So much has been happening since my last blog! The blue tit babies have flown the nest again without telling me. One day I could hear their hungry little squeaks – Mr & Mrs BT flying constantly back and forth with tasty morsels (they were looking quite skinny by that stage) – the next minute they’d all gone. How do they do it so secretly? I thought they would at least need a few practice flights involving some crash landings – but no, they seem to master the art of flying in a flash.

The other morning I went to retrieve the milk and eggs from the doorstep, to find carnage awaited me. Magpies had dragged the egg boxes onto the drive, managed to prise the lids open and helped themselves to several eggs. I must have disturbed them because they hadn’t quite finished their feast – what a mess. We’ve got a cool bag now for the milk people to put stuff in, although the pizza delivery man was most perturbed – he thought I’d left my handbag on the doorstep. He probably thinks I’m a forgetful old dear with poor taste when it comes to accessories!

In case you weren’t aware, 20 May was World Bee Day. Well, they obviously wanted to celebrate in style in our garden. That week I was pottering when I noticed a hole had appeared in a flower bed that runs alongside a retaining wall. It was about 18 inches long and the same deep. I thought maybe we were experiencing some kind of subsidence and not wanting the flower bed to cave in, I filled the hole with some cobbles and gravel pilfered from Grumbling Rose’s store. Very quickly, bees began emerging through the stones – they weren’t angry thank goodness, just a bit stunned looking. Wouldn’t you be if someone had just dumped a lorry load of gravel on you! I spent that evening trying to reassure GR that the bees meant no harm to us and that we should just leave them be(e). I did a quick Google and found out they were mining bees. Anyway, next day, I was just going into my Pilates class, when I had a message from Victoria – had I got hundreds of tiny wasps in my house like she and Albert had? No, I hadn’t, but my windows weren’t open. Thankfully within a few hours they had disappeared from their house. The following day I noticed not only the bees I’d seen the day before, making their way in and out of the filled in hole, but also lots of what looked suspiciously like wasps. I neglected to mention this discovery to GR, but took some photos of both varieties and hurriedly joined a wonderful FB group – BWARS (UK Bees, Wasps and Ants). Very quickly I had the answer. They were both bees. The one that looks like a typical bee is of the Andrena variety and the one that looks like a wasp is of the Nomada variety.

It gets a bit gory though because apparently the waspy looking ones are parasitic on the cuddly bee looking ones. The waspy ones lay their eggs in brood cells being prepared by cuddly mummy bee. When her eggs hatch, the larvae of the waspy one kill the larvae of the cuddly one and then eat all the food left by the cuddly mummy bee. After a few hearty meals they develop into adult waspy looking bees. Like the blue tits, it looks like they’ve all flown the nest now – I don’t suppose they’ll be choosing our garden again, not after the “welcome” I gave them!

Brrr – there was a frost yesterday morning – Jack nearly caught me out! I acknowledge I’d taken a risk planting my sweet peas out, but I had looked at the night time temperature trend and it seemed safe. Then, for one day only, I discovered the temperature was going to plummet below zero. I sprung into action and swathed my babies in fleece and bubble wrap – they look really snug don’t they? Despite a heavy frost they seemed to be OK the next morning, so hopefully no damage done.

I found some very snug bugs last week – two lily beetles – I think they’d taken a wrong turning. They were on my day lilies as opposed to their favourite treats, the oriental ones, coming through bang next door to them. Fingers crossed they didn’t have time to create any babies before they were despatched.

I’m hoping that despite the arctic temperatures my blue tit tenants are nice and snug in the tit box. They’ve been incredibly busy, flying in and out with nesting materials. I wonder if they’re the same pair as last year? I noticed that at first one of them would spend several minutes tapping the inside of the box on a regular basis. I wondered what this was about – there seem to be a number of theories. One is that they’re trying to mould the box into a more curved shape – that would take a lot of doing with a tiny beak! Another is that they’re making little holes to press their nesting material into. I think it could be that, combined with maybe simply checking that the box doesn’t collapse when exposed to incessant hammering. I really hope I might see the babies fledge this year – I may need to set up camp in the conservatory where I get a good view of their comings and goings.

Talking of the conservatory – seedlings abound – some looking more healthy than others. I have potted some of them on and moved them to my outdoor greenhouses to get them used to being less snug. My February tomato seedlings are looking pathetic – I treated them to some fresh compost yesterday, so I’m hoping they get their act together and start performing! The March sowing looks marginally better, but still a poor effort in my opinion.

I shall be monitoring the night time temperatures carefully over the next week – I’m itching to get planting – although then there will be the disappointment of devastation by slug and snail to look forward to.

