The cut annual flower plot through the months

Orange zinnias and double click rose bonbons

As its now November and a deluge of water has pretty much finished off any remaining annuals in my front vegetable and cut flower garden hybrid, now seems like a good time to take a look back over the bed through the summer months. It has been a continuing thing of beauty, but each month it has looked different. First were the cornflowers, then the gladiolus, the cosmos, the beans and then the zinnias.

I started putting my annual plants in the bed in about June, although the gladiolus started to go in before that. I grow nothing in terms of annuals from scratch in situ. I just do not have the soil. My soil would make even the most robust, eager little annual seed give up with the heavy heavy clay. Although the front bed actually isn't too bad from years of bush roots tunnelling through.

Flowering kicked off in July with my cornflowers. Beautiful dark claret tufts waving around in the wind. Also bursting into action prolifically were my four varieties of beans in white, pale lilac and orange and these provided a lot of the colour at this time. A few cosmos had struggled out and my first zinnia.

Early August

At the beginning of August the antirhinnums were livening up the bed with their small mounds of bright colour. The first gladiolus made an appearance at this point too, a lovely pale coral one and unsurprisingly the first variety I planted. The bed was still to really get going, especially as the beans had moved into vegetable production by this point, but things were starting to look up.

Mid August

By mid August I had two different colours of gladiolus in bloom - the original coral one and fresh green star. The gladiolus definitely looked best when there was an assortment of colours out at once. My yellow zinnia was also brightening up one side of the beans.

After a wet few days

This was a bad day in the annual bed. We had the most torrential downpour of rain over several days and my upright straight as a dime gladiolus all flopped over and a bit of remedial staking was required.
By the end of August the gladiolus end of the bed was really starting to look pretty. There were the glads, cosmos, zinnias and cornflowers all vying for attention. I put the plants that had reached maturity earliest down that end as I was waiting for the beans to go in before planting up the other end.

Early September

Two of my favourite coloured plants appeared at the start of September and they complimented each other perfectly it turned out. The dark red glad was a winner with the neighbours and I just loved the zingy orange zinnias. They were a star of the bed right from this point onwards in my opinion.

Other than the orange zinnias the glads were the focal point of the bed. All the different colours started coming up together and totally ignoring my planting scheme, it was a riot of summer colour and this was the point people started stopping in the street. As long as they are not clutching a big pair of scissors thats fine with me!

This purple tobacco plant turned to be a pillar of the bed, complimenting the glads and the zinnias, but I actually didn't plant it. I don't know how it got in there, but once it started flowering, despite taking up half the bed I didn't have the heart to remove it.

A stray tobacco plant

It wasn't until early October that the double click bonbon cosmos plants down the other end of the bed really reached perfection and there was a seamless line of colour from one end to the other. Although it looks great with multiples of the same plant dotted around, there clearly is room for more varieties as I have planned next year.

I thought the bed looked really odd after the height of the beans was removed at the beginning of October. I liked all the colour against the backdrop of green. The early showers started to die at this point and I turned my attention to seed collection, which doesn't exactly improve the look, but oh well.

At the end of October the colour had begun to die off quite dramatically, but some heleniums and the antirhinnums were still flowering strong and keeping things interesting until last week when I imagine the colder nights finished most things off.

End of October

Now I am just left with a lot of dead plants to pull out to leave my vegetables. I have been gradually replacing the dying annuals with vegetable and salad plants so there shown be continuing greenery out the front through the winter and the soil wont go to waste.

Im really thrilled with how my annual bed turned out this year, especially as I hadn't planned it. Where I thought I was going to find the space to plant all my seedlings without digging up the front bushes I really don't know, but in the end they had their own dedicated area and it worked really well. Next year I hope to get a wider variety of colours and plants in and really make it something spectacular.

A pleasing crop of pears

A tree hung with lots of pears is a remarkably pleasing thing

They say you plant pears for your heirs, which would be me as the mother was the one who planted our pear tree. Despite this we have had a considerable crop of pears this year.  There isn't really much to say about growing pears, they really just get on with it on their own which is rather nice, but I couldn't resist sharing a few photos of how well we did this year.

It seems ironic to me that pears actually seem to grow in pairs, but
I do get fearful the branches will buckle under all the weight! 

