Blue Annuals-3 August 2014

Sowing seeds is much, much cheaper than buying plants but it also requires a bit of effort at different stages. If you're like me, the biggest effort is remembering to water the seeds once they're sown, rather than becoming distracted by work or other pass-times, then wandering out to the potting area weeks later to see dry dirt and not one speck of green. Writing this post is part of my attempt to remember my little seeds, the other method being post-it notes and crossed fingers.

The green lid on the bottle is specially designed so you can sprinkle water gently onto seeds so as not to displace them. 

I usually buy proper seed-raising mix which contains fertiliser and fine particles which adhere better to the seed. I buy the mix, but here is a recipe for home-made mix. I sowed Trachymene coerulea (Blue Lace Flower), Nigella damascena (Love-in-a-Mist Blue) and Ammi majus (Queen Anne's Lace). The nursery from which I bought the seed states that you can "sow direct", meaning you just sow it straight into the garden where you want it to grow, however that rarely works for me, because you MUST keep the seeds moist, otherwise they won't germinate. Not sopping wet, either. Just moist. 

I cast the seed on top of the mix, then patted it down and sprinkled a fine layer of mix over the top of some and vermaculite on others. I want to compare to see if one method is better than the other. Then I thoroughly moistened the seeds and mix and placed a mini-greenhouse over them to keep them warm. When the seeds germinate, I will prop the lids of the greenhouse open to give the baby plants some air. 

Place the trays in bright light out of direct sun.

By H. Zell (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Nigella damascena by Louise Docker from sydney, Australia (Twisted) via Wikimedia Commons

Flower, Blue lace flower - Flickr - nekonomania

When life gives you lemons

Lemons are synonomous with the Mediterranean, but it wasn't always like that. It was not all that easy to find reliable information on the history of the lemon in the Mediterranean on the internet. I have read some of my gardening encyclopedias and hunted down articles and it seems that lemons were not known in ancient Rome and Greece. Theophrastus, Aristotle's successor and the first man to attempt to create a taxonomy of plants, doesn't describe lemons, but he does describe citrons, a huge, thick-skinned fruit that was either revered or reviled. Lemons are not mentioned in the bible, either, but citrons are. 

So the "lemon trees" that I found when I googled "lemon trees in ancient Roman frescoes" are probably citron trees, or even quince trees. Probably quince trees, actually. The picture below was taken in the Villa of Livia in Rome, which was first built around the first century BC. 

"Livia Prima Porta 08" by Miguel Hermoso Cuesta - Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Lemons were introduced to Europe by the muslims and were grown in Sicily by 1000AD. The ancients did, however, have vinegar and perhaps thats how they satisfied their taste for sour things. 

A year or two ago I hard-pruned my lemon tree and this year I harvested a ridiculous number of lemons. Now to use them. This weekend I will make a joue de boeuf en daube provencale, beef stew with lemons. I made a honey and lemon mask this afternoon, which is supposed to lighten the skin and fight pimples. My pimple days are over but it tasted yummy and felt quite decadent. 

I am going to make some lemon marmalade and lemon infused olive oil. For the latter, just simmer the zest of one lemon in 3/4 olive oil for about 20 minutes, then strain the oil into a jar or bottle and store in the fridge for up to two weeks. The recipe is from a gorgeous site called Souvlaki for the Soul and contains beautifully composed photos as well as great recipes. I will also make some preserved lemons, using a recipe by Claudia Rodin.

The bright green branches start where the branches were pruned

Lobelia erinus

Today I bought five lobelia erinus for $10 (Aus). There were no labels on the pots, so I'm not sure what cultivar they are, but one was a bluey-purple and the others an intense ultramarine, my favourite colour. They are native to southern Africa and I am yet to find a photo on the internet that does justice to their colour. Here is a photo I took the other day of a neighbour's lobelia. 

This Wikipedia article describes the different shades of blue. The ultramarine originally used in painting was made from high quality ground lapis lazuli from Afghanistan. It was very expensive and artists usually needed wealthy patrons to buy it for them. The pigment was often used to colour the Virgin Mary's robes in paintings. The painting below, by Sassaferrato, appears in the National Gallery's Making Colour exhibition, which examines colour in art. 

Ipomoea purpurea, or Morning Glory is no doubt classed as a weed in Sydney, but the colour of the flowers is divine. 

Cobalt blue pots can make a nice contrast in the garden. Might try some deep orange nasturtiums and sapphire coloured lobelia trailing from a blue pot. The Empress of India nasturtium is a dark, rich orange. Here is a photo from the Diggers Club website:

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need

The title is a quote by Marcus Tullius Cicero, a Roman consul, lawyer, orator, philosopher and presumably, lover of gardens. My last two sessions of gardening have been enlivened by a series of lectures by Professor Garrett G. Fagan on the History of Ancient Rome. Professor Fagan presents a well-paced overview of the long history of Rome and there is not one dull minute.

Today I planted the salvia nemorosa, perovskia atriplicifolia and nepeta "Six Hills Giant".

I am instructed to cut the nepeta to the ground after Christmas and in late autumn.

