Refreshed

The last two days (the last day of the old year and the first of the new year) have brought a good amount of rain. It was nice to be mostly indoors reading and puzzling over the jigsaw I was given for Christmas (it’s hard! It will take me months! Good-oh!). The garden is refreshed; there’s evidence in the kitchen window sill full of sweetpeas – and the scent!

Inside-outside flowers

Here is the first Precious Platinum of the season, picked for Mum. It’s her favourite, with a divine scent. The rose was transplanted from her garden.

There’s hardly any need to pick flowers to bring inside; they are visible from nearly every window. From my computer this evening I have this view:

The Cecile Brunner has always been lovely at this time of year, but not quite as good as it was, filling the whole window, when I took the photo below (left) in the 1990s. The photo on the right was taken today.

I look through the window in the morning and plan what I will do in the garden that day, or maybe later that week.

Today I planted two tomato plants and some lettuces. Next, the lawn needs mowing and there are some geranium cuttings to pot up. The roses in containers could have some liquid fertiliser and the citrus trees are due for more food. Now that it’s summer weather, it’s time to put saucers back under the pots and containers. That’s tomorrow’s jobs sorted.

Anticipation

Looking forward to something can be better than the event itself. However, I’m looking at my roses which are beginning to flower and producing heaps more buds. It’s amazing how fast they have grown after being pruned back in July. I’m pleased to find that they weren’t blown to smithereens by last night’s wild wind.

The globe artichokes have lots of buds this year; usually there are only two or three. While the blackcurrant flowers were barely noticeable, the developing fruit is more obvious and looks promising. The lime tree, which I feared was dying, is now producing new leaves. My neighbour says it may be wise to remove the flowers to give it a better chance of survival.

Clematis montana is in full flower, and hierloom green rose ‘Viridiflora’ to the left is covered in buds. The garden will be enjoying the rain which we had been hoping for. The temperature has dropped and snow is falling further south. Felix commandeered Mum’s chair beside the fire last night and again this morning.

A new Westerland rose, kindly given to me to replace the one which died, seems to be happy socialising with other roses, and has several buds. I am planning where to plant it, which requires removing the stump of its predecessor which I had hoped might regenerate, but no such luck. Now there is the new rose to look forward to.

From the window

I leaned out of the sitting room window and took this photo this morning.

Is it every year that I say, ‘The roses have never been so good’? Is this year better than ever?

Still in my pyjamas, I took a photo from the front door.

Back inside the house, the little wooden chooks look in fear of invasion from the roses outside.

Felix was the only invader via a window this morning.

Which reminds me of his defenestration yesterday as I rescued a little blackbird from him which he’d brought inside. The parent birds almost followed Felix into the house, protesting loudly. I’m not sure that my efforts to save the wee bird were successful. Although it was pecking quite vigorously, it seemed unable to perch on a high branch. I ended up with bruises and scratches from scrambling through the garden and a gooseberry bush is looking a little flat after I fell on it. Fortunately, I offloaded the little bird into a hanging basket on my way down.

Isn’t nature wonderful? (And human efforts a bungling mess?)

Last hurrah for summer

Japanese anemones/wind flowers make shadows on the path.

A woman at singing this morning reminded me that it’s the official last day of summer today. After several gloomy days, this afternoon is brilliant with sunshine. The crickets are chirping – always a sign that it’s nearly the end of summer. But the light is lovely, slanting in and casting shadows as the sun moves lower in the sky. The raspberries, apples and grapes are ripening. I felt a pang that the hens are all gone. They loved the grapes and would stand under the grapevine looking meaningfully upwards if I was near. I picked the first bunch today.

Blue sage towers over my head. The cranberries are plump and smell divine. The Japanese anemones flower in late summer and are at their best now. The roses are giving it their last shot. Bees are busy.

I found some new (to me) varieties of greens for the vertical garden. As ‘hardy greens’ they may prove to be good for winter salads. What great names they have!

Time to repair to the egg chair – with a slice of watermelon – to enjoy this glorious day. Perhaps we’ll have one of those lovely warm autumns…

Plants in pots

These roses are doing well in pots. The Sexy Rexy was in the garden, but was not thriving. It didn’t take long to recover once it was in a pot. I have a watering schedule: the pots are watered twice a week and fed on alternate weeks (roughly). The liquid plant food smells rich and pungent; the prolific flowers suggest it is doing them good. I’m hoping a Spiced Coffee rose, also rescued from the garden, will do well in its pot. The Violet Hit, which has always been in a pot, was not thriving, so I moved it last summer into a more open position and it is steadily improving, despite the fact that an aquilegia has taken up residence in the pot and will not be budged.

A mass of sweet peas is growing in a barrel. They have simply come up by themselves this year. Popping up amongst them are self-sown poppies – including some fluffy ones – and underneath a little daisy is struggling for light.

The potted yucca is hosting self-sown lobelia. The Mother of Herbs has been removed from its pot as it was taking over the kitchen windowsill. It is now beside the sage barrel and a basil plant has taken its place in the kitchen. Tiny viola pop up around the garden, and these ones are with self-sown poppies in a daffodil pot – with a background of geraniums grown from a cutting given to my mother years ago by the Avon lady.

