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With apologies to Dylan Thomas for mangling his fine poem, but these words whispered themselves in my ear relentlessly as I explored Westonbirt Aboretum earlier this week. Autumn is so much more than a muddy slide into winter. Given half a chance, it has plenty to say for itself before
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Grasses make gardeners nervous. If they are planted at all the chances are they will be corralled into a separate zone on their own, as they were in this garden when I first took it over. The garden had wide herbaceous borders, a scree bed, shrub borders, mixed borders and
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I do love September. It's a gentle month of misty mornings, golden afternoons and dew-laced spiderwebs. Of shiny new school shoes, unsullied copybooks, the ending of fickle summer friendships and renewal of old, strong ones. It's rich with the hedgerow bounty of blackberries and damsons, and
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If you've ever visited a flower show you'll know something of the magic of the Floral Marquee. Thousands of pristine plants displayed at their prime: perfection in every petal. That sense of wonder as you first walk in and pause for a moment to take in
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I know I promised you a blog post about Hampton Court. But that was three weeks ago and my thoughts on it have been all but blotted out by my annual stint at Tatton Show. To some extent it's the Cinderella of the three big RHS shows but
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Funny how June, the month of the longest days, seems to somersault over itself in the blink of an eye. Four times I have started a new blog post, but each time the topic slipped from my grasp after barely a paragraph as something else caught my attention. My first
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I get asked about bees almost as often as I get asked about teas and toilets. Perhaps more often. Something about my sun-narrowed eyes and weather-beaten demeanour must suggest that I possess great wisdom in the secret matters of all things wild and natural, when in truth my knowledge of
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If you're a chemist, the answer is of course yes, since I am approximately 18% carbon. But assuming we're discussing the vexed matter of organic gardening, then am I? If so, why won't I say so? Monty Don made the news this week after
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I have spent much of today weeding someone else's borders. By weeding, I don't mean spraying weedkiller around, or poking about optimistically with a hoe. I mean using a handfork, bent double in the borders, teasing out buttercups, docks, stray seedlings and wayward perennial offshoots, picking
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A very quick post to say that the bluebells are out and looking very pretty. The bluebell woods are just beyond the meadow - there's a mown track through which leads straight into the woods Don't forget it's our NGS open day on Sunday
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I love growing new plants. If I could, I would happily spend all my working days (and a bit more time besides), sowing seeds, taking cuttings, dividing, nurturing, and potting my babies on until they are old enough to live on their own. Stipa capillata seeds You might say -
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We're open all four days this Easter weekend - the nursery is now stuffed with fresh plants and the garden is bursting into life. But much more important - Cathy is back with her divine cakes in the tea room. She'll be here Good Friday, Easter