Gardening in the sweet shop 
When I first started gardening, in London, I was a little like a kid in a sweet shop. I would visit a garden centre, buy lots of interesting plants, and plant them in the garden. Although I paid attention to shade and sun, I did not understand the pros and cons of gardening with London clay soil, and often chose inappropriate plants.

Lavender in London
My most memorable experience of this was also my very first foray into planting. I bought half a dozen lavenders, dug them holes, threw in some fish, blood and bone, and watered well.

The next morning when I went into the garden to admire them I found them dug up and ripped to shreds. In London you are never far from a fox den, and a very active den, with new cubs, lived next door. The foxes had been attracted by the smell of fish, blood and bone, and had gone hunting. 

Soil is King
I replanted lavender several times, but each time I did, they died. In truth, lavender does not thrive on heavy, thick clay soil, and it took me a while to learn that soil is king. I can plant lavender here in Oxfordshire, of course, just as I can plant sedums, euphorbias, marjoram, sage, aquilegias - all plants that tolerate or even prefer dry sandy soil. 

Replanting the sunny border
I began to reflect on this principle - soil is king - recently, when planning my new design for the sunny border. This border is in the formal garden, and faces south. It is currently dominated by mature eucalyptus tree and a number of mature shrubs. Once heavily infested with ground elder, it is now, after about 18 months of repeated weeding, only moderately plagued. 

Dreaming of helenium
Initially I had dreamed of planting it with drifts of Helenium 'Moreheim Beauty' and scarlet Mondard (Bergamot). But the more I researched those plants, the more I realised the folly of such dreams. These plants need full sun, certainly, but also reliably moist soil, and this is one thing I do not have. That pesky eucalyptus, which Mr P so loves, and those mature shrubs, suck all moisture from the sandy, gravelly soil, leaving the remaining plants parched. 

Planting for dry, sandy soil
So I bowed at the throne of King Soil, looked around the garden to see which plants thrived in such conditions, and replanned. It will not be quite what I would dream of, but it will, I believe, be both a beautiful and sustainable design. The bees, too, should be happy, and I will have plenty of herbs for the kitchen as well. 

So the border is to be edged with drought-tolerant and fragrant herbs, beloved of bees and hover flies: sage, marjoram, catmint, curry plants, and thyme. The middle of the border will be stacked with sedums in contrasting reds, pinks and greens. The back of the border will be filled with Rudbeckia and Asters, plants which also prefer moisture and can suffer during drought, but after good rain will perk up and flower well. I hope King Soil will nod approvingly.

A wonderful bridge between summer & autumn
September can be a great month for time spent outdoors and in the garden. On the hills and along the coast, the skies are often clear, and the temperature is pleasant enough for long walks. In the garden, it's the perfect weather for planting: warm and rainy, so plants can establish their root systems before the cold weather sets in. It's also a wonderful time to plan next year's great adventures - whether new crops (berries galore) or new plans (a kitchen garden). 

It's also a great time of year for colour, shape and texture in the garden. Here are a few of my favourite plants for September...

Shrubs
Abelia x grandiflora is a medium-size shrub with an arching habit. It's covered with small, creamy or pale pink bell-shaped flowers from mid-summer through to October. It really comes into its own in September, when few other shrubs are flowering. It prefers full sun and moist, well-drained soil, but it's also doing well for me in a sheltered but dry east-facing site, so you could stretch its reach a little.

Purple leaved shrubs 
Another interesting shrub is Physocarpus opulifolius. This has several cultivars, including 'Diabolo'. It is a tall shrub, growing to about 1.5-2m high, with wrinkled purple leaves ending in a graceful tip. The colour is similar to that of a purple beech (Fagus sylvatica purpurea), and is a lovely choice if you wish to create purple accents throughout your garden. It grows in full sun or part shade, and works well in the middle to back of your border. In summer it has clusters of small, white-pink flowers.

