Late May

"It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by.

How else indeed to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?"

-Vita Sackville West

Cattle relaxing amongst buttercups on the marais

Despite ravages of wind and rain which drive us mad with their unseasonal frequency, we find the cattle have arrived back in their summer pasture, sensibly staying together in a sheltered corner. The sheep, too, are back on their hillside and a few more horses have been quartered out on the marais.

A 'baudet' or Poitou donkey

Three female Poitou donkeys, which were put out to graze on a hillside early this year, are still in residence but starting to look somewhat bored with their well-chomped meadow.

Their huge size and appealing shagginess contrast with their delicate little feet and gentle natures. Once it starts to really warm up, I fear there isn't much in the way of shelter for them and it must get tiring standing on a slope all day.

Ah well, we've given up trying to understand animal husbandry as practised locally...

Bee Orchid (Ophrys scolopax)

Orchids

The grassland surrounding these donkeys is full of pyramid orchids but it's difficult to tell whether they're tempted to munch any which might grow within their electrified enclosure.

Elsewhere, after seeing a profusion of large 'pyramids' growing along the verges, we came across this pretty array of bee orchids, some of which are noticeably paler than the usual pinkish-mauve. Our damp weather has certainly favoured the orchid colonies and they seem to have spread more widely.

Orlaya grandiflora with foxgloves and Anchusa azurea behind

Meanwhile our own home-grown "meadow" is coming along nicely under the medlar tree. In the background a pale pink cistus is just coming into bloom, along with a yellow evening primrose and some geum in the forefront.

New plants from seed

It's quite satisfying to think that most of the above - save for that geum and cistus - have been grown from seed, all of it supplied by those nice folk at Chiltern Seeds.

The latest batch are growing well, having been moved from their cold frame and hardened-off on a table in semi-shade. These are mostly perennials like veronica, scabious and rudbeckia.

When it comes to potting up seedlings and cuttings, it's amazing how much you can fit into a tight area with careful arrangement of pots and trays. Using a black bin for compost and painting tables and raised-beds in black, helps to keep them uniform and fairly unobtrusive.

Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty'

As mentioned earlier this month, the sweet williams called 'Sooty' have delightfully spiky foliage and really stand out against the enveloping tide of green.

Their ruby-velvet flower clusters are just starting to open and are seen here against a background of Romneya - a perennial white poppy from California which is already showing fat buds.

Enlarging on the dark theme, I'm currently growing some black antirrhinums to provide additional drama next spring!

Flowers for cutting

Spring selection of columbines, foxglove and orlaya

The above illustrates how dark foliage and flowers provide contrast in a vase. Bronzy-red leaves and stem belong to Penstemon digitalis 'Husker Red', whilst the left-hand cluster is our aforementioned 'Sooty'.

We have a continual parade of pink, apricot and white foxgloves, some of which suffered from snail damage early on, reducing the size of their stems but giving us more flower stalks per plant. Even though a few of these are bent out of shape, they're still a useful length for popping into a jug or vase - it's worth docking a few plants just for this purpose!

Pinks give us a never-ending supply of blooms which last well in water and look particularly fetching with a combination of orlaya and wild allium. These pink-tinged white onion flowers grow in grassy meadows and waysides but fortunately don't smell when picked.

French cottage garden

A neighbouring village held its annual flower show the other weekend and I couldn't resist photographing one of the local front gardens which was attracting much interest from passers-by.

I love the cascade of snow-in-summer and I'm sure all that lily-of-the-valley on the other side will smell wonderful, but I can't help wondering if anything else will happen when all that flowering is finished?

Whereas English gardeners enjoy a parade of flowers from early spring through to late autumn, I've noticed that some local people rely on just a few plant types and may even, for instance, use multiples of the same rose - something that probably originates with formal French gardening in days gone by.

Mediterranean plants grown in a raised bed

When it comes to cottage gardens, they don't come much more 'bijou' than the little raised-bed in front of our studio (aka the old pigsty).

