The "Hanging Basket Vandal" of Chatteris, England, has been busted. He was caught when a police officer came across his video, "Skeggsy destroying Chatteris in bloom" on MySpace.
Don't mess with the flowers in jolly old England!
I am a willow of the wilderness,
Loving the wind that bent me.
All my hurts
My garden spade can heal.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Musketaquid,” Poems (1847)
In the week since I last posted, summer has turned over to a dreary autumn in a neat little turn of pathetic fallacy. Rain, rain, rain... even the leather grips on the handlebars of my bike are spotted with mildew. Indoors, the tears have dried up and life is returning to normal - more or less. It helped to hear from so many kind people who knew and loved Jake, or who know the pain of losing a beloved canine friend. Thank you.
But as we all know, seasons turn and life marches on. There are many things to look forward to, including blooms on two of my orchids: An ondontoglossum (I can't remember what it looks like) and a Burrageara Stefan Isler with two inflorescences. The red nasturtium outside my door has climbed all over my rose, which is just fine with me. The red geraniums are still blooming madly, in spite of the cold grey weather, and the clematis has happily leaped from the bamboo support that I jammed into the pot, over to a nearby bush. It is giving me more flowers.
My husband said it best: "Life is a garden, watered with tears".
May all your gardens bloom.
We made the painful decision to put Jake, our Border Collie, to sleep this afternoon. He was 16 years old. Jake was a magnificent animal inside and out, and a wonderful, wonderful friend. We miss him.
Cool. Now there is evidence that orchids have been in existence since dinosaurs were running around the earth.
A 15-20 million year old bee has been discovered preserved in amber, with orchid pollen on its back. Apparently this helps end a certain amount of debate over how long orchids have been around:
Proponents of an older age for orchids had cited their ubiquity around the world, their close evolutionary kinship with the ancient asparagus family, and their bewildering diversity: Some 20,000 to 30,000 species strong, the showy plants comprise some 8 percent of all flowering species worldwide.
By applying the so-called molecular clock method, the scientists also estimated the age of the major branches of the orchid family. To their surprise, they found that certain groups of modern orchids, including the highly prized genus Vanilla, evolved very early during the rise of the plant family.
It must be some kind of big year for the Queen's anniversary, because there are lots of nostalgic articles in British newspapers about her wedding.
Either that, or it's a very slow news week.
My favourite so far is "The Mystery of the Queen's Missing Bouquet". The bouquet was made of orchids - cattleya, odontoglossum and cypripedium - a nice choice, I might say. The jist of the story is that the bouquet went missing and the royal couple had to have their picture taken without it. Ok, it's not exactly enthralling stuff, but here's the part I love:
"The bouquet was a gift to the Princess from the Worshipful Company of Gardeners.".
The Worshipful Company of Gardeners.
Oh man. Where do I sign up?
We visited Madeira almost three years ago, a gorgeous little volcanic island off the coast of Africa. Madeira's year-round spring temperatures make it a gardener's paradise, and I brought home more than a few souvenirs, including orchids and some cuttings.
I also brought home a package of Geranium maderense seeds, also known as the Madeira cranesbill. I found the package in the bottom of my gardening bag last spring, threw the seeds into a pot of something already growing, and promptly forgot about it. I figured the seeds were old by then and wouldn't germinate. Well, a couple did, and when autumn came around I dug one up, put the seedling in its own pot, and brought it indoors for the winter.
When I bought the seeds I'd never actually seen a Geranium maderense, let alone one in bloom. I figured it was a just an ordinary geranium of some type, how exciting could that be? That is, until the thing started growing. And growing. It's a metre across now, and taking over my patio. No sign of flowers yet, and I'm wondering where I'm going to put this thing come winter since it's not cold hardy. I joked with my landlord that I'll just move all the furniture outdoors and bring all the plants indoors.
The leaves are quite pretty -- kind of fern-like. And despite what some of the sites I've found have said, my Geranium maderense is much happier in the shade. When the sun comes out the leaves wilt with a decided pout.
San Francisco Botanical Garden: Geranium maderense
Royal Horticultural Society: RHS Garden Rosemoor
Orchids in horse poop... I've read about it, and I've always wondered if it worked. An entire website is devoted to the glories of growing orchids in horse manure, and I'm sure that I'm not the only fool who has read it and actually been inspired to try.
And so yesterday I was invited to go out on a cart ride with my friend Sylvia and her beautiful Halflinger horse, Albert, after work. Sylvia is a tolerant soul, and when I floated the idea by her she gamely brought along two plastic shopping bags with the full knowledge that she'd be transporting fresh horse poo home in the trunk of her car for me. Such a good sport. Her parents are gardeners so I guess that bizarre botanical enthusiasms don't alarm her any more; she's had experience.
