The Fight is on

I was going to start this blog with a moan about the very dry Spring, but events have rather overtaken me. In the last five days we have had 81 mm which is about the average for the whole month of May, incidentally, and perhaps to some people's surprise, our wettest month. I now have to say that all this rain is very welcome, which of course it is , especially for anything recently planted, but since I am a moaner by nature I can now complain that it will make the battle to control the onslaught of the weeds all the more difficult. I have already mentioned that my overall strategy is colonization; that is to say that rather than creating large areas of clean ground into which I plant the good things, I do my planting first and then and then try to clear round them. I hope that it is too early to tell whether this strategy is the right one because at the moment the bad greatly outnumber the good, but I certainly have not given up hope.

At this moment the four Malus coronaria Charlottae planted as a screen in front of the facade of the house, are in full flower. They are probably the most important planting decision that I have made here, and the worrying thing is that I am not sure that it was a good one. In theory they should do everything - flowers, smell, decorative leaves, decoratve fruit and autumn colour - so what is the problem? My chief worry are the flowers. Hilliers describe them as "large, semi-double, shell-pink and violet scented". Well so far I have not smelt anything, though the heavy rain of recent days is one reason for this. The flowers themselves come out with the leaves which is a mixed blessing, and shell-pink could be described as a dingy white. Funnily enough the same criticisms could be made of the Quince, the flower colour being especially similar, but with the quince the effect is for me increasingly desirable, perhaps because the downy texture of the new leaves goes so well with the flowers. Most people will have inherited a quince, though they come in various shapes and sizes, about which I am not competent to comment. The fruit as it increasingly turns a golden colour is attractive enough, but there is no autumn colour, and indeed by the end of the year the general appearance can be rather grotty, which is the moment when Charlotte definitely has more to offer. I am still hoping that when my trees are bigger, the flower power will have increased, which in turn may result in the promised violet scent and I will be entirely satisfied. Meanwhile for that magical moment in Spring the Quince is a 'must'.

Last time I mentioned Syringa reticulata subsp pekinensis to give it its full name. It is still not in flower, but looking very elegant. Meanwhile another species lilac, S. wolfii, is. The flowers are nothing very special being a pale lilac in colour, but the general effect is not unpleasing, and will be more so, as with all my planting, when a bit bigger. This time round I want to mention a common enough 'vivace', Achillea Moonshine, but for me one worthy of a Michelin three star rating. As with say , Buddleja Lochinch, I am not entirely sure what makes me like it so much, but it has something to do with the combination of flower , in Moonshine's case, a luminous pale yellow, and foliage, which as with the buddleja is silvery. It is not difficult to grow, though at c.60 cms a big plant probably benefits from staking, which for some may be a bore, but for me it is a 'must have'.

Meanwhile it is very much Iris time. In a rather haphazard way I have acquired quite a number including a rather bling bling orangy yellow and chocolate variey, and a much more subtle white suffused with violet one, which also smells well. I used to very much like the dark purples, but find myself admiring more and more the light blues - there used to be one called Jane Phillips, though alas I do not think that I have her. They grow extremely well in our region, liking the baking of our hot summers - never plant them too deep, and remember to split them up after a certain period or they will cease to flower well. They are a little difficult to place because for much of the year they can look tatty, but I am entirely in favour of them. What I am not prepared to do is to remember their multitude of names, and they are a genus, rather like the Hemerocallis, or day lily, for which new varieties seem to be produced by the minute, or at least by the year. There will be suppliers of them at every plant fair and the choice will be enormous.

This reminds me that the Gaujacq Plant Fair is this coming weekend. Sadly 'la crise', or at least my 'crise' means that I will not be going, but if you have your cheque book to hand it is strongly to be recommended. I am consoling myself by going to my favourite garden's, La Coursiana's, open day on the Saturday, where I hope to be tempted less, while enjoying all the delights of that marvellous garden.