The pear tree is not terribly big having only been planted a few years ago and stands next to the fence. It blossoms in the spring, as all good fruit trees do, and then sets about making pears. Im sure I have talked before how pear fruits start off growing up the wrong way with their bottoms facing the sky and then as they get older and bigger and heavier they start bending over and then hang down as one would expect.

Our total pear numbers did hit about 19 at one stage I think, although one or two popped off to be lost within a below bush forever, and another couple had to be picked earlier because something was having a nibble, but we still got about 15 pears in the end.  A good solid batch I think you will agree.

Not all uniform size but a good crop even so - this isn't it though

Not sure if our pears are eaters or cookers, I they never get particularly soft and the one I have tasked in the past was hellishly tart, but its homegrown so it was ploughed through! Can't grow it and then not eat it. But I don't actually eat pears on a general basis and so I generally just leave them to the mother to eat.  And therefore she has grown pears for herself and not for me, totally disproving the theory, wherever it came from.

So much kale - curly, black, eaten and old

My two shop bought kale varieties, looking a little dry I must say

Kale is not a vegetable I have ever had any regard for.  But when I realised I would have a whole bed free all winter I started hunting around for some nice winter vegetables to fill it, and settled amongst other things, on kale.

Kale, as one person on twitter told me, would survive a nuclear winter.  I haven't got plans to live through one of those, but winter hardiness is exactly what I was looking for.  I believe we have only willingly bought kale once from the supermarket, and I can't say I was a fan.  But I haven't let that hold me back and now seem to be growing four different varieties.  I had the audacity to question whether kale was an appetising vegetable on twitter, and was promptly put right!  It seems there are some real defenders of kale out there!  But one mentioned a kale and lentil curry that does sound rather tempting so I will have to remember to have a go at that.

My first batch of Nero di Toscana kale, apparently the world's most
appetising kale to pests

I have sown two varieties myself and bought two.  The two I bought are a black kale and F1 reflex curly kale.  The black one has lovely purple tinged smooth leaves at the moment, but this should change to dark green, very knobbly green leaves.  This seems to be feature of kale; leaves like crinkled old bags.

Reflex will be even more crinkly than the black variety, im looking at the picture on the label and my mind can't help wander to all the nooks and crannies caterpillars will have to hide in. I am quickly discovering that this is the main hitch of growing winter greens: all the caterpillars out to get them.  Not such a problem with the kale at the second, but my cauliflowers? That is another story! But a story for another day.

These shop bought ones are already planted out in my new front bed.  I wanted to plant them in the traditional row style, but my annual flowers and beans haven't finished yet so I have ended up popping them in here and there in my usual haphazard way.  It looks rather charming at the second, but when the annuals are over and gone, the neighbours are going to wonder what the hell I was thinking! Oh well. It should also make harvesting the leaves a bit more of a challenge.  I am trying to keep on top of the weeds to make sure I don't suddenly start munching on them rather the kale!

Ninety nine percent of the stuff in this picture is not kale. The line of the
plants at the far left are a line of kale

I also did some sowing.  I bought just the one kale variety at the Hampton Court flower show - Nero di Toscana, because this was still in the day when the taste of a vegetable was a prerequisite to growing it, and as I have already said, im not sure what kale tastes like.

These seedlings are my biggest issue at the moment.  If I leave them uncovered on the patio something just comes along and mows long the top of them.  Its been a real challenge nursing them through. I suspect pigeons so have them tucked away and covered in fleece to keep the pesky birds off.  This seems to be working, but what I didn't get is the other sat 5 metres away for several weeks and were left immaculate. It makes no sense.  What I didn't account for in all my protection was a falling apple which took a seedling out.  Typical.  What makes it through this tough time will join their fellows in the bed.

At this point I clearly have more than enough kale, but then I came across a really old packet the mother bought and didn't use.  I always love a challenge so I couldn't resist trying to germinate them.  I chucked in a whole lot as they are old anyway.  Of course the seed is still viable and all of it has come up, and now I have an excessive amount. Oh well. Be making lots of that kale and lentil curry wont I! Now I just need to figure out when to start picking the leaves...  

