Genus: Rosa Type: Perennial Propagation: Seed, plant propagation, cuttings, grafting
Native to: Mostly Asia, some Europe and North America
This rose is a spectacular rambler with such vivacity that I have to hack through it after the first flowering in order to stop it from invading the whole garden. She happily climbs up and runs along the wall, over the patio screen and flowing onto the trellis, shadowing the pavement on the other side. I can see that she is now making her way towards the arch, cunningly overtaking the passionflower, the honeysuckle and the Rosa ‘Calypso’.
The first flowering didn’t last very long this year because the rain spoiled the tightly wound flower. Once the water gets in, the flowers get heavy, droop and then rot quite quickly.
There are many reasons for my liking this rose so much: the pale, delicate pink blush is the very picture of an English rose; the profusion of luminous blooms brightens up the patio, even in the shade; the sweet perfume is dizzying; the flowering goes on all summer, as long as I deadhead regularly and trim the long shooting arches; the sparrows love to play hide and seek in the tight foliage, feeling protected by the thorns and the intricate network of branches.
I also like the fact that it overflows over the garden wall. Sometimes as I walk to my car, I see people walking by on the pavement stop and stand on tiptoes to smell the blooms. I have even seen some of them cut a stem and take it away. I don’t mind… I like to share the beauty of Jasmina and it saves me some work when pruning time comes.
So if you are looking for a rambler with strong stems and an abundance of flowers, I would definitely recommend Rosa ‘Jasmina’. May she give you happiness for years to come.
As my garden is completely organic, slug pellets are prohibited. The organic status makes sure we have plenty of birds and lots of happy bees, but we also have a healthy population of snails and slugs. We also heard from the Hampshire Wildlife Trust that hedgehogs are dying by the thousands, killed by second-hand poisoning, after eating poisoned slugs and snails. The consequences are dire: apart from the tragic all time low in hedgehog numbers, this in turn causes a proliferation of gastropods.
Because we don’t like to kill things, even ugly squishy slimy slugs, death traps are not an option either in the Flora’s Patch garden.
As for snails, I actually quite like them, especially the small stripy ones.
The only way left is to plant things they find disgusting or too hairy or spiky for them to climb on. Over the years, the strategy seems to have paid off. The population has naturally been reduced by the lack of delectable food supplies. However, in this year of 2016, slugs seem to be doing particularly well, with a democratic surge that seems to defy the laws of nature.
Fortunately, there are plenty of plants that the snails and slugs will not eat, enough to make a beautiful, nature friendly garden.
Here is a list of plants I have successfully grown so far (I will update each time I find something new):
Grasses (the ones I tried anyway…)
Roses (Thank goodness, a walled garden without roses is like a kiss without a moustache- that’s a French saying, I’m not sure how well it translates…)
If you are a Hosta collector, it might be a problem…
Please feel free to use the comments if you know plants that can be added to this list.
Back to hedgehogs: we have a walled garden, so no hedgehog can find his way in. We are looking to kidnap one from somewhere but no opportunity has so far arisen.
HEDGEHOG APPEAL: if you know a hedgehog in need of a home, please let us know. The garden is walled all around and completely safe and there is plenty to eat. They might have to fend off the odd attempt at stroking or cuddling or being fussed at, but they are spikily well equipped against this kind of things. Thank you…
In the meanwhile, if you haven’t already seen this, it’s worth having a look. If I do get a hedgehog, I will definitely try to feed him carrots:
“It will never work” “They will completely ignore it” “It will always be filthy”
That was Mr. Flora’s Patch’s verdict on the general usefulness of a birdbath. Eventually he gave in, probably because it was easier. On a sale day at the garden centre, I got my birds a bath and proudly installed it by the birch tree where the feeders hang. We filled it with water and sat in the patio, with an anticipatory stance that was probably enough to scare the birds away even if the new, unfamiliar structure wasn’t going to.
Within twenty minutes, 3 species of birds had tried their newly discovered, dedicated feature: the first one, surprisingly, was the pigeon (he is usually a bit of a scaredy cat); the second one was the blackbird (frantic as usual); the third one was the robin (always nosy that one…)
The unexpected entertainment factor is that every bird has its own bathing style.
