Who would ever think that such deep crimson buds would open and fade quickly to such a delicate peachy, pale loveliness. Somewhere, I am sure, I will have noted it’s name. It’s the first I planted. And it’s huge now. Not as many flowers this year as last, but they are beautiful.
A chance planting of Hesperis matronalis alba with this deep red rhododendron. It works!
Not a favourite colour. But this is the only rhododendron cutting that I’ve successfully rooted. And this year is its very first flower. The cutting was taken at Begard in 2012. Seven years of waiting. A very good reason to pay more for a good sized rhododendron plant!
I love this Iris. I’d like more. But the voles won’t let me!
Spring salad: Rocket, Land Cress, Magentaspreen, chicory, and the first few leaves of ‘Marvel of four seasons’ lettuce.
Asparagus and Artichoke. Spring luxuries.
A view out over the garden from the house. Late evening.
Sometimes familiarity means you just stop ‘seeing’ something that’s so right. I think that had happened with Plestin. So many other lovely places – with their rocks, their colours, their dunes… But the grass isn’t always greener. And today, with magical May sunshine, clear light and beautiful blue skies, Plestin suddenly re-instated itself as the perfect place.
This last one needs its explanation. Bad photo but – Sea Slug and Sea Lettuce. Perfect. And next time, back to the garden where the lettuce (and slugs) will also be found!
Well it was cold. Météo France had a little article saying that it was the coldest May temperatures for forty years. I don’t know about that. However my maximum/minimum thermometer in the depths of the barn showed -1 degrees.
What I know is that emerging oak leaves are shrivelled, some of my lilies have collapsed. My chestnut tree’s just expanding new leaves have had it. Ditto my figs. Potatoes that were under the strewn hay were still frosted – but thankfully not badly. My Caramel tree gave off its inimitable toffee scent that let me know that it had been got! New growth on various Camellias is blackened. But the garden has experienced worse. And it will recover. Especially as since the frosts there has been gentle, persistent rain. If the sun remembers to come out tomorrow and warm everything up this will have been a minor blip!
And it was not as bad as I’d feared, and some things – because of the seemingly late season, were not affected at all.
It’s still a week before the ‘Saints Glaces’, or as I affectionately know them as – the Icy Saints. ‘Affectionately’ in the same sense that I have affection for voles. But tonight and tomorrow night are forecast to be -1/0 degrees. Here it is normally a degree or two below the forecast.
The garden, as a result, has been strewn with old hay, net curtains, debris netting, and cardboard. I’ve had to accept that I can’t cover it all, so I’ve prioritised: potatoes, figs, strawberries, dahlias, fuchsias and Acers. Some stuff in pots, and all my tender seedlings have been moved into either the basement or the barn…
I was fairly upbeat as I came in after a full day out there today. I hope I’m not going to be posting tales of woe after this weekend. Here are some photos of thing looking ok before the frost!
Potatoes all hay-ed up for the frost.
The bank wall; base soil levelled and awaiting manure and seeds…
This Iris (no idea of its name unfortunately), came originally from a clump on my second allotment. I mean that I inherited it when I took over the plot – I never planted it there. I dug some bits up, stuck them in and now it’s all over the place. This is the first flower of this year. Not quite unfolded.
Viburnum opulus ‘Snowball’. I’ve a fair few Viburnums now. I’m a sucker for their perfume (although this one doesn’t have any), and despite the fact that their flowers are quite quickly over – and the leaves afterwards aren’t that exciting – I always look forward to them. For years now I’ve been trying to replace my favourite. I bought it in the 80’s from Woolworth’s in the Walworth Rd. when I lived at the Elephant. In those days I didn’t pay too much attention to names/cultivars.
It grew happily in a tub and was eventually planted out when we moved to Walthamstow in ‘92, where it continued to delight. Unfortunately it got cut down – not by me! – and I’ve been searching for it ever since. I might (finally) have found it this year at Porte de Carhaix nursery. The plant I chose had just a single flowering head, but the perfume and the form look right… Obviously I’ll update next year!
My mood oscillates regularly between optimism and despondency . I look around on a good moment and think ‘lovely’. Five minutes later it’s ‘Oh, this is shit’. There is so much that needs doing, and by the time I’ve done a little bit of it and stand back to have a look… it needs doing again. Or something else does. That’s not a moan as such. That’s what Gardening is…
But now I’m going to moan. The Gooseberry Sawfly larvae have arrived again. Anyone who has followed this blog, will know that – alongside the voles, but obviously to a much lesser degree – these insects are one of the banes of my gardening life. Ridiculous really, as I don’t even like gooseberries that much. And if they all descended on just one bush and stripped it of all its leaves and burgeoning berries, I’d shrug and say ‘no matter, plenty to go round’. But they don’t. They would happily defoliate every single bush – leaving me to look at ugly, leafless sticks until next year. That’s not on. So I’ve been transformed into a twice daily caterpillar crusher/ Sawfly squasher.