Fuchsia round up 4: Fuchsia rust

Clearly this is not a picture of fuchsia rust, it is instead 'Voodoo'.  Unfortunately
rust struck in the days before I photographed every move a plant made, and its a funny thing to photograph
ordinarily.  I wasn't about to put up a post of just words so this will have to do.
There are plenty of good pictures of rust elsewhere Im sure

So you mooch out one day to your pot of prized fuchsias and things are not looking good.  Flowers are few and disappointingly small, things are looking a little bare on the leaf front.  Are there orangey-brown spots on the tops of leaves?  Turn one over, is the underside of that leaf suddenly looking like a rusty old bit of metal?  If so my friend; you have fuchsia rust.  Or more precisely, your prized fuchsia does.  Oh dear.  A fungal disease that 'reduces vigour' is blighting your plants.  Lovely word that; vigour.

I had heard tales of fuchsia rust being prevalent and to be on guard for it, but for several years my fuchsias had managed to evade its dusty clutches.  Had I not been so keen on buying new varieties on the internet I would probably always have escaped it.  But, alas, my lack of self control and incessant need for more frilly ruffles was my downfall and on one shipment in came the infection.  I couldn't tell you which plant it was and where it came from because by the time I had spotted it, it had already spread.  And quite frankly, my memory is just not that good.  I can however tell you how I managed to eradicate it, because it is possible.  I assumed that if a fuchsia caught rust then that was it- bin time!  But copious research revealed that it can be tackled.

Firstly I identified which plants had succumbed and tried to isolate these.  By 'isolate' I mean shift them about five metres away from the masses to the other side of the patio.  Considering rust can be carried on the wind, thats not much of a quarantine, but I tried.  Some varieties appeared to be largely unaffected, others were completely blighted.

Next I got plucking, literally.  Every single leaf that appeared to be affected was removed; a lengthy process that was a killer on the knees to say the least.  The lack of 'vigour' at this point is actually a benefit.  Removed leaves should really be burned I believe to help stop the fungus spreading.  Some of my collection began to look like freshly plucked chickens, but needs must.  Sometimes it has to get worse before it can get better.

I had hoped that if I kept on top of the plucking I might be able to steadily eradicate it, but its rusty little grip was tight, so I resorted to fungal spray.  Yes, chemicals.  I know if you are a fan of organic then I have committed a sin, but I was desperate and sometimes organic just isn't going to cut it.  Im not aware of any organic remedy anyway so there wasn't much choice.  Although fuchsias hardly enjoy fungal spray, they also don't enjoy rust so your between a rock and a hard place so you might as well give it a go!  Luckily my trip to the dark side worked, and while my plants did not ever return to their former glory that year, the year after there was no sign of it at all.

This kind of disease is the reason behind making sure all leaves are stripped from the bark before tucking plants away for the winter.  While keeping the fuchsia snug and warm, winter protection is also harbouring your pests and diseases if you don't ensure the leaves are all removed first.  Pests and disease that will happily sit and wait, patiently biding their time, plotting and scheming, and then boom, spring comes and they are back.  In the past I have not been the most vigilant about removing leaves, I have found it difficult to actively de-robe a plant while it is still looking fairly good.  I have been known to cover a plant up in leaf and go back and uncover it at a later date when the leaves are a bit more shrivelled.  Bad, bad, bad!  You have to be cruel to be kind, and that winter I held no prisoners.

Planting hyacinth Bulbs

Not the most scintillating photo I have ever included I will admit, but it is the windowsill in the garage after all.
Quite obviously a pot of four hyacinth bulbs

More bulbs!  Surprise surprise, although these are different from my previous recent endless bulb posts for three reasons:

a) I didn't plant them
b) I don't like hyacinths
c) They should be out soon

You may recall last spring that I expressed my distaste for all spring bulbs, particularly hyacinths.  That opinion has largely changed but alas, not for the poor old hyacinth.  Left to me I wouldn't grow them, but they appeal to the mother for some reason and so she snuck off on a visit to a garden centre when I was busy captivated by daffodils and bought four.  They are all 'Delft Blue' which is a deep blue, her favourite colour of hydrangea.  I actually think it might be the colour selection that I don't like.  I have seen some rather fabulous black ones that maybe I should have a go at next year.  She also bought a bag of paperwhite narcisssus, which is fine because I do like a pot of them indoors over the winter period.

