are turning - I know, it is only August - it is cold, R is searching for a cruise in a small boat in a warm climate but they are all so EXPENSIVE! I may have to settle for a hot bath instead. I mean, you cannot put the central heating on in August - can you?

Anyway R would not let me - got to be careful with money - especially if you want to go on a cruise!

IT'S THE LATE SHOW AND COLLECTIVE NOUNS

So the mighty storm has just clipped the southeast corner of England and is all the news.
If it had been up here it might have got a mention on page 20? London news is big news, all else is just regional stuff of minor consequence?
Spouting over. There is little of great importance south of Lancaster, let alone Watford.

Outside my window a charm of goldfinches are feeding. The flashes of colour, yellow on the wings red on the face, make me understand why people used to keep them in cages. However seeing a dozen together is special.

To collective nouns later.

The late show - of flowers - is on - November and still blooming. However have just cleared away the sweet peas carefully leaving the roots in the ground so the nitrogen fixing bacteria can enrich the soil. The cosmos in the cutting bed have gone over - six feet tall- and have been removed along with a sunflower. Above is the last of the white ones.

The pink cosmos in the garden proper are still in flower as are the nasturtiums and phlox.

Roses are still flowering and will do so right into the hard weather. Often I can place a rose on the table at Christmas.

So to collective nouns of birds - fascinating.
Yes, there are exultations of larks convocations of eagles but what about the following -
siege of bitterns (they will be on BBC Autumnwatch this week at Leighton Moss),
bellowing of bullfinches,
gulp of cormorants,
deceit of lapwings,
unkindness of ravens (a fox has got a couple of the ones at the Tower of London)
scream of swifts and, peculiarly,
a herd of wrens.
Having said that there are two which are great - a murder of magpies and - nothing to do with birds, sort of -
a superfluity of nuns!

Back to gardens and woodland - we were in Oxford last weekend and went to the Harcourt Arboretum which belongs to the University Botanical Gardens. It seemed pleasant enough but a bit tired. Fortunately the company was excellent so it did not matter. (Enjoyed a pint with C in the Lamb and Flag and two Canadians, one of whom was a nuclear physicist, now retired so just pottering about with astrophysics as one does.

Back to our corner of the universe. The photograph to the left is at the parting of the ways - right up into the wood and straight on to the far wood. Leaves are falling everywhere and will need removing from the paths. Left alone they will compost down and make a good place for weeds to grow.

The grey squirrels are back and have chewed through the wire of a peanut feeder (some teeth!). There has been no further sign of Ratty.

Just a note on the boring old sycamore - why cannot its autumn leaves be more cheerful - rather than brownish grey?

It seems a long wait for our small trees and shrubs to get big enough to make a fine impact in autumn.

(By the way the new Weasdale Tree Nursery Catalogue is out.)

So I have to steel myself to the great garden clear up and get my hands dirty.
This is of more consequence than usual as I have stopped biting my nails and now muck gets under them looking  - unclean, unclean, D is unclean!
The to-do list gets longer faster than I can clear it  (which is very slow at the moment as I cannot be much bothered to do anything)(except eat and sit and - well, did go to the gym this morning)(must be crackers).

The word "advert" has been muted with this blog and I am resisting it. This is not intended to be a money maker blog, just the ramblings of an old man who potters around.

So, my daughter is about to be forty - how dare she! It makes me feel ancient. (I am ancient).
Last night went to my poetry group - 4th Monday Poets - followed with a pint of Wainwright with Neil Curry, a proper poet and author (and friend). He is off to America to visit his daughter for her birthday, but she is to be 50! Makes me feel almost middle earth aged. Got to get out of the hobbit habit of feeling decrepit.
Time to take another gandalf gander at the garden and see what I can avoid doing next.
Or have a cup of tea.

SNOWING LEAVES AND A CONFESSION

This is the garden a week ago before the ash trees started snowing pale yellow leaves. It looks like high summer but you can see the first telltale leaf colouring on top of the cherry tree.
Now I do not have a blower, just a rake, though I have just pressure washed the paving around the house as I nearly went toe over tonsure on the slippery stone. Whilst washing away the debris I found it was an effective way of blasting away the fallen leaves.

Of course, this morning it had leafed again and I will now wait for the last ones to drop. Then they can be picked up and put in a large sack I have - to make leaf mould - a slow process but good for the soil.

Our dog has been nodding away in the gales (and rusting away) but seems to appreciate the pansies.
The pot is subplanted with bulbs and I now realise I have done the usual thing and ordered too many. Where to put them to advantage? Where to put them at all!
Add to that the 20 small box plants - Mmmm!

Our garden has hidden corners (apart from the grandchildren's den) where I can surreptitiously dump mowings without going all the way to the compost heap. There is one as shown concealed behind the flowering currant (the one adorned with a huge Rambling Rector rose) by the old well. The latter is capped and fenced in and so on to avoid anyone falling down it.

Apart from the stream and two small ponds there is plenty of water in the garden - it springs up all over the place after heavy rain.

You can see from the photo that not quite all of the scruff has been cleared. The dead brown things were wild angelica which seeds itself widely across the garden.

The weather remains very mild, no frost yet, and so the slugs are out clearing up the last of the courgettes - it has got to half for us half for them. The Cardoon shown below has only just ceased flowering but its heavy architectural flower heads are still standing - tomorrows gale might deal with that.
Nasturtiums flourish on and have not gone slimy from the cold, there are a few roses and cosmos on a cosmological scale.

Berries survive as the fieldfares and redwings are still absent.

Incidentally the BBC TV programme Autumnwatch is coming from Leighton Moss next week - not far way across the bay.
Yesterday went north to Carlisle and though they are but one and a half hours up country they were definitely more autumnal.

Ah! Yes - The Confession - I am a lazy gardener. Not an everyday with the Wellies on one. Plants that give ground cover, need little management are great. I know the great clear up is almost upon me, the great manuring, and am steeling myself for that but tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and so on.

What Ho! Molesworth - can you not invent a garden machine like your fantastic lines machine?
What Ho! indeed - more of a Huh! at the moment.
Wot? Not heard of nigel molesworth the curse of st custard's, creation of geoffrey willans and ronald searle, every boy should have one, young or old.
After all nigel says boys are Whizz! (except his brother molesworth 2 and fotherington-thomas who are utterly wet and weedy.)

That beings me back to gardens, does it not - weeds, Huh!
Time for tea.