Into The Wilds

So when last I wrote, I was planning an assault on the Wild Wood, in an effort to clear enough space for the fence to be replaced. However, I'd forgotten that I'd also resolved to keep on top of the climbing plants this year, until I noticed that the clematis was already sending out new shoots. (Something which struck pure terror in my heart after having to wrestle with it last year.) The wood was postponed while I cut back and tied up my various climbers. Most of the last two weeks has been about restraining a honeysuckle that loves our pergola a little too much, but that's another blog...

Flowers are coming out with a vengeance. My focus is on the back garden, but there's no denying that this raised bed around the front looks fantastic this time of year, with its golden flowers matched by the forsythia blossom behind it.

And in the back garden... a mystery flower! I'm baffled by this solitary purple-speckled bud that's arisen amidst the three-corner-garlic. I don't remember anything else growing there last year. I've not tried offering it blood yet (it's not like it's in the Emo Grove); we're just watching what happens....

At any rate, it's too early in the season to prune back trees: they may bleed sap. I don't know exactly why that's a problem, but it sounds gory; I had decided the prudent course was to infiltrate the Wild Wood towards the end of spring.

Then the fence contractor came round for an inspection and I learned two things: Firstly, I will need to clear as much space as I'm willing around the fence; secondly, that he could get it done in the Easter Holidays, which means I have two weeks to conquer the Wood.

Obviously, I could have requested a later date, but if it wasn't April, we'd be looking at late summer. On balance, it's probably easier on the plant-life to be cut back now, then have the summer to recover. Not to mention I work better with a deadline. 

 

Into the Woods!

I scouted around the fringes, lightly pruning back stray branches as I tried to assess exactly what awaited me in the depths. I still can't figure out all the trees, but I did establish that I have three different camellias.

One pale pink / white.

This frilly pink one. Most of the leaves are green, but a few are yellow. I assume that's a sign of poor health, but I figure if it's flowering, it can't be too bad. I'm still getting to grips with pruning... balancing soil nutrients will have to wait until next year.

And finally, the one that is not photographing well. The third camellia has no (visible) blooms yet, and fewer buds. It's smaller than the other two and not pushing back against the surrounding trees. I'm hoping it will flourish if I can give it more space. (In the mean time, the other two provided me with a Mothering Sunday bouquet for my Mum!)

 

I had always believed that the Bay Tree was the dominant figure in the Wild Wood. Don't envision a rotund ornamental in a pot. Ours is several meters high, a general on the front lines who stands tall at the intersection of the path, the Wild Wood and the Briars. With a holly as its vigorous second, the Bay Tree holds back the Briar's attacks. One by one, their soldiers hurl themselves at it, trying to spear a path through to the Wood, but with the bay leaves starving them of sunlight, they twist around and seek refuge on their own side again.

However, as I stood next to the Bay Tree and traced the paths of the branches through the canopy, I found my eye being drawn to the very back of the wood: here lurked the Alpha Tree. The Boss. Big Daddy Tree. Queen of the Forest. The One Tree to Rule Them All.

Honestly, I'm only putting the picture up because it seems weirder not to... but it was difficult enough to spot in three dimensions; two dimensions are entirely anti-climactic. The Alpha Tree is the darker branches, just in front of the fence and growing around another, weaker tree... I think the latter is still alive, but it's a little hard to tell if it's growing new leaves or not. It's not exactly a beta tree. More like mu or nu in the rankings...

At the far left of the picture, you can see the trunk of the Bay Tree, with a branch of the Alpha Tree  going steeply up towards it. The Alpha's branch enters the foliage of the Bay and rises up until it pokes out the top like a puppetmaster who's unafraid to reveal the strings. Lower down that puppetmaster branch, you can see a secondary branch split off, heading towards the top right of the picture. This one carries on for a good two or three meters, hanging watchfully over the path where we tread unawares. 

Finally (and least visibly) from the base of the trunk, two older, thicker branches grow low along the fence itself, pushing on the lesser trees and shrubs until they cower out of its way. It starts with the white camellia which grows into the next tree which grows into the frilly pink camellia which grows into another tree which grows into a second holly which grows into the third camellia which does not do much growing at all.

