The Guide to Gay Gardening

At this time of year I'm largely busy creating winter planting schemes and hanging baskets/window boxes for clients. Its not hard to create a bit of colour through the bleak winters (see my top ten plants for winter) but over the past couple of years a growing prevalence of vine weevil's has caused complete destruction to multitudes of Cyclamen and I'm afraid it's fallen to chemical control. Much as I hate to use chemicals within the garden unless it's completely necessary, creeping around clients gardens at night in search of beetles might lead to an arrest or two. In addition, the lack of natural predators to this weevil plague means that, unless you're willing to lose a few 'sacrificial plants', the chemical's have to come out.

You have to admire these beasts in some way. There are no males, yes, that's right, its a fully female world for the vine weevil. Reproduction is through producing eggs without the need to fertilise, and some 1600 eggs can be laid over a two month period by ONE female. Additionally, the adults feed at night, are quick witted and hard to spot. The larve spend their entire life underground, stripping plants completely bare of all roots until it's too late to save most. And with very few naturally occuring predators, vine weevils are having a ball!

One sex only, Female's rule the weevil world

Eradication can be difficult. The normal nocturnal pest collection regime is particularly hard as they are difficult to spot and drop to the ground at the slightest disturbance. 'Sacrificial plants' can be used, i.e. those that are more preferable to the little darlings, which entice them away from favourites. Polyanthus, Primula's and Cyclamen are particularly tasty, but if, as I am, you're actually trying to grow these species then you have to take further action. ALL compost the plant was in MUST be thrown away, with the roots being thoroughly washed and all grubs removed. Levington Plant Protection Compost can be used to kill grubs as they hatch and begin to feed. Alternatively use Provado, a chemical insecticide which will kill the grub army in their tracks.

Grubs have all but destroyed this Cyclamen's root system

I'm afraid I'm now truly at war with these critters, I can't even tolerate them in small doses. However, it does remind me of a funny story from a friend about pest control of aphids. Having a very bad infestation of the sap sucking insects, my friend's husband got terribly excited when he ordered, from eBay, pest control. £20 spent and a few days later, the mysterious parcel turned up which was going to prove to be the turning of the tides in the aphid battle. Intrigued, my friend opened the packet, shook out the 'biological control' only to find that her husband had spent £20 on, wait, LADYBIRDS! I could have died laughing. For that price, I might start selling Harlequin's and become a multi-millionaire!

 

Most people in Britain have probably heard of the deadly battle taking place over our fertile green shores. The war is a fight to the death, and it seems already certain that Britain's humble and native ladybirds are to take a severe bashing from Asia's latest immigrant - the Harlequin Ladybird. Introduced as a pest control to Europe, they have spread far and wide and exceeded all expectations for their success. However, many experts are citing that they spell certain doom for native inhabitants, our iconic 7 spot, or the little orange beauty, as they both out compete and predate on Britain's fauna.

The Harlequin invasion is in full swing

As a gardener and keen naturalist, there are stark arguments on either side of the debate. it is indeed true that the Harlequin ladybird out competes any British species, is spreading like wildfire, and also predates on the larvae, and to some extent the adults, of our own natives. Indentified by their brown legs and sometime 'M' shaped white plate placed before the wing cases, many are doing everything possible to eradicate the Harlequins from their area, without much success. This time of year, when they are searching for dry, warm places to hibernate they come into particularly close contact with us as, in their hundreds, they find windowsills, attic spaces, dry spots to sleep the winter away.

A native Seven Spot ladybird snacks on aphids

However, whilst some conservationists advise strongly for the eradication and destruction of this species, as a gardener I have a hard time listening. The state of my Broad Beans this year especially indicates that there is more than enough blackfly around to feed all species. A ladybird has universally, up unto now, been a gardeners friend and therefore I find it difficult, no, unbearable to even contemplate squishing one. If I notice a severe decrease in the native varieties around my gardening routes and allotment I may well change my mind, but for now I'm just going to be happy that little sweet delightful aphids are being snacked on by a growing population of brightly spotted friends.

The tiny Orange ladybird is also under threat

Friend or Foe? Well, you decide.

