Every year I am fooled into thinking I have a spacious garden. I mean, why on earth would a modest pot like this need all that space?*
The plants have plenty of elbow room.
Tiny scillas and modest hellebores are easily visible.
I get super excited about the first blossoms on the cherry
and the fattening buds on the camellias.
The bees and I become delirious on the scent of the skimmia which fills the air for yards around (you can’t see them because of my photography, but I gave up trying to count them). I have this temporary sense of control, I even add a plant or two… and every year nature teaches me a lesson before we reach midsummer.
The garden is happy but perhaps confused. I wanted to bring in some flowers the other day and found this charming combination of nasturtiums and winter jasmine. I also found some late blooms on the centaurea and and yet the hydrangeas have their autumn seed heads.
We still have cistus in bloom and below them autumn crocus are merrily flowering.
Then we have the winter iris stylosa – I usually start looking for a few flowers on this in mid-December and sometimes find blooms for the Christmas table and then throughout January and February. They are already blooming in three separate sites in the garden.
And late blooms have appeared on the summer-flowering non-clinging clematis Durandii.
A few feet away a primrose is feeling the air, while between these two Rosa Papa Meilland is throwing up yet another bloom.
Raspberries are still fruiting – they are autumn raspberries, but they are usually long gone before November. This is looking like autumn. …but what are the runner beans doing flowering at this time of year, and why can I hear the buzz of lawn mowers even as I write? And how come we had lunch in the garden in the UK on November 1st?
At least my general failure in the greenhouse has been redeemed by the late hot spell, and my magnificent sweet pepper is finally turning red.