The dove and the pigeon’s disparity
The prettiest bathers have to be the collared doves. They sit on the ledge and try one foot first. They look like a 1920s young lady in a rather stylish pale grey bathing costume with a little black collar for good effect, extending her pointed toes to test the temperature before risking a full bath. Compared to the fat pigeon who lands straight in the centre with a big flop that sends the water over the edge, the collared doves are the most graceful creatures on Earth. When several visit together and sit around the edge, they look like a live incarnation of Pliny’s doves. It is magical.
The robin’s little engine
The wildest is the robin. He gathers momentum first by standing on the rim, looking intently at the water in great concentration. Then he jumps right in, plunging his head under water before coming up in a great bust of energy, the beads of water rolling down the back of his neck and flying in great arcs from the tip of his wings. He flaps his little wings so hard that he actually uses them as a method of propulsion, sending him right across the bird bath in half a dozen strokes, turning at the end and swimming back to his starting point like a tiny feather duster gone mad. He then comes back to rest on the rim for a minute, taking a breather before going back in for another wild bath. When the night falls, he flies up to the birch tree above, exhausted and happy, ready to fall asleep in a wet fluffy ball and dream of being a flying fish in a dish made of stone and carved roses.
The blackbirds’ back crawl
As usual, the blackbirds, both Mr. and Mrs., are rather energetic. Unlike the tidal wave of the pigeons, their effusions are like a rainbow of droplets. They manage to shake every millimeter of their body all at once, making the most of the cool water on a hot sweaty day. They come out looking disheveled and disappointingly not much less stressed than they were before their swim.
The goldfinches’ day out
Yesterday for the first time the birdbath was invaded by a flock of goldfinches, chatting away noisily as they shared the pool Roman style, on what looked like an organised spa day trip for small colourful birds. Unfortunately they were moving so fast that I never managed to get a single picture of the group in focus. I expect that their exciting chattering could be heard in a two-mile radius.
The sparrows’ disappearance
The sparrows actually like to go underwater! They sit on the edge for a bit, evaluating the depth of the pool, then they take the plunge and completely disappear, flat on the bottom, until suddenly their little heads emerge over the rim. They make me feel like a lifeguard on duty, ready with my resuscitation kit! As several of them do this together, I wonder if they’re holding some kind of competition, Le Grand Bleu style…
There are still some inhabitants of my garden who have yet to get their feet wet: I have never seen the wrens, the blue tits, the great tits, the long-tailed tits or the greenfinches capering in there. I am keeping an eye out and will update the post if I catch them.
I wish the squirrel would have a go as well. I bet that would be funny!
I must admit, one of the arguments against the birdbath was justified: it IS always filthy and a bit of a chore keeping it clean, but worth every scrub of the brush for the constant spectacle it offers.
I shall finish with the rudest of them all (no surprise there!)
I never planted an Aquilegia, yet at this time of year my garden is full of them. They are not fancy ones with strange colours and extra long spurs at the back of their heads, which always remind me of an alien creature freshly out of a Giger designed spaceship. Still they have a good range of colours, from pure white to pale pink, lilac and mauve, deep burgundy or rich violet. I even get the occasional double white and double pink. The name ‘Aquilegia’ is for the Latin word for eagle, “Aquila”, because the petals resemble eagle claws. So alien is not that far off really. Just a bit scarier.
The Aquilegia has a few common names. ‘Granny’s Bonnet’ is the most well-known and self explanatory. “Columbine” again is from a Latin word, this time for “dove”, because the petals look like little doves in a group hug. This is the peaceful, sweet version of the eagle’s claws. In spite of their sweet appearance, Aquilegias are toxic (especially the roots and seeds), so the eagle version is probably closer to the truth than the gentle dove.