Yes I’m seeing red! Those pesky fungus gnats are back – buzzing round all my tiny seedlings. So, I ordered some more nematodes – they worked well last year. A week after they’d arrived I read the instruction packet and realised I’d forgotten something. If you aren’t going to use them straight away, you need to put them in the fridge. Well, waste not want not, I still gave them a try – so far no more gnats, but I don’t know what the incubation period for their grubs is, so time will tell.

I was listening to GQT the other day (that’s what we professional gardeners call Gardeners’ Question Time). The GQT experts suggested that a good way to zap fungus gnats is to freeze your compost. I don’t know what size their freezers are but this is certainly not an option for me! Anyway the compost bags have been outside in all the freezing weather we’ve had, and that didn’t do the trick. Actually, while I mention GQT, I was listening to an episode from last year, which marked the 75th anniversary of the programme. I tell you what – if I’d been listening in the programme’s early years, I would have been put off gardening for life! There was a replay of a question from a woman in 1947 about how, where, why, if and when you could use soot from your fire on your garden. The pompous male expert replied ‘that’s just typical of a woman, getting 5 questions asked all for the price of one‘. In 1961 a member of the studio audience asked how he could revive a rather sad looking Christmas cactus in time for next year. The expert replied ‘you’ll be lucky if it flowers then! That pot’s too big for a start …‘ The tone of the experts is very different now – they really seem to want to encourage people to garden. I think the earlier panel members wanted to maintain an air of mystery and be considered far superior to the average gardener.

Luckily my garden is currently a calming space, full of beautiful purples and blues. I’d love to say this was by design – you know, one of those carefully thought out colour palettes they talk about on gardening programmes. No, it’s just where I’ve plonked things – many of which were donations from Victoria’s garden.

Talking of Victoria – she left me a ‘doorstep hug‘ in the form of a miniature vase of beautiful flowers from her garden. Today it will be 2 years since I lost my lovely mum, so a hug is most welcome.

This year’s seed sowing has started – Lily’s been helping.

I’ve only assembled one set of shelves in the conservatory so far, but I’ve run out of space already, so the other will follow imminently. I don’t think Grumbling Rose has noticed yet – he’s just back from his latest skiing holiday and his head is already full of the next one. I faced a dilemma over whether or not I should switch on my two small propagators this year – do they eat much electricity? Anyway I decided to go for it, but the rest of the seedlings will just have to fend for themselves, because the conservatory isn’t heated.

I need to prick out some seeds I planted in the autumn but I’ve run out of my recycled seed trays, so I’ve been making some environmentally friendly ones out of newspaper.

The seeds I’ve sown already include cherry tomatoes, but in view of the current and predicted shortages, I’m going to try growing sweet peppers as well – this’ll be a first for me, so I’ll keep you posted.

My house plants are loving life at the moment. The two amaryllis bulbs I’ve had for the last few years are getting going – admittedly one more enthusiastically than the other.

My mum’s Christmas cactus, a precious reminder of her, is flowering for the third time this season. A few weeks ago I thought the oxalis triangularis my sister grew for me was on its last legs – it looked so pathetic. In hindsight I think it must have been using all its strength to produce masses of leaves and flowers! Two of my orchids are looking stunning – the other two remain in the orchid hospital (the downstairs loo). I’ve even managed not to kill the poinsettia I was given in November – it hasn’t got many green leaves left though.

I know we’re about to have a cold snap, even some snow forecast – but generally I’m feeling spring is on the horizon, not least because Gardener’s World starts again properly the week after next. Grumbling Rose will be on the piste again so he’ll miss the first episode. Not to worry though, he’ll be able to watch it on catch up 😂

When it gets to this time of year we’re bombarded from every angle by Valentine’s Day – cards, gifts, flowers, chocolates, meals – need I go on? That’s OK if you have someone in your life you want to spend Valentine’s Day with, but what if you can’t be with them, because they’re not nearby or worse still, no longer with us? There’s so much hype nowadays, all geared around selling us stuff of course – the Easter eggs are on the shelves already!

Now Valentine’s Day is a special time for Grumbling Rose and me, because it’s the anniversary of when we met – 47 years ago – just goes to show I have the patience of a saint! We won’t be celebrating together this year because he’ll be on his 3rd, yes 3rd, skiing holiday of 2023. You may ask why I don’t accompany him. Quite simply, I dislike everything skiing involves – the unwieldy skis, the rigid boots, ski lifts of any variety, not to mention the cold. Then there’s the rigmarole involved in having a wee wearing ski gear – in a toilet I mean, not in the ski gear – although it can be a close call, in view of the time it takes to partially disrobe, in a miniscule toilet cubicle. And as for the après ski – I don’t know how anyone summons up the energy after a day on the piste. I’m better off at home with my little dog Lily and my garden.