Next came the pot search, she used to plant hyacinths in this revolting mustard coloured pot that was only ever used for this purpose, but its vanished, thank god.  And no, I did not have a hand in its disappearance.  So she had to buy another one and a pot for the paperwhites.  I approve of her choice; simple, sleek, black.  Considering the mother and I differ on taste over many things, I will admit she knows how to choose a pot.  If the flowers are going to be pale like the narcissus, black shows them off to a tee.

Weirdly this photo almost demonstrates the growth of the shoot, from what the bulbs originally look like when planted on the left, to a solid green snout emerging from the top of the bulb on the right

I haven't got any pictures of the planting process as I was taking a nap at the time, the same one as when the mother pinched a terracotta pot for her hydrangea.  She was very active that day.  Im not a regular napper but starting a new job has left me kind of knackered.  I was in the garden when the need overwhelmed me, I just about removed my wellies before flopping onto the sofa still in my coat.
The bulbs are in fibre; bulb fibre.  Never having been a bulb fan before, I was unaware of the existence of this substance up until now.  I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that plants are fussy things.  If I invest in a great big bag of compost I expect to be able to stuff absolutely everything into it.  But no, bulbs want fibre.  After a little research I now know that bulb fibre lacks the nutrients in normal compost because bulbs already have everything they need and want packed into the personal suitcase that is the bulb.  These things come prepared apparently.  The bulb fibre just provides a bit of support to hold the bulbs in place as they grow while retaining moisture.

Not having been there at the time, I asked the mother how she planted them.  "With their noses out" was her incredibly detailed reply.  What she actually did was place a layer of bulb fibre underneath the bulbs, space them out so they didn't touch each other or the sides of the pot, then fill in with more fibre until only the very top of the bulb was visible above the soil, or the snout as the mother calls it.
They then want to be placed in the dark at a cool temperature for six weeks.  For us this means the pot gets wedged in the garage between boxes of paint and car washing sponges, with a layer of newspaper over the top as our garage unhelpfully has a window.  This encourages the bulb to put done a nice root system before it sets about making flowers.  This is where we are currently up to, they were planted a few weeks ago now and are still hanging out in the garage and will be for the forseeable future.

Goodbye fuchsias

Just as a good fuchsia should be, huge and frothy, the only problem is the photograph the interesting bit you have to include a wrist

A few years ago I became completely obsessed with fuchsias.  At its peak my collection probably totalled fifty plants with probably thirty five different varieties, it was really getting out of hand with pots all over the patio.  Really they are completely responsible for getting me into gardening and starting all this, but sadly their endless fascination for me has come to an end.
Quite simply there is too much work involved in watering and overwintering for the amount of flowers you get.  As all my varieties are non-hardy I have to spend a considerable amount of time out in the freezing cold in November trussed up like a turkey wrapping pots in bubble wrap.  Then there is a big ugly igloo in the corner all winter that I have to continually nip out to for brick rearranging purposes to keep the whole thing tethered down.  Its just too much like hard work.
I have quite a few varieties that are pretty special, but I also have more than a few that are pretty ordinary as I was not the most selective of buyers, buying any variety I could get my hands on.  The sheer volume of pots means I can't enjoy the really good ones as much as I would like.  After much deliberation I have decided to let them all go.  I will of course be sad to lose the nicer ones, but they all need some serious work at this point.

I don't even remember seeing this one this year which is a shame as it was a variate.  The name escapes me at the moment

I have overwintered my fuchsias every year because it means I have larger and more developed plants, but the show this year really wasn't very impressive, as I think they all want digging out and replanting in fresh compost, and to be quite honest I really can't be bothered.  In fact there were so few flowers this year that I would struggle to identify the really good ones, so its easier to just lose the lot.  Also I have a few pots where of the two plants originally in there, one has died so either I need to repot the other or put another one in.  More work.  I would rather use the pots for more vegetables next year, or annuals, and then tidy the whole lot up and put them away for the winter.
Last year I selected some varieties that weren't doing it for me anymore and left them out to freeze in the cold rather than giving them space in the bubble wrap igloo.  Did they die?  Of course not.  No, they persevered on, helped along by a mild winter while several of the good ones rotted in overly damp conditions in the igloo.
While I may be getting rid of my stock, I still appreciate their beauty and Im sure others will to so over the next few weeks I will run through some of the varieties I have had, good points, bad points, pictures if I have them etc.

