|Spying on the neighbours during rest breaks.|
The garden's in post-spring frenzy. There's me flying behind, clinging to its coat tail.
As such, it's been about 6 weeks since my last SoS post, which means you've missed my bluebells & irises & the 1st dwarf French bean flowers.
Fortunately, there's plenty of other #SixonSaturday bloggers, keeping pace with the season.
Be sure to check out The Propagator for his Six & links to all the rest of the gang.
So, the garden.
1. Summertime & the ground elder is blooming.
The last time I lived with ground elder was 3 gardens ago. At that time, I waged war. An older & less healthy me decided to live with it in this garden. I mow the flowerbeds it's taken over, not planting anything else there. Around the edges of the deck, it grows with impunity.
|Elegant ground elder.|
Some local residents are glad of its presence.
|Drunk on ground elder.|
The clasped burgundy hands that surprised me by poking up this spring, have come into glorious bloom, upstaging everything else in the garden.
This peony's such a well formed shrub, I hesitated cutting any of the flowers. Then either the wind or a cat or a passing banshee bent one of the stems. How are we blessed with anything that beautiful?
Fighting with slugs over hostas never seemed worth it before, but I wanted a gillenia & something with a different foliage to contrast it. After an initial slug nibble on the hosta, I circled it with dead cedar fronds, & the slugs've left it alone. Think the plant combo's working out quite well.
|Gillenia, hosta, herb Robert, ferns & Doodle tail (w/possible sleeping BigNose behind the chair).|
4. Too stupid to breathe.
All those long weeks ago, my last blog entry generated conversations about what the fruit trees were at the bottom of our garden. Best guess from the best guessers was plum or cherry. However, I'd convinced myself that it was the same type tree as the neighbour's on the other side of the fence. The dried fruit on that tree were too big to be plum or cherry.
Then our hero, Fencing Guy, enters stage left. He says to Hot-On-The-Tree-ID-Trail-Me, those trees don't have the same bark. Meaning my tree & the one next door.
It's a struggle, gardening & not being very bright.
Anyway, in that same vein, I was very excited to plant our terraced area of the garden. It had pavers over it, which I lifted to discover soil. Well, if we add a little this, add a little that, then this here's where the maters would grow.
Seeds were germinated, pricked, potted on. After the last fear of frost, out to the terrace with myself. Dig, dig, dig. An inch or so down, builder's rubble.
The soil was plant material accumulated over the years. I knew the garden'd been neglected for a raccoon's age. Just too stupid to breathe, that's me.
Anyhoo, the terrace as it looks today.
5. Mystery visitor.
When lifting the terrace pavers for the tomato planters (that need to sit on gravel, rather than concrete), I found this little guy.
Snakes are common where I come from, but the only snake I've seen in the UK is an adder. This fella doesn't really look like a snake to me - something about the head. Is it a snake?
|What's my name?|
6. My favourite thing.
I don't think I've ever shared a photo of my favourite tree, the Crooked Cherry. Some day I'll tell you how it came to be called crooked (no relative of Nixon) & how it came to live with me.
Until then, here's Ole Crooked with valerian, Carolina allspice & what I call loose strife but others call toad flax. I'm probably wrong (see #4 above).
|Keeps getting better.|
|Ditch them maters.|
That's what's happening in my garden this week. Sun's shining, tomatoes, peas & beans are blooming, last mess of beans've germinated. Time to put my feet up.
Or maybe not. Looks like someone has other plans for my afternoon.
Hope to see you again, soon. Until next time . . .