So tired, tired of waiting
Monday 18th May. Another Monday. I feel the difference between days, still, but mostly because of the number of work emails that come in. Being able to start each day with time in the orchard, chasing the setters off the beds, opening the greenhouse to make sure the tomatoes do not get too hot, watering the quince, absorbing and inhaling the morning stillness, I feel I inhabit my place. I witness the daily changes. It is only through such intimacy that growth is truly seen. Every day, now, there is a shift in the balance of colours. The depth of the tones in the bronze fennel foliage, which has dominated the matrix planting, is softened by the workhorse that is the Erigeron annuus. I swear it flowers for eight months straight. The chicory grows taller each day but has yet to pop its beautiful jagged-edged blue flowers. If the growth on the Echinops is anything to go by, it will not be long before it arrives too.
Tuesday 19th May. Some of my favourite American scabious overwintered quite happily in the far corner of the field, and is now covered in the biggest black flowers I have ever seen. They are fluffier than I usually like them, but I cannot fault their enthusiasm. This is the corner that was fenced with the most beautiful chestnut paling, and it is also the home of my species digitalis collection. How incredibly impressive that sounds; most of the plants were from a packet of Digitalis lutea off of the front of Gardens Illustrated about four years ago. This is Digitalis lanata, also known as the Grecian foxglove. I think it might be my favourite. Until the chocolate-brown parviflora comes out anyway.
Wednesday 20th May. We wake to mist, like a true summer’s day. Pickeridge Hill is obscured and the greyness rolls in clouds along the valley, following the course of the stream. It lingers until mid-morning and then burns off with something of a flourish. The day is hot, and the pots in the courtyard threaten to wilt. I put off direct sowing the Cosmos to a cooler day. Cosmos’s other name is Mexican Daisy and it adores heat, but it is too hot for me. Our evening walk is taken later than usual, and we go up past the polo ground to where the dogs can swim in the pools under the waterfall.
Thursday 21st May. I am meant to return to face-to-face work today, but it does not happen. As the day winds down, I water sweet peas, and start to tie them up the hazel arch. Some are putting on strong growth, some are not so much. I do not worry unduly, as they always go through a stage of lots of root growth after planting out. Watering some of them and disturbing the soil with the hosepipe, they collapse into the soil, a dead giveaway that voles have been tunnelling under them, creating great air pockets and leaving the plants with nothing to grow down into. I have a lot of voles and they form great networks of tunnels in the crumbly soil with which I improved my Somerset clay. I cannot take any responsibility for improving their habitat though; there are holes and trenches all over the orchard too.
Friday 22nd May. I planted my first beans out too early, a rookie error. My second, I do not think I was being unreasonable, but they got caught by the cold again. Everyone has something that is their bête noire; beans seem to be mine this year (it is usually delphiniums). A socially distanced trip to Combe Dingle nursery on the top of the Blackdown Hills and I come home with paper bags full of plugs and as many bags of compost as I can fit in the car. After my dreadful disappointment with the peat-free New Horizon early on in the season, Melcourt SylvaGrow has saved my bacon. The extra kohlrabi and chard plugs go straight into the ground, but I am taking no chances with the beans and I pot them up and put them in the greenhouse to grow on before they are exposed to the elements.
Saturday 23rd May. A blustery day, with short sharp showers. I spend the day deeply immersed in writing my next book ‘Creating a New Normal’ in the studio, the hazel leaves thrashing and bashing against the window. Although it is cooler today, wind is very drying, so I water everything again, particularly the plants in containers. Time in the garden is limited, but I manage to plant out a row of Ammi which were threatening to pop out of their pots. An evening of catching up on Chelsea on the television. We should have been there on Wednesday and it seems such a little thing to grieve for, but there is a sadness. Monty and Joe speak of looking forward to next year’s show, and I hope this confidence is not misplaced. The hotel refused to give a refund and we have a credit note valid for a year, so let’s hope it is on in 2021.
Sunday 24th May. One thing that has brought me particular joy this week is Catherine Water’s Instagram. Her wonderful shop in Ashburton is closed at the moment, but she is using her windows for poetry, and it is so utterly simple and so utterly beautiful. Take a look. My favourite is below.
Much love,
G x
