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fugitive beauty - rambling about my garden.

User
10 years ago

Unlike what sometimes seems like everyone else on the planet, after the abundance of June, I do not get much more from my roses apart from a few fleeting and scattered blooms across the summer and autumn. Consequently, these elusive flowers are even more precious. On the whole, I have always preferred a lot of small blooms on a large shrub rather than fewer large blooms on smaller bushes - I rarely swoop to admire at close quarters and find no resonance in high centred perfection.....but, at this time of year, the clarity of one or two lovely blossoms is a delight. Spring and autumn are the season bookends and eerily mirror each other. Lots of green, punctuated by errant flashes of colour. However, the especial poignancy of autumn adds a febrile quality to the garden. Carnivalesque salvias (what a season finale - dahlias, bah! bright but graceless) aided and abetted by the old lily stems, now shaded plum, claret and gold, with the faded apricot of philadelphus leaves, backed by huge blushed heps of Madame Gregoire (I am ashamed to say that the staggering cost of lithium camera batteries kept my hand in my pockets but I fear I should stump up before the season flees). Despite the droughty neglect against a southfacing wall, a couple of stalwart aconitums cower behind Madame G, emerging when the rose leaves fall in a slash of purple. Everything else is a textural collage of green, apart from a few Graham Thomas roses, lolling on top of the greenhouse.
Ah, the greenhouse! In my garden of 36square metres, the greenhouse occupies a full third of that space. Not that it is heaving with colour either. Apart from a vivid anisodontea, green is the dominant theme here also. Lots of it too since I have been in a seed sowing frenzy since getting the wood. The greenhouse is, in fact, my most important tool for propagation - a working seed factory where I raise plants for the allotment, for customers, for my children and now (magnified 1000X) for the wood. Productive....but messy, I have managed to avert my critical eyes from the entire back of the garden (and many other parts too).
Of course, my little garden is surrounded by high brick walls and is a tender suntrap - out in the hurly-burly of the open allotments, autumn winds have bleached the landscape to a pale but rather lovely scene. Not everything turns out as planned in gardening (hardly anything, for me) and the late autumn borders, carefully planned and planted with asters, rudbeckias, phlox.....the usual suspects, are overwhelmed by the presence of the giant moyesii rose and equally huge tree paeony, shadily languishing and completely failing to achieve the vision in my head. In contrast, the gravel garden, my sunny June spectacle, filled with pinks, festucas, eryngoes and californian poppies (and wild roses) has been invaded by late blooming verbenas, limoniums and althea cannabina, alongside the billowy stipas and sedums, second go-round of the poppies, looks far better right now than it did way back at the start of summer.
Best laid plans and all that......

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