sun sun sun

In mid-winter the sun is so low in the sky it barely reaches the garden. The one patch of sun gathers visitors to it at the north end and I glare at them cold and grumpy from the cold office door - "they must be up to no good to be up the back in this weather!"

Now the year has turned it is back beaming along the canyons of the city and got me right in the eyes at the gate. Won't be long before I'm hot and grumpy.

releasing the inner pilgrim

At the Stacey St/Flitcroft St corner there has been an ongoing and unequal battle for supremacy between a Potato Vine - Solanum crispum 'Glasnevin' and a climbing English rose ' The Pilgrim' since planting three years ago. They were planted either side of a brick buttress to minimise the competition between their roots and both have established well despite how incredibly dry it becomes here every summer. The vigorous growth of the potato vine rapidly reached the top of the railings and covered with mauve and yellow potato flowers for months is beautiful but its dense growth had become far too dominant. The rose has been much slower to get going above ground and up until last year had only grown bush-like. It has flowered well but low on the railings all the flowers were picked by passersby. The advice for climbing English roses is to leave pruning well alone until it produces climbing shoots and I managed to keep the secateurs at bay. My patience was rewarded last year as finally a number of climbing stems, viciously thorned whippy growths, had grown up through the tangle of potato vine stems to wave wildly out the top.

The potato vine has done a great job of covering the railings but in the long term this space is the roses. All the dense top growth of the potato vine was cut away bit by bit to free the rose stems from its clutches - the thorn free stems of the potato efficiently snag on everything causing whippy vicious rose stems to slap my face to a chorus of my own cursing. The potato has now been reduced to just two stems and tied in to have its new growth trained out along the railings away from the rose - I'll see how it does this year but it may have to come out completely. The rose now freed had the longest shoots tied in along the top of the rails at the corner and its lower bushiness reduced. This forms the start of a permanent framework of flowering wood that with access to light and air, and up high and out of reach, should be covered this summer in a long lasting display of large soft yellow scented roses.

early iris

Growing in a small clump at the edge of the path is Iris reticulata - I have no idea which variety it is and don't really care as they are all lovely. It grows with its roots in the sand of the path foundations and is baked by the sun every summer when dormant. It is clearly happy here sunbathing with little competition and it opens it's perky purple and blue flags early each year. Planted elsewhere in the garden as small bulbs in autumn they only flower the first spring after planting before unruly neighbours drive them out. Lovely in pots, left dry in full sun through summer, as is . . .

Iris unguicularis. This isn't a bulb but grows as a tight clump of dense rhizomes - a small clump is in full bloom on top of the gabion wall round the office. Given a site that is dry and sun- baked each summer it will flower reliably every winter opening a succession of delicately marked flowers. Like so many iris that hail from summer dry climates it grows only in the wetter cooler months, sending out new leaves and fleshy white roots with the first rains of autumn. The roots transform into brown wiry anchors and digging up an established plant is surprisingly hard work. Which is just as well as this has taken years to grow from a small donated division and I'd hate it to walk.

A presentation - late but better than never.

This is Miriam. Just presented with and proudly holding her certificate from the 2009 St Giles and Seven Dials in Bloom competition she manages a smile despite the cold - it's been bitter - well done Miriam! Miriam has been working on a cookery book in Tuscany and couldn't collect it earlier. She is 'Highly Commended'.

Miriam contends with the common problems that many of those gardening in communal spaces locally experience - shade, neighbours and landlords. In her garden on Macklin St she struggles with a very dark dry courtyard, surprise building improvements and over-enthusiastic independent interventions - her plants get removed and replaced with post-Christmas poinsettias (I understand her irritation with the last for similar intruders appear here but I have no need to diplomatically negotiate their removal but can rip them out with a cry of fury and throw them on the compost).

The recent round of building works at her block has been completed and she has asked if we could give some advice and assistance with re-planting this spring. The shade won't be a problem with the right plant choice and Miriam has realistic expectations of what can be achieved - success will be more 'green tapestry' than 'riot of colour'. I think we can put together a nice selection of shade plants to get it off to a good start and still be in good time for the judging this year.

out of focus

The high wall at the rear of the garden had been adorned with a selection of unmemorable graffitti, strangely appropriate tags by SHRUB and a disappointing Quixotic horse and rider announcing the Wild West by Focus. They are gone and something new decorates the wall.

Towering over the garden on a background of primrose yellow are now three simple figures. At a distance I find them cheerful and charming. Closer the paint runs are clear and they are melancholic and tear-stained.

I like them.

why i am a pig

or rather a wild boar.

It is nice to see that this winter a new robin has decided to stake out a territory in the garden. Visitors often tell me about their special relationships with friendly robins in their own gardens. I don't usually dissillude them about this but I am more pragmatic about the birds desire for companionship and am free of any 'mister bluebird on my shoulder' Disney expectations. I know I am simply a blundering beast, just another great hairy wildboar rooting through the forest, turning over leaves, twigs and soil exposing worms and grubs for the bird to dart in and snaffle.

I feel used!

the bench is dead!

The green bench nestling in the arms of the tortured fig has probably been the favourite bench in the garden. In summer the leaves of the fig enclose it and the apparent privacy encourages all sorts of business - it is actually overlooked by the Pendrell ladies who inform me of all the fun in jaded tones (they really have seen it all before).

During its long tenure in the garden it has collapsed and been cleverly re-built time and time again to evolve from traditional park bench to a battered green truncation. It has finally succumbed to the abuses of garden life and is now beyond repair.

The joints have rotted from within and there are concerns that some overly-nourished amorous couple could become injured. Despite my gut feeling that a concealed camera would be the better option, reaping financial rewards with a 'You've Been Framed' payment of £250, I have been advised by the garden management committee that it has to go.