Why Bother?

Whenever I am asked the reason why I have spent so much time and energy in creating a garden for wildlife, I have no hesitation in explaining why the matter is so close to my heart and what has motivated me. I have been interested in natural history from a very young age and have been a member of the RSPB http://www.rspb.org.uk/ and the WWF http://www.wwf.org.uk/core/index.asp for 40 years now. Our boys were members of the Young Ornithologists Club, which became RSPB Wildlife Explorers http://www.rspb.org.uk/youth/index.asp

I’m sure we are all aware that due to an ever-increasing population, more and more hectares of land are being used to build houses, resulting in loss of habitat for wildlife. Therefore, what we do with our own individual garden is of vital importance, both to us and to the environment, for I firmly believe we are the stewards of the earth.

This, in effect, is the raison d’etre for the creation of our garden at Barleycorn. We wanted to make a difference, to provide homes for some of the wildlife in the area around where we live, through the creation of ponds, the planting of deciduous trees and in the provision of nectar borders.
Over the sixteen years we have been here, we have witnessed several farm ponds being drained, hedges being ripped out to allow the crops to be sown right up to the edges of the fields, healthy trees being excavated and large tracts of the countryside being given over to plantations of evergreens, with only a few deciduous trees planted at the roadside as a token gesture to wildlife.
To help counteract these losses, the wonderful thing is that we can all make a difference through our own little patch, whether it consists of a single window-box, or is not much more than the size of a postage stamp, or is of some considerable size, or is somewhere in between. It is widely accepted that having gardens in which to grow flowers and plants connects us with nature and the earth. They awaken our senses and feed our souls, as well as creating little havens for wildlife. There is no better legacy to leave to our children and grandchildren, and we will have made our mark and left the world a better place.

I live for those who love me,
Whose hearts are kind and true,
For the heaven that lies above me,
And awaits my spirit too,
For all human ties that bind me,
For the task that God assigned me,
For the loved ones left behind me,
And the good that I can do.

Cheerful Summer Bedding.

Even though we have a sizeable cottage garden with a large variety of wild and cultivated flowers, having a few pots and containers planted up with colourful Summer bedding can help to brighten up and enrich a dull area.

Alternatively, these containers can be transported to an area of the garden where the plants have finished blooming, or be arranged in a little group in a corner of the patio, thereby helping to soften the hard look of the concrete.
For nearly forty years, I have always managed to bring on trays of seeds without ever feeling the need for a greenhouse, though I do make use of a glass-covered coldframe to harden-off the plants.
Three years ago, however, my husband bought me a mini greenhouse with two shelves and a zip-on plastic cover. That year I thought I’d make use of the mini greenhouse to grow biennials and perennials, since I was used to my own method of bringing on the annual seeds.
The inevitable happened. I filled the two shelves with six trays of foxglove and delphinium seeds, which culminated in about 300 pots having to be hardened-off, though I did have great fun sharing them out with family and friends.

'Bluebells, cockle shells, eevy ivy over...'

On Sundays after church, my Dad and I enjoyed going for walks in the countryside. One very memorable walk happened each year in the month of May. After two miles or so, we eventually came to a single-track road, which meandered down through a secluded part of the countryside into a valley, quite hidden from prying eyes.

About halfway down, just as we turned a bend in the road, there suddenly came into view a carpet of fragrant bluebells growing under a canopy of silver birch trees. As an eight-year-old, standing on that steep incline, looking up at those bluebells, I felt intoxicated, as if I had stepped straight into an illustration in one of my magical fairy books.
So strong was the impact of that memory, that, as an adult, I had no trouble persuading, first my husband, and then, our children, to go on little pilgrimages to see the floor of the wood covered in bluebells. Just as happened all those years before, the fragrance of the bluebells would greet us before we had actually caught a glimpse of the flowers.
No surprise, therefore, when given the opportunity of creating a garden here at Barleycorn, that I wanted to recapture that memory by paying homage to the bluebells, in a little bed entirely devoted to them. And keeping them company? Why, a canopy of silver birch trees, of course.

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went,
And cannot come again.

Housman

'Daisy, daisy...'

On sunny days in Summer when I was a little girl, I spent many happy hours sitting on the grass making daisy chains with my friends.
I liked the bright yellow centres, sometimes tinged with green, and the rosette of dainty snow- white petals, tinged red at the tips when closed.