Its well-drained sandy soil is good for sun-lovers like dianthus and cistus, but we've been particularly surprised at how much the mauve scabious and Lavandula dentata have thrived. They've both been flowering their socks off for weeks, doubtless aided by the frost-free winter.

Turtle dove
 (Streptopelia turtur)

Bird world

This pretty turtle dove was part of a trio spotted in a nearby vineyard whilst we were out walking. It's quite a rarity in these parts compared with all the collared doves we see feasting on grain from surrounding fields.

At times this place is a total confusion of birdsong, together with warning clucks from anxious parent birds - like the black redstart who takes over the garden as his territory and practically drives our cat demented.

One bird we hear regularly but never see, skulking as it does beside the water-course outside our gate, is the "Chap with the Megaphone" as we used to call him. We finally identified him as Cetti's warbler, who bursts out with the same song every morning: it goes "cheewip - chipper - chipper - chipper - chipper". (And, in case you didn't catch it, he'll happily give you an encore ten minutes later!)

Shelduck babies (Tadorna tadorna)

Living so near the Gironde Estuary, we quite often see shelducks flying over the marais, usually in pairs. The other morning a couple were repeatedly flying over our garden making a lot of noise, but it wasn't until we ventured out for a walk that we saw these ducklings fast-pedalling up the water channel.

For some reason the adults seemed to be encouraging them from the air rather than 'maman duck' taking a guardian role and leading on the water. Perhaps these parents thought we were posing a threat?

We carried on with our circular walk and were coming back down the hill twenty minutes later when what should we see struggling up the road in front but the intrepid gang of eleven ducklings?

There ensued several heart-in-mouth moments as we signalled oncoming cars to slow down as the little tribe waddled its way uphill... no guessing how many finally made it onto the marais. (We blame those irresponsible parents!)

Finally, a serene sight

Another French garden - with cleverly matching wisteria and clematis!

Early May

"And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,

Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk..."

- Thomas Hardy

View from our back garden

Green hillsides are swagged with hawthorn bushes, their pungent white blossoms known as 'may' because they invariably arrive with the month. But you know it's not quite summer as the farmer hasn't yet put his sheep out on the ridge.

Our garden, too, has its share of white flowers at present, none more extravagant than Virburnum opulus which has exceeded itself in producing a huge number of creamy-green spheres.

Viburnum opulus aka the 'Snowball Tree'

Alas it's not the most weather-resitant shrub and you can almost guarantee that heavy rain will strike just as the blooms reach their full potential.

Sure enough there are thunder-storms forecast this week, but after a long spell of drying winds most of our plants will be glad of some root-refreshing moisture. Real rain always seems to work better than water from cans!

Orlaya grandiflora
available from Chiltern Seeds

Umbellifers

Lacy flowers of orlaya are more like snowflakes and mimic the soft waves of cow parsley now adorning our back lane.

It's a useful filler plant which seeds itself under our medlar tree and mixes well with other spring flowers such as geum and foxglove, giving the relaxed feel of a meadow.

Seedlings become apparent in early autumn when they can be thinned out and easily moved to other areas if required.

This year we're also growing some Ammi visnaga, a more imposing umbellifer, now coming into bloom and looking as though it will take up considerably more space!

Cistus ladanifer, standing up to the rain

White flowers are certainly one way of breaking up the sea of green that engulfs our garden at this time of year. In addition, it's useful to interpose plants with darker foliage, such as Sambucus nigra Purpurea -  whose coppery foliage stands out in the border below, to the right of the little box hedge.

Back border edged with boules of lavender

You can see we also have a surfeit of forget-me-nots in the back garden! These provide welcome patches of blue but can obscure - and interfere with - other emerging plants, such as heleniums and echinacea which need a fair bit of light and space to develop properly.

Once we've had this promised rainfall, we'll probably yank out annuals like myosotis and put down some garden compost, before re-filling the gaps with Cosmos sulphureus grown from seed.

Contrasting Foliage

Penstemon digitalis 'Husker Red'
with Gladiolus Byzantinus communis

Another very successful plant from the Chiltern Seeds collection is this maroon-leaved Penstemon digitalis called 'Husker Red', which does a great job of breaking up that aforementioned sea of green!

