SoS 6th June, 2020
Strange that we’re coming into winter whilst so many of the Sos-ers wander through summer gardens filled with so much beauty. I think that globally, we gardeners are coping with the world’s vicissitudes better than most because we have a place into which we can escape. And nothing more so than a beautiful summer garden.
Down here at my end, 42 degrees south latitude, we have watched most of the leaves fall. In this image, you can see the difference three weeks makes.
One of our liquid ambers however, has decorated itself and is putting on a final show before the winter sleep.
The willows have finally turned and are beginning to fall, but it may be almost the end of July before they are bare. It rather depends on wind. Planting under this willow is haphazard. The willow is water-greedy, has no soil apart from its own compost and it’s at the end of a wind-tunnel, so I tend to let honesty and nasturtiums seed and thrust any excess plants in because there’s nowhere else. If they don’t survive, in summer there’s a nice green veil to hide them and in winter, they’re covered in decomposing willow leaves. Despite the lack of care, the area has an air of secrecy and mystery about it and we often wheel the wooden sun-lounges into the shade and watch the leaves dance ‘The Seven Veils’.
In this image, you can see how the long border is in deep shade. So much. so, that I decided my auriculas…
… should be moved into what ever sun winter has to offer.
And finally, never let it be said that things stop growing in winter. This little west-facing position is a devil to dig as it is root bound from half-century old plantings of a Guelder rose, an oleander and a willow. With a topping of decent soil, lucerne hay and liquid seaweed, it’s perked up and is having a party.
Tomorrow, we get to travel to the city legitimately as Lockdown eases and I can’t wait to see my little Matchbox garden and to tidy it, clip it, plant more bulbs, and feed and nurture it. It must feel so unloved.
To see all the lovely gardens I talked about in the beginning, go to The Propagator .
Autumn seems to be well installed at your home… Very pretty colors nevertheless !
First week of winter, Fred. The willows often take till late winter/early spring to lose all their leaves. The garden is a mixture of contrasts.
I love the idea of you sheltering from the sun beneath the willow, watching it dance. The liquidamber is a beautiful colour and the fruit are decorative too, I believe that they can be a nuisance because they are so spikey, but they do look nice. You are very welcome to share my summer.
The fruits are terrible if you step on them in summer in bare feet, Gill. They dry out very hard and serve no purpose at all except to look nice in autumn! Faux-chestnuts! The willows are a bit of an obsession with me – there’s something really magical about them and our 2 year old grandson adores playing under them.His own private hideaway.
You’re right about the benefits of being able to escape to our gardens!
Wait, what? You’ve got a wheel sun-lounger! I could add something like that to my six!
Birthday present from hubby a few years ago and cherished. I feel very Mitford, Waugh and Woolfe when I’m seated on them under the willows trying to be literate!
Your willow reminds me of the one we planted when our children were tiny. We had a very small garden so a willow was really inappropriate but it served as a den for them and a lookout post for our cat who often curled up on the top out of reach of the children. What lovely autumn colours in your garden.
My 2 year old grandson is beginning to use them in exactly the same way, Granny, and I suspect he’ll ask his Pa to build a cubby or tree fort at some point. I’m very much into giving him a Swallows and Amazons childhood.
Lovely autumnal colours. Until I joined in with Six on Saturday I always assumed nothing grew in the garden during the winter. I was completely wrong!
Bingo, Graeme. Me too!
The willows are glorious and must cast the most amazing shadows. I love the idea of sitting in the shade watching them dance. What fabulous leaves on the liquid amber – though it’s ‘decorations’ look pretty lethal. ?
Enjoy your visit to the city, and your garden there, take care, be safe.
Thank you, Catherine. The willows are the centrepieces of this garden, planted in 1950 when this area was prone to flooding (it sits on springs). But with climate change, the area is only flooded once in a blue moon now. But the willows have sent roots for miles and they survive. They and I have had a talk and I told them they can’t cast their arboreal coil until I’ve cast my mortal one. There are days when the winds howl and they are the whomping willows, but most days, they’re sinuous and seductive. I often use them as a place to write beneath and to date, they give credit to quite a few books in my list. We’re good friends, I don’t even mind the fallen leaf litter. Cheers.
Lovely shared photos of your gardens and trees. We are just finally seeing enough warmth to bring our leaves out (had some snow mid May ha ha). I’ll be waiting on photos of the Matchbox garden 😉