Time, motion and weather…

Fritillaria meleagris, Tostat, February 2020

The last two weeks we have experienced a couple of hard frosts, glorious sunshine with temperatures in the early 20s, belting rain and fog. The weather has bounced from one season to another with no compunction. The impact of the weather has troubled the garden. The fritillarias that I bought at sale price, how could such a lovely thing be on sale?, have been fooled into flowering early, and in 3 days have gone from slim, tightly bound buds to full strength. But this isn’t too serious- what makes me ponder is when plants and shrubs at the tough end of the spectrum cave in.

Two plants have done this- only two found so far. Bergenia ‘Wintermachen’, which was new to me last winter, has caved into, I suspect, our piercingly dry and relentless summer and is no more. And a small shrub that I loved, Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ has also given up and it had been in the garden for three years. Think I have to up the tough stakes for entry into the garden.

The end of the path….River Adour, Tostat, February 2020

Meantime, just before Christmas, when the Adour river broke free and forced the evacuation of part of our village, we now have new vistas down by the river. The sentier de l’Adour, which winds its way down the river from Maubourguet to us and beyond, and is a favourite for walking groups and cyclists, has been washed away and we have a new bend in the river and a shingle bank where the path ended up on the other side. We also lost about 20 trees in the deluge.

Molly picks up the path, River Adour, Tostat, February 2020

This little Iris reticulata is such a gem. I planted about 6 bulbs 2 years ago, and then treated them with great neglect. They are easy to forget about, as they are tiny anyway, and die down completely in about two months. But the blue is gorgeous. I have forgotten the variety, but one bonus from our dry, hot summer is that the bulbs have been busily reproducing themselves in the heat, and so there should be more than 3-4 flowers next year in this little group.

Iris reticulata, Tostat, February 2020

Amazingly, only 3 weeks after being utterly drowned beneath the deluge and the detritus from the river, the snowdrops burst forth- but were then hit by the hot sunshine and so only lasted 2-3 weeks this winter. They are spectacular though, and adore the dappled shade of the forest and paths.

Snowdrops final blaze, River Adour, Tostat, February 2020

I love the simple purity of Chaenomeles speciosa ‘Nivalis’. For my money, you can keep your doubles, those salmon-pink varieties and all the rest. This is the real McCoy. So elegant, contained, and almost Japanese in their stick-like growth and green tea-coloured buds, they really signal the beginning of Spring to me. No trouble at all as a shrub, and I just allow the sticky, angular shrub to grow as it likes in the semi-shade and relative moisture of the area beside the ruisseau or canal.

Chaenomeles speciosa ‘Nivalis’, Tostat, February 2020
Caught by the sun, Tostat, February 2020

And here we have Fritillaria meleagris in full purple, leopard-spotted glory. I used to have these growing under a Daphne mezereum f. alba in our garden in Scotland, and I know that these will be fine in the Spring but will not enjoy the summer, so I have them in a pot which will be later positioned in the coolest, dampest part of the garden that I can find.

Fritillaria 3 days later, Tostat, February 2020

And this small Hellebore has been taken all of three years to flower. No idea what variety it is, but the pointed green-tinged outer petals combined with the creamy rounded inner petals and the double form are a great combination. The crown of frost was a lucky find this morning.

First time flowering double cream Hellebore with a dusting of frost, Tostat, February 2020
And the inside of the Fritillaria flower is just as gorgeous, Tostat, February 2020

One thought on “Time, motion and weather…

  1. The common salmon pink flowering quince is what grows like a weed for us. I don’t know why. It naturalizes where it might have been planted a century ago. No one plants it any more, although I try to move more into the landscapes. We grew ‘Nivalis’ briefly at the farm (I think) with a few other cultivars, but discontinued production because of such limited marketability. No one here seems to know what they are.

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