I heart my meadow

I do, I really do.

Ever since I made the decision – inspired by laziness and a dislike of either floppy, browning dying back, chopped off or tied back daffodil leaves – to just let the top garden go for it, I have not regretted it for a second. OK, sometimes I might express the odd doubt (generally when the rain has flattened the grasses) and occasionally I might swear about it (either during the Great September Strim or when Next Door’s *?4£!!*%! Cat has created feline crop circles in it), but I don’t regret it. And this year the daffs have been great,

daffs

and I have – so far – picked or dead-headed just over 600. If you’ve followed Beangenie for a while you’ll know I’m a bit sad and count my daffs; if you’re newish… well, welcome to the madhouse, but I’m not as bonkers [IMO; they’re so small] as some people I know who count their snowdrops.

As of now, most of what I group together as the ‘big yellows’ (even though some of them aren’t that big, really, and they do come in several varieties) have finished and it’s the turn of the whites. Somewhere I have a list of all the ones I have planted, but I also inherited many and, as a result of not knowing what half of them were in the first place, and having lost the list in the second place, I cannot name every single one (bad gardener). But I love them all.

gorgeous

The weather has had some very strange effects; the dampness brought out the snails and slugs earlier than usual, and I lost many daffs to their slimy unpleasantness before I really realised what was happening. But I can’t slug-pellet an entire meadow, even a relatively small one, so I have to rely on the thrushes doing their bit. To date I’ve only seen a couple, so they’re not making much of an impression. And now the little flies are out, though I daresay the current cold snap might kill them off. But at least they don’t do too much damage.

fly on top

(Can’t spot it? It’s balanced on the top petal.) They do seem to enjoy basking like the one below; I’m sure the paler petals reflect the heat.

basking

It’s not just daffs (oh, all right, narcissi) which brighten the meadow. I seem to have a lot of white fritillaries this year, more than in the past. This is curious, though it could just be – as it were – a sampling error: some of my predominantly purple clumps didn’t appear this year or were blind (and some have been eaten). I don’t think they liked the hideously wet December. But the whites are stunning too and, as a bonus, I do seem to have some new clumps forming.

white fritillaries

The primroses, as always, are amazing; they have shrugged off damp December and don’t give a stuff about threatened snowstorms in late April – I can see it snowing out over Cardigan Bay, but happily that seems to be where it’s staying, fingers crossed. The bay tree isn’t bothered, either; it doesn’t even seem to have suffered from storm damage. The odd brown tip to a leaf, but hey.

bay flowering

I’ve got another one in a large pot that needs to go out. Since they seem to shrug off the weather so effectively, I think it can be an addition to the top garden / meadow boundary. We keep the existing one in trim, but at about eight feet; the ex-pot bay can join in.

And there are some more changes afoot, with more of my grass/moss/creeping thyme/sort-of green stuff in the bottom garden being incorporated into beds. But not here. Here, up in the meadow and for a couple more weeks, it’s the realm of the daffodil. Oh, I know. Narcissus…

narcissi

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9 thoughts on “I heart my meadow

  1. Janet/Plantaliscious

    Your meadow is fab, definitely an excellent decision, but you are bonkers with your counting 😉 The Bay tree will be an excellent addition, I’m about to hack mine back to more manageable proportions. As for the white fritillaries, not sure I can forgive you for those. I still only have the two. And lovely as they are, v they are pink. I wanted lots of both…

    Reply
    1. kate Post author

      It seems to have been an odd year for fritillaries, so don’t give up hope… Mind you, mice dealy love them so perhaps I should just post you Next Door’s Cat (before his urge to create crop circles overwhelms him again). Just a suggestion…

      Reply
  2. Anna

    Your meadow looks a most special spot Kate. I think that I can guess who is bonkers enough to count snowdrops but I won’t name her in public 🙂

    Reply
    1. kate Post author

      It is a lovely meadow, and this year it loks as though there might be quite a lot of ox-eye daisies. Might have to start countng those too… 😉

      Ho ho ho, very tactful on the snowdrops! (But I must say that I know of a couple, not just one…)

      Reply
  3. Reclaiming Paradise

    Lovely – I’ve just turned a bit of damp mossy, unrepentent lawn into a ‘meadow’ by filling it up with snowdrops and primroses. I don’t count my daffodils (or snowdrops) but I do love them

    Reply
    1. kate Post author

      That’s how it starts. Next thing you know, itwill be five feet high and noisy with crickets. Providing it stops snowing, that is…

      Reply
  4. Angie

    I planted 25 white Fritillaria bulbs back in autumn and only 2 appeared. I wonder if they packed their bags and travelled South!
    Nice images, really cheerful just like this post.

    Reply
    1. kate Post author

      If it’s any comfort, I have taken ten years to get my fritillaries to increase. About a couple of years ago they started popping up where we’d definitely NOT planted them – very mysterious. Yours might be equally bizarre…

      Reply

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