It was my dad who told me the story of how the daisy got its name, so-called because it is the ‘day’s eye’, as it opens with the light and closes again when the day is done. Perhaps that is where we get the expression, ‘as fresh as a daisy’, to describe the feeling after a good night’s sleep.
Daisies are among our most common wild flowers. We walk all over them, crushing them with our feet, and snip their heads off when cutting the grass, yet still they bounce back again. Perhaps, because they are so ordinary, they are seldom appreciated.
In the language of flowers, the daisy is said to represent innocence and, when closed, it is the emblem of purity.
Here at Barleycorn, having no grass because of my hay-fever, our elder son sowed a packet of ox-eye daisy seeds. Sixteen years later, they grow in profusion under the trees and around the ponds, making nectar borders for bees and butterflies.

Luther Burbank said, ‘Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul.’ I feel that sentiment applies to all flowers, and, none more so, than the humble daisy.

Viola, the botanical name for pansy and violet.

Growing just outside our front door are posies of pretty perennial violas, which create a mass of low growing colour in shades of blue, purple, indigo and violet. The plants thrive in little spaces deliberately left between paving slabs, which my husband laid. The reasons why I chose to position them there will become evident.
They first begin flowering here in April when the tulips are in bloom, and extend their growing season throughout the Summer till late October, when the Michaelmas daisies are out. Even during wet Summers they produce a wealth of charming ‘faces’ in jewel-like shades, and every year, without fail, they repeat their performance. They are not prone to diseases, are seldom affected by insects, and require very little maintenance, other than a good haircut at the end of the season. Sweetly scented, their perfume becomes stronger on warmer days.

Their habit is clump forming which makes them ideal for growing along the front of a border and along the edges of paths. Being shade tolerant they also do well under shrubs and roses. I grow the white viola cornuta under our rugosa hedge, where, on Summer evenings they draw the eye, owing to their resemblance to little white butterflies.
Although violas are similar to pansies, there are many differences. Pansies have larger heads, tend to be more straggly, are more often annual or biennial, can be badly affected by heavy rain, and have a shorter growing season. That is not to say that I do not grow them in our garden. I love the colourful frilly-headed varieties with their velvety texture, and find them ideal for growing in pots and troughs.
The earliest violas I remember as a child were the little heartsease, or Johnny Jump Ups, growing wild in fields. The first year we created the garden here, I sowed several packets of them and through the years they have seeded themselves around, beautifying the paths and our scree bed, and creating a striking effect.
Under our potentilla hedge I grow cousins of the viola, little violets with purple heart-shaped leaves. The flower is similar to the viola but at the end of each petal there is a spur. As their name suggests, they are violet in colour and are sweet scented like the viola odorata. Apart from their intrinsic beauty, I find violas, pansies and violets so irresistible, they are essential plants in our cottage garden at Barleycorn.

The Thinking Bloggers Award.

At the end of November last year, when I decided to write the story of how we created a garden for wildlife, I wasn’t aware of the friendship that develops between blogging friends world-wide. Thalia (click on Thalia’s Musings), one of my friends, is from Bangalore in India. Amongst many other interests, she writes about her exciting travels to wildlife nature reserves, where tigers, leopards, elephants and exotic birds live. Each of her lyrical accounts is a sensory experience and told with the aplomb of all good story-tellers, where you can hardly wait for the next episode to unfurl.

Yesterday in my comments window, she very kindly announced that she had chosen me as one of her five nominations for the “Thinking Bloggers Award”. Since I am fairly new to blogging, I had never heard of this. I would like to thank Thalia for nominating me. Imagine my surprise, therefore, and the great honour I feel in being invited to nominate five blogs of real merit, which set me thinking.

To find out more about this award, click on the following link…

(http://www.thethinkingblog.com/2007/02/thinking-blogger-awards_11.html)

Here are my nominations.

1. Rebsie Fairholm.
(http://daughterofthesoil.blogspot.com/) Rebsie talks about having an interest in experimental horticulture. That extremely modest description does not begin to do justice to the expert knowledge which she shares in the content of her blog; nor does it mention her wonderful photography, nor her infectious enthusiasm for growing heritage vegetables. She has other strings to her bow, so to speak, as she is also an accomplished musician, planning on bringing out an album of traditional songs. I have learned so much from her blog and gladly recommend it to gardeners and music enthusiasts everywhere.

2. Gotta Garden.
(http://gottagarden.blogspot.com/) Gotta Garden is an enthusiastic gardener with a specialist interest in day-lilies. She is a great photographer as well, so everything is always amply illustrated with her beautiful photographs. Her blog is always busy and packed full of detailed information. I have learned so much about botanical gardens in the US from visiting her blog, and when she visits them her camera doesn’t miss a trick. When my younger son was small, he used to say, “Do you take a photo of every single flower in the garden, Mum?” Gotta Garden’s a bit like that. In her recent blog about daffodils, you can learn about so many different varieties. I really enjoy her blog, and urge you to pay a visit.

