Disarray. Rearrangement. Release.

It's strange getting used to daily watering again! This crazy lovely weather. Lucky us. The fabled Big Balcony Clear Out has reconfigured into a series of very brief efforts. So progress has been slow. But you know, every journey starts... Rome wasn't... ummm... and other such excuses for my idleness...

Anyway, patches have been swept. Much debris has been disposed of. Many many small plastic pots have been carefully stacked.... There's a way to go still but the bare bones are gradually appearing and I'm excited to see how much flexibility I'll have now. Some of the huge pots that were here when we arrived are finally movable, plants having either given up the ghost, or been so brutally pruned that they're released from their supports. With only one plant left that can't be moved I can now almost start from scratch placement wise. I need to remind myself of how much light and shade everything wants before I get carried away with the reshuffle - I'm sure I've been torturing some of them unknowingly.

This jasmine has been clinging onto tension wires at the front of the balcony for as long as we've known each other. Some overdue and ruthless cutting back has now effected a release. I think it will be happier in a slightly less exposed area. It's been pretty blown about over the years, a real trooper. I'm sure it's also desperate to be repotted and nourished - I shall give it a whole new world. The fresh growth is so bright!

More growth spurts over in the rose pot. This one is called 'Winchester Cathedral' or something similar. I lost the label. It's succumbed to various rots, moulds and bugs in the past, so I thought that cutting it back lots might make for a fresh and healthy start. So far so good - two strong new shoots are barreling up from the base. I would like to be ready to tackle said ills if they reappear, I'll look into it - there are obviously chemical options but I'd like to adopt some less poisonous weapons if possible.  Any suggestions welcome!

To round up a happy three thrivers, see the gorgeous green of my reanimated "Philadelphus Beauclerk" (I'm thinking I'll just call him Phil). It dried out completely last year, I thought it was a goner but look:

Back with a vengeance!

A tale of four garden centres

(I noticed that puns are all the rage in the world of post titles. So I thought I'd get involved. Sorry.)

I love a garden centre trip. I have really happy memories of them from when I was small - we lived near a large one - mum would let me choose plants, we'd wander around looking at everything and I was obsessed with the random sweet collection at the tills. There I had my first encounter with a kendal mint cake. They have a very distinctive smell, garden centres. Halfway between freshness and rot. But sort of delicious. Peaty and alive. And minty. Mmm. Forest Lodge, Farnham. Halycon days.

Since I've lived in London, I've usually gone to the Camden garden centre - a really nice place, and home to an excellent charity. Like most London ones it's not huge, but I've bought some lovely plants there. And pots. They have a good selection of pots.

I did have a brief visit to one of London's less salubrious options a few years back. On a birthday. If I had gone alone I would now doubt it's existence. Think I'd dreamt it. But my mum was with me and assures me it was real. Mum will likely appear a lot in this blog! She is my trustiest gardening buddy. Back to this unreal place. It's in Limehouse, at least it was. Hidden away behind the station. I don't know if we visited during a blip, but it was a bit like the Marie Celeste. Dusty and deserted. Plants either dead, overgrown or spilled. If we'd been prone to petty thievery I'd have gone home with quite a haul. While we wandered through this shadowland, we became increasingly convinced that we may stumble across the cobwebbed skeleton of the unfortunate owner, struck down and undiscovered in his forgotten kingdom. But we didn't. What we found, when we picked our way back through the tangle to leave, was a locked gate and a note in the bars (intended for those outside), explaining that said owner was in the caff round the corner, and to call for entry. Or egress as it was. Which we did. And once the happily alive old boy ambled up, we showed our gratitude by purchasing some twine. Seemed the safest option. If it still exists and you're in the area, hunt it out. It may not be the most fruitful garden centre trip, but I guarantee it will rate high in the realms of the weirdest.

And so to the original point! I went to a new garden centre this week. New to me that is. The N1 in De Beavoir town (an unlikely and excellent place name!) is smaller again than the one in Camden. But beautifully kept. I had intended to get some boring bits and pieces - coir fibre, compost, vermiculite. But 2 of the three they didn't have, and the bags of compost were too big to carry home. So instead I bought plants. Naturally. I'm determined this year to make a sensible plan for what I should get for the balcony, and then shop accordingly. I was also planning to not buy any plants until I've properly tidied up out there, and got things in order a bit. But temptation won, and I came home with a couple of new green friends. I was sensible though! I bought herbs. Herbs are innately sensible. Here they are. I've done a little before and after sequence for your viewing pleasure...

