30/3/10 (I didn't go up on 23/3)
Thick grey cloud hung over the Exe Valley as I drove up this morning, with the forecast promising yet more of the almost incessant rain we've been having this week. The cloud followed me all the way to Tiverton, and shortly after we all walked up to the magnolias to begin mulching, the heavens properly opened and dumped their load. We worked in it for a while but eventually had to retire to the Cedar House as the ground was so waterlogged we were doing more harm than good. We were covering the magnolias' bases with a different sort of mulch that was more like soil than anything else, and it was heavy going, especially with the added rainwater. We were all glad when breaktime came.
The magnolias (all Magnolia campbellii and cultivars) are all in bloom and looking incredible. Two have particularly dark pink flowers, which contrasted beautifully with the looming dark rainclouds behind. More rain followed, we took shelter again, and then when it cleared we moved over to mulch the aforementioned Hamamelis 'Pallida' and a smaller magnolia nearby, M. loebneri 'Leonard Messell', which is just about to flower. It's a shame I won't be there next week, as I'll probably miss quite a lot of the spring flowers.
That said, the snake's head fritillaries (Fritillaria meleagris) are beginning to flower on the slopes that have been so wonderfully full of Narcissus cyclamineus to date (they're still going strong). I've been holding on for the fritillaries and was finally rewarded for my wait today. Hopefully they will still be flowering in a fortnight's time when I'm back. The special Knightshayes dogtooth violets (Erythronium revolutum 'Knightshayes Pink' are also beginning to flower in the woodland, though they'll probably be in full swing next week too.
It really feels like spring is coming now, although it's still not quite here. I'm longing for the beech trees to come into leaf, as that's my favourite sight in springtime - lots of fresh, bright green leaves. Here's hoping the arboretum at Bicton has a few.
6.5 hours (had to leave early to finish landscape project)
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Two weeks in one
My college assignments have been relentless and so I'm afraid last week's post fell by the wayside. I'll attempt to remember what we did but it's probably been replaced with sheep prices or suchlike.
Tuesday 9/3/10
With the sun shining down, we started with sorting out a few tired-looking phormiums - chopping down old/dead leaves and clearing out other leaves that had become wedged in and underneath them. No small task, with considerable risk of losing an eye to a particularly vicious leaf spike. My secateurs were hopelessly blunt, as were the loppers, so I had to borrow someone else's to try to chop out the dead leaves. Old, rotten phormium leaves do not want to be cut. It's easy to see why the leaves were used for ropemaking... By this point the sun was shining down, with very little wind, and we all stripped off down to jeans and t-shirts - the first time this year!
Once renewed, the plants looked much better, and we continued with clearing leaves from nearby astelias and from the beds behind the phormiums. We uncovered large numbers of bulbs, including naturalised erythroniums, which Knightshayes is famous for. The bulbs' leaves were all pale from being hidden under leaf mould, but they should get going properly now. After lunch we tackled what we thought was the last lot of hydrangea pruning, but others appeared like triffids on the way back to the shed.
I gave Kay a lift down to the train station on the way home, and we had a very interesting chat. Her partner is the new head gardener at Overbeck's down in Salcombe, and they've both worked for the trust for 10 or so years. Both are career changers, however, which gives me great hope for the future, as they've held pretty senior roles. Kay was very complimentary about me, saying I could have gone for Paul's job (ha! ha! ha!) but that a lot of NT gardeners get in on the basis of enthusiasm rather than formal qualifications or masses of experience, which is encouraging. Hopefully my placement at Knightshayes will count for something in the future.
7.5 hours
16/3/10
Things are starting to get moving. The house and gardens reopened at the weekend, and so now is the time to sort everything out before it gets too busy. Our first task today was to clear out the area next to the gardeners' mess, which has become a general dumping area for everything that doesn't have a home anywhere else. It was prompted by a request from the nursery department to return all the air pots that had been acquired over the last year or so. In with the air pots were piles of plastic plant pots, the old statue covers, lots of random buckets of gravel and compost, plenty of bubble wrap and myriad other things besides. The plastic pots were all set to go to landfill, so I rescued them for my dad and for college (and anyone else who'd take them - there are hundreds), along with a load of bubblewrap (good for frostproofing?). The old statue covers revealed a few overwintering hornets, so we were lucky we didn't get stung.
Once the shed was cleared I was tasked with arranging hydrangea plants into transportable groups, making sure that they all stayed grouped by cultivar, as apparently it is nigh on impossible to tell them apart until they flower, at which point the difference can be embarrasingly obvious. I'm not much of a fan of the old-fashioned hydrangeas, but I'm partial to the odd white lacecap.