With the damaging frosts approaching and a definate chill in the air, many plants are beginning to end their year long show. Tender varieties are being brought into greenhouses, or having cuttings carefully taken to ensure survival, whilst herbacious borders are looking somewhat stark after the Autumn cut back. But there is no reason why a garden cannot look truly beautiful throughout the long, cold winter months.

Whilst flamboyant, colourul, and altogether camp borders may not be able to be achieved, a splash of vibrant colour within the dead and seemingly barren bleak of winter can possibly be even more beautiful. No buzzing of bee's, no vibrant tree leaves swishing in the wind, winter can be disheartening to many. But what's more stunning that a thick layer of frost with a lilac crocus pushing it's bud through the bleakness? Or, with a backdrop of dark and dismal branches, the vividly alluring stems of  the dogwood. Here's my favourite ten winter gems.

1. Common Dogwood (Cornus sanguinea)

The wonderfly vibrant stemmed dogwood's are a garden and one of my favourite plants for use in the winter garden. Largely uninteresting throughout most of the year, it is winter where it puts on the magnificant show of colour. Varieties come in reds and golds, through to oranges, and bring a flash of colour to even the bleakest gardens.

2. Hellebore

What should be a garden staple, Hellebores are possibly one of the wonderful plants on the planet. Like many winter flowering species they remain mostly camouflaged throughout the year, and it is only when other plants die back and the Hellebores put out their delicately pastel flowers that we get a hint of radiance. Beginning to flower anytime after Christmas, through those really cold snaps (though I gave a hybrid of mine to a gardening client and it decided to flower in July?!) flowers range from greens, through blacks to pinks and give a quick glint ground level colour to pull the attention.

3. Snow Drop

A fantastic little bulb for the winter season, and one of the first to actually brave the colder climes, snowdrops are beautiful against any backdrop whether its a snowy landscape or the barren brown that many are used to. Galanthus S.Arnott is a beautiful variety with large flowers, whilst the common Galanthus nivalis starts an early flower in February.

4. Crocus

Whilst the snowdrop brings a flash of creamy gleam to the garden, the variety in crocus colours is immense. Golden yellows, creamy whites, vivid purples. Delicate flowers which often only last a day or so they are worth it. They can bring a smile to any face.

5. Sedum

Ok, so Sedum really isn't a winter plant, but hear me out. Flowering towards the end of the summer season with its vivid aggregations of tiny flowers, Sedums are often a staple for gardens which many cut back to the base as soon as they die off. However, I tend to leave about half of the stems in place, allowing for protection of the spring emerging growth and also for some winter wonderland. They look truly amazing when caught by a hard frost or with little mounds of snow on top of each flower, adding a new depth to the garden.

6. Winter Jasmine

Another mainstay for many gardens, the winter jasmine (Jasminum nudiflorum) often begins flowering as early as November and continues throughout all of winter until March giving a truly well desevered attention grabbing bag of yellow. Drawing the garden together into a splash of sunshine when Narcissus and Forsythia begin to flower in the spring, once established it takes very little maintainance.

7. Forsythia

It must be my favourite yellow of the season. From what seems just an ordinary specimen, blandly green leaves through the growing season, bare ochre stems during cold snaps, Forsythia's always never cease to shock me with the vibrancy and cover of their magnificant blooms in early spring. It's almost as if you forget just how amazing they are so they continuously have to prove it year after year. Cut back after flowering to ensure blooms for the following year. Wonderful specimen.

8. Cyclamen

Beautiful and delicately petalled Cyclamen are the perfect little plant for autumn and winter long colour. Shades of pink, red and white can bring colour to borders, woodland shade, pots and baskets throughout the colder seasons. They are immensely hardy, though often attacked by black weevil grubs, and if left in situ are pretty good at multiplying rapidly.

9. Lilyturf

Whilst not flowering throughout the winter season, and being an all round plant, those looking to cause some drama in their gardens need lilyturf Ophiopogon planiscapus. It's jet black foliage will pounce it out from the crisps of frosts and the depth's of snow. A fantastic combiner with bulbs such as snowdrops and crocus's, its a good year all rounder.