Of course, if you like purple accents in shrubs, then you can't go wrong with my absolute favourite, Cotinus 'Royal Purple.' The purple foliage become red-tinged as autumn progresses, while the pink-purple flower plumes are a sight to behold in summer. Almost delicious! 

Perennials
My favourite perennial for autumn is Penstemon 'Andenken an Friedrich Hahn' (syn. Garnet). I grew this in London, where it thrived despite heavy clay and a semi-shaded position. Penstemons are meant to be half-hardy, but mine are doing well here in Oxfordshire, where the frosts are heavy and last well into late May/early June.  

Penstemon Andenken is not easy to get hold of, despite being well-known as the toughest of the numerous cultivars. But don't bother with many of the cultivars for sale - although they have large flower-heads, they're not tough, and the overlarge flower heads often droop unhappily. 

To give penstemons a fighting chance, trim the foliage lightly in late autumn, after flowering, but wait until the spring to cut it back fully. This will provide some protection from frosts over the winter. 

Sedums
The other great perennial for this time of year, and for Oxfordshire soil, is the Sedum. It needs full sun and well-drained, poor soil to do well. There's a huge variety, from the small ground-creepers, to the taller, purple varieties like 'Morchen' (which can be seen at Waterperry Gardens). They're also great for splitting and potting on. I recently split and potted up several, and they're already ready for replanting after only 2-3 weeks, so they're a cheap way to fill your borders, or, if your garden is smaller, to add some colour to your patio plants.

Asters are also wonderful. We have too many of the washed-out pale pink ones in our garden, which are also prolific along the Thames this time of year. Choose, instead, some of the more striking cultivars, and consider visiting Waterperry Gardens for ideas - their aster display, along the main border, is amazing. 

Bulbs
Cyclamen are lovely annual bulbs to pot up or plant in mixed beds for autumn colour, and I'm enjoying them right now.

Dahlias are, properly speaking, perennials, but are generally treated in England as annuals, as they are frost-tender. I first realised their potential when I visited a friend's garden in mid October. He had mixed a huge variety of dahlias together, higgedly piggedly, in one long border, and the view from his kitchen window was a sensational blaze of spiky, starry fireworks. This is the first year I've planted them. My display is not a patch on my friend's, but they're still a real pleasure to behold. 

Last winter I planted hedges in two exposed sites, and some survived well, but several varieties did not. I thought it might help fellow gardeners if I shared some experiences in planting new hedges. 

The sites
One hedge has been planted to enclose the orchard. It faces south-east, and is swept by harsh winds. The soil is dry and slightly sandy; a clump of silver birch, conifers and willows swallow the rain. Rabbits have a large burrow nearby, and deer graze the area too. It's not an easy site.

Native hedging mix
I planted a mix of bareroot native hedging: field maple, hawthorn, beech, dogwood, dogrose, holly, as well as a few privets. I protected the plants with plastic shields, and watered them regularly throughout the summer.

What survived (and thrived)
But a good number died altogether or were nibbled to death. Those which fared best were:
1. Rosa canina (dogrose). The roses grew strongly despite the dry conditions, and the rabbits did not touch the prickly stems or green leaves.  These were undoubtedly the top performers.
2. Holly. Believe it or not, deer and rabbits nibbled all all my hollies, but when I protected them with larger shields, the plants recovered. They're slower growing than the roses, but they'll be a good hedge filler.

The ruined greenhouse
I have an old greenhouse which you could describe it as 'well-ventilated': it lacks a door and several glass panes, and the rabbits had set up shop beneath it, the better to bask in the warmth and snack on the weeds. 

But when a gardening friend pointed out that any growing space was precious, I decided to try growing something - anything - in it.  

Rescue efforts
Mr. P kindly removed the dusty old staging. I then weeded the soil, and as a short-term measure to banish both bunnies and weed, laid down some weed-suppressant membrane. 

Then I bought some large growbags from Unwins (Unwins Growbags) and filled them with compost. 

