A much better shot of our larkspur’s flowers. If you’ve just arrived, I don’t want to boast, but the plant measures a whopping four foot ten — or almost as tall as Shana

Didn’t look anything like a camellia anyway…

Our experiment in growing wild flowers has been nothing if not educational. The more we learn, the more we realise we have still to learn; this giant fooled us (not always a difficult task, that) into thinking, for a while at least, that it was some kind of fir tree. Who slipped that particular horticultural mickey finn into the seed mix, we demanded to know.

Maybe if we’d been born country folks instead of townies we’d have known all along that this year’s garden superstar was in fact a larkspur (Delphinium consolida, FYI) and, believe it or not, it’s a member of the buttercup family. That’s one mighty darn big buttercup, that’s for sure.

In gardening, however, size isn’t everything. This little wild mustard flower is a recent and rather pretty arrival.

Meanwhile, our cornflowers are proving more and more popular. A day or two ago, I managed to catch this bee foraging for nectar for his breakfast. Today, I spotted two goldfinches busy nibbling at the seed heads. Hey guys, remember to save some for next year’s crop, won’t you?

Today was my umpteenth birthday and I received a surprise prezzie from our garden: a mystery flower hath bloomed. We thought earlier that it might be a camellia, but I’m not convinced that the leaves would agree.

Click the pic to see its leafy qualities up close and botanical. Any identification suggestions welcome. Meanwhile, all join in a rousing chorus of Happy birthday to me.

Look what’s growing in our side border! Pretty, isn’t it? It’s Silene armeria, or catchfly, so called because it has sticky stems that catch any small flying insect that dares to visit the plant without pollenating it.

Cornflower, known to country folk as batchelor’s buttons (or Centaurea cyanus if you’re trying to be a Latin-spouting clever arse) is also thriving in our little corner of England’s green and formerly weed-infested land.

Fellow weed growers need not think we’ve sold out, though. We still have lots of dandelions and a small patch of stinging nettles in a shady corner at the back; both are nutritious food for butterfly larvae and bees, of course, so our green credentials are as intact as ever.

More horticultural wonders coming soon. Stay tuned.

As for the title of this post, if chanted in a suitable rhythm it might make a useful skipping song. Try it, but mind you don’t trip yourself up.

Alas, all our scepticism has been in vain. Coinciding neatly (as it happens) with Chelsea Flower Show week, the darn things seem to be growing. In a few weeks we’ll probably have proper flowers and loads of colour in the back border, and we’ll be totally chuffed that our efforts have finally paid off.

Of course, it’s still not too late in the year for a frost…

Anyhow, if or when there’s enough of a flower show out there, we’ll take some pics. By then, I should also have a list of what’s what. Ask me nicely and I might even put some of the Latin names up as well. (Just don’t call me Linnaeus.)

In other gardening news: dandelions, daisies and groundsel still doing fine. Ho hum…

This year we have, therefore, opted for a more laissez faire approach to gardening. Some weeds, such as red dead nettles, groundsel, dandelions (which are actually a benefit to your soil) and possibly some spurge, will be tolerated, but nasties like chickweed and goose grass will be removed. I see it as a form of artificial selection, exactly the same as what keen orchid growers would do, but without the need to prepare for flower shows at the end of the season. Our dead nettles have already had lots of interest from bees, and we hope also to provide lots to see and do for butterflies and any other insects who fancy paying us a visit. (Please please please let a buddleia self seed out there. Pretty please?)

To anyone who asks, I always stress the educational value of a weed garden; botany, I believe, really should be on the national curriculum. As I’ve already hinted, it’s not a free-for-all out there: we are actively practising proper ‘crop management’. And, if nothing else, at least we’re preventing soil erosion; without our efforts, the whole town could soon become a desert.

Secretly, though, part of me hopes that some of the thick tussocks that have sprouted near the edges of the weed patch might eventually join up and provide permanent ground cover. What could be better than that — a free lawn!

“Yeah. Looks like the professionals have been working on it,” I said, unashamedly ‘bigging up’ Shana’s horticultural skills. (Note: it never hurts to heap praise upon one’s fellow gardener, especially when said praise may result in an extra helping of nut cutlets come teatime.*)

On this occasion, however, a misunderstanding seems to have arisen. Now, remind me again: which one’s Bodie and which one’s Doyle?

Footnote:
* Not that I’m hinting or anything…