10. Birch

And finally, the birch tree. When all the leaves have dropped. When the warmth of autumnal colours have faded and rotted away. When tree's are bare and defenseless to the elements. The Birch's magnificant, towering columns of striated white will add that little and much needed spark to the soul. Careful choice and maintainance is needed due to their scope to grow into huge monsters, but the benefits on a cold, grey winters day is more than apparent.

Autumn is really upon us now. Shades of green subtlely changing to deep hues of brown, red, yellow, hanging desperately to tree limbs before being blown and blustered off into space. Swirling through the air, caught by increasingly chilly winds, before finally falling and resting on terra firma and becoming mulch. Food for tiny specimens of beetle, and bugs, and soil dwelling bacteria. The cycle of energy ever continuous.

It's a time of exciting change, and whilst many plants are gathering up their last warm days, pushing stores of energy into their roots and bulbs to survive the upcoming freeze, many are in the midst of opening their beautiful displays. Late flowering Dhalia's are coming into full bloom, roses that have been trimmed and deadheaded throughout the summer make no signs of diminishing and whilst somewhat leggy, even the osteospermums are continuing to shine their daisy flowers towards the weakening sun. Plans are afoot for garden renovation and now is the perfect time to start moving plants around. And amidst this bundle of continuous natural joy, sits a common, and often overlooked garden wonder. Sitting in a delicately and perfectly formed web hangs a little bronzed beauty. Her dabbled abdomen with spots of cream, her spindly legs held in tantalising wait for the foody vibration of a tasty morsel. She's no shrinking voilet either, managing to grow to often a couple of cm, the end of summer season see's the rise of a formidable species.

Araneus diadematus doesn't hold any prisoners as this female wraps up a wasp for brunch

If like me, you walk into the same web, every morning, sticking in your hair, across your face, then your best bet is to have a friendly word and move your beloved arachnid. For with her work never done, every night see's each female eat their own web, only to spin a new one the following day. And if, like me, you want a web free path to the house, endeavour to move the little bauble for her sake as much as your own.

This glorious little piece of nature is enchanting. She spends her days spinning webs, catching bothersome flies and wasps, growing fat and full for the winter so that next year she can protect her brood before she retires to the spidery heaven in the skies. Spare a care for this garden beauty and next time you walk into a web, rather than curse and moan, take a moment to apologise to its inhabitant and really take a look at a little garden gem.

Baby spiders drift away for serperate lives after hatching from the egg sack

Whilst the season continues to change at rapid speed, I seem to have lost my way with the Guide to Gay Gardening. As my statistics go through the roof, mainly due to the picture of the miniature pigs that I posted some time ago, content has been rather short in coming so I apologise.

However, whilst the gay gardener may have not been writing, he has sure been gardening! 'Help I Hate My Garden" is a fantastic segment on ITV's 'This Morning' programme that I've been working on alongside Sven Wombwell and Diamuid Gavin. Throwing myself into gardening all day, and what felt like all night too. So far, three of the projects I was involved in have aired, with the fourth and last to come later this month. And what with our new series 'Garden Clippings' also about to start production it all seems very busy!

As I prepare to switch my sore, rough gardening hands for some pampered, moisturised writing ones feel free to check out one the shows which has been uploaded online from the link below, and keep your eyes out for fleeting glimpses of the gay gardener!

Help I Hate My Garden

Meanwhile I'll get cracking with a few tasty morsals for the Guide to Gay Gardening.

 

I was speaking to a future employer today, regailing her with tales of my gardening and expressing that I was rather passionate about this horticultural lark, when I realised, I'm actually obsessed. With parents landing on the doorstep for breakfast, I cleared my day of clients and entertained for a few hours but no, I couldn't settle, away from the greenery. I ended up lopping off branches, taking some cuttings of Wigelia and Escallonia, and getting stuck in there for several hours after the parents had scuttled off. I just can't stay away, it's taking me over and I love it!

I'm always stunned at how much space is actually taken up by plants. Of course, I'm stating the obvious, plants grow, fill spaces, and take up room. But when you actually stand back and take in each plant carefully, dissecting its location, its' spread, there can actually be an immense amount of plantable space between your green leafed friends. All that is needed is a simple chop back. Starting the journey towards my newly designed garden I had decided that the flowering currant, a rather leggy and boring climbing hydrangea, a non compact ceanothus and a beautiful but badly placed wigelia are all coming out. Chopped, lopped, dead. But it's only when you get into the thick of it that it suddenly dawns just how much space there is, just how much larger your green oasis looks with that one or two plants gone.