It’s at this time of year I start to fall in love with my garden all over again. We’re coming out of the dreary winter months and enjoying dainty snowdrops, cheerful aconites, hellebores, winter jasmine and the fragrances of mahonia, viburnum and winter box. Daffodils, hyacinths and anemones are peeping out from the soil and will soon add even more colour to the garden.

I’ve got several types of sweet peas on the go in my plastic greenhouses – I’ll sow some more soon, so in theory I’ll be able to extend the flowering period. I’ve also got a variety of seedlings in there making a valiant effort to survive. While GR is away I’ll be ramping up the seed sowing, making use of my indoor greenhouse, aka the conservatory!

Many of the strawberry runners I planted up in the Autumn are looking good, as are the ox eye daisy plants I grew from seed last year – they should flower this year. The garlic is coming up nicely but something’s had a nibble at my shallot tips. I potted up some cuttings from Rosie and Daisy’s salvia ‘Hotlips’ last year – the leaves are still green, so surely there must be some roots supporting them by now – I’ll have to brave a look. The geranium ‘Rozanne’ I divided (well more like hacked to pieces) also looks to be alive – a miracle, although the cuttings I took from my white pot geraniums look a bit suspect. On the wildlife front, the birds are very active and eating me out of house & home. The blue tits are checking out my tit box again, so they must be in the mood for love.

We’ve certainly had some cold and frosty mornings recently haven’t we. Now we all know that frost is created by Jack while we’re asleep. Armed with a paintbrush and glitter he works quickly, covering everything he can, so that in the morning we’re greeted with a spectacular winter wonderland scene. He doesn’t miss a detail – spider webs look magical in the sunlight and leaves glisten as though sugar coated. Jack’s glitter makes every surface sparkle. He even has time to paint beautiful patterns – he must work fast – do you think he has helpers?

Jack has a reputation for being mischievous. I wonder if he hides, waiting to see our reaction when we open the curtains and see his beautiful work or encounter some of his less endearing contributions. I hope he’s not sniggering when he nips at my fingers and toes until they hurt. Also, I could do without his habit of coating my car window, to the extent that clearing it, takes a lot of frantic de-icer spraying and frenzied scraping. He seems to know I’ll have neglected to carry out this task in good time, and will inevitably end up being late for something.

Now some misguided people say that Jack Frost doesn’t exist. They say that frost is a natural phenomenon, occurring when freezing surface temperature meets water vapour. Even worse, these people dismiss Jack’s artistic talents, saying that ice crystals naturally form the beautiful patterns we see.

Anyway, back to reality. Jack is so clever, he doesn’t just make one type of frost – he makes several, including rime frost, hoar frost and fern frost. Rime frost is the sort that makes leaves look sugar coated – ‘rime’ means crust, which doesn’t sound quite as appealing to me as sugar coated. Hoar frost looks like little spikes. ‘Hoar’ comes from the old English word “hoary,” which means getting on in age. Some liken the appearance of hoar frost to an old man’s beard. Fern Frost appears on windows when Jack sneaks indoors – he certainly visited our house when I was small. Those boring old doubters say it happens when the air outside is very cold and there’s moisture on the inside.

I wish I could see Jack at work. He’s often depicted as an old man with a beard – similar to the Old Man of Winter, but I’ve always thought of him as a male version of Tinkerbell, only bluer on account of the cold. In my mind I see an elfin figure, darting around my garden and the wider landscape, making it a sight to behold.

I feel I’ve committed a sin. Three years ago I bought a fake Christmas Tree – it looks very much like a real one, I think you’ll agree. The thought process that led me to take this action was, I admit, the Scrooge coming out in me. The previous year, a beautiful real tree cost me nigh on £50. The fake tree cost me £115. I paid £10 to have the real tree collected for shredding. The fake tree comes apart in 3 pieces and fits neatly into a box stored in the loft, waiting to be used again next year.

I realise I should have thought this through when I was feeling less miserly. Most Christmas trees are made in China, so the odds are that mine was. This means that on top of the damage caused to the environment, through manufacturing of the plastic and metal that makes up the tree, it’s then shipped half way across the world in a container, driven in a lorry to a warehouse and in a car or van to its new home. It’s not recyclable so when it finally gives up the ghost it will go into landfill. The Carbon Trust has calculated that a 2 metre fake tree has a carbon footprint of 40kg. This is around 10 times that of a real tree that gets burned or shredded after Christmas.