After the flowering season, I let them dry out in situ. When the seedpods are ready, I give them a good shake before cutting the stems, encouraging self-seeding should they wish to propagate. They usually do. The reason the fancy ones tend to disappear from the borders is that these new pretty varieties are more fragile than their more robust ancestor. This fragility means that they are short lived. There is also the fact that Aquilegias being interfertile, these recessive genes beauties are taken over by the dominant genes dinosaurs and the results of their frolicking revert to the wild version generation after generation. In other words, the aristocratic parents die young and their descendants become more and more common.
My favourite specimen this year is an all-white beauty growing under the Camellia. The white is the purest I have ever seen on a bloom. It looks like a commercial for washing powder, whiter than white that might blind you if you look straight at it for too long. The petals are so delicate that they look like insect wings, transparent enough to let the sunlight through several layers. Yet with all this delicate lacework, their stems are straight and strong, seemingly indestructible as they sway in the strong May winds. A perfect alliance of fragility and strength. I really hope this one comes back again.
So in conclusion, eagle or dove?
Perhaps a gentle eagle, or a fierce dove, or as the Aquilegia itself a cross between the strongest eagle and the tenderest dove…
After visiting a friend’s garden on the Isle of Wight (Yes Sally, I’m talking about your lovely garden), I came back to the mainland full of inspiration to create a new border. Fortunately, I somehow infected Richard (Mr Flora’s Patch) with my motivation and we decided to have a go during the Bank Holiday week-end. Three days should be enough to create and plant a border, rebuild the low walls around two existing borders, start on the long-planned – since last summer- herb garden and mow the lawn as a finishing touch? Hhhhhmmm….
I can’t exactly remember how it happened but as part of the same conversation we decided unanimously that we spend too much time on our laptops. Before we realised what we were getting ourselves into, the gardening week-end turned into a tech-free gardening week-end. Doubting our will power, we actually went to the extent of unplugging the router so that no-one could have a sneaky look at their emails while the other was busy planting a Petunia, oblivious to the abominable treachery.
Day 1 – Saturday
Our first mistake – although I do not think it counts as a mistake because we had a lovely time- was to invite some friends for lunch in the garden. Great company, good food, good wine, nice weather and well, we were still at the table at 4pm. By the time they left we were kind of tired. We made a half-hearted attempt at digging the border, a bit of weeding and pruning here and there, but our progress was slow and then we kind of crashed, had a little lie down in the grass and before we knew it, it was tea time.
On top of our blatant lack of results, we didn’t even get to read our email or go online, so we were suffering from withdrawal symptoms.
This is what the new border looked like at the end of day 1. (Oooops…)
Day 2- Sunday
Invigorated by a beautiful blue sky and feeling slightly guilty about the day 1 fiasco, we made an early start. Some were earlier than others. Richard was out there digging by 7am. I joined the team around 9.30am.
By lunchtime, the border shape I had designed with the yellow hose was dug up, a couple of Hydrangeas were in, looking undeniably happier than they did in the pots they overgrew years ago.
Lunch in the garden, a quick nap under the birch tree and back to work.
Around 3pm, I started to suspect that we didn’t have enough sorry-for-themselves-in-their-pots plants so we nipped to Haskins to buy a Japanese Anemone called ‘Wild Swan’ that I had been coveting. We came back with the Anemone, a strange looking blue grass trying to make an impression of Simon Gallup 1986 hairstyle and a pack of six herbs to make a start on the herb garden.
At the end of day 2, the results were more satisfactory.
Day 3- Monday
Monday dawned cold and windy. Adding to the un-inspirational weather, we were pretty tired from what was a pleasant but exhausting Sunday. Our morning efforts were not particularly energetic and we got side-tracked before lunchtime, with a trip to Winchester to buy garden furniture. We managed to gather one last reserve of vigour in the afternoon, replacing the borders’ walls of collapsed stone with a tidy tessellation of salvaged old bricks. After this we were as collapsed as the old stones, but we could finally crash into our new garden sofas and admire the result of our hard week-end of work. The herb garden will have to wait until next week-end and mowing the lawn wasn’t that urgent anyway.
As for the tech-free trial? It was tough at the beginning but by Monday night we had almost forgotten that Internet existed and we have now decided to have tech-free Sunday every week.