The Wigelia and Ceonothus have survived for another day as I got side tracked by a lonesome and thunderous looking bumble as she buzzed drunkenly between the remaining buddlia and rubeckia flowers. But I can't wait to clear, clear, clear, because it all looks so much bigger, my poor little wallet's going to take a knocking!

Rain is coming down, alternating from hard uncontrollable onslaughts, to soft falling sheets of wet mist. It's much needed. For all that we haven't had the glorious summer than was intended, rainfall has been sporadic at most and I have all but given up mowing clients lawns due to the barren and dusty tundra that was largely imminent. Blades turning a dead brown, ant hills rising out of the scorched turf, that's all that remains of many beautiful lawns. With the return of the rain, comes the return of green and once stubborn grass starts to again grow with vigour, the autumn fix can start. The raking out of moss and weeds. The aeration using forks or bizarre spiked shoe contraptions. A final feed before the season for garden hibernation sets in.

But whilst the rain is falling, and a dropping leaf and a colder night spell the oncoming of change, it is time to take a look back at the garden year and assess. My own garden has largely been left to its own devices, which has spelt doom for many a plant. Other than the real changes afoot, mentioned in my previous post, it is important to any gardener to recall which plants have done well and which haven't. Take the time to plan where to move less than happy plants to over the coming months. At the time of year when real moves can be made to alter planting schemes and buy in new plants, think about the changing of the seasons of the year. Gaining colour, or intrigue, throughout the garden all year round is one of the most difficult things to achieve without having to consistantly buy in new bedding plants as previous ones stop flowering. By looking at the garden now and assessing which months desperately need colour, you can plan what to buy before you get to the nursery and fill the trolley with whatever's going.

Looking ahead is also vitally important when establishing which plants are going to need winter protection. Start thinking about taking cuttings from less hardy plants such as Osteospermum, Fushia's, Geranium's. The snow of last winter destroyed my Osteospermum collection through thoughtlessness on my part, the days of snow chilling the plants to their very core. Leave a few flower heads to seed on annuals that you wish to grow next year, and plan how to protect plants which need to frost proof such as Echium's and Tree Ferns. Pot up collections of smaller, self seeded plants within the garden so that when it comes time to replant borders, all the little younglings are there, waiting for you. I have pots upon pots of Aquilega's and Verbena's which have proliferated in the garden. I can now plant these younger specimens, whilst older, woodier individuals can be banished to the compost bin.

Rain is here. Be glad it's watering the garden, bringing life force to your tended plants. Take the opportunity to think a little, plan a little and get excited about the garden once again.

Change is upon us and its come more dramatically than ever. August has ended, the eddies of Summer are losing their strength and suddenly autumn seems to be looming tantalisingly close. Drought dried leaves swirl to the ground, the Horse Chesnut's miner moth mottled greenery, now dessicated and brown, scatters in the blustery winds, rustling under foot as it rolls along the pavement. Heavens have opened bringing much needed, but cold, penetrating rain, and a storm of wind has blown any resting warmth to forgotten lands. It's only September 3rd but it seems like Autumn's been here forever.

Whilst the weather takes on a dramatic change, so to does the mindset of the gardener. Banished are the pottering days, snipping here, dead heading there. Wafting along picking fruit, collecting cutting flowers, watching a humble bumble drone along. Gone, blown away by the mounting breeze. Autumn is here and it is time for great change in any green space. I find it as exciting, if not more so than spring. These few months in the lead up to the bitter cold are the creative months, the time when inspiration can overflow and the garden can be sculpted for next year's design. October brings the perfect time to move that overshadowed rose, to finally plant in properly those shrubs standing around in pots, to create a sheer extravagent bulb display. It's the best time in the year when plants can be moved, and your garden can get a rather late spring clean.