I really shouldn't post pictures from earlier in the year in the middle of winter, its depressing

Winter Wakehurst Walk

The other weekend I was feeling terribly cooped up, bored and frankly spendy as I hadn't left the house all weekend.  As the garden was sodden I couldn't get out there so we headed to Wakehurst Place, the National Trust property, for a walk.

The fact that this was even possible was a miracle as it did not stop raining for about two weeks, it was even raining when we headed up there, but a quick detour into the shop gave the sky enough time to briefly dry out and give us a walking window.

To be honest, visiting the shop was pretty much the main reason I went.  They have some nice seed displays in there, amongst pricey books and lots of displays of things you certainly don't need but ultimately end up wanting.  Plenty to nosey through and wile away a wet and miserable Sunday.  How I long for the Spring.  Somehow, buying seeds makes the spring seem nearer, and although it clearly doesn't, I am so prepped and ready for when spring is finally sprung.  Three packets of sweet peas came home with me, none of which I needed as I already have like eleven packets.  I very nearly bought the same variety twice, which just goes to show how much I liked it.  I should be planting some sweet pea seeds soon ready for next year so stay tuned for a sweet pea selection post and a bit of planting coming soon.

As it had been so incredibly damp and dreary I didn't really expect very much but actually we had a nice little trot round.  There were some beautiful vivd colours in some leaves, as arty farty as that sounds.  I didn't take many photos, but even these few will break up the bulb monotony that has been going on round these parts recently.  Its so nice to have pictures that are not of round brown things.
The bark rubbing off revealing the red wood underneath and the moss growing over the top I thought made rather a lovely combination of colours, turning the tree into a gradiated colour chart.  Obviously these are just 'visual delights', Im hardly about to plant a giant redwood in my garden any time soon or suggest that anyone else does.  The staff at Wakehurst have recently spent quite a while stringing lightbulbs round a redwood like this from a great height in a cherry picker. I will try and get a picture when they flip the switch in the near future.

Everybody loves a rusty leaf, me included.  Theres not much to say about this tree, other than Its a lovely shade of yellow orange.

Despite having been to Wakehurst many many times, I have never noticed before how many Japanese maples they have there.  Of course at this time of year they really make their existence known with their marvellous blood red leaves, if you get the light behind them they almost glow.

I presume this is not all one plant, as there is a combination of dead seed heads amongst clearly alive leaves and even the odd bright yellow flower.  I have no idea what either plants are but together they make quite the textural scene.

So after this brief escape from planting, its back to the bulbs for me!  Nobody grew anything strolling around on a Sunday afternoon after all.

Choosing Spring Bulbs

A little hint of what the pot should look like come springtime

As a family, we are ones for tradition: every morning starts with a cup of tea, after dinner we all have a decaf coffee (rebels), and every Spring there is a Spring bulb pot.  Its the one thing the mother does, without fail, every year, and she is masterful at it.  How she crams so many bulbs into one pot I don't know, although I do now because I watched her do it this year.  In fact I was rather involved in the entire process, far more than normal and therefore its likely to be a real damp squib come Spring.

The reason I was so involved this year, other than because I now insist on being consulted on anything to do with the garden, was because I was with the mother when the bulbs were bought.  Being an ex-designer I of course believe that I know best about colour schemes so kept sticking my spoke in and we have gone for a completely different look this year.  Last year the mother's pot was a triumph, looking back at it in one of my first posts, reminds me just how excellent it was.  There was height, texture, colour, basically it was a pot of pure springtime joy.  It had a rather definite colour scheme: white, pink and purple.  This year we have gone for completely different colours, which Im now hoping will not be a mistake.
Owing to the fact that it is bulb season and therefore all pictures just make it look like you have become overly obsessed with onions and large garlic, I have photographed the fronts of the packets to spice up the bulb monotony and so you have some idea of what it should all look like in the end.

