Saturday 27 July 2013

July - A Year In The Life Of A Lady Gardener - The End


July in the garden is like a big, blowsy barmaid who has seen better days in better pubs. A barmaid who has gone to seed, just a little, and whose corsets cannot quite contain her bulk. 

Plants, if left unchecked, overflow their boundaries, they spread and lean on their neighbours like drunken louts who fall about, making a thorough nuisance of themselves on hot summer nights.

July is probably my least favourite month in the garden; the fresh green promise of spring has given way to brassy fact; some plants have given up altogether and just sit there, sullen and miserable like bored teenagers, and the mellow tones of autumn are still in the future. 



It’s the time of year when my fingers begin to itch for the secateurs. Shrubs which have finished flowering need pruning into submission on the one hand and stimulating into sufficient growth before the onset of cold days to help them produce abundant flowers next spring.



Roses need pruning, but not so severely that those who produce a second flush have their job made impossible. Treated judiciously, the ones in this rose border will flower until the first frosts. I’ve cut the last ones at Christmas several years. In the meantime, they produce long, wavy, viciously thorny tendrils which can rip your skin to pieces. A perfect sleeping beauty thicket.



And then there are the hedges. Because nesting birds mustn’t be disturbed it’s a good idea to wait until mid to late July to attack them; only by now you need industrial strength hedge trimmers for the job. Gardener is doing ours in stages. Before his heart attack he tamed the great beast in two days, single-handedly. What’s more, he used to burn the trimmings in one enormous bonfire, which always terrified me. I used to fuss and flutter around the fire, rake and hosepipe at the ready, pouncing on every stray spark. The fields around the castle have been bone dry for weeks and this year I’ve insisted that we stuff the hedge down the deep caverns under the cattle grids instead. My excuse is that I’m also saving hedgehogs from a watery, muddy grave when they fall through the metal bars.


Hostas are being pushed out of the way by this part of the hedge.



Behind the little window is Beloved’s desk. Fortunately, there is another window a little less smothered.



One of Millie’s favourite garden gates is being swallowed up by a rampant rose on one side and a prostrate clematis opposite.



Even a utilitarian path by the side of the house has plants encroaching enough to make access to the back door a bit of an obstacle race.




No, I don’t like gardening much in July. The best thing for now is to forget about hard work and sit back and enjoy the view. And just think how full my compost bins will be when I finally have a free hand to start chopping everything down ruthlessly.

There is a kind of insanity in my way of gardening: I do everything to produce the most luxuriant, abundant growth, I feed and nurture, chop and stake and prune, I weed and mulch with heavenly compost worth its weight in gold; then, when I have achieved what I set out to do, I can’t wait to rip it all out and start all over again.

The twelve months of A Year In The Life Of A Lady Gardener are over. 
THE END

46 comments:

  1. My gardens are just coming into their own in July. August is when things start to wilt or run amok. You've produced some lovely flowers. I'm glad you can sit back a bit and enjoy the bounty before you go at it all with the hedge clippers ;)

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  2. like bored teenagers...smiles....already some things droop from too much sun...looks like you still got a lot of green and color....enjoy that view while you got it...we are on the down hill toward fall...

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  3. Your description is just so perfect. I can barely find the stone path that runs through the garden by the side of our driveway. Guess I'd better get out there and start cutting and clipping.

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  4. I see nothing but a wonderful lush and abundantly rich garden that I would give my right arm for to own. What riches in flora you have. It was always my dream, when I still gardened, to achieve this effect, but I never got to that point. Count yourself among the fortunate, although I do realize that you have worked hard for it.

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  5. I agree with the previous comment. I also agree with your "insanity" paragraph. If you were growing vegetables as energetically as you grow hostas, you could have a very nice market garden. But I understand what you mean, despite never having been much of a gardener myself. You want everything to stop a while at the peak of perfection, so you can enjoy its beauty without itching for the secaturs. It must be rather like having children...I'm sure my young sister-in-law will start tearing out her own hair a year or so from now when her sweet, lovely, tree-climbing daughter is almost into her teen years. She's still eleven now, and quite delightful, and I hope she remains that way, but time does move on...
    Meanwhile, I think your garden is wonderful, a riot of colour and an explosion of healthy green. Gorgeous!
    K

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  6. From over here your garden looks like everyone's dream of an English garden. Mine is full of moss and giant ferns, hosta and an enormous gunnera. I'd love a little more colour, and should have thought to choose roses that bloom more than once. I catch myself looking at the roses along the highway, planted en masse a few years ago, they bloom constantly, with little care. My kind of rose.

