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Sally Nex

Monthly Archives: January 2013

The Big Seed Giveaway 2013

25 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in seeds

≈ 42 Comments

Tags

free seeds, seed giveaway, seeds

seedgiveaway

One side-effect of last week’s ever-so-virtuous clearing out of seed packets is that I now have a socking big pile of seeds I know I don’t have room for yet I know I will sow regardless unless I give them away to someone else.

Cue this year’s CG Big Seed Giveaway!

Please save me (and my garden) from myself by taking some seeds off my hands. They’re all in date (by which I mean packeted or collected in 2011 or later), quite a lot of them are very covetable and I will blame you for the piles of unwanted seedlings on my compost heap and the subsequent hand-wringing and lamentation that will follow if you don’t make me send them to you instead.

So here you go: choose what you want out of this lot (rules follow a bit further down the page):

Wildflower mixes:

  • Honey Bee Flower Mix
  • UK Native Wildflower Mix (2 packs)
  • Miriam Rothschild’s Wildflower Meadow Mix

Flowers:

  • Bupleurum rotundifolium
  • Nasturtium ‘Mambo’
  • Nasturtium ‘Orange Troika’
  • Sweet pea ‘Ballerina Blue’
  • Hollyhock ‘Halo Mixed’
  • Sunflower (unnamed variety)
  • Helianthus maximiliani (perennial sunflower)
  • Coreopsis ‘Incredible Dwarf Mixed’
  • Poppy ‘St George’
  • Poppy ‘Pink Fizz’
  • Pansy ‘Morning Dew’
  • Gaillardia ‘Arizona Apricot’
  • Antirrhinum ‘ReminiScent’ F1
  • Pansy ‘Cool Summer Breeze’
  • Californian poppy ‘Peach Sorbet’
  • Cornflower ‘Classic Fantastic’
  • Petunia ‘Sparklers’
  • Hesperis matronalis (sweet rocket)

Veg:

  • Tomato ‘Rainbow Blend’
  • Tomato ‘Moneymaker’ (2 1 pack)
  • Tomato ‘Santeramo’ F1
  • Tomato ‘Gardeners’ Delight’
  • Tomato ‘Sweet Aperitif’
  • Chilli ‘Chenzo’
  • Chilli ‘Hot Cayenne’ (2 1 pack)
  • Pepper ‘Sweet Californian Wonder’
  • Squash ‘Sweet Dumpling’
  • Squash ‘Potimarron’ (2 1 pack)
  • Courgette ‘Sunstripe’ F1
  • Martock beans (5 4 3 2 1 pack)
  • French climbing bean ‘George’s’
  • Salad leaves ‘Rocky Top Lettuce’
  • Lettuce ‘Great Lakes’
  • Bulb fennel ‘Di Firenze’
  • Lettuce ‘Ashbrook’
  • Cabbage (mini savoy) ‘Caserta’ F1
  • Brokali ‘Apollo’ F1
  • Cabbage (mini) ‘Mon Petit’ F1

…and a bit of both:

Double pack of Sweet Pea ‘Royal Family Mix’ and Tomato ‘Maskotka’

How to claim your free seeds:

  • comment below giving the names of the seeds you want
  • then send an email to sally dot nex at btinternet dot com confirming your request and giving me an address to send your seeds to
  • I’ll update this post regularly giving details of what’s gone and what’s left
  • the giveaway will last for a week, until 1 February: follow me on Twitter (@sallynex) for updates
  • if you enjoy growing your seeds, please blog about them later in the year if you can!

Rules:

  • no more than 10 packets of seed and no more than one packet of the same variety per person.
  • first to place their order in the comments below gets the seed
  • sorry but the offer is only open to UK respondents

Happy bidding!

Snowy day activities

18 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in seeds

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

indoor gardening, organising, seed swaps, snow, snowy days, sorting seeds

winter_seeds

Fennel seedheads in snow

It’s snowing.

There are few types of weather which really make gardening impossible. Even when we woke up to a hard frost the other day I was out turning my compost. But this – when it’s six inches and more falling all the time – this is indoor gardening weather.

So today’s housebound horticulture was my annual seed packet clearout.

This is a slightly tedious but nonetheless very necessary part of the beginning of my seed-sowing year. I collect dozens of seed packets over the average gardening season: some given to me by nice PR people, some I buy either for gardening projects I’m working on, or just for fun; others I acquire at seed swaps or in impulse buys at garden shows.

