I have just walked round the garden thinking what extraordinary plants are flowering completely out of season. My ipheions, pink and blue, are flowering, and all the berries on my sorbus vilmorinii are hanging on, whereas the birds have decimated Sorbus Joseph Rock. My species peonies- their deep red buds are coming through the soil, and all the berries on Malus Hupehensis are flowering above them. I thought that I was going to get rid of my salix Nancy Saunders, about five of them, but have realised that they stop me looking at our neighbour’s tennis court. This is the time of year that evergreen hellebores, euphorbias, and various structure come int o their own. In t he summer you just walk past all the evergreen things hardly giving t hem the time of day. Daphne tangutica , getting huger and huger, is flowering already. We cut it back every year, fearful of losing it , and I never had any idea that it would get so large.
Our roses are still flowering. Ghislaine de Felisgonde, pale peach, and the climber Phyllis Bide, plenty of flowers on them s till. A friend of mine who lived in France, gave me Ghislaine de Felisgonde, as I never would have discov ed it myself. Today is a bleak day, and it has finally got much colder. Polly has been working hard down in the par terre, and has lifted all t he dahlias, and they are being stored upside down wrapped in old newspaper in a frost free store. My favourite boxed set, THE BRIDGE, was on television last night but I felt too tired, even though James had done the driving and the cooking!
I am longing now to have it all cut back, and neat and tidy, and showing the bones of the garden, which get better as the years pass.