The hand written numbers in blue are the depth in inches they want to be
planted at, it helps the planting process apparently

Shogun bulbs

It all started with spotting these orange 'Shogun' Praestans which are wildflowering Tulips.  I kind of think if your relying on one pot to give you all your springtime excitement, then the colours want to be in your face bright, which these certainly are.  Particularly like the contrasting blue stems, and as blue and orange are perfect colour companions the colour scheme evolved from there.

Muscari- a very small and crusty bulb

After this year's discovery of Grape Hyacinths, my new favourite spring bulb, they were always going to be making a followup appearance in this year's version.  I don't know where last year's bulbs went so I got a new packet which appears to be a different variety to last year's.  Light blue goes well with orange so we should be good.

Gavota Tulips breaking free from their rusty shells

Get the colour of these 'Gavota' tulips, they are the perfect colour combination just with themselves.  I don't think many people would immediately think to put bright orange with raspberry but when you see in a flower it reminds you just what a great combination that is.  No way these weren't coming home.

Tangerine Beauty bulbs, very similar to the other Tulip bulbs

Tulip 'Vvedenskyi- tangerine beauty' is not actually the most exciting tulip I have ever seen but I thought the colour would add to the overall ambience of the pot.

Crocus bulbs getting way too carried away with themselves with their tiny pale shoots  

I don't like crocus, but considering this variety has done such a good job of colour co-ordinating with the pot scheme I have allowed them in.  I guess I can admit that they are quite pretty, but I don't really want to.

Again the narcissus are off, despite not yet being planted

I hadn't really planned on these making an appearance in this pot... but never mind.  I love these, so small and cute, and strangely geometric.  I have had a real thing for daffodils and narcissi this year, a lot more on this to follow!
Rather than let this drag on too much I will stop here and leave the actual planting till next time.

Planting Allium bulbs

Our display of alliums from this year, which hopefully will be added to

At the same time as planting my Sphaerocephalon bulbs, which by the way is the longest word that I know how to spell, I also planted all my other Allium bulbs.  Unfortunately my other bulbs were considerably larger, and therefore far harder work than the Sphaerocephalon tiddlers were.  Two of the paper bags of bulbs had been written on so I knew what they were, but I only rediscovered what the third ones were by revisiting this post, Red mohicans it turns out, I can't wait!  The others are 'White Giant' and 'Rosenbachianum'.

White Giant bulbs, you can tell, they are giant

Red Mohicans bulbs, quite possibly the best allium if only for the name

Planting Alliums is, as far as Im aware, hardly rocket science.  The stumbling block was the same as for the Sphaerocephalon; sand.  I kept reading that they want well drained soil, so to give them the best chance of being the most amazing display they could be I felt I should try and give them a little drainage.  The mother did not bother herself with such things when she planted her allium bulbs a couple of years ago and they have been great every year, so maybe its not as important as people make out.  But still if Im going to make all the effort of excavating a hole, Im going to try and do it right.
In one of my paper bags was a slip of paper giving instructions on how to plant the bulbs, I can't remember exactly what It said but basically I believe the rule is the hole wants to be two and a half times the size of the bulb- great for Sphaerocephalons- less so for White Giants.  How I cursed those great big bulbs after I had dug a few holes.  I trowelled the soil that came out of the holes into a bucket of sand, mixed the two up and put some underneath the bulbs and then filled the holes up with it too.  I imagine it worked out at one part sand to two parts soil.  Hopefully thats what they wanted and I will have a fabulous display.

No not evidence of a mole, Iv been digging holes

It annoys me faintly when I read how to plant Alliums because all the gardeners in the know say 'oh I plant them in drifts, don't plant them in two and threes it will look dotty', says somebody with probably acres of garden and no limitations.  Some of us aren't so lucky.  There is not space to be filled, space has to be found.  'Drifts' have to fit themselves round the mother's established bushes, and by round I mean I hacked a great chunk off the bottom of two bushes to reveal a patch of soil to wedge my Alliums into.  I also found another patch, so I will get two 'drifts', or 'clumps' as they are in my book.