Now I'm growing salad leaves, and herbs like lovage and chervil, and hope to continue doing so into the autumn. I'm sourcing replacement glass planes from the local glazier to source replacement glass panes so that I can keep the greenhouse snug when the temperature really drops.

This year's success
The rescue effort was successful, and growing salad under glass has been a revelation. 

Initially I started with hot, peppery rocket, which was far spicier and sharper than any bought in store. We ate this in great quantities, scattered with capers and coated in dressing.

Then I became more adventerous. I sowed Red Mizuna, Mespoona, Lovage, Silene, and Sculpit (Silene inflata), as well as Chervil and Lovage. 

The Silene and Sculpit are an acquired taste. I like them, but other family members think they taste a bit too much of minerals and earth (or, less charitably, too much like a weed). The Mizuna and Mespoona are probably more to most people's taste. They taste more salad-like, and are reminiscent of mustard cress. The Mizuna, in particular, has a pleasantly crisp taste.


Enjoy your salad days!

A wild bees nest
During the early summer, I helped a local beekeeper remove a wild bee's nest from someone's house. The bees had been living above a bay window, nice and snug between the ceiling and the roof. They had been there a number of years, and their nest was about three to four times the size of a National brood box. 

Transferring the bees into a hive
Over several hours, Clifford used a large knife to slice up sections of the nest. He handed these sections down to me. I then crammed the comb (which contained brood) into empty frames, binding it with string. We slotted these frames into a brood box, planning to let them settle, and then move them into clean, sterile frames in a few weeks time. 

Wild honeycomb
Clifford gave me the honey, to repay my time, and I arrived home later that day with a 60 litre tub full of honeycomb. I had no honey extractor, but even if I had, it wouldn't have helped, since extractors are designed to extract honey from foundation frames. 

So I did a little research, then applied that old method, trial and error. I will spare you the details, but the summary, for those who face a similarly sticky situation, is this: 

For old comb, which is firmer to the touch, and darker, even black, you can squeeze the honey out of the comb and into a bowl with your bare hands. You will be left with a lump of wax in your hands, and lots of honey in the bowl. 

But this does not work with fresh new comb, which is soft and crumbly to the touch, and a paler colour. The wax is too soft, and will merge into one sticky mess in your hands. Instead, crush the new comb in a large saucepan and heat it gently. The wax will separate and float to the top. Skim it off with a large spoon as best you can. Then strain the remaining honey through a fine wire sieve into a bowl. You should then put the skimmed wax into a further saucepan (or container) and repeat the exercise once more. 

And then voila! Lovely wild honey - simply stacks of it - and lots of happy family members and friends, all enjoying honey on their toast. This cheers me up, despite my problems with my own bees (see previous post on Robber Wasps). 

I found a good description of how to do this from some outdoor folks in Oz (Oz outdoors). Looking again more recently, I also found a lovely description elsewhere (check out this link). But in essence the learning from my experience is that you need one method to extract honey from the soft comb, and another to extract it from the firmer comb. 

Surprise surge in honey consumption at Neats Home 
I was surprised to see even Mr P spreading honey on his toast. He'd never been a honey lover before - he always ate marmalade. Why the sudden change in taste? 

He smiled. "I never ate it before because it was so expensive to buy! But since this is free, I'll eat it as much as I want now!" 

Crab apple bounty
Last week I climbed up a rickety old step-ladder and filled my basket with crab apples.

The crab apple tree in the wild garden has had a bumper year. Of course, all the lovely ripe red ones are at the top of the tree, which is tall and hasn't been pruned in a decade or two. But I gathered a decent amount, including some windfalls, and set about making crab apple and mint jelly.

1. Fill a saucepan with crab apples and cover with water. Bring to the boil, and simmer well for about 30-45 minutes, depending on how ripe the fruit are, until the apples are soft and mushy. 

2. Place a muslin over a steel colander and drain the fruit for a few hours.

3. Add caster sugar to the liquid in a ratio of about 4:5. I weighed the crab apple liquid, which was 2kg, and added 1.8kg of sugar. 

