Not a Wordy Wednesday, or even a Wordless one (which I am useless at), but my first attempt at a GBBD post: what’s in flower in my garden on the 15th of the month.
My first reaction was surprise – surprise that there wasn’t that much. And then I began really looking, and of course there was plenty. Well, it is June, even though at some points it has felt more like March. But the few roses that I have know it’s June.
The rose hedge by the kitchen path is covered, and it’s also throwing out suckers like mad as usual. I can’t reach many of these without dragging them down towards my secateurs with an old-fashioned shepherd’s crook. It’s good to see that old farming equipment still has a role to play.
Next to them, the hardy geranium that covers some of the stone retaining walls is beginning to be covered in its turn, with flowers – oh, and bees. They love it.
For someone who doesn’t like pink that much (once a bit of a Goth, for want of a better description, always a bit of a Goth, I guess), I seem to have quite a bit of it in my garden. But there is a relative lack of sweetie-pie, girly-girly pink, so I suppose that’s acceptable. OK, my osteospermums are pink, but they’re a rather in-your-face pink, and they look fab against the bronze leaves of my clematis montana.
Things are flowering in the veg plots and greenhouse, but the most stunning is the bronze sage:
And there’s been an outbreak of lime green. It does look amazing against the slate, and is almost luminous once the sun comes out.
But the alchemilla is nothing, nothing compared to the euphorbia. I moved this from my last garden nine years ago, and it is beginning to lose steam (it used to be gigantic; it’s much more manageable now), but what a colour:
In the bottom garden, not far from the euphorbia, is a path lined with rosemary and lavender. This was severely overgrown – you couldn’t actually see the path, let alone walk down it – so I hacked everything back rather ruthlessly.
I thought I’d gone too far, but I was wrong. You can hardly see the path again.
When I began thinking about the flowers in the garden for this post, I didn’t immediately think about the meadow. I can’t think why. Today, I heard the first crickets of the summer… And it’s not just the ox-eye daisies up here, either. The grasses are effectively flowering too.
There are a lot of hawkweeds and other wild flowers – docks, sorrels, vetches, self-heal, clover – but the number of orange hawkweeds has declined up in the meadow, though there are still many in the grass of the bottom garden. Here’s one that’s holding out, hiding under the smallest of the three birch trees:
When I first moved here, some of my friends drove a transit up from London for me. (I had to hire one just to move more plants – the car was stuffed and there were some in the removal van – which was a little bit demented, especially as many of them had been bought here in Harlech in the first place, and taken south to temporary exile.) Walking down the hill to the pub, one friend was entranced by all the lovely orange flowers but she didn’t want to pick one because they looked so exotic and wonderful: orange hawkweeds. And she was right.
I also find the fleabanes rather fab – a mixture of subtle, a little sinister and interesting to examine closely – and the bees really enjoy them (maybe they have slight Goth tendencies too):
Just beside these, the fritillaries are providing their final display:
Oh, I know – not really flowering as such. But I do like the seed heads anyway – and they were flowering beautifully in April!
(Thanks to Carol at May Dreams Gardens for hosting the GBBD meme)