I unfortunately can't remember what variety the mother's alliums are but they made a good display

Wet bee, poor thing

Planting Sphaerocephalon bulbs

A display of Sphaerocephalon bulbs at Hampton Court flower show in June, covered in bees, which is always a good thing in my book

There are times when one wants to be gardening, and there are times when one does not.  This time of year definitely falls under the second bracket, I spend the entire winter period on a constant quest for warmth and am generally to be found in at least three layers, indoors.  However, one cannot expect a lovely display come the Spring from bulbs unless one braves the cold bleakness, wraps up warm and digs in, literally.  I try and keep in mind what I am hoping to achieve and it can be basically summed up by this picture of Sphaerocephalon bulbs at Hampton Court earlier this year.  A mass of raspberry coloured balls of joy smothered in bees, but they aren't just going to pop out of the ground of their own accord.

Ideally as Sphaerocephalons are part of the Allium family, I think they want to be planted from late September to October time, but due to excessive weekend rainfall I didn't get mine in until a week or two ago.

I was also delayed by the need to buy grit.  Despite already having Alliums happily growing in the garden, a little research informed me that they like 'well drained soil' which is categorically not something I have.  Up to this point when a plant has required a little extra drainage I have mixed in some sand from an old bag that was bought for my sandpit many many moons ago, but the Alliums i felt needed the proper stuff.  I had no idea how difficult it would be to find horticultural grit, I thought it was pretty common stuff, Monty Don certainly throws the stuff about enough to give that impression.  Only after searching through several garden centres did I finally find some, which came in like eight different grades of size, which is faintly ridiculous but there we go.

So picture the scene, Im standing in the pouring rain deciding between sand, grit, fine grit, light gravel etc, finally make my choice, go to grab a bag, and what do you know; the ink on the bag is only water soluble.  Hands were green, like Shrek.  I had to be allowed into the staff area to access the sink, and even then they were tinged.  Isn't that a stupid bit of packaging?

My horticultural sand, I would have dug out some but it has been terribly wet and I don't want to be green

Anyway I digress.  So the weathers held for five minutes, bag of grits to hand, its time to get the Sphaerocephalon in.  If you read my post on what I bought at Hampton Court you will know that my bulbs came ready planted, in full bloom in fact, in a small plastic pot.  Once home I didn't really know what to do with them.  I didn't want to plant them as they were all clumped together but didn't feel I could separate them out while in flower.  So in the pot they stayed until now.  The balls of flower are long gone but I left the seed heads on, even though you are meant to remove them from Alliums to help them flower, which seems to have caused an interesting situation.

I had about five flowers, so I expected when I emptied the pot out to find five fairly smallish bulbs amongst the soil, but I didn't.  Instead there were dozens of tiny little bulbs, mainly near the top of the pot, some small, some larger but no five looking particularly well developed.  Somebody had been reseeding behind my back, although I don't know if all these new bulbs are from this year or last year, and what to do with them now.  The very smallest, maybe twenty five tiny bulbs, I decided were far too small for the garden so I potted them back up into small terracotta pots in a compost and grit mix and we will see what they do next year.  The remaining largest seven or eight bulbs, still only the size of a small road bean, I buried in the garden.

The rule of thumb with Alliums seems to be to plant them at a depth two and a half times the size of the bulb, but for a Sphaerocephalon thats not terribly deep.  So instead I winged it, dug maybe three inches down chucked a soil grit mix in the bottom, inserted the tiny bulb and filled up the holes.  If you read about this variety on the internet websites always say 'look great in drifts with long grass'.  Well I don't really have drifting room, so a space was created for an Alium patch in a sunny spot between two bushes and that will have to do.

Doesn't look like much now, just two sodden pots, but hopefully the bulbs in these will mature 

Did I mention these sink?  Oh my god onions!  I know they theoretically are part of the onion family, but where as other Allium bulbs just have the appearance of onions, these have the smell, possibly because they were damp and in soil.  It was almost too much, the hands, no longer green, did not now smell too fresh.  The smell was clearly so overwhelming I actually forgot to take a picture of the bulbs and they are planted now so your going to have to use your imagination.

Hard work done, if you can call digging a tiny hole for one of these bulbs hard work and it was back off indoors for a cup of tea and a warm up, for five minutes until I was back out planting all my other bulbs, more on which will be coming soon.  Now we just have to sit back and wait for Spring and Summer, a depressing thought.