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  7. In the beginning of July, my gardens are at their best. However, the month can be cruel what with blistering heat and drenching rains, it is a different picture at the end of the month. Like you, I have spent the past few days cutting back and getting rid of the burnt or water logged plants. I was thrilled that my hubby used his day off to cut back the bushes that had grown so much in the past three weeks. It is a lot of work, but I would rather spend time in my gardens than do almost anything else.

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  8. Oh you do a beautiful garden though. I hope you'll sit back and enjoy it for a while.

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  9. You are amazing, both in your ability to write, and in your ability to garden. You described July brilliantly. I only have wee little plantings, and a few pots. I was looking at them and wondering if I should throw the lot of all the pots out since the flowers are leggy and spent. I never could have come up with the descriptive first two paragraphs you wrote. I don't think I will forget them as I look at gardens in July.

    There is a bit of insanity in gardening, but it that drive for perfection, or achieving the look we are after, that keeps us going. I miss having a large yard to garden more than you know. Thanks for sharing this view of yours with us.

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  10. cue the music: "The Circle of Life"

    I really felt your pain till I saw those gorgeous photos! Dwarf maple?

    You are simply first rate company, dear!


    ALOHA from Honolulu
    Comfort Spiral
    ~ > < } } ( ° > <3


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  11. All I can do to stop myself from interfering in the garden right now. But I sit on my hands and bide.

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  12. Fabulous description of its July-ness! Looks lush and wonderful. My garden is in its pre-adolescent stage--about 2.5 years old--just starting to fill in a bit.

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  13. What beautiful abundance. Just looking at the photos, I think how magnificent; but then I don't have to deal with the consequences of all this blowsy barmaid growth (love your metaphors).

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  14. I have been having the same thoughts about my garden - I love the way you have described it in the beginning of your post.

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  15. O wat een heerlijke tuin.ja ik zal hier maar eens een poosje van gaan genieten.

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  16. I used to judge it a good time to prune when there had been rain and I couldn't walk down the paths without being soaked by wet plants.

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  17. It's much too hot in July and August here to do any gardening.

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  18. Oh such a tale you have woven....and I loved every minute of it. A wonderful fairy tale....whose main characters are green and viney. Love it
    Hugs
    SueAnn

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  19. I was thinking as I read that July in your part of the world is like January here, particularly as we lurch towards february, the hottest month of the year when everything fades in the summer heat and we all long for the coolness and shorter days of autumn. I enjoyed looking at your garden - such opulence!!! Christine

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  20. The view is pretty darn stunning, Friko. The good thing is that July is almost over, and you can sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor. It sure is pretty to look at. Thank you for all the wonderful pictures. :-)

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  21. You have captured the feel of July so well, Friko. To me, it seems that during a long hot spell in July (just like what we're having now), everything out there from plants to animals to people has an exhausted look around them - people because they don't sleep well for the heat, animals and plants for lack of water, and thunderstorms bring a mix of relief and fear.

    Hard to believe it's already a full year since you have started this series! I hope you'll still tell us about your garden and will let us see pictures.

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  22. Even going to seed the blowsy barmaid retains some of her charm. We began whacking back one of the climbing rose bushes yesterday. A nesting dove eyed us from the rose bush out front, so John the gardener promised to tackle it again in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I am plotting next year's additions to spaces vacated by the lately
    departed

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  23. I love this, line after line. Your perspective on the garden, as with so much else, is uniquely yours. This set of posts would make a wonderful illustrated book, too.

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  24. Lovely blog. I'm glad I found your blog. I'll be back.

