Of jasmine and roses...
As I’m unlikely to distill again before the very first Field of Flowers Workshop of the season this weekend, I’ve given Hildegard a good post-rosewater-distillation wash! As I write, she sits baking in the sun, so her coils can thoroughly dry in preparation for the significant role she’ll play for excited participants on Saturday. She has a fitting view of roses in the Borders and jasmine draped over the pool fence at the height of its flush behind…the ridge of hills into which we nestle, our borrowed landscape in the distance on this blue, blue day*.
It’s taken some thirty years to persuade the jasmine to frame the upright ironbark slabs that fence the pool…and this year, for the very first time, the two sides have met in the middle at last!
It’s when the jasmine is at full throttle that sitting in the Hayshed (just behind) is positively divine - both from a visual and olfactory perspective. As it is too, when swimming in the pool, though I’ve not yet been tempted this season! I think the jasmine’s early, or perhaps I’ve become a wimp in my eagerness to embrace the still chilly water! To be honest, I’ve been so busy, the idea of swimming hasn’t even crossed my mind. Where once upon a time, the girls would have been pleading with me to go to the pool by this time of year, once they were adult enough to do so by themselves, my inclination to spend time within that well-weathered enclosure somewhat dissipated. When the girls were at primary school, it would not be unusual for them to have a swim the minute we got home and so I’d sit and watch them - glorious days (even if client calls and follow-up paperwork were niggling away in my mind!). But these days, it’s only in the summertime you’ll find me immersed there for short spells - and how I love to do so when I have the chance!
Funny…swimming pools became part of the conversation I was invited to host with Paul Bangay yesterday evening at the Potts Point Bookshop in Sydney. The pros and cons of having one at all, and their inclusion in almost every Big Garden Design (the title of his latest exquisite book). Perhaps as we age, we’re less likely to swim? I’ve always been a swimmer - and part of the reason we put the pool in here so early on was because I missed the daily laps I’d got into the habit of doing, during our early married years in Sydney (Olympic pool at North Sydney in winter ‘cos it was enclosed and heated and the Boy Charlton pool in Woolloomooloo in summer). And Nielsen Park at Vaucluse for a post-work dunk…sometimes! Just as the last was also an irregular after-school treat - due to being in the opposite direction to home and took a lot of pleading with my Mum to take us!
We put the pool in here at Glenmore before the kitchen! I cooked on a single electric ring for years…the early years at Glenmore may have been a step-up from camping but they were frugal. We recognised that in the longterm, putting a pool in would be a huge thing, and likely make a very big mess indeed. We hadn’t yet really begun the garden as such (so wouldn’t it be a good time to put in a pool?) and were still trying to figure out how to link the disparate buildings together, as well as how best to build onto the original house without destroying its integrity. So pool or kitchen was the question Larry posed? Everything else seemed to be in the too-hard basket (especially financially - building onto the house was out of reach…as was installing a pool!). But we allowed ourselves to tinker with possibilities of placement - those early days were such fun - all dreams and no commitment - a few stakes and a ball of string can truly light up the imagination!
Our early years here were drought years and incredibly hot. We didn’t even have a shower (only a bath…as there was no ‘wet’ or practical area in the old house). A bath may be romantic, but those summer days when we also had very little shade, were simply stifling. And so we committed to the pool at the same time as restoring the old Barn (that I’ve mentioned before became my Interior Design Studio/Showroom) and the old Stables that became the ‘pool house’. It was the best thing we could possibly have done, because installing the pool where we did, connected the old Stables to the Hayshed, creating a conversation between those two buildings and also brought the Dairy into play. The long pool fence became the backdrop for my first experimental garden as it was the first thing likely to remain a permanent fixture!
Subsequently, as Clemmie grew and Bonnie came along…it became a place we’d while away many a happy summer’s day - in the shade of big market umbrellas as the girls would splash about in the shallow waters of the wide platform, playing with buckets of shells while I dreamed of the tiny frangipani trees growing to a substantial size against the wall of the old Stables. These days…no market umbrellas are required and the frangipanis are just beginning to come into seasonal leaf!
While recounting that early time…it’s reminded me of something else that began right back then. A spontaneous idea that has, over time, become a tradition that’s only relevant to this time of year and I can hardly believe I’ve been doing this for 35 years!
It was around the time we bought Glenmore that I chanced upon a little book that lit up my world. For within its pages were enchanting descriptions of a way of life that resonated with me, though up ‘til that point, I’d not had the opportunity to truly bring to fruition. It was called The Scented Room by Barbara Milo Orbach. The Orbachs seemingly led an enchanted life, filled with travel and treasures. They lived in Upstate NewYork with the most beautiful garden where they’d sip lemonade on sunny afternoons on a shaded, picture-perfect porch; and had a shop called Cherchez which sadly, had met its demise by the time we were able to next visit that fabled city. But the book…left an indelible imprint and though I haven’t dipped into its pages for years, I know exactly where it is!
