August

"Gardening is a game played with Nature"

- Patrick Quibel

Patterns of surrounding farmland reminiscent of the
graphic landscapes of American painter Grant Wood

Agriculture, too, is a game played with Nature and I love the fact that here in South-west France these old patterns persist against the odds: vineyards and fields passed down through generations, sometimes intact with all the old rivalries, but still neatly delineated with few fences or hedgerows.

Our young olive tree underplanted with lavender,
white roses (in a pot) and Cosmos bipinnatus 'Purity'

Dappled shade is indispensible at this time of year, particularly in areas where you want to sit out and eat.  Here on the coast where it's usually breezy too, a large parasol can be more trouble than it's worth unless you have an expensive one which can be anchored against the wind and angled against the sun.

Shades of an Indian market with
these discarded blooms of
Cosmos sulphureus

Cosmos has also become indispensible to us as a source of late Summer colour.

We noticed a particularly tall variety of the bright orange Cosmos sulphureus growing in a local park and I kept a few seeds last year which have now provided us with several stately plants.

They do need daily dead-heading however and, in the case of the white Cosmos bipinnatus 'Purity', a certain amount of dis-budding is also required as it keeps producing a small cluster of terminal flower buds when you really just want a couple of decent sized blooms!

With its fine feathery foliage, the various types of Cosmos bipinnatus give your borders a light and airy feel on the hottest days. A wide range of colours is available from Chiltern Seeds.

Shimmering seedheads of
Eragrostis trichoides 'Summer Strain'

Ornamental grasses and other prairie-type flowers like Verbena bonariensis move around in the breeze, adding to this effect of coolness and helping to make up for the fact that our small garden lacks a water-feature.

We could have created something simple with a pump and a pipe, just to enjoy the sound of running water, but we suffer so much from limescale that it would probably give us problems after a while so we decided not to bother.

There are plenty of waterways nearby and the mixture of birdsong and rustling bamboo, as well as that cool wind through our ash trees, is enough to orchestrate a sense of calm.

In the part-shade of an ash tree, Michaelmas daisies
bloom alongside Nicotiana alata 'Lime Green'
and a red-flowering Salvia microphylla

Aster novae-angliae 'Betel Nut'

Asters or Michaelmas daisies gradually come into flower during August and glow brightly through September as shadows deepen in the borders.

This particular variety called 'Betel Nut' was still flowering at Beth Chatto's nursery in Essex when we bought it in early October last year.

It grows to about 1.8m high and so far its blooms have been popping out gradually with plenty of buds still to open - very striking in colour and robust in habit, which is all to be welcomed.

Purple loosestrife - Lythrum salicaria

There are vivid colours in the landscape too, especially along the water channels where bright patches of purple loosestrife stand out from the sere grassland.

Our neighbour loves the loosestrife so much that he's planted up a whole tub of it in his driveway!

Berries have been forming since the start of August, with huge swags hanging from the elder trees, and sunflower seeds are attracting busy flocks of finches and sparrows.This is when the pyracantha in our garden starts bursting into colour with its orange, red and yellow berries. We have one of each to liven up our hedgerows and birds love them! 

Patches of loosestrife growing with marsh mallow (Althaea officinalis)

Clouds of hairy willowherb (Epilobium hirsutum) along the pathway

Late Summer and Autumn are particularly beautiful on the salt marshes around these shores.

Willowherb billows around the
marsh bulrushes

Now I find it almost blinding to walk down the cycle path behind our house first thing in the morning.

Not only does the chalky track reflect light but the many thousand seedheads of hairy willowherb (aka great willowherb) shine like beacons against the shadowy woods beyond.

This picture of bulrushes lapped by glistening seedheads is almost abstract when you look into it and my wild flower book tells me that in the 18th century this hairy down was actually used as stuffing in bedcovers... not sure it would have lasted more than a few weeks! 

Marais horses also seem to shine more brightly amongst the mallows

Sedums are providing smaller billows of colour in our borders and probably look at their best before they are fully out.

Sedum spectabile - prone to splitting

Each year we try to hold the bigger clumps together with wire or frames of some kind, but the pale Sedum spectabile always seems to collapse as it matures, leaving a rather unsightly gap in the middle.

I think it's one of those plants that needs lifting and dividing regularly so that you can just cut out the dead bit in the middle and start again with a compact offspring. 

Salvia coccinea or Texas Sage
- a plant that goes on giving

Salvia coccinea or Texas sage is a plant I wrote about in early July when it first came into bloom.

Since then it has gone on branching out and producing new flower spikes, with each tiny hooded flower taking its time to open so you can go on enjoying the plant for weeks.

It doesn't need dead-heading until the whole spike has run out of steam and, by then, it's possible new spikes will have formed.

It's certainly easier to look after than our various cosmos which need constant attention, but I don't begrudge time spent on these tasks as they do leave you free to meditate and enjoy peering into all corners of the garden as you wander around with clippers in hand.  


Swan Lake

Earlier in the year I wrote about a family of swans which took up residence on our neighbour's lake and then moved on to new waters once their cygnets had all fledged.

Well I'm glad to report that they still come back for regular visits and we spotted them walking from lake to river the other morning.

The eight cygnets were all present and correct, waddling in a line behind their parents, and almost seemed to turn and greet us as they went past ...

Dance of the cygnets!