Happy New Year

A very belated happy New Year to you all. And I feel that it is one. Despite the dreadful, dreadful weather. Looking at my November blog it was not much better around then either. But we did have a beautiful sunrise this morning, and spring is starting to stir, just in time for a winter blast. The catkins are already showing, some of my primroses are out, and I saw the first snowdrops yesterday. There are some plus sides with this weather..... (really). The water on the spider's webs is stunning; we shouldn't have hosepipe bans this summer; and many of my ferns have survived the winter - so far. But on a more serious note. How do people live in cities and keep sane when the weather is like this? At least we have the countryside to look at as we drive or walk around. In cities there is very little indeed, unless you have a back garden (and increasingly these are paved over); a park to look out on or a common. Certainly the elements do not have to be braved in the same way since you can walk from bus, train, taxi from door to office or shop and back again. But with this grey sky, grey light, and grey buildings I think that I would simply give up the will to live...... So despite the miserable weather, I would rather get soaking wet on a windy day sloshing through mud and puddles out in the countryside, then live my days cocooned in a grey city.....

Something yellow?

I believe it is called the 'sun' and it made an appearance today - at last. That and an absolute stonking frost. So the lanes are skating rinks, the last of the leaves have gone from my apple tree and the birds are starting to look hungry. I have seen more fieldfares and redwings this autumn/winter than I have seen for a long time but then the winds are in the right direction. And we have also been visited by that delightful small bird, the firecrest, who has been searching up and down my apple tree for the small insects it loves to dine on. My favourite winter plant Cornus, Midwinter Fire is just coming into its own. The leaves go a delightful, bright pale yellow (sounds a direct contradiction in terms but isn't) and its stems are the most stunning orangey red. I use it in virtually every planting that I do as I find its cheerful stems, and the fact that it does not get as large as other Cornus an invaluable addition to the winter garden. As it is now pitch dark I cannot post a picture, but I will endeavour to do so in the next few days when hopefully we will have some more sunshine!

At last.....

Well it took 4 years almost to the day of sheer bloody minded determination. I never in my wildest imagining thought it would take that long, and cause so much heart ache. But then I also underestimated the impact it had. I am talking about the Combat Stress Therapeutic Garden, the concept for which I first had in August 2008 when I approached Toby Elliott, then Chief Executive of Combat Stress. A mad woman on a mission I must have appeared at the time, as we bullied people for donations, assistance and help. But then PTSD is a bit like that really. It raises its head when you least expect it, isn't easy to deal with, is little understood in reality and means different things to different people. What the garden did was help raise awareness of the problem. We handed out about 18,000 leaflets at the Hampton Court Palace Flower Show in 2010, and bearing in mind we only probably gave away 1 leaflet to every three people who walked through we did amazingly well.

And now the garden is where it is supposed to be; in the courtyard at Combat Stress' headquarters in Leatherhead. And it has transformed a barren, bare, bleak space into something fit for healing and peace. Every person involved in this, especially the unsung heroes, anonymous donors, hard working behind the scenes staff take a bow. You deserve it.

I haven't vanished

Just in case you thought I had completely vanished off the face of the earth I thought I ought to let you know that you will be disappointed! I just have been absolutely manic trying to finish projects off against overwhelming downpours of tropical severity (and not completely succeeding it has to be said) and also setting up a charity.... More of that later on. I don't know whether to laugh or cry at this weather. On the one hand we needed the rain (remember April when we were officially in drought) and on the other hand I am absolutely fed up of squelching through mud in steel cap boots trying to plant when the ground is so waterlogged everything acts like the clay on a potters wheel. The only good thing is that we do not need to irrigate; the only concern is that the smaller plants going in now might rot off. Only time will tell.

Having had a little time to sit down this week and look at plants in the garden there are some that seem to be to me much more than mere plants. They have a quality that is both restful and almost magical. One such is Alchemilla Mollis, which goes by the preferable name of 'lady's mantle'. I know it can be a ground cover thug, but it produces glorious wafty, clouds of lime green flowers that look stunning in borders, or cut, in vases. I love also the slightly acidic smell of it, and the way it looks brilliant with any colour at all. It is also incredibly generous in its growth.... no sooner have you cut it back than it is putting on new growth. But the most enchanting thing about it, is the way that the slightest bit of dew or rain beads on its leaves. In medieval times they used to believe that if you went out and collected the dew it helped your skin, and the water was popular with alchemists, who thought that the dew drops on its leaves could help their work. I just love the way that the water looks like small quicksilver drops of mercury. An absolute 'must have' plant in anyone's garden.

So very exciting.....

Those of you who know me at all will know how passionate I am about helping those who suffer from PTSD, combat stress or any of the myriad problems that beset our Service personnel when they are in as well as out of our Services. I am absolutely over the moon that I am going to be assisting the Stoll Foundation set up a Gardening Club. The aim of this is to help them improve their garden in London, grow plants and assist them with looking after their gardens, however they choose to do that. There are one or two other things in the pipeline too, but I have to be patient about that and cannot tell anyone yet.... watch this space.

Scents

I know it seems to be stating the blindingly obvious, but to me scent is one of the most important of our senses. And yet, it seems to be one of the least utilised within garden design. Scents are subtle, evocative things. Too much is so overpowering it can make us feel physically sick. Lavender in particular can do this; I know several people who have searing headaches if they release its perfume by crushing the leaves. Apparently this is becoming an increasing problem as lavendar is used more and more in 'natural' products such as soap, body lotions, washing powders etc. We ignore the potency of such natural oils and essences at our perils. But I diverge..... Scent brings back powerful memories, both good and bad. And planning for scent is perhaps a little more complex than most of us realise. There aer certain scents for certain times of the year; for certain times of the day and night; and for certain temperatures. All these elements affect the release of perfume from flowers, and to my mind a garden without scent is a garden without a soul. Certainly some of the scents that are the most lovely can come from the most unassuming shrubs imagineable. Winter flowering honeysuckle (Lonicera x purpusii)is a shrub that should be planted at the back of a border in all gardens. The lemony scent that is released in the winter sun is just glorious. It is deciduous, with largish leaves and an untidy habit - not pretty in summer, but worth planting for its winter scent. The other plant that I simply love is Elaegnus Ebbingei, a silvery leaved evergreen that produces small, insignificant white flowers in autumn and the most glorious scent. The flowers are so inconspicuous that it always catches me out, as I can never work out where the perfume, which is sweet and jasmine like, comes from. And then of course we have my favourite flower; the rose. A rose without perfume is a bit like eating a flavourless apple. Why would you bother? Chandos Beauty is a favourite with a heavy wonderful perfume that will scent a room. And I love its colour, creamy pink. Gorgeous. And at the moment, when walking down country lanes the perfume of honeysuckle pervades everywhere. Its heady scent brings back to me some of my happiest memories of time spent in the sun, in our glorious countryside. Think I am dreaming ..... well perhaps I was hallucinating, but I am sure that I did see something yellow in the sky today!