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  25. Love your description of the garden as blowsy barmaid (or bored teenager)! I need to begin clipping some things too, but there has been such great heat that the hostas are crisping, the grass is dying, and the deer are consuming the lilies before they bloom. I'll take your lush views any day. Thank you.

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  26. It might disgust you, but I adore all that overblown, overgrown, wild sumptuosity.

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  27. I love your blowsy, bored, unchecked, drunken garden! And your description had me giggling over here. Looks worth all the work and patience. You are just in the patience stage before you jump back into a work stage and begin chopping and pruning. :)

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  28. Say what you will but your garden is gorgeous!

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  29. I love when the garden gets to that overblown stage - that's when it's so full of life!

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  30. Forevermore, when I see a garden getting out of control, I will picture a well-endowed, drunken barmaid. Thank you for the giggle! July here in my wildflower garden is all faded and dry, so I appreciated your wild overabundance!

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  31. Blowsy, perhaps, but with an exuberant Rubens-type beauty!

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  32. Lovely contrast of colors and textures - so much to take in on your garden walk! Cutting roses at Christmas??!!! Cannot imagine what that must be like as we are all ready deep "in the bleak mid-winter" by then. The month of July for me always brings "what was I thinking" moments and all ready changes to be made for next season. Now the race is on for the first ripe tomato before frost in September....

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  33. There's something of Science Fiction about your garden , at the moment . At ground level , under all that greenery , there's quite possibly a completely independent world ....

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  34. Friko, I have completely enjoyed the results of your time as lady gardener. It's been splendid learning so much about how a unique garden of great beauty is created, month by month. Your wonderfully written and generous posts let us know how plans change, surprises occur, enthusiasm reaches some peaks and a few valleys. The photographs have shown me a place that has cheered me many times.

    You write that the year is at an end...surely, a new year is just off stage now?

    xo

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  35. In spite of your words Friko, your garden looks so beautiful! :-)

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  36. First of all, I think it looks absolutely gorgeous. My idea of a perfect garden -- only even better because you actually take care of it!

    And second -- I would have given the moon and the stars to have had the gift to be able to write these words:
    July in the garden is like a big, blowsy barmaid who has seen better days in better pubs.

    You are simply brilliant and a master wordsmith.

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  37. Your words are lovely and the image they make terrific. Your photos are a real contrast in beauty. No matter how much you complain, the words and photos do not match.

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  38. Oh, quit your bellyaching. You know you love every minute of it... and it shows. What a lovely over-grown garden. I totally agree with your new tact... sit back and enjoy it.

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  39. You live in paradise! I saw robust fuchsia in one photo!

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  40. Oh my
    relate to all you share.
    But - your garden is still beautiful.
    Now mine
    is a different story...

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  41. I love you descriptor of the blowsy barmaid. Perfect. And your garden I drool over, just incredibly lush and wondrous. Like yourself.

    XO
    WWW

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  42. Your garden is absolutely beautiful. Agree with you on July, though, even if I don't do any gardening in July... or any other month of the year. :-)

    Greetings from London.

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  43. Very apt description of July. My garden too is falling over itself. I would cut it back but then you would see the weeds.

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  44. I've truly enjoyed my time in your garden, Friko. All that blowsiness and teenage rebellion is just what a savor right now. I'm probably a week or so behind you as we dive into August in the midwest. Our summer has been odd, weatherwise, but, all my late summer favorites are at their peak. I'll be bemoaning the work and the cutting back in about a week.

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  45. Hi Friko - crumbs I got bombed out - hate that .. so love the blowsy garden, the overflowing bushes and shrubs ... my mother was such an excellent gardener - so I get lots of memories of happy times in our gardens ... now I don't have one - well it's bleak and as I rent .. no choice til life changes ... so I can vicariously enjoy with you ..

    Enjoy the weekend with your view, and curb those secateur-desirous hands for a few more weeks! Cheers Hilary

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  46. You're never satisfied, Frito! While the rest of us would sit and admire the fruits of your labours with great enjoyment, you just want to run riot with secateurs. :-) After the long cold spring, nature has certainly made up for lost time.

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