Spring Airs

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade."

- Charles Dickens

Hellebores which have seeded and hybridized

Early spring is a time of huge anticipation... and of almost equal disappointment as you step into the sunny garden only to feel your skin being sliced by a vicious north wind. It's a good idea to take a brisk walk to acclimatise your poor body, before subjecting those dormant muscles to any gardening work in the cold!

An early hoopoe spotted beside
the Gironde estuary

Fortunately our front garden is south-facing and protected by hedges, so we can often eat lunch on the terrace in March as long as we don't have anyone staying in our adjoining lettings cottage.

In the far corner under a lilac tree, where the sun doesn't penetrate until mid-morning, we have a patch of hellebores which have been left to hybridize over the past few years.

With the sun shining through them from behind they make quite a pretty display even though the flowers are going over after a month in bloom. Left to their own devices, they'll continue to scatter seed until they fill the entire corner, probably blotting out any bulbs in the process!

New Arrivals

It's almost uncanny how migratory birds seem to know when we reach the middle of March. Quite often we see the first swallow on March 15th, but this year it was a pair of hoopoes which arrived on that date. We managed to photograph them taking a break on one of the fishing huts in the Estuary.

Small tortoiseshell and peacock butterflies

A day later, whilst walking down our back lane, we came across these two handsome specimens which must have just come out of hibernation - they looked so perfect and unscathed. Tortoiseshells are attracted to nettles, which are already billowing on either side of the path, and both butterflies seemed drawn to the yellow hawkbits currently in flower.

Penduline tit

I believe these dainty Penduline tits (Remiz pendulinus) are down on the marshes all year round but we only manage to find them flitting around on bright sunny days, before the trees come into leaf.

Yesterday we scrambled down a cliff and followed a hunting path through the blackthorn in order to catch a glimpse of them. Like longtailed tits, they travel in families and alert you with a high-pitched twittering as they move from branch to branch.

Pair of nesting storks braving the elements

Another bird which has taken up permanent residence in recent years is the white stork (Ciconia ciconia). 

We have a pair nesting on a platform not far from here and they'll soon be laying their eggs. (As they're both standing up in this picture, I'm assuming they haven't done so already!)

Early Bulbs

Star of Bethlehem
(Ornithogalum umbellatum)

Back in our garden, we're seeing the last few crocus fade away, to be replaced by other small flowers such as Chionodoxa and Ornithogalum umbellatum, which has obligingly spread itself into some of the dry and inhospitable areas under trees, where it shares residence with cyclamen.

I think most gardeners are happy for bulbs to naturalise where they don't interfere too much with other plants, and to that end we prefer using the smaller species tulips which can be slotted in between pinks, geraniums, herbs and other sun-lovers.

Tulipa clusiana

The clusiana tulip is one of my favourites as it stays in bud for a while, looking effortlessly elegant while it sways in the wind before rewarding you with a slow-reveal of its pink and white flowers as the sun warms up.

Next to the grey-green foliage of dianthus or lavender it looks very classy.

Another species tulip which comes out even earlier, with several flower-heads on its stem, is Tulipa turkestanica. Reaching a height of only 20cm, it's eye-catching at the front of the border and will naturalise easily in a free-draining soil.

Tulipa turkestanica
with a naturally sunny dsposition!

Sallows or Osiers?

A type of Salix... but which one?

Much as I love trees, and particularly those which provide us with catkins in spring, I must admit to being ignorant as to the different types of pussy willow growing along the streams and channels near here.

The one on the left closely resembles the Great Sallow (Salix caprea) as illustrated in my English book of trees. Sallows are broad-leaved willows, it says, which are shade-tolerant and less restricted to wet places than most of the Salix family. (A glance at Google Images confirms that there are several varieties suitable for the garden.) 

This one on the right might be a male version of the above Salix... in time the catkins will get fluffier as they develop. The only way I'll really be able to identify these is by checking out the leaves when they unfurl.

If it turns out to have long narrow leaves, then it's probably some kind of osier. Confused...??

Shining filaments of pussy willow

All I know is they make a pretty picture on a sunny day, especially with the light behind them.

What I find remarkable - and rather poignant - is how pussy willow and other kinds of blossom continue to open as nature intended even when the parent tree has been cruelly uprooted and is lying on its side. Fallen trees seem determined to seed themselves no matter what.

Back garden in mid-March

Most shrubs have now been trimmed
and the medlar tree (centre) has had its branches thinned out

Mixed border with a rather
yellowed diascia in the foreground.
Bought as an annual in the UK,
it survives winter planted out -
even producing flowers.

It's noticeable that perennials are spreading out day by day and less soil is visible between them. I still keep plucking out the odd weed as it's so much easier to do when they're tiny and shallow-rooted.

If we had more ready-made compost, then now would be the time to spread it between plants; but we're waiting for a mild day with no wind in order to turn the compost heap and take out some fresh stuff.

In the meantime, where leaves are looking a bit yellow in our limey soil, I'll mix up a solution of chelated iron to water in. This is particularly important for some shrubs like roses and hydrangeas which are susceptible to yellowing. 

Out on the Marais...

Wind passes over the reedbeds as if they were a pale ocean lapping at the base of those mysterious chalk cliffs, known as les falaises mortes.

A pair of horses were left out to fend for themselves without shelter over the entire winter and we worried about their welfare when high tides turned much of their grassland into churned up mud.

However, they seem to have emerged from the long cold nights looking quite fit and healthy - if in need of a good brushing!

