A Walk in the Garden - September

September is often the time when, in between picking fruit and trimming back shrubs, I think that I really should plan to have more flowering plants for this time of year. I love the delicate scent of the magnolias and the roses that put on a flourish now but before the leaves start to turn colour there is rather a lot of green and welcome though it is, there is not a lot else. It was a surprise then that walking along a path, I noticed something that I nearly skipped with delight to see.

A friend had given me some of these cyclamen coum from his garden in late spring. As I love these tiny, reflexed flowers, I planted them out with great hope, only to watch them fade and disappear. I thought perhaps that it had not been their favourite time of the year to be transplanted and that it might be best to try again in the autumn. So to see these two flowers and the cluster of buds still to come nestling at their feet was a delight. Obviously I had been so busy 'doing' that I hadn't been 'looking' enough. Time to set aside the secateurs and weeding fork and walk around the garden with camera in hand.

If you have read my post on The Improvised Garden, you will know that I like to re-use and up-cycle materials in the garden.

A few careful taps with a mallet should level out the roof tile edging and make it a little harder for the grass to colonise the border, still giving me the curved corner I want.

When we moved here, I was so pleased to see that there was a wisteria in the garden and when two years later a winter storm flattened the rustic pergola which supported it, we built another stronger one. It has lasted far longer than we thought it would. It is too much to expect thanks from a plant no matter how large it is, but you don't expect either that it would eventually twist,  wrench, strangle and dismantle the support you provide for it.

Further along, a variegated ivy in the same time period, has gracefully embraced its support in a far less destructive way. It has a elegant quirkiness, which makes me think of Arthur Rackham illustrations.

Last November, when it was time to bring the tender perennials under cover for the winter, I overlooked a pot of scented geranium. Fortunately I had taken cuttings because the winter was too severe for the plant to survive. Over the summer Mother Nature decided that the neglected pot of compost was ideal for alpine strawberries and planted some.

Thank you Ma'am. I couldn't agree more.

Sometimes the most interesting things are the least obvious and all the more wonderful for being so.