Most of them are opened, which is reassuring. But I tend to sow them and then stuff them back into my seed boxes in a hurry, so that by the end of the year they’re bulging with last year’s seeds, this year’s seeds and who knows what in between.

seeds_packets

The pile of jettisoned out of date packets grows…

So here’s my seed-sowing survival strategy, followed every year to make sure I’m not drowning in unwanted seedlings by June:

  • jettison the old stuff: I really can’t be bothered to sow seeds when only half will germinate anyway, and that’s what happens when you sow old seed. So I chuck out any packets over two years old, plus anything that says ‘carrot’ or ‘parsnip’ on it as these are no good after just one year.
  • weed out the doubles: in 2012 I somehow ended up with three packets of ‘Gardeners’ Delight’ tomatoes. I didn’t even grow any ‘Gardeners’ Delight’ tomatoes. These go on my ‘seed swaps’ pile – unopened seeds I can give away in exchange for something more interesting instead.
  • do a reality check: I team up my now beautifully slimmed-down seed boxes with my veg-planting plan for this year, and make sure I’m only sowing what I have room for. I have thrown too many surplus seedlings on the compost heap to ever want to do it again and have learned a steely discipline on this one.
  • make some hard choices: I want some courgettes to go in the patch by the gate: I have four different courgette varieties in my seed box (round ‘Tondo di Piacenza’, yellow striped ‘Sunstripe’, green striped ‘Safari’ and climbing ‘Black Forest’, since you ask). At least two of them have to go. Apart from not liking yellow courgettes (that was easy) – I have no idea which to choose. Anyone want to make the decision for me?

And finally…

  • make a shopping list: this starts ‘parsnips and carrots’ and goes on to fill in the gaps. All my calabrese was out of date this year, and I could do with some white Swiss chard. And then I get more seeds to stuff my seed boxes with and…

I think I may take up stamp collecting instead.

Gardening in smellovision

14 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in garden design

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

herbs, perfume, pot pourri, roses, scent, scent in the garden, scented-leaved pelargoniums

scent_geranium

Scented leaf geraniums: only perfumed when crushed

I am having a bit of a dilemma.

I’m in the middle of that bit of the year in which I realise (and this happens every single year) that my ambitions are slightly outstripping my ability to turn them into reality.

It’s all going quite well in the workaday veg garden bit: an impending deadline helped get the potager-style fruit garden finished (it remains the only ‘finished’ or even ‘started’ area of my garden), and now I’m in the middle of extending and redesigning the veg-growing bit to look, I hope, the way I’d always dreamed it would.

But there’s an area around where we usually have barbecues which is currently a bit of a weed-strangled jungle, bar the half of it I keep cultivated mainly in order to grow those plants I acquire at random: they’re quite nice, but not exactly coherent at the moment.

This is what I call my ‘pot pourri’ garden. Not because it’s a mishmash, though in its current state you’d be forgiven for thinking that; more because I decided in my initial plan that I’d grow all the ingredients I’d need to make my own pot-pourri there. This, I reasoned, would mean lots of lovely scented things and would also mean I could have fun experimenting with making my own ground orris root and such like.

winterhoneysuckle

Winter honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima)

It’s quite a large area: and a good thing too, as my list of pot pourri ingredients is increasing the more I look into this. A few Apothecary’s roses, some Iris germanica (that’s the orris root), lavender, rosemary and sweet marjoram; oodles of bergamot, chamomile and clove carnations; big boys like eucalyptus (coppiced), jasmine and honeysuckle; and little beauties like mignonette, violets, scented-leaved geraniums and tansy.

But my dilemma is with the scent. Or rather, scents: doesn’t the bergamot clash with the roses? And if you’ve got honeysuckle pumping out the perfume, doesn’t it rather interfere with the sweetness of eau de jasmine?

You can, of course, pace your scented plants so they’re not all performing at once. The spiciness of a wallflower is over well before the richness of roses pervades the air; essential oils of sage and rosemary are released only on a hot summer’s day, so shouldn’t interfere with the more delicate spring scent of violets. And some, like honeysuckle and nicotiana, only rev up when the sun goes down, considerately leaving daytime hours to roses and carnations.

But what happens when you’ve got a powerful scent near a scent that’s delicate? Or – possibly worse – two powerful scents at once?

Then you get clashing scents, or a jumble of scents which are indistinguishable one from the other – and I’m not sure I like the sound of that.

There’s very little written about this particular consideration when you’re gardening with scent: on the whole, the advice seems to be, pack in as much of it as you possibly can. Even the trustiest books in my gardening library are no help here: they go on about not forgetting to include the ‘extra’ element of scent, but forget to tell us how.

Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'

Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’

In my experience there are different scent effects for each scented plant (and I’m not just talking about the type of perfume). Some scents fill a garden when they’re at full throttle: the kind you walk out into your garden one day and think, ‘What is that?’ Christmas box, most of the daphnes, philadelphus on a sunny day and climbers like honeysuckle and jasmine do that for me.

Others stay put, occupying the small area around the particular shrub or plant so you only really experience it when you’re right next to it. Roses, mignonette, wallflowers and my lovely stately Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’.

Then there’s a third category: the ones you have to crush a leaf, or tread on, or otherwise damage for its occasional – and usually powerful – puff of fragrance. This includes most of the scented-foliage plants: herbs such as lemon verbena, lemonbalm, chamomile, bergamot, eucalyptus and scented-leaf geraniums.

So I’m going to work on that basis. The strong scents I shall use with caution: I’ll think hard whether I want them at all (jasmine in particular is a real thug when it gets going) and spread them out where I can: winter honeysuckle not summer, perhaps.

I shall make sure I don’t plant any of the second category next to any from the first. And the third lot I think I can probably get away with sprinkling with gay abandon through the whole thing.

But since I’ve never tried planting a garden based on scent before, I may be entirely wrong. This, I have a feeling, may turn out to be something of an experiment, as all the best gardening tends to be. Let’s hope it doesn’t end in a terminal case of olfactory overload.

Garden words: The January Review

10 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in garden words

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

book reviews, cold weather, Rosemary Verey, winter colour, winter gardening, winter shrubs

The Garden in Winter

Rosemary Verey

gardeninwinter2This is possibly the definitive work on making your garden look a million dollars even when (especially when) there’s snow on the ground and frost on the leaves and the last thing on your mind is gardening.

The late Rosemary Verey needs no introduction: she is an icon, and a hero of mine for her conversational, surprise-peppered garden writing and for the potager she created at Barnsley House in Gloucestershire, inspiration for a thousand potagers to follow. You can still see it, but only once a year under the National Gardens Scheme or if you’re a guest at the ’boutique’ (yuck) hotel in whose grounds it is now.

Her book is now a quarter of a century old, but as relevant today as it ever was. She talks of using space, structure and pattern to make the stripped-back, bare bones of your garden look striking and as if they were the point of it all in the first place. I particularly love the fact that she puts such emphasis on shadows and silhouettes – elements often overlooked in garden design yet which can create such extraordinary effects in low winter sunlight.

Winter shadows, says Rosemary, add a ‘new dimension to the drama of winter gardening’.

‘On sunny days they look quite different at the beginning and the end of the day – changing in shape and direction, in intensity and sharpness of outline. Their density is affected by the material on to which they are cast – stone paving, brick, gravel or grass.’

A lesson if ever there was one on the importance of close attention to detail in designing a good-looking garden.

The pages are packed with nuggets of information like this which you’d never thought of before. Tapestry hedges, for example: combining different colours and textures alongside each other. And we’re not just talking green-and-copper beech here: Rhamnus alaternus ‘Argenteovariegata’ with its marbled grey leaves combined with dark green holly sounds rather sumptuous; or a hedge woven from choice hollies like ‘Blue Maid’, ‘China Boy’ and pyramidal ‘Dragon Lady’.

And then there’s the suggestion of a ‘winter corner’: an area of any garden, no matter how small, devoted to those very special flowers that bloom in wintertime. And, she recommends, it should be tucked away, so you have a positive inducement to walk out of the house; after all, she says, ‘it would be dull to have to say, ‘You can see it all from the window”.

In her winter corner she has hellebores of every kind; snowdrops (of course) and crocus, Chionodoxa luciliae and jewel-like, dainty Hepatica x media ‘Ballardii’. There’s mahonia and Daphne mezereum; almond-scented Abeliophyllum distichum and the willow Salix daphnoides ‘Aglaia’ which has plum-coloured stems and silvery catkins in February.

She draws on examples of other gardens throughout: Great Dixter in Sussex, ‘rich and varied as a pheasant’s plumage’ in winter; or Prince Wolkonsky’s garden, Kerdalo in Brittany, massed with evergreen phormiums in pink, deep purple and green, ‘to me every bit as memorable as a border bursting with summer flowers’.