It's a sturdy fellow, seemingly immune to snails, and produces panicles of white flowers in June. I like the fact that its foliage looks so glossy after watering.

Next to it is one of the Gladiolus Byzantinus that we dotted around the garden last year, again to provide some accent colour and draw the eye from one area to another.

Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty'

A few of Chiltern's sweet williams which I grew from seed last year have made it through the wet winter and are now throwing up their dark stems amongst the forget-me-nots.

This is Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty' - aptly named, I think, for its cheeky black heads! Sadly some of my little plants came to grief as they over-wintered in our borders, but the survivors are doing well and I can't wait for their eventual flowering.

Generally, all types of dianthus seem to thrive in our garden and I'm gradually working my way through the multitude of varieties in Chiltern's catalogue!

Geranium 'Orkney Cherry'
 -an early-flowering variety
with finely-cut dark foliage

Geraniums are invaluable to any gardener and we now hunt for those with darker foliage, as well as eye-catching flowers.

For the edge of the border there's a smallish variety called 'Orkney Cherry' which has bronze-green leaves and vibrant pink flowers.

Another cranesbill we bought at a fair, which hasn't produced many flowers to date, is Geranium maculatum 'Espresso', supposed to be suitable for shadier, woodland areas.

I've now divided this into three pieces, to see if it will perform better in other parts of the garden. This year I'm hoping to see lots of white flowers, which would look fabulous against the coffee-brown leaves.

Centaurea montana

Bright Blues

Nowadays we also search for plants with unusual shapes as they're interesting to photograph... often more so when they're in bud than in full flower. 

Centaurea montana, however, delivers on both counts and I love the oval capitulum reminiscent of overlapping insect scales.

Centaurea montana - perennial cornflower
growing on cliffs and mountains, as well as gardens!

Aquilegia hybrid

One of the first flowers to bring in some colour after our bulbs have died down is that good old staple - aquilegia.

I did grow a named variety with deep blue flowers a few years back, but I think this has now hybridised with something else in the garden and produced a rather handsome cousin sporting three shades of blue.

Due perhaps to the wet winter/spring, our aquilegias are taller and more stately this year.  Well worth dead-heading to prolong the flowering period.

Borago officinalis

Something else which grows in waysides around here and might be considered a weed is the sky-blue borage, often used as a decorative addition to salads and Pimms No. 1.

This one happened to seed itself by the compost heap in our woodland section, where it was allowed to reach maturity undisturbed and is now covered in blooms. Backlit by early sunshine, it makes for an irresistible photo.

Anchusa azurea 'Dropmore'
- with matching swallowtail butterfly

If not the biggest flowers, those of Anchusa azurea are some of the most intense in colour, and obviously attractive to this early swallowtail who kept coming back for more!

These plants, which also came from Chiltern Seeds, were widely featured at the Chelsea Flower Show two years ago and soon became a must-have for cottage-style gardens. Ours are now 1.5m tall in full sun and provide plenty of nectar for butterflies.

A dry border edged with pinks, catmint and Iberis sempervirens

Early April

"When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim

Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing..."

- Shakespeare, Sonnet 98

"La Minoterie" - the old flour mill at Les Monards

These early April days are some of the most eagerly anticipated in the calendar and each little rainstorm brings a new unfurling of leaves, adding yet another fine glaze of colour to the landscape.

Caltha palustris
Marsh marigold or kingcup

Here by our neighbour's lake, the gentler shades of weeping willow and dogwood are occasionally interrupted by the brash yellow of kingcups growing by the water's edge.

The Latin name caltha means "goblet" and palustris refers to the marshy areas where it thrives. Flowers are a similar colour to the buttercup but much larger, with an impressive clutch of stamens in the middle.

Shakespeare referred to them as "winking marybuds" for their reflective quality and there are now several cultivars listed in the RHS Plant Finder. A must for the water gardener and a useful way to stabilise riverbanks.

Amelanchier lamarckii

Around the lake in front of his mill, our neighbour Robert has planted a number of specimen trees, including this lovely Amelanchier or 'snowy mespilus', which lives up to its name with a soft coating of white blossom in April.