Rose feeding

I've read lots of different advice about feeding roses. I'm going to try the advice given by Magic Garden Roses, which is to feed in September, December and February with a four in one mix consisting of chicken manure, seaweed extract, fish meal and blood & bone and mulch with cow manure. I'll mulch with lucerne hay.

Initium Novem

Last year's post-Sissinghurst enthusiasm didn't last long. The other day I was casting around for a word to describe my attitude to gardening and T volunteered, "desultory?" I was thinking more of inconstant. Or sporadic. Months will go by when I barely look at the garden because I am busy at work or busy lying down reading, but then months will go by when I can hardly wait to get into the garden and I'll spend hours and hours out there, usually pulling out the weeds that have taken advantage of my absence.

Presently I am in gardening mode and  I hope it lasts. I am going to try and be more systematic in my approach. Favourite bits of gardening are: weeding, trimming and pruning. There is something therapeutic about ripping weeds out of the ground and snipping off ungainly bits of plant. Quite like planting things, preparing cuttings and sowing seed, but so often seeds have failed to germinate or died when tender seedlings because I forgot about them. So. New beginning, which sounds better in Latin.

Also starting Latin lessons learning about Ancient Rome, so I am going to make an effort to learn the Latin names of plants.

Last Saturday I pruned most of the roses. This included a radical renovation of the Cecil Brunner out the front.

I also ordered some new perennials from my new favourite nursery, Lambley Nursery in Victoria. Three nepeta x faassenii  'Six Hills Giant', three salvia nemorosa 'Blauhugel Blue Hills' and one perovskia atriplicifolia ‘Blue Spires’. All blue, because I am obsessed with blue at the moment.
Here is the perovskia, otherwise known as Russian Sage. It grows to 150 x 90cm.

By Andy Mabbett (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Salvia Nemorosa I, Rolf Engstrand [CC-BY-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Wouter Hagens (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Nepeta, otherwise known as catmint.

New Garden

Purple border, Sissinghurst, August 2013

Living in the White Garden at Sissinghurst has inspired me to get back into the garden. Before we went to Switzerland and England in August I had decided to replace the large garden bed outside our bedroom and replace it with a border and turf, which is more practical now I am working full-time.

The plan is to transplant the standard roses in the border, along with whatever shrubs and perennials that will also fit. I am going to do it bit by bit myself, rather than pay someone else to do it. Today I made a start, moving two buddleias from nearer the bedroom to a a spot behind the front fence, eventually the three bushes (one still to move) will make a hedge. I was going to pull the buddleias out, because even though they flower profusely, there are always a mixture of dead and fresh blooms on the plant and they can look scrappy.

Butterfly bush in Sissinghurst

I have always been ambivalent about purple flowers in the garden, because the effect can be dull and lifeless. The Purple Border at Sissinghurst, though, was stunning. The yellow rose-hips, purply-pink dahlias and dark leaves on the stone wall made a perfect, jewel-like combination.

Purple Border 

Stoned on cardamon

Do you know what a cardamon plant looks like? Or a Cinnamon tree? Or what turmeric actually is? I didn't either until I decided to have an edible garden. Then I began to think beyond the supermarket grocery aisle. Now I know that cardamon is a voracious beast that took me an hour to get out of my garden yesterday, but pulling it out was ok because of the sweet and spicy scent that enveloped me as I worked. My cardamom plant never flowered, so never produced pods, I think because the Sydney climate is not sufficiently tropical. Here is what the bottom of a cardamon plant looks like:

I started with one stem about two years ago and the bit you see is a quarter of what I chopped out. You can divide the stems and replant them and the plant grows very quickly, with little care, in shaded areas. It has lush green leaves and would suit a tropical garden. I am pulling mine out because I have decided to stick with a fernery at the side of our house. 

Scented gardens

A scented garden is lovely, brushing past fragrant foliage and inhaling delicious scents while sipping a cool drink in the twilight is the perfect way to end the day. Jasmine, gardenia and murraya all smell heavenly in the early evening and the white of the flowers glow in the dim light. 

I have planted cherry pie (heliotrope), lemon and rose scented geraniums and thyme around my front gate and mint near my front door, the idea being that ambrosial scents would waft enticingly around one as one wandered. I have found that merely brushing past a leaf does not produce the effect I had been hoping for and one has to be quite violent, stomping delicate thyme lawns and crushing leaves, to release the fragrant  and intoxicating oils. So I have decided to keep some cardamon, just so I can slash it down again and release its exotic scent. 

I spent about six hours in the garden yesterday, finishing the mediterranean garden, then clearing up my working area and removing tropical plants. Here is the almost finished mediterranean bit:

The empty black pots are standing in for more Japanese Box at the moment, I have to order some by mail. Behind the box hedge, at the bottom left of the photo, I will plant a hedge of lauris nobilis, a bay hedge. 

In addition to the initial expenditure, I bought another 15 x 20kg bags of Cowra White gravel (@$225), 39 x box hedge ($97.50). So the total cost was about $600. 

Incidentally, an edible garden and a sporadic gardener do not mix. Keeping up a vege patch is satisfying, but time consuming, especially organic gardening, so I have simplified the garden since I went back to work full-time.