But this is a book by a gardener, first and foremost, and I particularly loved the section on winter jobs, divided into ‘foul weather’, ‘icy weather’ and ‘fair weather’. There’s a winter work programme, just in case you were thinking of skiving off for a bit, with enough jobs to do that you’ll consider your March seed-sowing frenzy a well-earned rest by comparison.

Whenever I’m having a bit of a down day in the middle of December or January, whenever it seems it’ll never again be light in the evenings or warm enough to go outside in a t-shirt, I open this book and remind myself that winter, in its way, is as lovely a season as any in the garden. You’ve just got to bring it to the fore instead of letting it get hidden beneath the post-summer detritus, and celebrate it for the pared down, gentler beauty that it is.

This week in the garden…

07 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in landscaping

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

garden design, hard work, landscaping, removing stumps, stumps

stumplong

Introducing the patient: big, ivy-wrapped, and determined to stay put

…I was digging out stumps.

Big stumps: massive ones, in fact. The kind that make you have fantasies about acquiring a large John Deere tractor at short notice equipped with towbar and strong rope. The sort that halfway through, when it’s still not budging so much as an inch, you begin to wonder whether this is the one which will defeat you and stay, stubbornly, in the ground until you can come up with a more imaginative (and probably expensive) way of getting rid of it.

Midwinter is a time I find myself doing all the grunt work in the garden: the fencing, the path laying, the reconfiguring and extending and general shifting about. Not, in fact, gardening at all.

The two stumps in question are a massive Cotoneaster horizontalis on the top terrace of our stepped garden leading from the side of the house to the garage. This has been gradually getting bigger and more thuggish ever since we’ve been here: it recently acquired a topknot of brambles and this year made the decision even easier by refusing to produce more than one or two berries, which made my previous excuse that it was helping the birds entirely redundant.

The other stump – the one in the pictures – was a large hazel bole (the multistemmed bit at the bottom when you coppice it). It wasn’t unattractive, particularly: just in entirely the wrong place, being right in front of the gate that leads into my veg garden. I’ve been eyeing it with a view to obliteration for a couple of years now. But since the extension of the veg garden by another 60ft or so is now gathering pace, the compost bins had to shift up a bit: and the hazel stump was right in their way. It had to go.

Shifting stumps involves several essential pieces of kit:

  • border spade for the fiddly bits
  • fencer’s graft: a single-cast, long-handled and narrow metal spade used by fencers to dig a straight hole. Ours has been one of the most useful tools in our armoury for years now and is rarely out of commission.
  • crowbar: another essential in the toolbox
  • bowsaw and loppers: for cutting away the surface roots (and a few underneath once you’ve got that far).

The general approach is as follows.

1: Cut away all top growth so your stump looks like a stump. Mine, being hazel, was nice and straight – next year’s wigwams, I think.

2: Gingerly dig a trench right round the stump with the border spade, cutting away surface roots as you go: anything up to an inch, with the loppers, anything larger, with the bowsaw.

3: Have a cup of coffee and congratulate yourself on making a start.

4: Start work with the fencer’s graft, deepening and widening the trench and going in as close to the actual wood of the stump as you can. At this point it helps to rope in one’s spouse, if only so you can surreptitiously take a break under the guise of chopping out a few more roots.

5: As you get deeper, start sloping in your cuts so they’re going under the stump. The idea is to destabilise the whole thing by removing all soil, cutting any anchoring wood and generally working it free. This takes absolutely ages and since by now you’re completely knackered, it’s the most painful bit of all. Added to which, the stump is still refusing to move, and your language is getting worse and worse.

stumplong2

Conquered at last. Ouch.

6: Eventually, if you keep at it long enough, the stump starts to rock, imperceptibly at first, then more and more until it is undeniably loose. This is my favourite bit of the whole process: you get a whole new injection of energy and start doing embarrassing things like punching the air and shouting, ‘Gotcha, ya b*****d!’ at an inanimate lump of wood. It is best not to let anyone observe you at this point.

7: Shove the stump over as far as you can get it and cut away the remnants of any roots holding it in place one by one, until you’ve worked it free and can roll it out of the hole.

8: Fill the hole back in, go in and brew yourself a strong coffee, and sink into a nice hot bath. Do not plan to do anything at all the following day as your muscles will be in such spasm you will be unable to move. Return to view your handiwork with that warm glow of satisfaction that comes with a job well (if painfully) done.

The wonderful year that was 2012

04 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in news

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

dragonflies, garden birds, national trust, slugs, wasps, waxwings, wild orchids, wildlife

slug…as long as you’re a slug.