Lime Tree with companion plants

You can hardly see the pot this lime tree is in; the companion plants of alyssum and silver thyme are thriving – a sign of good soil health, I hope. A previous lime tree died, so I decided on a pot for this one, beside the house for shelter. So far so good – and the lime tree has lots of flowers. As with all the pots, I use food suitable for container plants – either liquid or slow release – so that the soil doesn’t build up toxicity, a tip picked up from a television gardening show.

Plant power

Precious Platinum and sweet peas. The edge of the raffia mat shows Felix- damage.

It’s nice to have flowers from the garden on the table, but they have to be cat-proof. Felix has broken two vases and flooded the table trying to drink the water. A flat-bottomed vase has proved successful, but a rose, such as Mum’s favourite ‘Precious Platinum’, needs a slim container to hold it upright. A solution is to put the thinner vase in the larger one. Then it occurred to me to put sweet peas around the sides. The fragrant mix of flowers lifted our spirits which were sapped this morning, pre-caffeine, by a thirty-minute search for Mum’s hearing aid around and under the fridge. I found two ping pong balls, a small pine cone, bits of cat or dog biscuits, and a lot of fluff using the find-my-hearing-aid app, a fluffy duster, a torch and a wee bit of swearing. Finally, Felix’s fishing rod toy did the trick. Hearing aids are skin-coloured for camouflage while in the ear. A luminous colour would be useful for finding them in dark corners, just saying.

Apart from flowers cheering us up, the growth of other plants is miraculous to watch. Mother of Herbs (aka Cuban Oregano among other names) is taking over the kitchen windowsill. Outside, the yellow courgette plant is growing. The green courgette (see previous post ‘Small beginnings’) is shrinking, sadly, but today another as yet unidentified cucurbit has emerged beside it. The butternut pumpkin seeds I dried and planted have sprouted and I will need to find places to plant the seedlings soon. Where I pulled up suckering lilac, interesting fungus has emerged, probably doing its job of breaking down a tree stump. While the runner beans are beginning to wind up their stakes, the broad beans are ready to eat.

Flourishing

The roses, in their second flowering, press against the window.

You never know what to expect to find in the garden when you return from a week away. Will it have withered with neglect? Not so this time. The only misfortune was a fallen tomato plant which had crashed due to the weighty trusses of fruit.

It seems okay, and I’ll leave it where it is to prevent any damage. One truss of tomatoes broke off, however. Not surprising as it weighed one and a half kilos.

The tomatoes in the hanging basket were doing well.

Just out of chicken reach.

Some of the salad greens were bolting in the vertical planter.

Perhaps that’s why it’s called ‘rocket’; it always bolts first.

The beans, peas and chard were flourishing under their domes. Scarlet runner beans were heading skywards and flowering profusely. Meantime, the sweet peas (the ‘scramble’ to the right) were past their best and the artichokes ‘hats’ had faded from purple to brown.

The red salvia seemed to have doubled in size.

The Japanese anemones were crowding around the sapientia rose – and me, as I walked up the path.

All up, a great welcome home.

Hello again!

Each new flower is like a discovery, yet my photos of a year ago, four years ago, six years ago show that the same sudden appearances have surprised me each spring. Today, it was the first rose.

Chinensis mutabilis

The kowhai trees are flowering enthusiastically – better than before, surely?

The apple tree seems to have been encouraged by pruning.

Each new blooming is superseded by another: Camellias then lilacs, magnolia stellata then forsythia, violets then forget-me-nots, aquilegias and Solomon’s seal, bluebells then hebe, lavender and bay, rosemary then banksia, and the beginnings of fox gloves, cabbage tree flowers, and karo.

The blueberry is flowering profusely and the first flowers are appearing on the strawberry plants in a hanging basket, with promise of summer fruit.

And, on the beach on Sunday, eight inflatable rescue boats on exercises meant the surf patrollers (my nephew included) are gearing up for the summer season.

Backyard Bounty

The greenhouse is proving its worth. My long tee shirts are useful for collecting tomatoes.

Pockets are okay too for a few tomatoes, but you have to be careful not to forget the collected ones – or accidentally squash them.

In the last few days the number of ripe tomatoes has increased.

Every vase has been called up to accommodate the sweet peas.

Yesterday’s ferocious nor’west wind threatened the second flush of roses, so I rescued this Blueberry Hill. These roses are all on one stem. The abutilon flowers were blown off by the wind.

Popcorn is broody again. She is all fluffed up, giving the impression of an abundance of feathers.

If there was sound with these photos, you would hear her muttering darkly about how cruel I am to shut her out of the nesting box. And she doesn’t let up.

In the wider backyard of our city, people are gathering for the Backyard Buskers’ Festival. Formerly the “World Buskers Festival”, border restrictions mean no international performers this year. A circus trio was entertaining a large crowd in the city today, and another pitch I passed was full of people waiting for the next performance.

We are not unaware of how fortunate we are to be able to live like this now. On Saturday, at a Christchurch Symphony Orchestra performance in Victoria Square, I noticed a person on a balcony of the nearby Managed Isolation hotel. A poignant reminder of how lucky we are – for now.