The cart ride through through the tranquil Bavarian countryside was unforgettable. We spent over an hour exploring quiet car-free trails through farmer's fields and coniferous forests. We passed cyclists and joggers in our Roman-style chariot, and watched a deep red sunset and a big fat moonrise over the meadows. Wow. So beautiful. Albert is a gorgeous creature, with a ridiculously long and curling flowing mane and tail, and he seemed to enjoy the trip as much as we did. Halflingers are the equine equivalent of Golden Retrievers; loveable and friendly, and extremely intelligent. Not just a horse, but one of three friends out on an adventure.
After the ride, Sylvia led me to an enormous mound of manure and up along a long wooden board leading to the top of it. We balanced precariously on the narrow plank and giggled while we bent over and filled the plastic bag. No accidents, thankfully. Sylvia dropped me off back at the office where my bike was locked, and I rode home with a steaming warm bag of horse poo in the front basket. A memorable evening.
This morning, the experiment began. I repotted a small cymbidium, one from a bulb that I bought three years ago in Madeira. This has to be the slowest growing plant I've ever grown, and I'm so frustrated with its progress I don't mind if it becomes the victim of a bad idea. If this works, bonus.
This lovely yellow floribunda rose is growing in a large pot on my patio. It's called Sunlight Romantica, a floribunda from the house of Meilland in France. Meilland's Romantica roses are considered France's answer to the old English rose, and supposedly blooms better in hot weather than the English David Austin varieties. Makes sense, I guess.
Sunlight Romantica has a gorgeous old-rose style bloom and a heady old-rose scent, which is why I bought it. Roses are fussy prissy things and I normally wouldn't bother with them, but this one smells heavenly, and blooms continuously. It does have a little bit of black spot but in spite of the cold rainy weather we've experienced lately, the plant seems to be fending off serious infection without chemical assistance.
What's more, this is a rose that has inspired a Japanese man to break into song and post it on You Tube. A German song.
Awesome.
There is most definitely a hint of autumn in the air, a certain crispness and energy that urges me to get out into the garden. It's an instinct really; a strong sense of needing to be out harvesting and tending and working the soil, preparing for a coming change of the seasons.
It's a strange and misplaced feeling. Strange, not just because it's mid-August and at least a month early for this sort of thing, but also because I don't have a garden. I find myself irresistably pulled to the shops, trolling the aisles for perennials, investigating the shiny tools hanging on the walls, checking out the selection of seeds. It's the same urge that causes me to gather seeds from plants that I come across during my wanders, even though I have nowhere to plant them. My fellow apartment dwellers point to my patio and tell me what a lovely garden I have; I see a bunch of pots. It does look nice, but pots on a patio are unsatisfying in a way that only a passionate gardener can understand.
A gardener without a garden. Kind of like an amputee who can feel and move his limb, a long long time after it's gone.
Here's an interesting article from the UK's Telegraph about a very rare variety of plum, or "Damson", called "Blue Violet":
An amateur horticulturalist is nurturing what are believed to be the last wild-growing examples of a rare damson tree.
The Blue Violet has long been a rarity, even amid the celebrated orchards of the Lyth Valley, Cumbria.
But in the last century their numbers have declined to what experts suspect are a mere five - two of them in official "museum" orchards, and one other clinging to life in a pot.
The Blue Violet are apparently bigger, juicier, prettier, and harvest much more easily than other varieties of Damson, and the horticultural world is very excited by the find.
Damsons originated near Damascus, and were introduced to England by the Romans.
A Discovery News report reveals that all cactus' have teeny, tiny little leaves. All of them.
Discovery News very helpfully suggests that curious cacti owners exercise caution when moving in close to investigate. Heh heh.
Twice is nice. Three times is just showing off:
A magnolia has flowered for the third time in a year, possibly due to climate change and the unpredictable weather.John Anderson, 47, head gardener at Exbury Gardens in Hampshire, said the pink New Zealand-bred Apollo hybrid normally only blossomed once a year, in spring.
A few days ago I mentioned the proliferation of allotment gardens here in Germany, and by coincidence I came across an article in the Telegraph by an expat who has actually rented one.
You have to understand, these allotment gardens are no ordinary garden plots. They're pretty much summer cottages in the middle of the city. I'd post a picture but the grounds are surrounded by double rows of thick shrubbery, and are securely locked up at entrance gates.
I've toyed with the idea of renting one myself, but after reading the article I changed my mind. Clubs? Rules? Thousands of euros? Uhh... don't think so. I'll stick with my pots and a little guerilla gardening for now.