Somewhere within those pages, Barbara (I can’t seem to find anything about her and fear she may no longer be with us) suggested laying out rose petals in a single layer on sheets of newspaper, somewhere dark to dry. I think she suggested that under a sofa might be a good place and I did so for years! So many years that I would just add annually to a collection of dried petals in an old Berber basket that found itself living in the old dining room. As a result, the old house always smells faintly of rose petals. Barbara would go the whole hog and make potpourri…which is something I’m not much a fan of (I’m inclined to find it quite sickly and headache inducing) but the petals left to their own devices are completely natural. For the most part, they hold their colour and traces of perfume and once completely dry, make the most lovely crunchy sound when you swish them around.
I don’t dry every petal that grows here…perhaps I would if I could!! But if I happen to fill a basket in a down-moment (they need to be completely dry, so post-dew), I will. I miss too many which means deadheading, and can hardly believe that time of the year has rolled around already - one minute one is gasping with delight at the thrill of each new bloom as the first flush takes hold and the next…it’s time to deadhead; which is generally the last thing I do on a Sunday afternoon, so the roses are encouraged to grow on during the week ahead. That said, down in the Field I do try to keep better on top of the task and especially with workshops on the agenda - down there I’m beginning to deadhead each day (so better to do it if I can first thing in the morning and pick them new, to either enjoy in a vessel of some kind or…to preserve their beauty by drying them). On this score though, I do keep the bees in mind too, as each open flower is a food source for them, so I stagger the routine - sometimes it’s best not to be on top of one’s tasks!
Down in the Kitchen Garden, such lovely things are occurring! We may be heading for a hungry gap but I care not…the garden is taking a walk on the wild side which is something I encourage with enormous enthusiasm!
I recognise my kitchen garden doesn’t resemble the usual kind. It may have started out with a rigid and disciplined plan, but as I made discovery upon discovery, it gathered momentum…and developed into something else entirely. I’ve talked at length about the discipline that does certainly underpin its seasonal cycle, but it’s the romantic vision that can be created by allowing plants to travel their full cycle, from seed to seed, that captures my heart.
One of the things I love most about the kitchen garden is that it truly never looks the same two years in a row…it may resemble something along similar lines but it will never be an absolute replica of any season past. And with each new season, I’ll likely make a new discovery, which will bring a hitherto unknown burst of delight.
This year, the discovery is what occurs when you allow a giant Black Spanish Radish to flower! I can’t say I was thrilled with the eating (but then we’re not huge radish fans anyway) but I left one in the ground for fun…to see what it would do. And what it has done, is explode into the most wondrous froth of tiny white flowers that are developing into substantial seedpods. As soon as the summer shade framework was up, I tied its big stem onto one of the poles where it’s softening the edges of that otherwise newly planted bed, filtering the early sun from fragile lettuces at its feet and bringing in the bees. I hope to collect the seed and put it to good use next season…now I’ve discovered it, it will make a lovely, additional companion in years to come.
Elsewhere, the Kitchen Garden is a riot. The fennel flowers are developing and carrot flowers too. The perpetual spinach has mostly gone to seed and is abundant, both in vision and olfactory punch - truly, the aroma swamping the Kitchen Garden right now is so strong…and it’s the freshly brewing spinach seed that is the culprit!
But amidst the riot, I’ve been planting in an orderly fashion: the leafy green bed a slow but steady process that took much of Saturday afternoon, by the time I’d sieved barrow loads of compost…enough to pop into each seedling’s hole and to infill around each planting…effectively covering the entire bed with fresh compost (and mulch) by the time I’d finished. This effort should set us in good stead for a few weeks hence, whilst the ones already in the ground that I planted as an infill crop are feeding us now.
A more gentle weekend job was pulling out all the spent Kitchen Garden Poppies…the smaller mauve coloured ones that I allow to romp through the late winter/spring garden (not the huge peony poppies I’ve told you about lately at great length!) where they bring in a multitude of bees. I like to save the best of the pods, which does mean leaving them in the ground where they begin to look quite tatty and by the time they reach the point of collection I cannot wait to pull them out. I need to wait though, for their little ‘hats’ to pop. This means the seed inside is dry. I’ve saved several cans’ worth now - so I can use them as little ‘poppy-seed-shakers’ which is fun, but also means I have seed to scatter next year (and to share) whilst all the stems and seed I didn’t save is well-buried in the compost, away from the birds.
On Monday morning, I naughtily took to the garden down the back, rather than my desk - but a sense of urgency had gripped me: I foresee lost weekends to workshops ahead; and seasonal tasks wait for no man! With the words timing is the essence ringing in my head, I first pulled the garlic which was not enjoying the big dry we seem to have fallen into. I pulled out all the tomato stakes I use for the main San Marzano crop down the back and having noticed some of the Dahlias were beginning to shoot in their pots that have been stored since the autumn, cleared another bed (this one with Thalia - I’d already made a start at the weekend) and began to mark out their new position.
How I love the speed with which one can make serious impact with this kind of gardening! Out with the old…off to the compost it goes, then in with the new - a few stakes and a few hours later, hey presto…we had complete transformation. Well…I’ll show you the actual completed transformation next week because…having marked out the position of the stakes with the reo-panels on the ground, we then removed them in order to add compost, plant the Dahlias and cover with mulch, but haven’t since had time to tie the panels into position where they will act as support for the stems to grow through. I’ll tell you more about this as soon as I’ve had a chance to tie them on!
