In the garden today

Smudge was back on wall watch. There is a large, fat mouse that lives under the feeders. He is so well fed and lazy that even toothless, old podge has managed to catch him.... THREE TIMES. The first couple of times she brought him to me in the garden, while nattering loudly and gummily about what an ace hunter she was and how she could take on anything, a tiger, a lion or a panther, she was the best predator in the business. The mouse and I shared a moment of mutual long-suffering when she dumped him at my feet, before he politely made his excuses and waddled back to the bushes. I made no attempt to detain him. The third time, old podge decided she wasn’t wasting her beautiful, though it has to be said extremely slobbery trophy, on such an ungrateful recipient, so she brought him into the house at midnight and dumped him under the fridge freezer, just as I was going to bed. Neither the mouse nor I was happy with this new arrangement and Podge looked on intrigued while the mouse, freezer and I, performed a time-lapse waltz around the kitchen. I moved the freezer an inch and tried to persuade him to come out, while he scurried further under, saying, “No, no thank you, it’s really lovely under here”. An hour later, Podge had retired to bed with exhortations that I stop swearing and try to keep the noise down, as skilled predators need their sleep, when a combination of broom and pointy stick convinced the mouse that a brief trip in a pint jug to the hydrangeas was preferable to a night spent listening to Podge snoring in the conservatory.
In other news:
Yay, finally a fuschia flower, a bit bruised from the rain but I’m in no position to be fussy.

The rowan berries are proving popular

And the see-sawing spugs have moved on to the next pampas,

maybe they'll stop it self-seeding all over the place.

Summertime

A whole week since I last blogged. Not good enough Yan. Shall I bother with excuses? Naaah.


So August is here, the peak of the Summer, long sunny days with the garden in full bloom, when gardeners sit back and enjoy the results of their hard labour? Pah. Not in Argyll. This poor camapanula sums up the feeling of my poor drowned patch. Everything is looking grey and bruised from the torrential rain. The mallows, after leaning drunkenly against pieris for several weeks have succumbed entirely and are now flat on the ground. The pansies are flattened, the violas are flattened, the fuschias and pelargoniums are still not flowering and the tomatoes have come to a full stop and are thinking seriously about climbing back in their seed packets. There are some bright spots though; my courgettes have decided they are actually marrows and these stoical calendulas, keep their petals wide open, flaming merrily despite the watery missiles from the sky.

Silver shadows

The loch was in a decidedly mystical mood today, all rippling pools of mercury meeting stormy, grey rain showers. I would not have been surprised to see an arm or two rising up, waving magically enhanced swords.

Gormless Update

My poor scalded fuschia is recovering from its encounter with the detergent. Mum informs me that it was my Great Gran who used to treat plants that “misbehaved” with dishwater and it was definitely soap flakes, not detergent in those days. Apparently Lux is the stuff you want, mixed into a very weak stock solution, so that it looks a bit like wall paper paste. This is then diluted 1 in 10 with water to make a hand spray. I’ve tried it on roses, surfinia and fuschia, with assorted pests, and it works a treat. Doesn’t seem to kill the plants but washes the greenfly off and so far they haven’t re-established.
While we’re on the subjects of surfinia and fuschia tubs and baskets, for the second year, mine are very slow to bloom. They’re looking green and lush but putting out flowers does not seem to be on the agenda. This happened last year with petunias and pelargoniums. I thought I had just over fed them, encouraging them to put out foliage rather than flowers. So I was very careful this year, they had some slow release food at exactly the manufacturers recommended amounts when planted out and nothing since. I bought them as well established plugs, potted them on and they grew vigorously, so they haven’t had a set back. Now it’s nearly August and still nothing from the fuschias or pelargoniums and while the surfinias are definitely blooming, you could hardly describe them as trailing. I used to plant tubs and baskets in Tilly that would have been a riot of flowers by now. The climate is milder and wetter here, but we have had a fair amount of sun in May and early June. Does the slight difference in sun levels really have so much effect?

One sunny day and now it's raining again. In fact I think I will make that the default setting of this blog. If I don't specifically mention the weather assume it's wet (and windy). I was originally going to call the blog, "Wild, Wet and Windy" but thought that might get mistaken for a special interest site. It's amazing how many short term hits my post with "blue tits" in the title brought in. Speaking of birds, the weather has brought the chaffinches back in droves. I tried to count them but they move constantly, so all I know is there were well over twenty just around the feeders. My little siskin was in there, giving them welly, but eventually sheer numbers drove her off. They are going through the feed at a rate of knots. I will have to ration them, I can't afford this.

I shouldn't complain about having just one sunny day as it did bring the butterflies out. Numerous whites, all green veined as far as I could see but they never settled long enough to take a pic. Meadow browns, again just passing through and small torotiseshells. This tortie was feeding on the hebe which has almost finished flowering but had just enough blooms to make this fellow pause.

Ever felt you're being watched?

I was pottering round the garden this morning, admiring this beautiful, double-flowered campanula when something made me look up at the rowan tree.
I think it was a form of silent nagging. The tree was full of chaffinches, waiting for me to move so they could descend on the table.
There was even a greenfinch
and a robin in on the act.

It all gets a bit hitchcockian round here sometimes.

This evening in the garden

I'm not sure who was looking the most moody and enigmatic, the loch

or the cat.

Only one white butterfly passed briefly by but didn't stop. At least this hover fly appreciates the potentilla flowers.

Some prickly things developing. I don't know what this is but I like the punk style of the partially open globe.

This sea holly seems very happy, it struggled in a pot in Tilly. I planted it out last Summer and it has flourished. I guess the clue is in the name, the sea holly likes a martime environment.