I used to don rubber gloves to do the squishing, and felt kind of icky doing it. I’ve got over that. Now the gloves are off. I just rub my fingers on the grass before moving on to the next offenders.
And the voles… what can I say?
I hate them.
The 100 odd peas that I’d sown so neatly at equidistant spacing should’ve been showing by now; ditto the parsnips, the beetroot, the carrots. I have five pea plants.
I put my trowel in the row where I’d sown them, and this happened:
I planted out twenty broad bean seedlings; turned my back for five minutes and two of them had been upended out of the ground…and, of course, the parsnips, carrots and beetroot seeds have all gone and I’ve re-sown.
It’s a battlefield out there. And I’m not sure that I’m winning.
This could have been just an indifferent day. Rainy, very windy, chilly… The sun popping out every so often as the clouds scudded over the sky. Typical April weather. So, a trip out to Plougrescant. Somewhere I’ve not been before.
And the wind, once we arrive at Plougrescant, is a blessing. Whipping up the waves and sending foam and a salty spray way inland. I notice that I seem to be looking through a mist. My glasses blasted by the salty air. But what a sea! And what beautiful light.
Plougrescant is one of the most typically ‘touristy’ places in Brittany. There is a photo that everyone takes of a house built/sandwiched between two huge granite outcrops, with the sea and sky behind it. I saw it today and it’s only bloody-mindedness that stopped me taking the same photo. Instead I took photos of everything else there instead:
This is Le Gouffre – the Chasm. A gap between to huge outcrops of granite. Today the sea was foaming and the wind was gusting. So, not easy to hang around watching the waves unless you felt like being battered by them…
Sea Kale, Bladder Campion, Sea Beet… looking like a planted rock garden amongst the mulch of stones and pebbles.
The annual visit to the banks of the Aulne was as magical as ever… Wild garlic as far as the eye can see, mixed with Wood Anenomes and Bluebells. As I still have last years’ jars of lacto-fermented to use up, I didn’t need to pick much. A bag full – just enough to make a ‘pesto’ with toasted hazelnuts, goat cheese, and some for a salad.
A trip to the Mont St Michel de Brasparts. One of the summits of the Monts d’Aree. At about 380 metres it’s a pretty small ‘mountain’. But on a clear day the panoramas are impressive and the little stone box of a chapel perches on top like in a child’s drawing. Obviously it’s not the Alps. But, whereas the Alps are pert, pointy and young in geological age, the Monts d’Aree are old. Old and eroded and almost flat!
I like the windows. Strangely though, they work better for me from the outside…
And Le Gouffre at Huelgoat Forest. One of my most visited and most loved places. Here the torrent of water that I saw in January has slowed to not much more than a trickle. No matter. Still amazing.
The first direct sowings are finally done. Peas, parsnips, radish, lettuce, carrots and beetroots. It feels very late, but – putting my bare hands down into the damp soil – it doesn’t yet feel properly warm. So perhaps I’m still too early!
A good day, where I feel like I accomplished stuff. And the promise of several equally as good, weather wise, if the forecast is to be believed. I’m planning on cracking on with the sowing and planting. And, of course, continuing to attack the grass.
But, for now, here are today’s photos:
Horse Chestnut buds starting their sticky unfurling against a blue sky.
And, to carry on with the ‘blue’ theme, it doesn’t get much bluer than this. I’m awaiting help for the ID. I’ll edit this once I have it.
And here’s a slightly random plate of ‘fromage du tête’ (literally, ‘head cheese’) or brawn. Made from half of a pig’s head, slow cooked overnight and then set in its own jelly after having parsley, salt and pepper added…
This old fishing boat with its hand-painted numbers looked almost out of place and time amongst the sleek and expensive yachts.
Lunchtime on the rocks…I put my sandwich down for a minute and heard a bit of a clatter and a kerfuffle behind me. Luckily I retrieved it before these two got too close.
Sea spinach growing amongst the pebbles on the upper shore. Just starting to run to seed, but still tender enough to be worth eating. It got put with some scrambled egg and was delicious.
No idea how many years these chains have been submerged and then uncovered by successive tides to give them this strange resemblance to luridly coloured lightweight polystyrene rather than heavy metal…