Favourite things

The snowdrop is my all time favourite flower.  I say this with a slight tinge of guilt because I would have liked my favourite flower to be a native.  England has so many glorious native flowers which often get overlooked in favour of their more showy garden competitors.  But the snowdrop has something special.  When the darkness of winter is begining to get you down and the pleasure of a warm sunny day seems such a distant memory, the little snowdrop emerges coyly from the soil, instantly lifting the spirits.  It has a simplicity, a delicacy and a purity that surpasses any other plant I know. 

The snowdrops in our garden are beginning to swell and open, and this afternoon I captured them bobbing their heads in the breeze under a welcome ray of sunshine.  The helebores too are begining to bloom, reminding us that despite all this gloomy weather, Spring is only just around the corner.

Extending the long border

It's been wet and miserable, but conditions are perfect for removing turf, so this afternoon I began to extend the long border.  Soon we will be able to plant the beech hedge to the far left of this border, and train it into an arch in the centre where the path takes you into what will be the new vegetable patch.  The northern stretch of garden is beginning to taking shape, and Ron has a stack of plants lined up for me, so very soon it will be blooming.

Frosty January Morning

On this glorious morning I managed to haul myself out of bed soon after sunrise to admire the splendour of dear old Jack Frost.  I crept outside in my pyjamas, in the blissful quiet of the early morning.  Just me and my dog. 

 Or so I thought.  After admiring the frosticles on the pyracantha teton, it was apparent that we were not alone.  Lurking at the boundary of our garden were Dave and Steve, looking for a few bunny holes in which to exercise their ferrets! 

 Undeterred, Maisie and I walked across the fields in search of diamonds, which were found in abundance.

Hamamelis Intermedia Jelena

In amidst the torrential rain and flooding, we have just had a spate of glorious days with wall to wall sunshine.  We awoke this morning to the most beautiful layer of silvery frost and clear blue sky as far as the eye could see.  Unfortunately, due to another late night following more Christmas celebrations, we didn't manage to get up and out in time to make the most of it, but this afternoon I managed to grab a couple of hours in the garden, in which I removed some turf to extend the new bed, chopped down an elder tree, cleared a couple of barrows full of nettle roots, and took a few moments to admire my hamamelis intermedia jelena, which is the first of my witch hazels to flower. 

Delphiniums in December

I love the Autumn.  It's my favourite time of year.  The muted colours, the light, especially at dawn and dusk, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the cool clean air with the occasional whiff of bonfire smoke.  I love the fact that the garden slows down and you no longer have to race to keep up with it.   I love clearing away the detritus of a year's spent grown, in anticipation of the new life to come in the spring.  When the spring comes I know I will be torn, and could well declare it as my favourite season.  But right now, today, in my garden, Autumn has it. 

Pyracantha teton

Autumn at Sunnyside

Dahlia twinings after eight, between the clematis tubulosa and pale blue asters, giving some welcome autumn colour.

 Echinacia purpurea and evening primrose

 Sedum, no clue which variety

 pyracantha teton, just coming into its bright orange autumn berries

the new beds are still blooming with rudbekia and dahlia bishop of llandaff

Foxgloves

There is a sea of foxgloves in the woodland garden, which have just come into flower this weekend.  The colours vary from deep pink to purest white, with varying degrees of spottiness on their tongues.  And the amazing thing is that none of them were planted, they have just appeared here because they like it.