I had no intention of tackling that mess head on, and I certainly didn't want to go through the Bay Tree. The easiest path was to go around the overgrown holly into the Briars' territory, head along the back fence (which is not getting replaced, thankfully), and work into the wood from the corner. After many battles year, I am no longer intimidated by the Briars.

I had previously sheared off one side of the holly to get access to the back. Behind it was the cluster of palm-type trees tall enough to be seen over the mass, and (once I brushed aside some dead grass) a large landscaping rock. I've spotted quite a few rocks scattered through the Wild Wood, which makes me all the more intrigued as to what the original layout was.

Overhead, I found a rosebriar making a straight line for the side fence, and I used that as my guide (ungratefully cutting it into pieces as I went along.) I had more holly to cut back (this holly is not having a good year, but it honestly needed to lose weight anyway...), along with some leggy shoots of buddleia. Also known as the butterfly bush, buddleia is one of the more desirable weeds in any garden, but it's definitely a weed which puts out vigorous new growth every spring with or without pruning. I had very few nerves about hacking away at it now.

Along my path I found plants I never knew were in my garden: Stinging nettles (they have obvious drawbacks, but peacock butterflies depend on them, so I'm happy to allow them here); some sort of creeper that was out-competing the ivy, to which I can only say: "Respect." (With judicious apprehension); more prettily, periwinkle, which is an invasive pain, but I have a soft spot for that spring touch of purple.

Eventually, my way was blocked by some far sturdier branches of buddleia, which had transcended from shrub to tree with a vengeance. Finally, I realised that I wasn't just dealing with the Briars and the Wild Wood; the Buddleias are a faction unto themselves. Hulked-out branches spread massively over the holly and into the Wood. It was these branches that had caused the Alpha Tree to grow over its own subjects.

I've never before appreciated just how insane buddleias run wild can get. This havoc was wrought by just one plant, though there were two or three all tangled together in the corner. As I attempted to unravel the knot of them with my eyes, I suddenly noticed something else: they had a hostage.

Once I'd spotted it, I couldn't understand how I hadn't seen it before; behind the bare branches were the evergreen leaves and white blossom of a fourth camellia. The buddleia had caged it against the very corner of the fence, forcing it to grow erect but slender in its prison. At least it could face southwest, making it the only thing in the wood that was not competing for the sunlight. Despite its diminutive spread, it was blooming prolifically.

It is clearly visible from the road, so I have no idea how I never noticed it before. Of course, it would be a lot less obvious until the past week or so when it started blooming. The flowers gazing over the fence inspire the cliche analogy of a fairy tale princess in her tower.

As you may have noticed, I embarked on this gardening challenge with a determination to find adventure. I'm not passing up a sidequest when it presents itself; we are Rescuing that Princess.

To be continued....

Race Against Spring

 Things are growing in my garden...

There is no big display of daffodils anywhere. Instead isolated clusters are scattered throughout the garden, so on a walk-through, you suddenly come across a splash of sunny yellow. 

A technicolour primrose path has sprouted under the pergola.

Anemones brave the detritus of the Wild Wood.

 

I believe this is a hellebore growing in the Emo Grove. 90% of the year, it's just spiky leaves lounging sulkily at ground-level, but for a few weeks in late winter, it makes a supreme effort and drags forth this weary dark red display.

The end of winter dormancy has caught me a little off-guard. Last year, it was colder for longer and a dry, frosty April thwarted the spring growth, so the garden didn't get going until May. This year, we've had a mild winter and a wet February. I might still be worrying about late frosts, but it seems the plants are prepared to risk it.

My time of poking around the landscaping is over! Spring is the best time to plant, to transplant, to prune and probably a hundred other verbs I haven't learned yet. It's also the time to make sure the weeds are cleared back so that the less aggressive plants have room to grow, and that's been my main focus over the past few weeks.

Last year, I didn't know what was and wasn't supposed to be growing in any one spot. Greatly intimidated by the whole process, I didn't tackle the weeds seriously until May. I made a fair bit of progress over the first half of summer, but then Trog got sick, and I spent most of August inside, cuddling my dying cat. By the time I got back to the garden, the flowerbeds had been overwhelmed.

This year, I can identify some of the things that are growing, but it's still mostly a process of: "This is growing all over the place, but I haven't seen That elsewhere, so let's clear This away from That."

