WINEGAR, WINEGAR!

Where is the winegar - vinegar for wasps, bicarbonate of soda for bees.

So there I was Gary Primrosing my woodland banking with my scythe (quite successfully I may say) when Yaroo!! Wasps everywhere.
You have never seen and old bloke like me run so fast - off to the wife for a dab of vinegar onto the stings.
Bee stings hurt but are okay but wasps are paiiiiinful.

I have been back with the foam spray for the nest to eradicate it. I crept up very carefully and pressed the end of the can. No foam just a jet of milky liquid into the hole. The nest mouth was about three inches (7.5 cm) across and in the ground.

Let me move on to other things that do not rhyme with stings - like septic tanks. Here is a pic of the buddleia now completely hiding our chunnering tank.

It is good to have such an item surrounded by butterflies.

What else do we have - compost heap. Despite this photo it is not a heap of grass - it just needs turning - something I tend to forget to do.
The framework is made of willow which is a bit daft as they, presumably, take some of the good pout of the compost.

The blue piece of alkathene piping is a sophisticated tool for unblocking the sit on mower when it clogged up, often if I mow wettish grass.

The brown birch to the left was a "free" gift with endless wrappers off large pots of Yeo Valley yogurt.

We have two mullein in the garden (or is it mulleins?), the more common yellow one and this one - Verbascum chaixii 'album'.

Both seed themselves and one just has to assess if the site in which they appear is appropriate, works, that sort of thing (rhymes with sting).

This one is a difficult plant to match with other things so it just gets cleft to upset any colour coordination. (R is laughing)(colour what?)

I am into ordering pond liner - seems a gert big 'un. It costs a bomb so it better be right.
We are finally eating our own courgettes and I must restrain myself from letting one go to marrow size.
I have cut away part of a brachyglottis shrub to see if it will regenerate from old wood.

Before I depart for a bit of comforting (ha ha) (I should be so lucky) (silly old man mucking about with poor waspies)  I will just show you a magnificent garden in Pembrokeshire, well worth a visit. If it is a sunny day take a book and sit in the garden by the lake before you partake of something at the cafe - like an ice cream.

This is Hilton Court Garden near Roch. We visited it when it first opened before they planted thousands of trees and so on. Now it has matured and is wonderful.

OF MICE AND MEN

This has nothing to do with mice and not much to do with men!

It has to do with stuff oft ganging astray like the weather - yesterday beautiful weather but we had guests and did strenuous things like sit in the garden and drink wine, eat garlic sticks (the crunchy bits out of Bombay Mix). (And talk). I had, that morning, spread pelleted hen manure on the rose bed to give the plants a boost but R's sister B has two hearing dogs (I know, dogs can hear, but B is a bit deaf and she has these dogs (one retired now) to tell her when R rings her up and things), where was I, am I? - Oh! Yes, they proceeded to eat all the hen manure! Now I will have to do the fertilising again.
There is no accounting for taste.

Today I have got up to rain and the remains of a hurricane coming our way.

So, what is the garden like after willowcide - the answer is open. I can now see all the overgrowth and weeds easier.

This is a photograph of the Victoria Plum kneeling under its burden of fruit, not yet ripe and heavy! I did thin out drastically earlier in the year but this tree just loves to go plum crazy. The thing on the left is a plank holding it up.

I cannot wait to reach up and pull off a juicy fruit, brush off the wasps and sink my teeth into the flesh. The sweet syrupy juice will run down my chin and drip to the ground. (This is becoming silly - a bit like soft plum porn.)

Still falls the rain! (Bit of a poetry day today what with this bit of Sitwell and the title from that famous Scottish Jew, Rabbi Burns.)

Here is the cutting bed showing the rudbeckia to the right and sweet Williams sheared and laid in a line for the seed to fall and grow for next year.
What is that wooden edged bay for, you might ask (you might not but you are going to get an answer anyway)?
As the bed is deep front to back, to get to flowers and weed without treading on things this gives me easy access.

 There are some strong colours in the garden at the moment especially the crocosmias (right) and on the banking above this the shrubby clematis (left). This is not a climber but a bush and has deep blue flowers - always welcome in a garden.

 I tried the scythe a couple of days ago on the top banking as the grass was dry but previous rain had flattened and matted it so it was a bit of a struggle. Lesson coming up in four weeks time - I think I might need it.
I may also need to excavate the strimmer from the shed and try and fire it up.

'Tis all go - painters arriving tomorrow to paint the exterior woodwork (of course it will rain). We have a vague date - last week in August - for the ponding. I am to buy butyl liners and other stuff but need R's approval for dimensions.
I suggested 1 metre square but I think 12 by four metres seems more likely.
That part of the garden is a jungle so the thought of the strimmer emerges once more.
Perhaps I should spray everything with total weedkiller and start from scratch but that takes away the joy of backache, sweat on the brow (and pestering flies) - etc etc etc.