3. Petunia’s Garden.
(http://petunias-garden.blogspot.com/) Petunia’s Garden blog is mainly about an enthusiastic lady specialising in growing her own vegetables from seed, although she also grows beautiful flowers and has a very interesting herb bed too…and an interesting snake called Petunia, whom the garden is named after. Like the previous bloggers, she is also a great photographer, so all her new seedlings are there to see in minute detail. She is also interested in the birds and animals who visit her garden and makes hummingbird nectar to encourage these little beauties. From her blog I am learning tips on clever ways to grow salad crops I’ve never heard of, the habits of the various wildlife which visits her garden and, of course, I love her cat Emily.

4. Abraham Lincoln.
(http://brookvilledailyphoto.blogspot.com/) Abe is an enthusiastic and passionate photographer, who finds so much of interest from his back yard in Brookville, Ohio. The close-up detail in his photographs is truly amazing. Even his photo of a simple little sparrow shows such exquisite tones and shades in its feathers, that you will never again think of it as a ‘common sparrow’. Recently he had photos of a bee collecting pollen, and it is so detailed you can see single grains of pollen spilled onto the flower from the buds; and a spider spinning its cocoon around its prey of maggots before it devours them. As a fellow nature lover, I find his photographs of birds, insects, spiders and mammals heart-stoppingly beautiful, and recommend you to take a look for yourself.

5. Libby’s Blog.
(http://woodlandsworld.blogspot.com/) Libby is one of my newest blogging friends. She is a very enthusiastic gardener who wishes she had an allotment, but being short of space is not an obstacle to her, as her garden is growing upwards, with lots of climbers. However, she does have a greenhouse, with shelves stacked high, where plants jostle for space; and four happy chickens scratching away in their new bedding. If you wonder where she gets such beautiful plants, wonder no more, because she’s a dab hand at procuring bargains from Ebay. She also has a pond, where you can read all about the pesky heron who is stealing her fish. Pay Libby a visit and find out how to maximise the space in your garden.

It just remains to say I recommend these five blogs to everyone. Thank you, Thalia, for choosing me and giving me the opportunity to express my views on why these blogs are worthy choices and why they make me think.

Spring Fever

The Roman Goddess of Spring and Fertility was known as Flora, whereas the Saxons gave that honour to Oestre. Christians celebrate the festival of Easter as a time of rebirth and renewal. Historically, Spring has always started on the night of the vernal equinox of 20/21 March, though this year the Met Office claimed the first day of Spring was actually the first of March. It’s an interesting question. When does Spring officially start?

Regardless of the debate about the exact date, the time of fertility and renewal at Barleycorn, happens during the month of April when large drifts of golden daffodils, and their numerous hybrid cousins, bursting forth like so many trumpets joining together in unison, herald the arrival of Spring in all its splendour.

Even on rainy days, each flower seems to proffer a cup of golden sunshine in thanksgiving to the Goddess of Spring. Joining them in the dance are little posies of blue grape-hyacinths, upright scented purple and white honesty, acid-green euphorbia, sulphur-yellow primroses, colourful primula and the velvet-like blooms of polyanthus, while large swathes of pink, white and blue forget-me-nots jostle for space in tulip-filled beds, and meander along the curving paths, creating an air of informality.

Catkins of silver birches, like so many lambs’ tails, dance up and down in the spring breezes, and lush green leaves emerge gradually to clothe the slender branches with a shimmering new spring coat, while numerous little birds pay homage by singing their melodious bursts of song to establish their territories and attract a mate.

Along the margins of the ponds, the first plants offering a burst of sunshine are members of the buttercup family, the bright yellow marsh marigolds, attributed in Mediaeval times to the Virgin Mary as Mary Gold, with their shiny succulent leaves and flowers which open at the rising of the sun and close at its setting.

April is the month in which I was born, and each birthday, as I start a new year in my life, I am smitten by the infectious joys of Spring, which never fail to create a frisson of excitement in me, for, along with all the frenzy of daily change in the garden, with larks bursting into joyous rapture and the cries of baby lambs bleating from the adjacent field, I, too, am filled with a sense of hope and renewal, and an awareness of being part of the magical blessing of Spring, as my heart rejoices and I am reborn once again.