Don't they look happy in their new homes? And hasn't that sneaky switcharound made my hi-tech transformation sequence all the more magical? I love how the thyme makes a puffy little cushion. And the bay looks so healthy and happy. I also sowed some (slightly out of date but fingers crossed) chive seeds to keep them company.

Looking forward to watching them grow! And eating them. Which sounds a bit sadistic. Sorry herbs.

Grape Hyacinths

There are so many plants that I like. Few that I don't in fact. As with people though, its sometimes hard to explain what particularly attracts you to certain ones...

There's something about grape hyacinths. This one in particular. Shaggy and bedraggled foliage, elegantly pouring out. The fresh pure green against gentle graduations of inky violet. The synchronised leans of the milky stalks. The utterly humble, lazy friendliness of it. It's not trying to prove anything, no big show, no aggressive verticals. Just a gentle sleepy stretch. 

Also, they really look after themselves. Year on year they've bloomed, ended, bedded down in a quiet corner, and then sprang back to life with no encouragement whatsoever. Welcome back chaps!

Happy tulips. A walk in the park. Kind strangers.

I spent a lovely Mothers day with my wonderful mum and sister. We swung by the flower market on the way to Mums, and bought a huge bunch of tulips. I think they're pretty much the happiest looking flowers ever...

It's great to live close to such a good market. Lucky we were in a rush or I'd have done my usual trick of pretending I'm not going to buy anything and then taking home 14 random new plants. Of which 13 would rapidly die and prove to be totally unsuitable for growing in a pot. (I am determined to think before I buy this year! Research, even. Such a waste otherwise.)

On our way to lunch we walked through Waterlow park and Hampstead Heath. Thrilling signs of Spring all over (am I a massive loser?! I find it really exciting!)

The third and possibly most excellent plant related occurrence today was on our way back from lunch.

We took a little shortcut through some back roads in Hampstead, and something lovely happened. Some kind and generous person had put a box of small herb plants on their garden wall, with a sign encouraging anyone to take some. I now have a little pot of moroccan mint! Its a plant I've never met before - very exciting! I will think of that kindness every time I look at it. What a cool thing to do. Makes me want to put out some seedlings for my neighbours. (I think I will actually do that! Just have to grow something first...)

My new, free Moroccan mint!
Happy day.

Back in the land of the living

I love every season. Though a winter without snow can be pretty dull. Spring is special because its the beginning. The start of the cycle. Everything's coming back to life and it's easy to feel positive. The fresh green of new shoots is a big fat beautiful living metaphor.

So spring has sprung, and while I deal with the mess elsewhere, all the movable plants (just not the hefters) are hanging out on tables. My dad built this one - before he did, my pots were all on the ground and it looked a bit crap. No levels. So Dad built this little beauty for me. The plants are, left to right: (back row) A little japanese cherry blossom tree, some agapanthus, sage, and mint. (Front row) 'bacopa scopia' in a tiny pot, curly parsley, flat parsley, some mystery bulbs and a pot of orphaned succulents - they're making a go of it, just. I had thought both parsleys were dead but they've sprung back to life. Bonus!

This bigger table is home to another motley crew.

In the middle is a favourite of mine. I'm not sure of the actual name, but it's a succulent, it's strange and alien and has octopus arms. Its like some killer plant from a horror film, seeking out fresh victims. Even better, it's the easiest thing in the world to propagate - you just snap off one of the chunky leaves, and shove it into soil. The little pot at the front is where I shoved leaves that snapped off when I carried it home, 8 months or so ago. They've sprouted out into little baby aliens.

Front left are the floating lilypad-y leaves of an aquilegia, behind that a shrub - a "Philadelphus Beauclerk" apparently. No idea what that'll turn into! In the middle at the back, barely visible, is a slowly rising gerbera, and on the right, the start of some raggedy daisies. (Check out the delightful pair of broken chairs in the background too. They really add to the mood I'm going for...)

That's it for the small fry. Next I'll introduce the hefters in big pots.

Some amazing plants I saw in Asia...

I spent January and February in South East Asia. The plants I saw there definitely inspired me to work on my humble little balcony... It's great how going away can refresh your perspective on usual life, and get you excited to crack on with new things. I came back full of plans, I just hope to keep the enthusiasm and momentum up!

A small selection of my favourite beauties, for your viewing pleasure:

These spiky orange flowers were all over the garden of our guesthouse in Koh Lipe, Thailand. I love the graceful curves of the reaching, flaming petals. And the huge jungly leaves make a wonderful foil.