Spurred on by the rising inspirations, I am finally going to get around to re-designing my urban greenspace. No compassion this time. Anything that doesn't fit has to go. I'm the worst kind of horticulturist, I'm a hoarder. I can rarely afford to buy a large number of plants in one go, but having the green fingered touch and unable to ever walk away from that sparkling flower, I've ended up with a garden stuffed to the brim with plants. Plants in the wrong place. Plants that make no impact. Single, lonely individuals that really need a new home, a new focus in life. I can't help it, I'm addicted, but unfortunately that means that my garden is less than near anything wonderful in design.

However, this is all to change and everything is coming out. Some may return, some may be given to neighbours, friends, clients. Some will go to the plant oasis in the sky. I need a clean slate. Bare earth, a clear mind, and a focussed idea to work to. I've already starting sourcing some local hard landscaping....from various skips in the neighbourhood, and when I've managed to draw up a few plans I'll upload them and share. Essentially it's an urban garden. A place to relax, to rest, to garden and to grow. I want to incorporate some veggie growing activity, and create some height with a few raised borders and possibly a single, structural tree. I must get sketching, and let the gardening mind flow.

When I started my allotment journey, a small step towards self sufficiency I never thought for a moment that it would have filled me with the pleasure that it has. Or shown my what we are actually capable to grow in Britain. Or have the foodie effect that I thought it would on me.

With the sun blistering down upon me, I started my day at a clients, weeding out a long overgrown bed in the presence of a multitude of enormous, orange slugs. Immense to the scale of obesity, sitting sticky in the undergrowth, fat beads of golden and brown. I resisted the temptation to slaughter them all on sight, instead raising them from their worlds of moist dark to the scorching rays of the sun and a sharp beak of an obliging and friendly blackbird. My client's jack russels raced round the garden with a never ending supply of energy, barking at a bird, a stone, a blade of grass. I suddenly realised that the fig tree, which had been left unpruned for several years was laden with figs! We can grow figs in Britain!? I couldn't believe it. Only weeks before I'd been telling dear Leonora that she wouldn't see any fruit from her tree. What a lie, here they were, bronzed, plump and heavy. Branches thick with rich, exotic fruit, growing in a london suburb....far from the exotic climes I'd imagined figs to hail from.

Juicy, exotic figs in London!?

Well, you can imagine it didn't take me long before that little find was nimbly picked from the tree and in my mouth. It's red, slightly woody texture bringing a sparkle to my eye. I'd already nabbed a greengage or two from a fruit tree by the cricket ground, it was turning into a delectably fruitful day! Wandering home I was in a highly happy mood. I was finding it difficult to get past the fig incident, and was feveroushly turning the cogs in my mind about needing a larger garden, about getting some fruit tree's, hell, about creating an orchard!

But I had yet more surprises in waiting and on arriving at Mary's, she was delighted to inform me that she had spent a happy weekend preserving fruit in Kilner jars and that there was still more to do! Preserving fruit?! But it makes sense. We waste so much fruit from tree's that are spread across the nation. Squirrels have their nibble, birds a juicy peck and then the wasps move in. Lawns become covered in rotting fruit which is then discarded. When all the time it's perfectly good and should have been used!!

Settling my eyes on an engorged bucket of plums, it made sense. Preserve 52 kilner jars and you have a years supply. Who needs Morrisons, or Tesco's tinned fruit! Bleurgh. Home made, quality preserves must be far better and are certainly much more fun to do. It doesn't even take long and soon, as Corrie twittered in the background we were stoning plums, packing them tightly into jars and covering them in sugar water. Popping into the AGA (lids open, we don't want any explosive excitement) for a couple of hours and all you do is quickly seal the lids as they come out, let them cool and check the seal. Presuming they've sealed effectively you've preserved your fruit. It'll keep, all year long. Bloody marvellous if you ask me.

Home preserving fruit is A LOT of fun!

I wonder why more people don't do it, it seems perfectly sensible. Mary related a tale of picking wild raspberries whilst camping when she was young. She and her father then made jam over the campfire which certainly added to the British eccentricity when an American couple passed by and uttered "Gee, how quaint!" But if they did it then, well, on our bid to self sufficiency we certainly need to do it now. Last year the stored apples lasted particularly well. This year, with the combination of preserved fruit in addition, we seem to be one step closer to the "Good Life". Tom and Barbara would be proud.