Mrs Phantom's Garden Corner...

Good evening, and welcome to the first in an occasional series. I've left the Phantom in the kitchen, and have come into my domain.

I won't pretend to be an exceptional gardener; our garden is still very much a work in progress. But it is a place of sanctuary, a place to lose oneself mentally, if not physically...

Our great friend the Legal Eagle asked what she could do to counter the slugs and snails that have been happily munching through her Lupins.

As usual in life, there are no perfect solutions to the problems these irritating molluscs create. (The slugs I mean, not the Legal Eagle and her Beau). But at Phantom Towers we have come up with a couple of good techniques for reducing the damage they cause.


The stuff in the box is something we have tried for the first time this year. It's an absorbent ceramic in a gravel-like form.

[CUE PACK SHOT]



[No, This blog is not being sponsored]



It works by the fact that it is both very rough and highly absorbent. It doesn't kill the critturs, but they sure as heck don't like going over it. I guess it's a sort of commercial version of the old idea of putting down crushed eggshells.

You simply surround you vulnerable seedlings and plants...



In this case Mangetout Peas. So far we haven't lost one..

And here it's protecting a young Hosta...





The other weapon in our war was also featured in the photo above. Let's zoom in..



Yup! It's the trowel. If you look carefully you will see the lower edge is serrated. That's for cutting the slugs in half... Snails can be picked up by hand, or you can use the extra leverage provided by flipping the snails on the trowel to make sure they travel into the next garden but one. Or you can just smash the little B****RS with the flat bit.

I'm afraid I didn't get the name "She Who Gardens At Night" by pruning in the dark. You go out with a torch and a trowel, and exact pro-active revenge on the slugs and snails who would turn your Hostas into lacework and your salads into breakfast.

Sorry for any sensitive folk, but the Gardening Phantom has her priorities worked out....

2008 RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch

Now is the time for the Phantom to don his wooly hat and do his Bill Oddie impersonation. (Actually not that difficult, apart from the height difference (approximately one foot, before you ask.)).

Tomorrow sees the start of the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, the 29th. Anyone, not just RSPB members, is invited to spend one hour sometime this weekend, logging the maximum number of birds in their garden, by species.

There is an identification chart on the website if you are not too good on telling a grebe from a goldfinch. Final species totals need to be recorded on the Birdwatch website. Don't feel worried if you only see common birds, or none at all. All the information gathered is of use.

Fuchsia

The Southwestern area of Ireland around Kerry is blessed with an unusually mild climate. We have both been to Ireland several times, but never to this corner. In the hedgerows the most dominant plant is the Fuchsia of all things!



Whole banks of delicate nodding heads, some robust, others more delicate, line the roadsides.



It is such a feature of the area that in Chapeltown, the northernmost village on the island, they even have a restaurant named after them, with this particularly fetching sign:



If you are in the area, pay a visit to Glanleam. It is a hotel with a sloping series of gardens working down a sheltered slope which actually boasts a sub-tropical climate. There are tree ferns abounding, glades of bamboo, and a fine walled vegetable garden.



This magnificent Ram's head decorates one of the iron gates which protect it. It has a pagan look to it, suggesting virility and strong growth. Maybe it is a reference to Puck Fair, celebrated in the nearby town of Killorglin.

Autumn Sunshine

Today was one of those fine Autumn days which start off misty and then burst through into a crisp sunny celebration of life. In our garden the mild weather means we still have perfumed roses scenting the air.



Our pelargoniums are still glowing red in the sunshine.



And in the shade at the end of the garden the last of the wild foxgloves keep their secrets, hoods bobbing gently in the freshening evening breezes.

Rainy Days and Mondays…

It would be churlish to complain about the rain. Here in London we have escaped the worst of the flooding that has caused so much damage further north.

By and large, the flooding that has occurred here has been in low-lying sites such as tube stations. An inconvenience at worst, but nothing disastrous. Two Fridays ago central London had more rain in two hours than it normally gets in the entire month of July. But things carried on pretty much as normal. We had our college end of year party that day, complete with (indoor) barbecue. It was a wonder that we weren’t prosecuted under the new Anti-smoking legislation.

In our little part of the world the only real problem caused by the rain is that the slugs and snails have been busier than normal, shredding everything within reach and even climbing up walls the better to feast on our window boxes.

My good lady wife is back to her nocturnal slug hunting, torch in one hand, slug squishing trowel in the other. Some of the neighbours think we are a little strange.

It entertains the cats too.

Now if only snails moved fast enough to tempt the cats, our problems would be solved….

Making The Most Of It

Our garden is feeling somewhat neglected of late. My Mother-In-Law's illness has meant that the Head Gardener has been spending a lot of time visiting her Mum at the hospital. When she has been at home, the rain has kept her inside for far too long.

Meanwhile, at my college, whilst the teachers are relaxing, we few (Very Few!) in the Library are stocktaking, preparing new books, and re-arranging the shelves. We have over 21,000 books and DVDs at the moment, and by the time September arrives we will have moved every single one eight feet sideways and put them back on the shelves! It's tiring, and when I get home gardening is far from my mind.

However, we managed to get outside this evening, in one of those magical periods when the weather suddenly clears and the blue of the sky looks as if it has been scrubbed clean.

The Fuchsias and Montbretia may be drooping, but the colours set each other off beautifully.


The Agapanthus have been waiting for ages to bloom, and finally found the courage to do so.


My better half stopped to have a chat with our next-door-neighbour. Our gardens are slightly sloping, so she knelt on a garden chair to have a proper over-the-fence chat.

Regular readers will know that our cats are firm believers in only sitting on humans under certain conditions, namely

• If They Haven't Asked Them To
• When They Least Expect It
• And Preferably When It Causes Them Most Inconvenience.

Bernard saw his opportunity and seized it with all four paws!



Instantly relaxing himself, my wife was rendered helpless. Another Success for the Feline Takeover of the World.



Job Done.

Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part 3...

The good Mrs P and myself went round to see my Mother today. I hadn't seen her for a few weeks (I really didn't want to pass on my bugs to an eighty-year-old with a bad chest already). She looked and sounded much better than when I saw her last.

The weather was perfect; cool, and clear, blue skies with unbroken sunshine. We had come prepared with loppers, secateurs and gardening gloves, and gave my Mum's garden a thorough spring cleaning.

Getting home this evening our Visiting Cats arrived and joined us in the sitting room. We thought we would have a well-deserved treat and ordered a chinese take-away.

The meal was better than ever. We tried a few new dishes and they did not dissapoint.

They had popped a couple of fortune cookies in with our bag. After our meal I opened mine.

What cheerful thought did my cookie bring to round off a perfect day? I quote

"We are born crying, live complaining, and die disappointed."

Thanks for that...

Once again I must thank everyone who has been in touch and sent their best wishes. I think Monday just gone must have been rock bottom. I went to the Doctor in the morning, and nearly fainted on the way home. After all the stress my heart rhythmn started misbehaving. Nothing too serious, it settled back by the evening, but scary nonetheless…

I have the rest of this week to get my strength back. In a minute I am going to sit out in the spring sunshine; Tigger, our visiting cat, is patiently waiting for me to finish making my coffee and bring out the paper for him to sit on. (Only the Guardian will do.)

Hopefully normal service will now be resumed.

I can’t send a bunch of flowers to all my readers, but I can send you this, taken just now in our garden.





“To feel keenly the poetry of a morning's roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.” ~Henri Frederic Amiel

(And before you all leap in, I know, they're Pansies. Too early for roses!)