Rosey has seen a nuthatch on the feeders and all I get are tits and sparrows plus an occasional woodie.  Such is life!

WHITE AND OTHER FRUSTRATING STUFF

It is raining, no it has stopped, no it has not, the sun is shining, it has gone in, it is raining again, it is windy, the sun has - no it has no... etc etc.  

So here I am trapped in my little room with my computer - what should I do? Blog is the answer! Put on some Don Gibson c&w and blog.

Good news - the eucryphia tree is flowering again this year white against the green.

Bad news - there is a grey squirrel on they peanut feeder - I am thinking hard - willing it to go in the trap and eat the half chocolate digestive I have put there.

Good news - the Hydrangea Annabelle is magnificent by the back door.

Bad news - the flower heads are loaded with rain and hanging down to the ground. I do have concern that the stems might break with the weight.

Good news - the white cosmos has recovered from being droughted whilst we are away.

There are so many white flowers in the garden, rosebay, feverfew, daisies of various kinds, wild angelica, even hogweed. 

Here are a few others from through the year.

 The white tree lupin second down left is short lived and now defunct. The cut leaved elder, second down left is about to get moved - well those sprouting sweet pea supports are.

I do not like throwing things away - divide perennials but chuck away the excess - there must be a hidden corner somewhere?

NO there is not I hear R cry.

Occasionally white is bad news - another white flowered plant is absolutely rampant in the garden and here it is - convolvulus, white bindweed. I spray it and dig it and pull it and swear at it. The trouble is it invades everything, yet, it does have attractive trumpet shaped flowers - just not in my garden please. It is the sort of thing that engenders nightmares. In winter, whilst I hibernate in my warm bed, under the grass and in the soil the twisted roots are waiting to choke my garden, insinuating their tips through the earth. It is almost an English garden version of the Game of Thrones.
In fact, last night, I could not sleep after 4 am - the chaos of the growth on the banking preying on my mind - the control freak in me totally not in control.

I have need of some wizardry.

Ah! The sun is out, no it has gone, it rains, it blows, it is time for another cuppa tea.

Wait! It has stopped again.

No it hasn't!

BIRDS AND RAIN

 The feeders are inundated with small birds - juvenile tree and house sparrows, blue and great tits, chaffinches, goldfinches and so on.

They often squabble, cock sparrows being particularly aggressive too the other birds.

Then along comes Woodie, red-headed, sharp-pecking Woodie, still a young bird but having absolutely no nonsense from the plethora of fledglings trying to muscle in on his peanut feeder. He goes at them with speed and a needle like bill.

They do not hang around for long and move off to await his departure. One quick stab and they are off.

As yet I have not seen a confrontation between Woodie and a squirrel but think that the squirrel will win out. The woodpecker is quite jumpy.

So as I am onto birds - this morning I looked out of the kitchen glass doors and noted something dark up on a green oak beam.

It was a dead swallow.

It could be the awful weather we are having at the moment (I knew the summer would not last) is responsible but there is no sign of injury and it looks like it just popped its claws up on the beam.

This is a view of the road as I came into the village on Friday - it was a mite wet!

Mite is right - no actually wrong - it teemed - rained moggies and doggies - made me think the dry sunny spell was over.

So now I dream of a bench in Pembrokeshire, 27C, a can of lager and some crisps.

Today I bung on my Wellies and rush out as the rain stops.
Then I rush in again as the heaven deposit upon me.

So, to alleviate boredom I rewire R's bedside lamp, drive myself nuts with all these fluty plugs and light sockets only to find I have stuck the wrong wire in the wrong hole etc.

So, to alleviate boredom I write a blog.

The rain has stopped.
The sun is out.
The sky is blue (as was the air as I did that lamp).
(As was the air after 2 hours in conversation with Apple over a failure to download iTunes music. I gave up, turned everything off (including the BT hub) and had my supper (late). Came back, switched on and all working!!)

Now it is RAINING!

R has steadily hacked everything over back and I am still dragging willow to the bonfire. Plans are afooting for the stream, bridges, vegbeds and other big ideas - well one can dream even if the flesh is feeble.

GORILLA GARDENING?

Sometimes it is difficult to find and image that expresses my feelings about bindweed but I think this does it.

Actually it is a gorilla, ten feet tall, made out of spoons for Uri Geller, the bendy spoon man, at www.britishironworkcentre.co.uk.

It also appears to be scary to swallows as seen here - now fledged - just a plethora of droppings (all over the place outside the kitchen door). (Is plethora the collective noun for droppings?)(Perhaps it is now.)

In the garden R dead heading and the cutting back of of flowers gone over continues. I mow and carry on clearing the remains of the willow tunnel - big trunks for logs, brushwood for the bonfire and poles for beans and sweet peas next year.

However the main theme for today is orange and red and yellow colour in the garden.

(I have also chucked in a pink Japanese anemone.)

So to the oranges - rudbeckias, nasturtiums, day lilies and the good old Crocosmia Lucifer.