At least I am armed with the knowledge of which plants have the most imperial mindset, laying claim to every bit of land they can get their roots into. I spent a fair bit of the winter pulling out grass, ivy and ferns from the borders. Now that spring is here, I'm also attempting to restrict the aquilegia and three cornered garlic to just one area of the garden.

Fortunately, aquilegia is very easy to identify: it sprouts as these purple rosettes, which unfurl into frilly green leaves. It's a really pretty plant at every stage... it's just not very good at sharing with its peers.

In this garden, weeding goes hand in hand with archaeology. February's discoveries: a double decker bus, a dinosaur and a dog.

It's been a lot of work, and I do worry that it's a lot of wasted effort, that everything will just regrow from the roots and sprouts that I missed. But there's some hope: the one thing that I did manage to keep on top of last year was the dry stone wall that is our boundary from the road. A year ago, it was covered in grass, and I spent hours teasing that grass out from the rambling roots of the other plants—then three months later, I was pulling out the root-network of the hawkweed that I had inadvertently allowed to spread.

Grass is still coming up all along the wall, but these isolated clumps are a fraction of what was there last year and I can see all the different alpine plants spreading out. (This time last year, I thought there were only two different species.) While all my flowerbeds look worse than they did a year ago, the dry stone wall looks better.

I've just got to repeat what I did with the wall on the front and rear lawn borders, on the Emo Grove, on the terrace, on the gravel paths, on... Maybe best not to get too carried away.

Unlike my fence panel which got carried away by Storm Eunice. (Appreciate that segue! How witty! How seamless!)

OK, so getting carried away is a stretch for what happened to the fence panel. A rotten support post broke, letting the panel blow into the border on its leeward side. 30 square feet of timber vs a buddleia and a honeysuckle? Flattened flora, right? Not in my border. The panel bounced off the shrubs and flopped forward onto the weedy hedge on that section of dry stone wall—which fortunately kept it from collapsing into the road.

The fence isn't capable of standing up to the Cornish winds on that exposed westward side and this would be the third time I've had to get it patched up since moving in. I'm better off spending my money on a stronger fence.

But if the fence is to be replaced, it'll have to be accessible along its full length. Even the rear third. The boundary to the Wild Wood...

 

The point of no return. This is where the fence disappears into the Wild Wood and beyond human intervention. I have three months to reclaim it. 

 

Technically, it's accessible from the road side, but I'm worried that if I leave it, the fencers will just bulldoze through our wood to make their job easier. I want it to be a recognisable patch of garden so they make the effort to leave it intact. I hate having to sacrifice the wild character or the overgrown patches that support the native environment, so this will be a balancing act. 

 

(Please note, although I keep referring to it as a wood, I don't have some immense plot of land. It's widest point is only a couple of metres. An utterly intractable couple of metres.)

I'm hesitant to start clearing it out just yet, because there may be wildlife using the undergrowth for winter hibernation, but I have made a start at reducing the holly and bay tree that dead-end the garden path. The holly in particular is at least three times the size it should be. 

 

Evergreens aren't supposed to be pruned until late spring, but I decided it was worth cutting away on one side and the top in order to let light through. This also meant I had a path through to beyond the holly.

For the first time since we moved in, I was able to look into the back corner of the garden. Behold:

 

Yes, predictably, it's just a tangle of overgrowth. There go my dreams of a monument to an ancient civilisation. There could at least have been a mystic oracle. Sigh.

I think the 'trees' there are actually buddleia, so they can be cut back readily enough and once I cut out the ferns and briars disputing the territory, perhaps I'll uncover some feature incorporated into the original layout. But that's going to be an expedition in itself. Wish me luck.

I'll leave you with the latest update to our ex-lawn section. I had got flower pots next to the temporary compost heap, but I figured that if the tulips were determined to naturalise, I might as well try putting them in the ground. I repurposed the edging that we dug up a few weeks ago, bought a bag of soil and, ta-da! A flowerbed! One too new to have weeds!

 

Joining the tulips are a rosemary plant and some poppies I'm trying to rescue from a too shady border. There are no guarantees any of them will survive the transition, but there's always plan B: Choose my favourite out of the weeds that inevitably invade.