On a cold frosty morning

Another catch-up blog. As you may gather, this one was written for Christmas! However, given that it was minus 7 this morning, this is rathe topical!

There is something magical about being out and about on a cold frosty morning.  I don’t mean the grey sort, with a bit of fog and ice on the car that means you drive down the road unable to feel the steering wheel due to numb fingers.  I mean the sort of day when there are bright blue skies and every twig and blade of grass is sparkling white.  I love the way a hoar-frost picks out the detail in nature around us.  All those spiders webs that suddenly look like intricate lace but which we would just pass by and not even notice on a different day.  Sadly there are very few times in the bleak midwinter when this happens.

_{Hampton Common January 2023 (c) Elizabeth Malone}

When the first frost strikes outside the back door is very unpredictable.  These days we rarely see truly cold weather until we’re almost into December.  Although we don’t really believe in the old phrase of putting the garden to bed for winter, there are certain tasks that do need to be done when the forecast suddenly predicts the temperature plunging below zero.

_{Frosted grasses around the pond (c) Elizabeth Malone}

For us, the first thing is to get the greenhouse into action.  We don’t heat it, not due to cost, more due to forgetting to go out and do it!  So we treat it as a giant cold frame, carefully wrapping in well-used bubble wrap, any plant that really does count as being tender.  This includes a few salvias, our agapanthus and fuschias.  Sometimes it’s quite hard to make the decision to move a plant inside.  In particular, this year we found it difficult to dig up our salvia ‘Love and Wishes’, pot it up and take it indoors, simply because it was still flowering beautifully at the end of November and it seemed rather sad not to be able to look outside and glimpse its last flowers of 2023.

_{Salvia Nachtvlinder still flowering in November (c) Elizabeth Malone}

Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel and so it was that the dahlias succumbed to the cold and their leaves keeled over.  However, this is all part of the regeneration process for dahlias.  There is no point in taking them indoors until the first frosts have blackened their leaves.  Then those in pots can be moved to the greenhouse having first had their leaves removed to the base.  There they will sit quite happily until we start giving them a little water in early spring to spark them back into action.  Some we leave in the ground, covered in a thick mulch; or rather mostly covered in a thick mulch until either the cats or squirrels disturb it!  One dahlia, Obsidian, seems happy with this but others are not.  I have now lost all my red honka dahlias that I left outside so next spring I’m planning on buying some more but this time they will be put into pots and can therefore join the greenhouse collection next winter and hopefully they will fare better.

At this time of year, very few gardeners want to see amid the winter snow as this can be incredibly damaging to plants and trees.  The weight of snow can bring down branches and blacken certain shrubs.  So whilst it all may look very pretty for a while, most gardeners would prefer it not to be a white Christmas.

Meanwhile, the holly and the ivy are now full grown.  When we’re struggling to get on top of the ever-spreading ivy around the St Stephen’s church grounds, it’s very easy to forget what a fantastic plant ivy actually is, particularly for wildlife.  Did you know that ivy needs to be trained upwards in order to flower?  When it does, it is an absolute magnet for bees in the autumn.  As well as in our garden, there is a very large bush of flowering ivy that we often pass on our daily walks.  Back in October, we had to give it a very wide birth as it was just a mass of buzzing insects!

_{Frosted ivy January 2023 (c) Elizabeth Malone}

This autumn also seems to have been exceptionally good for berries.  Our hollies are certainly covered in them.  Perhaps you believe in that old adage that plentiful berries mean a hard winter ahead?  However, have you noticed that there are almost no acorns around?  I hadn’t particularly until I was helping put together a small display in the Bushy Park Visitor Centre for National Tree Week back in November.  Working with a volunteer who is incredibly knowledgeable about trees, she pointed out that last year there was an abundance of acorns, although it wasn’t officially classed as a ‘mast’ year (a year when they are exceptionally bountiful), so this year the trees are taking a breather.  This is also nature’s way of keeping in check the populations of animals such as squirrels, by ensuring that there is only food for so many. 

_{Rosehips autumn 2023 (c) Elizabeth Malone}

As the Christmas and Epiphany seasons approach, let’s hope for some bright, dry days that will encourage us to get outside and keep contact with our gardens and nature even in the darkest depths of winter.

The last days of summer

I have got rather behind with my Outside the Back Door blogs although they have been published in my church magazine on time! So now attempting to fill in the gaps. This one is from October.

We had nearly put the comfy deckchairs away but, as September drew to a close, the sunshine and warmth briefly returned, drawing me back out onto the sunny side of the patio.

The wildlife was also clearly enjoying this last burst of summer. The first thing I spotted was a dragonfly soaring around the garden. In the low sunlight it was tricky to see what sort. I was about to stroll onto the grass to get a better view but then remembered that it had rained the previous evening and there were now muddy worm casts appearing. The season was changing and no longer could I just stroll across the grass in sandals or slippers, I needed to fetch my old gardening shoes.

_{Ruddy darter dragonfly – I hope! (c) Elizabeth Malone}

My lovely white cosmos ‘Purity’ were still in flower and being backlit by the sun whilst attracting bees. This autumn the garden seems to have been full of fluffy orange carder bees. They clearly love dahlia, cosmos and sunflowers.  They are one of my favourite bees to see around the garden but I wondered why they are called ‘carder’?  Apparently the name derives from the textile industry as they comb material together to form a cover for their nest, much in the same way as thread might be ‘carded’ before being woven.

_{Cosmos Purity (c) Elizabeth Malone}

Slightly less beautiful was the annoying chattering sound of a squirrel. Presumably something was antagonising it. I don’t know where it was sitting but its call was both monotonous and relentless. Perhaps it was complaining that I’d yet to plant my spring bulbs for it to then dig up! I am prepared. My chicken-wire pot covers are at the ready. I am not going to be thwarted by my tufty-tailed neighbour!

There are a still quite a few butterflies around the garden. Sitting out on those September afternoons, I spotted both large and small whites and a pair of red admiral. It was interesting how the press reported an enormous increase in red admiral butterflies this summer, but I can’t say I really noticed it in the garden. However, when we were on holiday in Cambridge and then Suffolk, we literally saw dozens. They seemed to be everywhere.  They also seem to have been more present in our garden in the autumn compared to earlier in the year.  On several warm afternoons we also had a pair of speckled wood butterflies who were constantly dancing around each other in mid-air.  Whilst this always looks very charming, the butterflies are actually establishing territory.

_{Late summer red admiral (c) Elizabeth Malone}

As the breeze increased, the magpies began fluttering around.  I don’t know where they spend summer but our regular pair are now back and will hang around locally until next spring.  If we put the hedgehog food out before dusk, they will be swooping down to steal it.  They treat it like a good gingernut biscuit being dunked in tea!  They pick up a piece of kibble and then drop it into the nearby water bowl to soften it before eating it.  Very clever – never underestimate a magpie!

_{Screen capture of our hedgehogs enjoying their supper (c) Elizabeth Malone}

Talking of hedgehogs, during September we had two new kids on the block. They were quite independent when they arrived but so much smaller than the big adults who have been around all summer. We once read that, to survive the winter, a hedgehog needs to be the size of two grapefruit.  When they first arrived, these two were little more than the size of a decent orange!  However, they have now been eagerly eating their kitten kibble each evening and are clearly growing.  There’s not much more we can do than give them a decent meal each evening and try to encourage someone to take up residence in the des-res that is our as yet unused hedgehog house!  Whilst we might have enjoyed a late blast of summer, nature is definitely preparing for winter.