The May Garden
how green is my valley
So, it’s the first day of June and the start of meteorological summer.
Well that’s a bit bonkers.
It doesn’t feel like Spring has happened yet, especially looking back at the pictures of early May with a cloak of thick frost.
Then it rained for what felt like months and only in the last couple of days have I felt any warmth at all without my go-to thick woolly jumper.
One advantage of the cold weather
the tulips lasted the whole of May
As I write this on the last day of May, the ‘Artist’ and a couple of ‘Green Wave’ are only just opening now.
So they’ve lasted a good two months this year, unlike last year when they were all over in a couple of weeks.
The vision I had for project
‘cathedral window’
is starting to come together
(even though it’s half finished due to 'bird-nests-stopping-play)
The sun came out occasionally.
Details
A tree tango
The tale OF the Apple tree
Back in the mists of time, as young children my brother and I sowed some apple pips from an apple core. One of them, we’re not sure whose, germinated and was planted in the back garden where it grew into a rather sickly tree. The apples were inedible and it never looked particularly healthy, but we loved it and after Dad died suddenly and unexpectedly while we were both in our teens it became a huge family totem for us and our Mum.
Because of its sickly nature, it sadly became known as the ‘dead apple tree’ and from leaving home at 21 until Mum passed away seven years ago, I got regular updates about it - ‘the dead apple tree is full of blossom’, ‘the dead apple tree is covered in apples’ , ‘the dead apple tree hasn’t flowered’ etc.
After Mum died, the tree, now about 50 years old, needed removing from the garden (long story, not for here), so of course it had to be relocated to my garden.
Not expecting it to survive, I chose the clematis and rose to grow through its skeleton.
It was duly uprooted, left unceremoniously on the drive with the roots exposed and unprotected for a few days before I was able to collect it. It was then shoved unceremoniously into the back of the van and I headed home, crossing everything twice for its survival.
After a good soaking and a liberal sprinkling of mycorrhizal fungi (the tree, not me) it was planted in its new Yorkshire hillside home where, no matter what the outcome, it would be very dearly cherished.
six years on and the tree has not only survived but it absolutely thrived
With tulips in its shadow. Double Shirley for Mum & Ronaldo for Dad (he was a Ron, definitely NOT a Ronaldo!).
The area has transformed from a rather tatty, unkempt grassy slope, to a lovely gentle woodland area, which in my south facing garden is very welcome indeed.
All these images are of the tree this year (it’s still a bit of a weird shape, but I’m gradually giving it its head).
Tulip la Belle Epoque
Continued to bloom amazingly, although this month they were the more expected caramel colour, as opposed to the pinkier one in April.
There is a huge difference in colour from different suppliers though, both beautiful but strikingly different.
The Great tits & the wonky pot
The near-disaster
I’m hoping I’m not going to have a bird-based-trauma to share every month, last month it was the ‘Tale of the Blackbird’, this month it’s the Great Tits.
For those who watch my Instagram stories, you already know that this time it’s a happy ending,
Phew my already shabby fingernails can’t take any more orni-traumas.
This terracotta pot used to lie on its side and great tits nested in there from time to time, but we had to reposition the pots and I decided it was time this one stood upright as it was designed to do.
Once I realised they were nesting in it upright, I was a little concerned about unaccomplished chicks getting out but told myself nature would sort it out.
They were such a noisy family and after listening to their commotion and watching the parents attentively feeding for a good couple of weeks, I knew their arrival was pretty imminent.
Strolling past one afternoon, I saw the pot was on its side and the nesting material partly hanging out and I presumed, sadly, it had been predated (not sure what would cause it to topple and pull some of the nest out?).
The parents were flying around distressed and alarm calling for a good half hour or more, I presumed because they’d lost their chicks.
However next time I was near, I could still hear chicks somewhere and eventually tracked the noise down to inside the pot, but the parents couldn’t get through the solidly blocked hole. Aware I was going to disturb the chicks, I decided the best thing to do was pull it all out to clear the entrance, they may be uncomfortable sitting on terracotta, but at least they would stand a chance.
Well! An absolutely huge mound came out, (probably years of built up nests?) I kept pulling & pulling, apologising to them and hoping I wasn’t going to find any bodies as I did; all the while imagining chicks doing roly-polys inside. Once it was all out I stepped away and when I returned some time later, the parents had resumed their feeding, through the jauntily-angled hole.
I managed to capture most of them fledging a couple of days later (lots of videos on my Instagram - see ‘Fledglings’ highlight) - I think I counted seven.
They’re still visiting the garden from time to time with their noisy chatter.
I feel a little like a proud Mum :)
By mid-May I was finally able to empty the unheated greenhouse of all the over-wintering plants. Due to the lengthy and very cold spell there were a lot of losses sadly but at least I can actually move in there without having to limbo under or step over something .
Everything is still looking a little bedraggled but hopefully will perk up in the sun.
Itoh peony foliage