R has to do the church flowers this weekend so I am not sure whether the Lucifer would be appropriate.

The whole place is really a bit out of hand - a team of gardeners for a couple of weeks would be helpful - it is all my fault - too much golf and too much holidays. It seems that going away at this time of year is suicidal for the garden - so NO MORE HOLS - well, not too much.

It is possible that I could turn to sons but one is mountain biking a lot and the other has fled to America!

To finish I present to you the ultimate selfie -

 Nope, you are wrong - not I - or even me - this is my son-in-law A.

What, you want one of me - Self in full Coastal Path Trim - Walking Pole (present from wife so have to use), Shorts that look like old underwear, cap from Doubtful Sound, NZ, knapsack in which to put newspaper, walking shoes, socks fromwww.theskyeshilasdairshop.co.uk, belly from overeating - enough, enough!

BRANTWOOD AND OTHER DROPPINGS

So, here is the view up the garden without the willows - the remains on the right, bean poles and logs on the left banking. 

I have sorted a lot but there is still much to do.

Now you can see from the far wall to the Wendy House right down the garden. The stream will also be moved to wind through the white birches in the foreground and another 15 are to be planted in this area, carefully spaced to allow the mower between - if I want to do that.

When demolishing the willow tunnel I found the old chimes, all entangled and some had fallen off. These I have crudely restored and they now hang outside the kitchen.
They join the flying duck C gave me.

This duck has become a sitting place for the swallow fledglings though this photo has a surreal quality to it with the bodiless duck's head on the bottom left.
The duck is also now covered in swallow droppings.
I put a newspaper under the nest in the corner so it will be easier to clear away the mess in the autumn. The birds carefully keep their nest clean by sticking their posteriors over the edge and depositing their offerings below.

There has been a colourful visitor to the peanut in the person of a juvenile greater spotted woodpecker.

There is an enormous workload for the garden and I spend a lot of time thinking about it. I have been seriously thinking about a fruit cage and have got a catalogue from Knowle Nets. The question is whether I get the net and raise the beds with sleepers or just the nests. Planning is great fun and not too exhausting.

The trees and shrubs at the back of the house by the field fence will need serious trimming later in the year. The privet their has been full of flower and its scent fills the air.

My sister I has given me a book about the garden at Brantwood above Coniston Water for my birthday. John Ruskin, Jean Severn and Sally Beamish since 1988 are the main people who tended this garden. The book is by David Ingram.

When I was nobbut a lad I lived on the other side of the lake and if I sat on my bedroom windowsill I could look across the lake to Ruskin's house. I had no worries about the fifteen feet below me as I dangled one leg in the Lakeland air.
A big difference between Brantwood and here (wot, only 1?) is that no one in their right mind ventures out at dusk at Brantwood in the summer unless they wish to be devoured by midges.

You can visit the website at www.brantwood.co.uk.

OF MIZZLE, MULLEINS AND ELBOW

As the mizzle sweeps across the garden, something between drizzle and mist, it has driven me indoors, driven me from sorting the remnants of the willow tunnel, cutting logs, dragging branches to the bonfire.
I had considered chip[ping the twigs but am leery of the fragments rooting and then having to deal with that.

As you can see in the photograph it has opened up the far garden and when the copper beech hedge has been transplanted it will be even more spacious.

We have had produce from the gooseberries and black currants - the gooseberries are bagged ready for the freezer.

There is still much colour in the garden and this orange rose given to us by our son-in-law's parents, L and I, is thriving. The mullein beside it is seeding itself here and there and welcome. The orange day lilies are not yet fully out.

I am typing fast to the beat of Fallen Angel by Elbow. R is in the kitchen listening to the radio - something more gentle.

To the left the lavender and brachyglottis colour the banking. To the right is the white valerian - now pruned so it will flower again later in the year. I have also pruned the pink and red valerian near the cattle grid.

Of all the flowers in the garden roses have to be near favourites.
This is Rose Emma Hamilton and full blowsy bloom, scent overpowering.

We have had house martins inspecting the gable ends again and the swallow nest is becoming overcrowded - four in a bed!

 There is a lot to do and not much enthusiasm for doing it but one must plod on submitting to junglification and so on.

I did not realise how much work there was in clearing the willows cut down by the men - so I am going to have a break from this blog - BUT I WILL BE BACK! The wood is either bonfire, logs for the wood burner, poles for use in the kitchen garden and gert chunks of irregular stuff. I feel a modern art thing coming on which R will, no doubt, hate.

She has been deadheading and a shearing the grass around the small shrubs but it hot.
I have been making enquiries regarding a fruit cager and a brochure is on its way. A 7x6 metre cage should do it.

More info to come.
I am not abandoning you just taking a breather.
Does abandoning have two ns? The spellchecker says no but it looks wrong the right way (unless the US spelling has invaded my computer again.)

This is Armeria maritime, Sea Thrift - now thrift is not one of my exceptional attributes but I do like to be beside the seaside - I do like to be . . . . etc.