The bad news continues, and is in fact bleedingly obvious. While a 2 metre tree is growing happily away for 10 – 12 years, it provides a home for bugs, birds and beasties. At the same time it cleverly captures carbon from the atmosphere. The Nature Conservancy makes me feel even more guilty, reminding me that buying a real tree supports local tree farmers and helps maintain healthy forests.

Well I’ve done it now, so I just have to keep using my fake tree for as long as possible. Apparently the average fake tree is used only 4 times – now that is unforgivable – mine will outlive me!

I do still have my 2 mini trees, aged 2 and 3. They were the last Christmas trees my Mum and Dad enjoyed in their homes. The trees spend spring and summer in a shady spot and the rest of the year looking pretty on my front door step.

Oh, I almost forgot – I have this fake tree – it stands only 20 cm tall and is a family heirloom. This and others used to adorn the tables of a tearoom Grumbling Rose’s family ran in the 50s and 60s, so I think we’ve well and truly negated its carbon footprint. The spooky thing is, we discovered last year, that Victoria has one exactly like it!

Bugs & Beasties: Victoria’s found the probable cause of what’s attracting the badgers to excavate her front lawn – Chafer Grubs. Apparently they’re a particular delicacy where badgers are concerned. Victoria’s now converting a further section of lawn to a flower bed. Taking up the turf proved to be relatively easy because the Chafer Grubs had nibbled away most of the roots. They look revolting don’t they – akin to something served up on I’m a Celeb.

There’s no accounting for taste though – Matt Hancock seems to thoroughly enjoy devouring disgusting dishes! Of course Victoria wouldn’t use pesticides to get rid of the grubs, so pathogenic nematodes have been applied. They kill the larvae by infecting them with a fatal bacterial disease – gruesome eh? We’re keeping everything crossed it works, so that what remains of her lawn isn’t lost to chafer grubs, badgers or both.  

Birds & Bins: it’s the final garden bin collection of the year this week, so Victoria & I have been cramming as much garden rubbish as possible into our bins. Grumbling Rose has been enlisted to compact the waste as much as possible – he used a sledge hammer which seems to have been very effective. I just hope the contents will tip into the bin lorry and not be permanently wedged in the bin. We’ve also commandeered space in one of our neighbour’s bins (we did ask permission). Anyway while I was clearing dead plants out of pots I found a perfect blue tit egg. Remember we cleared out the bird box a few weeks ago – the egg must have fallen into the pot below – it’s beautiful isn’t it? Presumably the egg didn’t fertilise or maybe the embryo didn’t grow.

Brave human beings, animals and birds: we’ve been wearing our poppies with pride once more, remembering all those who’ve fought to protect us during war after war. Last year I wrote about my Great Uncle Horace who lost his life fighting in the First World War. I’ve been photographing some tributes I’ve visited over the last few weeks, which include the purple poppies, in remembrance of the animals who have served, and continue to serve alongside our military. In 2009 one Irish hero, Paddy the Pigeon, was awarded the Dickin Medal, the animal equivalent of the Victoria Cross. This was 55 years after his death – what took so long! Paddy managed to survive German falcons and the long journey across the Channel. The engraving on his medal reads:

“For the best recorded time with a message from the Normandy Operations, while serving with the RAF in June, 1944.”

Last week I had a dream of a night out with Monty Don – if only it had been just him and me. Unfortunately I was joined by 1,999 others. The venue was full to the rafters, which should be no surprise really. I, along with as many as 2.7 million others, look forward to watching Gardeners’ World each week from March to October. The episodes I enjoy the most are the ones featuring Monty, his garden and his dogs.

My sister, a close friend and I arrived at the venue with enough time to have a pre-show drink, and discuss Monty as though we were life-long friends of his. We wondered whether he would bring any of his dogs along, but reluctantly dismissed this as a ridiculous idea. We speculated on how big his garden, Longmeadow, is and realised we’d never seen an aerial view of it. Then it was time to take our seats and enjoy the show.

Monty entered the stage to enthusiastic clapping, cheers and wolf whistles. He wasted no time in letting us down gently about the dogs – they would not be making an appearance in person, but there would be photos and he would talk about them. He showed us a photo of his new puppy Ned, taken the previous day. Monty had left his office for a few minutes to fetch a cup of coffee. He returned to find Ned lying innocently among confetti – his ripped up papers. He told us Ned is the naughtiest puppy he’s ever owned but is too adorable to be cross with for long.