Amelanchiers can be grown as a shrub or small tree and were originally introduced from North America, although my book tells me that they have now naturalised on sandy soil in parts of southern England and the RHS has given the lamarckii variety its award of merit.

Amelanchier lamarckii
- downy buds and bronze-tinged leaves
create a lovely picture early in the year

Thanks to Robert's son, we're now growing one in our back border so that we can admire each stage of development in close-up.

Not only does it provide wonderful blossom but this is followed by red edible fruits, which turn purple-black in July - and the leaves, too, provide additional colour in autumn. What's not to like??

Damson jam?

First blossom on our brave damson tree!

Although the above 'twigs' may look less than impressive, we feel quite blessed to have got this far with a tree which nearly died on its journey from England. Some good friends brought it over in the back of their car, knowing how much we enjoyed damson jam, but sadly it suffered a case of sunburn en route and we didn't think it would survive.

Christina planted the poor thing in her shady 'hospital' area, trimmed off the dead bits and generally treated it like a patient in need of TLC. Two years later it's growing in the open sun and looking quite perky!

Viburnum sargentii 'Onondaga'
- just coming into leaf and bud

Viburnums

Now is the time when it pays to have some viburnum in your borders so that you can enjoy its vanilla-scented blooms.

There are many different cultivars and, as this picture shows, their leaves can also provide some subtle colouring.

In the case of 'Onondaga', its leaf starts out maroon and gradually turns green, while the tiny flower buds are also dark red and go on to produce dainty white blooms, resembling those of a small lacecap hydrangea.

Cerinthe major 'Purpurascens'
- a Mediterranean herb related to bora

Annuals like myosotis, nigella and cerinthe have generously seeded themselves all over our garden and in spring we find ourselves pulling up a lot of these flowers in order to make space for something new.

Cerinthe thrives in sunnier beds and can easily cover up other more delicate perennials with its thick, glaucous foliage and rather tough roots.

In some ways it's a pest but we keep a few because the colourful purple bracts hide tiny flowers which are surprisingly attractive to insects.

A planter (or raised bed) made to accommodate our
spreading acer and underplanted with bulbs.
- Note the matching seed table!

Tulip 'Lilac Wonder'

Bulbs in planters

Once you've filled up your beds and borders (as we have) it becomes difficult to find space for bulbs like narcissi and tulips which require a deep planting hole.

Add to that the fact that our soil is full of rocks and it becomes a back-breaking task to plant anything!

Tulip "Ballerina" with
"Apricot Emperor" in foreground

Christina has developed a useful skill in making her own planters with planks from the local woodyard (cheap) or recycling the old slats from Ikea beds (even cheaper). 
Once they've been treated with a coat of flat paint, they look positively stylish!

We also have a couple of heavy copper cauldrons ("chaudrons" in French) bought at local brocantes, which provide just enough depth for most tulips.

Planting is a lot easier when using compost rather than soil, but it's important to feed the bulbs after flowering otherwise they may not come back the following year.

The "Apricot Emperor" in this picture are but a pale reflection of what they were last spring, due to lack of feed, and some didn't flower at all.

Glechoma hederacea
or ground ivy

Wild flowers

On days when the wind is particularly cold, it's better to walk in woodland where you have some protection.

This little ground ivy is one of the earliest plants to catch one's eye: it's part of the dead nettle family and has blue to mauve pea-like flowers, with heart-shaped leaves.

Apparently it was once used as a bitter additive for beer when hops were not available!

Ophrys sphegodes
Early spider orchid

Out on the windswept downs, however, our first orchids have appeared: in this case the Early Spider Orchid (Ophrys sphegodes) with pale green foliage and contrasting brownish-maroon flowers.

A host of these orchids have suddenly popped up in one of the chalky meadows overlooking the estuary.

It's grazed by rabbits and I did find one flower stem that looked as if it might have been nipped off at the base, but on the whole I think they stick to munching grass... 

A kestrel hovers over grassland

Wind-scoured fields on limestone uplands

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