These extensive reedbeds are a sensitive environment, carefully protected by the government and other agencies like the LPO - our equivalent of the RSPB - who send out a team in April to ring certain birds and take an inventory.

Photographing small birds in the reeds is quite a challenge and we've yet to catch sight of the bluethroats which arrive in April. Maybe this year...?

Blackthorn producing clouds of creamy blossom over the marais

Winter Colour

"One can find so many pains when the rain is falling."

- John Steinbeck

Winter's brushwork painted on a watery landscape

The past three months have been unusually mild and wet; in that respect it's not been a lot different to the UK, where an array of plants have reportedly been flowering out of season. Here the mimosas bloomed early and shrubs like Coronilla have been in flower for several weeks.

Viburnum x bodnantense

Perhaps it was all that added moisture which caused our Viburnum x bodnantense to produce such a multitude of blooms all the way down its stems?

This was a welcome sight back in January when there was precious little to gladden our hearts in the rear garden, tortured as it is by north-easterly winds blowing across a flat expanse of marais.

This viburnum is a hardy fellow, easy to grow and maintain with very little pruning required. Its leaves aren't the most attractive as they tend to get wind-scorched, but if grown alongside other types of hedging it does fade into the background when rival shrubs get going in spring.

Iberis sempervirens
'Snowflake'

Another useful plant which began opening its flowers in February is Iberis sempervirens, grown from seed supplied by Chiltern Seeds. This cultivar is called 'Snowflake' and has the RHS award of merit.

I like the fact that it's drought-tolerant and evergreen - sempervirens means 'always green' - providing quite a neat edge to beds and borders. Later in spring it should be completely covered in snowy blooms.

Back garden in February

Here you can see where we've used lumps of local chalk to divide the lawn from our planting areas.

This has a practical purpose in that I'm tired of forever pulling up weeds which have seeded in the beds as a result of my grass strimming. It doesn't completely solve the problem as strimmed offcuts can fly quite high, but at least there's a bit of a barrier to halt the insidious weed-creep!

Linaria purpurea 'Canon Went'

Cutting the lawn in winter is a messy task as it never really dries out and one has to clean off the strimmer as well as rake up mounds of damp grass to avoid trekking it indoors. Still, I enjoy the much-needed exercise and it does mean we can rid the lawn of a fair bit of moss at the same time.

Another little plant which has survived winter in good shape is the cultivated toadflax, Linaria purpurea, which also came from Chiltern Seeds and whose grey-green foliage is not unlike a delicate euphorbia in the way it displays raindrops. 

Linaria purpurea 'Canon Went'

It grows to about a meter tall, with an upright but feathery habit which mixes in well with other plants.

The pale pink flowers appear in August, at the same time as the hydrangea blooms shown here. Happy in partial sun or shade, it's a useful filler and we also grow a purple-flowering variety which has seeded itself in a couple of shady spaces.

Crocus vernus 'Pickwick'

For some real colour at this time of year one inevitably comes to rely on bulbs.

I make no excuse for featuring pictures of this Dutch hybrid every year because it's both early and robust, standing up to the rainy onslaught when some of its more delicate cousins just fall by the wayside. It also combines well with the silver-leaved dianthus, of which we have rather a lot these days ...

Heavily perfumed hyacinths
- a passing lizard takes a sniff!

Nor can we ever get enough of hyacinths during those dark months when it seems too extravagant to keep buying cut flowers and yet you need a living reminder that spring will come eventually!

Sometimes, though, their scent is just too powerful in a small room and it's preferable to keep a few outdoors under shelter. This terracotta planter is sited beneath an overhanging shed roof and can be admired from our sitting room window -
that hyacinth perfume envelops me each time I fetch something from the tool shed.

Once their foliage has died down, we usually find a spot to plant out the bulbs so they can liven up another dreary season.

Those waxy blooms make delicious cut flowers too 

Calendula officinalis growing in the verge

However much we try to cultivate marigolds, they always seem to do better in the wild or where they have self-seeded in other people's gardens.

I'm talking about the Calendula varieties, known as 'pot marigolds', rather than the so-called French or African marigolds which are varieties of Tagetes.

They seem to prefer an open, sunny aspect - even in rough grass - and will happily flower throughout the winter.

Iris sibirica flowering in February

Most types of iris will thrive in poor, almost non-existent soil, as long as their bulbs can be baked by the sun.

They do best when planted by themselves against a wall where their colour and shape can be shown off to full advantage.

Mixing them with other plants in a richer soil tends to encourage slugs and snails, particularly with the more fleshy types. There's nothing sadder than finding an iris flower which has been munched by molluscs!

Ammi visnaga

Foxglove leaves are also full of holes caused by the tiny snails which abound in our garden. Thank heavens for hellebores whose tough foliage is pretty immune to such depredations, although they benefit from removal of their old leathery leaves which can detract from the beauty of their flowers and serve no useful purpose.

Similarly, it pays to tidy up our geum plants where last season's faded leaves spoil the look of their fresh new rosettes.

Freshest of all are the new plants coming from seed, such as Ammi visnaga - already quite tall and bushy - and a multitude of larkspur and nigella which have spread themselves all over the place, along with forget-me-nots. The latter are worth thinning out and transplanting to fill in a few gaps.

Although our local paths and meadows are still too muddy for walking, we hope those heavy downpours will soon dissipate to spring showers, enabling us to lose ourselves in the blossoming landscape. Gardens are calling - along with the birds - and we long to get back to work! 

Mist through the reeds down our back lane

Moisture lifting off fields in the early sun