I haven’t yet planted the tomatoes, but the key thing is to get the structures in place and the soil prepared. After that, everything’s a cinch! I do intend to plant the tomatoes this Sunday…they really need to be planted now as they’re looking stressed and their roots have reached the bottom of the long tubes: which should mean they will grow like billy-o the minute they get into the good earth.
The garlic crop isn’t bad. I’ve had better…there are too many tiddly ones which make for fiddly time in the kitchen. But equally, there are some great big bruisers! And a whole lot that are in-between in size. I’ve laid them all out momentarily on a sheet of wire that’s resting over a wheelbarrow so they have some airflow. I brushed off most of the soil and they can stay like this ‘til I have a moment to grade them, tie them into bunches and hang them from a rafter in the potting shed. On the whole it’s not too bad a crop…and there are well over 200 hundred of them (I lost count when I was interrupted!).
We’ve had some fabulous produce this week! I pulled a lot of beetroot when I made way for bean wigwams and picked a good haul of rhubarb. There are some fabulous parsnips coming - I pulled a couple that were absolute beauties and the mulberries just keep on ripening.
And on that note I’ll wind up for this week. Although I’m a day ahead of schedule it’s on purpose, because I need to spend tomorrow preparing for Saturday’s Field of Flowers Workshop - the first of the season. Although those days are small in number of participants, they are big on preparation. And as I haven’t run one since last year, I need to thoroughly think through every single element so as not to miss one tiny thing!
And, as I’ve spent many hours this week preparing for yesterday evening’s conversation with Paul Bangay in celebration of his beautiful new book BIG GARDEN DESIGN, (Thames and Hudson Australia and New Zealand) other happenings this week are a bit thin on the ground! Although a small event at the Potts Point Bookshop which was truly lovely…it’s not as though one can just waltz in and wing it (even if that is what ultimately occurs…it couldn’t without hours of reading and pondering and note making beforehand!). I couldn’t recommend with more zeal that you put Paul’s latest book on your Christmas wish-list. Combined with his last, A Life in Garden Design, they make for such a handsome pigeon-pair…and having read the first, makes absorbing the next an insightful extension to the journey that is Paul’s life…seen through his gardens. The man is a delight, his gardens mesmeric…and a very long way from the one we’ve made here at Glenmore House!
Sending warmest wishes as always.
Mickey x
*By the time of editing this evening, it’s all grey and thundery…if only it would pour!
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Lemons (stored now rather than on the tree!), rhubarb, mulberry. Broad beans, peas (last), parsnip, beetroot, globe artichoke, asparagus. Leaves of all kinds - coloured chard, warrigal greens, lettuce, leeks. Fennel fronds, parsley (going), mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, nasturtium and calendula petals, borage and chive flowers
And…the dried Speckled Cranberry Borlotti Beans! (where would we be without them?)
Going / gone: lemons (plenty in store though), broad beans, peas, cape gooseberry, kale, radicchio, parsley, coriander. The spinach has expired and kale too.
Seed saving: peas, kitchen garden poppy, mustard leaf Red Elk
Sowing: beetroot, parsnip, carrot, beans, corn, zucchini, cucumber, watermelon, rockmelon, rocket, parsley, basil, sunflower and zinnia. I sowed seed of my favourite basil Genovese into punnets last weekend and they’re on the heat mat in hope of good germination.
Planting: lettuce and as soon as I have a chance now I’ll plant tomatoes, aubergines, capsicums, cucumbers (a few are already in) and zucchini seedlings
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: Sweet peas, roses, philadelphus, solandra
Perfumes and aromas: Rosa brunonii, Chinese star jasmine, philadelphus and roses of all kinds are the current heroes, alongside the near constant, resinous, Cistus ladanifer. The Perpetual spinach in the kitchen garden is on high olfactory volume
Pruning and other: I took to the nameless Echium (I think it arrived of its own accord - it isn’t the Pride of Madeira which I once had growing there, nor is it the beautiful pink Echium virescens in the Borders) in the Barn Garden which had flopped and was looking a huge mess, as well as interfering with my view of the exquisite Canary Island Foxgloves which are only in their second year and I’m hoping will build to a substantial pool of spires in future years. Aside from Monday’s structure building, compost barrowing and dahlia planting, Thalia has been slowly working her way through the Lavender dentata at the Dairy and as I suggested last week…there soon won’t be much left! With this particular variety I insist on going in hard…so all the messy twigs are removed and only gnarly old stubs displaying tiny new leaf pairs are left. It will look ugly for a few weeks but it’s how I’ve kept them going all these years. Next…it’s the same for the ones atop the drystone wall on the drive!
I had a good smell while I was deadheading them in preparation for tomorrow!!!! :)))
Oh Meridie you are a kindred spirit! I do also have Simply Flowers...although somehow it wasn't quite the same as The Scented Room! How funny...do you have any idea what became of the author? I wonder if you ever managed to visit Cherchez? Isn't this fun? X