Look at this majestic chandelier! This drooping eccentric! Upside-down flowers pulled up like puppet arms around the edge... This plant makes me smile. Laugh even! I wish I'd taken a shot of the whole tree, not just a single bloom - it was incredible to see lots of these hanging off. They look completely anomalous! I took this in Laos, just outside a cave temple near Phonsavanh.

Bouganvillea. An oldie but a goodie. They remind me of childhood holidays in France and Spain - I remember loving how they're like little lanterns. And how the flowers seem to be made of leaves. These particular lovelies were pouring down a wall in Bangkok.

Ok, that's the ration of exotica for now. Next post I'll return closer to home. More photos from my trip soon though (including the mindblowing trees at Ta Prohm, Cambodia - aka The Lara Croft temple!)

The Plan

When I say I have a plan, what I really mean is; I have some vague ideas percolating... I want to make a proper little garden. To plant loads of lovely things and look after them and have a frothing, blooming, tumbling jungle of wonder out there. That's the plan. An exact, actual plan has not been set in stone, but that should make things more interesting. I don't want a blueprint. Much better to start with what I have and add stuff in, move it around and see what happens.

I've taken a picture. A few caveats! It was night, and our blazing bright wall light is cruel and unforgiving. It's just of the eastern/back corner. To give you some idea of the current state of affairs.

As you can see, there's a long way to go til this hits Eden!

A quick run over the plants here (barely visible!) - top right is a rose, called the 'generous gardener'. Top left corner is a small acer. My mum gave me that, it's nearly as old as me. Just to the right of the acer is a pot of ivy that can't decide if it's dead or alive. On the left is... something else. I've no idea what it is! It was left by the previous owner. It's not thriving so much as persisting. It tries. I think it's either some sort of woody climber, or a tree that's been trained straight up. I will try and identify it soon! Oval waxy leaves and tiny white blooms in Spring (answers on a postcard?). There's also a few gently bowing freesias in that pot, laden with soon-to-be-flowers. They smell delicious when they're out.

In the vast majority, what I have now is lots of empty pots. Empty pots full of possibility. And the odd earwig.

I've had a bit of a cleanup, at least the start of one. I've thrown out dead plants and saved any decent-ish soil, pruned and trimmed things, swept up all the dead leaves and general crap that's accumulated on the floor. All the smaller plants that look alive are now sitting on tables while I deal with the dirt and destruction that surrounds. There's a few larger shrubs, trees and climbers around the edges, mostly looking a bit naked and humble after brutal haircuts.

Lots to do. As they say, watch this space...

Hello

So, first post. Hi. It's late and it's dark and I haven't taken any recent photos so I'm afraid this one will be pure text. Bad blog etiquette I know, but I'll make up for it soon!

As I'll be mainly writing about my balcony, it makes sense to set the scene:

I live in an ex-council block, late sixties/seventies build. It's part of a 4 storey strip, red brick. We live on the 3rd floor, overlooking a couple of other blocks - thankfully not towering ones. Our balcony runs parallel to the living room and we have a lovely long floor to ceiling window between the two, with a door at one end. We're pretty lucky to have an outdoor area that's so visible and accessible. The balcony is about 18 x 7 feet,  has a 7 foot wall at either end, and the front-barrier (is that the right term? What do you call them?!) is waist high. When we moved here the walls around the balcony were red brick, but I've since painted them a creamy white. The floor is wooden planks. They could maybe do with a bit of power-spraying but I quite like the dirty darkness of them.

I've lived here for 4 years, and have gardened a little. I've had a fair bit out there: some climbers, a few herbs, small shrubs and trees, some flowers. All in pots. Some have lived, some have died, and some have struggled through a shadowy place between the two. Lots have, actually. I last paid the balcony some decent attention around the end of the summer. Autumn has since blown through, winter sent it to sleep, and now spring is wafting in and waking it up. The awakening has not been a Narnian one, I won't lie. On the face of it, things look bleak: browning, soggy plants collapsed all around, blown over pots, snapped branches. A melancholic scene indeed. In among this gloom though, rising from the ashes, there is a little life. Some old faithfuls are reanimating, and some more recent chancers are swimming back to the surface too. I've lost a few, but that's the way it goes. Nature can be brutal. And I, unfortunately, can be neglectful.

Back to the happy. There can't be many more satisfying tasks in a garden than stripping back the lifeless brown to reveal green shoots. You can practically see them start to breathe. Small and strong, pushing out into the light. There's not much else yet - the odd graceful unfurling, tiny buds peeking out, some new leaves.

I have high hopes though. And I have a plan.