What’s a gardener’s worst nightmare? What is it that would have us wake in the middle of the night screaming, perhaps only to find it was a false alarm? Except, in my case on Tuesday, it was real. I left the glasshouse open!
Can you believe it? An gcreidfeá é? Yes I did, but didn’t wake screaming. Wednesday was such a beautiful sunny morning… beautiful, except for two things. The glasshouse was open and I had a dental appointment. Have you ever had that feeling when a dental appointment is knocked back to second place on the oh-feck-ometer? Well, that was me. My challenge this week, quoted from my fellow SOSer in Belgium, is to focus on Six on Saturday as the perfect excuse to indulge in some gardening mindfulness. Thank you Sel.
Of course, because I live in the sunny South-East, I got away with blue murder. The temperature dipped to 5°C and plant life within continues. Screaming would have been an excessive reaction. Have you had anything worse than a dental appointment? On the other hand, here are six things in my garden better than a dental appointment.
I’ve never been a fan of Tulips, but can’t really figure out why. Anyways, in an effort to get right outside my comfort zone I bought a dozen. So far, I’m very happy. These ones are smaller than usual and they began flowering last week. Variety is Triumph Yokohama. Bright and cheerful.
In my efforts to like my new Tulips, I wanted to learn more. Introduced to Europe from Turkey in the 1500’s, tulips became an exchangeable item, similar to
money airgead. The Tulip Mania of 1663-1667 is well documented.
Tulpenwindhandel was a speculative frenzy in 17th-century Holland over the sale of tulip bulbs. The delicately formed, vividly coloured flowers became a popular, if costly, item. The demand for differently coloured varieties of tulips soon exceeded the supply, and prices for individual bulbs of rare types began to rise to unwarranted heights in northern Europe. By about 1610 a single bulb of a new variety was acceptable as dowry for a bride, and a flourishing brewery in France was exchanged for one bulb of the variety Tulipe Brasserie.Britannica
All in all, it adds a strange twist to what we in Ireland would say about someone who acts foolishly:
You’re some tulip!
Genii is my favourite Fuchsia, as much for the leaf as the flower. It has wintered well. I had trimmed it shortly before Christmas, and it seems ready for the season ahead. As an added bonus the three cuttings have rooted and will be grown on. Elephants will remember that I tried air-layering with a transparent plastic ball last year. Well, my advice to anyone interested is not to bother. I had five in place and not a single root has rooted. Save your money. Invest in a few tulips.
The few flowers are insignificant as yet, but in another few weeks, there will be thousands of these tiny blue flowers. Myosotis, more commonly known as Forget-me-not, seeds freely and I’m happy to let it. It becomes a fine plant to fill blank spaces between the end-of-daffodil time and beginning of summer annuals. Last week I had difficulty identifying Iberis. I’ll not forget this one, but I’d be blue in the face getting some folk to remember Myosotis.
I mentioned a few weeks ago that someone’s Peony plants were above ground, but there wasn’t a sign of anything happening with mine. I was beginning to wonder were mine a Monday morning version. I needn’t have concerned myself, because with the addition of canes for support and a Heineken bottle to support the canes, everything turned out hunky dory. It’s my first time growing Peonies, whereas Heineken has been a regular feature for many a year. It’s all part of being a good European. The top of the bottle (bottom actually) seems like an inviting place to sit an ornament. Teddy bear, leprechaun or maybe just a few blue & white balloons. Would it be a good display option for an expensive rare tulip?
If only you could be overwhelmed by the sweet scent of these beautiful flowers, you’d surely die happy. The bees are buzzing and in no time at all there’ll be a new set of berries to add to the current crop. Skimmia japonica is the bees knees right now. It’s got a good spot near the vegetable beds, but I’m thinking of moving it to my central Patio Potpourri. I reorganised it last week and will add a few more bits and take away a few more bits until I feel it looks sufficiently different than last year.
These double narcissi are adding some colour to my patio this week. Unfortunately, they tend to get blown over so I try to place the pots in a sheltered spot. A close inspection of this might lead you to believe that it’s riddled with greenfly, but that couldn’t be the case in
March Márta. In fact, as I powerwashed the patio last week this and all other pots needed to be moved. It just so happened that I didn’t move this one far enough. I think it’s Paper White, but I’m open to suggestions.
Did You Know?
Linking back to today’s introduction, I wanted to learn more about blue murder and I came across this:
Using colours as metaphors for emotion is probably as old as human language, though they’re deeply determined by culture. In English we have phrases such as white with rage, green with jealousy, see red, yellow streak and tickled pink. The emotional associations of blue are more varied than those of most colours. It has among others indicated constancy (true blue), strained with effort or emotion (blue in the face), indecent or obscene (blue movie) and fear or depression (as in blue funk, which in the UK means to be in a state of fear but in the US to be depressed). WorldWideWords
That’s my lot for this week, a cháirde. I’ll be back with more
next Saturday an Satharn seo chugainn. In the meantime, please visit Mr. Propagator’s garden blog where you can find many more Six on Saturday articles from around the world, together with details of how to participate if that’s your thing. I hope you have a great week. Slán go fóill.