4. Boil gently until the jelly thickens. Some recipes say this only takes 10 mins, but it took me about 30 mins. You can test this by placing a small amount on a saucer and leaving it to cool or placing in the fridge. If it sets lightly, the jelly is ready. Add several mint strands, and infuse.

5. Ladle the warm jelly into sterile glass jars, seal, and leave to cool. 

Alert! Autumn Plant Pilfering!

It's officially autumn, so I have been busy pilfering plants. By which I mean, lifting them, splitting them, and potting them on, or sometimes, if I think they're tough enough, just planting them straight into the soil, then watering well.

Herbs - Marjoram and Mint
One pot of unhappy, straggly mint, has been unearthed and split it into 6 new pots. A fortnight later, and each new mint plant is growing madly - vigorous, scented and green - and adding flavour to my pea and mint soup. 

From one spade cut, I now have half a dozen green and yellow marjorams, which will be planted on in the autumn to edge some borders. After 5 minutes digging, I have now planted creeping dead nettles, with their pretty variegated leaves and tiny pink flowers, in amongst roses and geraniums.

Sedums & Bees
I have also split and potted on several sedums. These are actually tough enough to be planted straight into the soil, but the clump in question had ground elder amongst the root structure. So I will keep an eye on them to make sure I've picked out all the elder, then plant them in about 6 weeks, into the hot border. The bees really love them (see previous post: Bees Love Sedum).

This is the economic way to garden, and I plan to do more of it. This spring I'll be running a seed and seedling swap at Neats Home, and I'm hoping I can trade some mint and marjoram for other plants. Watch this space, or email me via the Contact page, if you want me to let you know when it's on. 

In the Silver & Green Garden
I've planted sedums in the Silver and Green garden, near our kitchen. It is shallow, sandy, dry soil, and the sedums tolerate it well. 

Fat bumbleebees hover and then land on the thick flowers. I've seen two distinct types of bees: black and yellow honeybees, and larger, fatter, orange and black ones. 





Bee Pudding
This sedum, pictured left, is called Strawberries and Cream, and the bees certainly feast on it like it's dessert. Another which provides great colour - green flowers fading to pink - is the slightly taller variety, 'Autumn Joy', pictured below. 

Delicious! Absolutely delicious!

This year I thought I would be brave and try to grow my own sweet corn. I wasn't sure if it would be worthwhile, but I planted about 8 plants, and occasionally remembered to water them. 

It was well worth doing. Last night, we ate corn fresh from the veg patch, and it was absolutely lip-smackingly delicious. I couldn't stop saying "yum". 

The variety was a particularly sweet one - F1 Swift - and we've had long spells of hot weather, so the cobs have ripened nicely. In short, a successful experiment, and one I plan to repeat next year.

The local farmer has been busy this past month, bringing in the harvest. The barn behind Neats Home is filling up with straw bales. Apples are forming on the wildlings near the river. Mulberries are ripening on a sprawling tree. The wasps are feasting on rotting crabapples and raiding my bees. It's September, and the start of autumn.

The weather in England during September and October is perfect for hiking the Cornish coast path and Lakeland fells - fabulous blue skies, warm days, and cool nights. But this autumn I won't have time to hike up hills. This autumn, like last year's, will be a busy time in the garden.

What's all this you read in books - about being busy sowing seeds and planting out in spring and early summer? That's the fun, easy stuff, and to be honest, it doesn't take up much time. What takes time is heavy digging to clear ground and prepare holes for new trees. What takes time is shovelling, barrowing, and forking in manure, pruning overgrown shrubs, lifting and splitting perennials... and dithering about where to replant them!

In truth, I've scarcely been able to contain my impatience for autumn to arrive! Throughout July and August I've been reminding myself not to get carried away and start digging plants up and moving them.  It's been difficult. But now I'm officially allowed to get on with it all... so let the fun - and the hard work - begin! 

Happy autumn, happy gardening!