Last year is now officially the second-wettest on record (though I have to say I have absolutely no memories at all of 2000 – the wettest-ever – being particularly damp. Maybe my mind has mercifully wiped the horror from my internal hard drive).

But The National Trust‘s annual lowdown on the year just ended makes intriguing reading – partly at least because it hasn’t been a bad year for everyone.

We’ve all heard quite enough about how terrible all the rain has been for apple trees (half-drowned), squashes (what squashes?) sweetcorn (grass-sized and no corn) – but how about the winners from 2012?

Slugs: as we all know they’ve been having a party. B&Q’s slug pellets went up by 75%, the fast-breeding Spanish slug may now outnumber natives slugs in many sites for the first time in its 20 years in this country, and – now here’s a scary thought – there is a native variety of slug, the Ashblack slug, which grows to 1ft in length – yes, you read that right: 30cm, one foot, nearly as long as your forearm. It’s rare (phew) but they’ve just found a new colony on the Isle of Wight. Be afraid. Be very afraid…

Wild orchids: bee orchids in Blakeney in Norfolk and Stackpole Warren in Pembrokeshire; fly orchids on Dunstable Downs. One of the best moments of my year last year was when I found a wonderful carpet of brilliant pink marsh orchids growing wild on a woodland walk in early summer: what a sight.

Wasp-phobics: did anyone else notice the lack of wasps last year? We have a big nest somewhere around the house every year: one year they found a hole in the roof by the chimney (we found the nest later: it was a good 80cm-1m across), then they built one in a bird box, and in 2011 they discovered the hole in the windowsill and built one in the cavity wall. But last year? Not so much as a buzz. I kind of missed them, actually.

Dragonflies: they recorded 22 different species at Scotney Castle in Kent: I didn’t know there even were 22 species of dragonfly.

Autumn colour: fabulous this year, and hanging on in there far longer than usual. My butter-yellow Ginkgo biloba was eyecatching for weeks on end.

Waxwings: they’ve had an uncommonly good year, apparently driven ever further westwards by the general lack of berries and other fruit to eat in the rest of Europe. Thousands of them went on a detour to Northern Ireland, too, where bemused shoppers on Enniskillen High Street got to watch them stripping the rowan trees.

New year – new blog

01 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by sallynex in Uncategorized

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

cyclamen, January, January flowers, mahonia, nerine, New Year, viburnum

Sunrise on a new year

Sunrise on a new year

Hello again, and a very happy 2013 to all.

I do hope this year will be a bit of an improvement on last year’s – with eyepopping statistics just about to be announced, no doubt informing us – as if we needed the rubber stamp – that 2012 was indeed the wettest since records began. The evidence here is all around: the Levels are under water, and driving over the Salisbury Plains to my Mum’s house after Christmas was like driving through Waterworld.

Still, in the spirit of New things, I’ve got a shiny new blog to unveil today: I’ve been tinkering around a bit as I’d got a little jaded with Blogger, and a bit annoyed by the fact that my URL didn’t fit my blog’s title. It still doesn’t match but at least it’s now relevant and doesn’t secretly annoy the wonderful and admirable Wellywoman. So I made the well-worn trek across to WordPress and here I am.

(please don’t look at the rest of the website just yet: I am a baby where website building is concerned and Do Not Know What I Am Doing so it’s rather rubbish while I’m fiddling about figuring out the answers to various niggly little difficulties).

Anyway, to celebrate January 1st I thought I’d start a little annual challenge, based on a competition I used to enter (and come last in, every year) with the Surrey branch of Plant Heritage – an organisation worth undergoing ritual humiliation for every January if it raises a few pennies to save some long-lost garden cultivar from oblivion.

We had a little form to fill in, on which you listed every plant in flower on January 1st. Mine was a very, very short list: in fact I claimed the prize for the shortest list pretty much every year I was there. The best I heard about was a stoic 28: I can only sit back and admire in wonder at such wintery prowess.

So here’s your challenge. Since it’s now dark outside I won’t stick to Jan 1st, but during this week pop out and count how many flowers are out in your garden, and let us know about them. There is a virtual bunch of (winter and highly scented) flowers for the winner, plus a major allocation of smug points.

Here’s my list: just four, though beauties all. General verdict: could do better, I think. If I’m still here I’ll repeat the exercise this time next year (giving us all time to plant a few more January gems in the meantime).

Cyclamen coum

Cyclamen coum

janflowers_nerine

Nerine sarniensis ‘Blanchefleur’

janflowers_mahonia

Mahonia japonica

janflowers_viburnum

Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’

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