We were then treated to aerial views of Longmeadow – it looks vast – it spans 2 acres. I’m not good at imagining what one acre looks like, never mind 2, but apparently it’s roughly equivalent to 32 tennis courts. My back garden is, I would think, around the size of one (tennis court that is). Monty dispelled any thoughts that he and his wife manage the garden themselves now. What with his book writing, programmes on gardens around the world and the laborious process involved in filming Gardeners’ World, there simply isn’t time. However he does enjoy getting his hands dirty in the garden when he can, and considers it essential for his mental health. Having suffered bouts of depression over the years he also works to support others with mental health problems.

Monty took us on a journey, showing us photos of the garden spanning over 30 years, starting with an overgrown field, which he and his wife developed into the Longmeadow garden we see today. When they started out they had very little money, so everything had to be done gradually – they were simultaneously renovating the condemned house and the garden. He told us of an occasion when he’d been under strict instructions to spend no more than £200 at a tree sale. He was shocked to find that at the end of his spending spree he had racked up over £1k. He had some explaining to do when he got home and had to hastily take out loans to cover the cheque he’d written. He used the ‘F’ word several times while telling this tale – not something you will ever hear on Gardeners’ World!

Before moving on to his dogs, he told us about the £10 pony he bought his children – at that price he should have known something would be wrong with it – it kicked and bit, so was unsuitable for the children to ride. However it gave them years of entertainment because it would fart loudly for minutes at a time, and as a bonus provided manure for the garden.

Even if you don’t follow Gardeners’ World you were probably aware of the death of Monty’s beloved Golden Retriever, Nigel in 2020 – it was international news. He told us that while Nigel wasn’t the most intelligent of dogs, it was soon recognised he had a talent for working on TV. He frequently upstaged Monty and became a celebrity in his own right. On one occasion the Gardeners’ World Director insisted on numerous takes to ensure that as Monty looked upwards to the camera, Nigel did too. This was eventually achieved with the help of a tennis ball. Monty has created a topiary version of Nigel – he used Yew because it can live for over a thousand years.

Three of Monty’s dogs appear on the programme now. Like Nigel, Nellie and little Ned are Golden Retrievers and get on well together. Patti, the tiny Yorkshire Terrier, is ‘top dog’. Monty described her as resembling a large bumble bee who hates getting wet – his daughter bought her from a nail bar believing her to be a Poodle!

Monty spoke engagingly for 2 hours without faltering, making us laugh at regular intervals – I did shed a tear when he spoke about losing Nigel though. He left the stage to rapturous applause and ear piercing whistles. The evening went by in a flash. In case it’s not obvious, I loved every second of it!

I was so excited yesterday – I know, I’m sad! My Café au Lait dahlia has flowered – the bloom doesn’t look as impressive as the one on the packet but I’m still chuffed.

Earlier in the year I wrote about Mr & Mrs B-T nesting in our bird box. I never did see their babies fledge so I’ve worried ever since whether or not they did. I’ve reminded Grumbling Rose on a number of occasions that he needed to get his ladders out and have a look in the box, as we need to be good landlords and clean it out ready for next year’s tenants. This task kept slipping off his list, until today. A friend of Mr & Mrs B-T – a Nuthatch to be precise – tried to give us a gentle nudge. While I was doing my ablutions this morning I heard a lot of tapping going on outside. On looking out of the bathroom window I saw a Nuthatch tossing stuff out of the bird box. It reminded me of my Mum when she’d had enough of my untidy room. Anyway I went out onto the terrace to investigate and was met with a scattering of debris below the bird box. Grumbling Rose had no sooner returned home from whatever he’d been doing, than he was despatched up a ladder to open the box. My heart was in my mouth as I was convinced there would be a cluster of decomposing little bodies in there. I was wrong – another nice surprise – just an empty nest – a thing beautiful to behold – how many hours must that have taken to make? I was a little alarmed at first as my eyes homed in on a blood red patch, but on closer inspection this was just some red fabric fibres. The nest itself looked beautifully clean.

This set me thinking about how birds keep their nests clean. It seems many do, though not all (the slut birds). Blue Tits do keep their nests tidy. One way they’re helped to do this is that their babies produce what are called faecal sacs. Sounds revolting doesn’t it but actually it’s an amazing invention! I’d never heard of this, but the babies of many birds, including Blue Tits, poo into a membrane sac, which a parent (most likely the mother) then removes from the nest. This serves to keep the nest clean and sweet smelling to ward of predators and mites. Apparently some baby birds even give a signal that they’re about to poo. This set me thinking – there’s a definite flaw in human evolution here. Imagine how useful and eco friendly it would be if this applied to our babies and puppies!