With an hour or so until lunch, we headed up to St John's to do some leafblowing, although I was tasked with finishing off the pruning of the aforementioned sly hydrangeas. Just downwind of the beautiful 'Pallida' witchhazel, it was a nice spot, although the bloody hydrangeas had got so overgrown that I was rapidly assimilated and got slapped in the face by last year's flowers on several occasions. I do wonder if I caused a couple of heart attacks in nearby visitors when I emerged from the undergrowth for lunch, hair everywhere and brandishing a pruning saw.
In the afternoon Kay and I decided to get on with righting a Cupressus sempervirens that had grown too big for its stake and which was growing along the ground (presumably from the weight of snow). I quickly discovered that the topsoil in that area is very shallow, and you hit stones very quickly. Thankfully Dave, Patrick and Richard were on hand to help bash the stake in with the help of a very large stump thumper (or whatever they're called), and hopefully the cupressus will be a bit happier now.
Patrick had his interview for the seasonal gardener position in the kitchen garden, so we're keeping our fingers crossed. However the other shortlisted applicants were two people who'd been made redundant from the BBC's Berryfields garden, so he's up against some strong competition. I think he's got a good chance though, as Lorraine, the area supervisor, thinks he's great.
I've been borrowing books from the garden office - they have a nice selection of pretty specialist books on a range of hortic subjects, so last week I borrowed some on shrubs, and this week some herbaceous border books, all to research my design for the Commodore's Garden in Dartmouth.
7 hours
Tuesday 9/3/10
With the sun shining down, we started with sorting out a few tired-looking phormiums - chopping down old/dead leaves and clearing out other leaves that had become wedged in and underneath them. No small task, with considerable risk of losing an eye to a particularly vicious leaf spike. My secateurs were hopelessly blunt, as were the loppers, so I had to borrow someone else's to try to chop out the dead leaves. Old, rotten phormium leaves do not want to be cut. It's easy to see why the leaves were used for ropemaking... By this point the sun was shining down, with very little wind, and we all stripped off down to jeans and t-shirts - the first time this year!
Once renewed, the plants looked much better, and we continued with clearing leaves from nearby astelias and from the beds behind the phormiums. We uncovered large numbers of bulbs, including naturalised erythroniums, which Knightshayes is famous for. The bulbs' leaves were all pale from being hidden under leaf mould, but they should get going properly now. After lunch we tackled what we thought was the last lot of hydrangea pruning, but others appeared like triffids on the way back to the shed.
I gave Kay a lift down to the train station on the way home, and we had a very interesting chat. Her partner is the new head gardener at Overbeck's down in Salcombe, and they've both worked for the trust for 10 or so years. Both are career changers, however, which gives me great hope for the future, as they've held pretty senior roles. Kay was very complimentary about me, saying I could have gone for Paul's job (ha! ha! ha!) but that a lot of NT gardeners get in on the basis of enthusiasm rather than formal qualifications or masses of experience, which is encouraging. Hopefully my placement at Knightshayes will count for something in the future.
7.5 hours
16/3/10
Things are starting to get moving. The house and gardens reopened at the weekend, and so now is the time to sort everything out before it gets too busy. Our first task today was to clear out the area next to the gardeners' mess, which has become a general dumping area for everything that doesn't have a home anywhere else. It was prompted by a request from the nursery department to return all the air pots that had been acquired over the last year or so. In with the air pots were piles of plastic plant pots, the old statue covers, lots of random buckets of gravel and compost, plenty of bubble wrap and myriad other things besides. The plastic pots were all set to go to landfill, so I rescued them for my dad and for college (and anyone else who'd take them - there are hundreds), along with a load of bubblewrap (good for frostproofing?). The old statue covers revealed a few overwintering hornets, so we were lucky we didn't get stung.
Once the shed was cleared I was tasked with arranging hydrangea plants into transportable groups, making sure that they all stayed grouped by cultivar, as apparently it is nigh on impossible to tell them apart until they flower, at which point the difference can be embarrasingly obvious. I'm not much of a fan of the old-fashioned hydrangeas, but I'm partial to the odd white lacecap.
With an hour or so until lunch, we headed up to St John's to do some leafblowing, although I was tasked with finishing off the pruning of the aforementioned sly hydrangeas. Just downwind of the beautiful 'Pallida' witchhazel, it was a nice spot, although the bloody hydrangeas had got so overgrown that I was rapidly assimilated and got slapped in the face by last year's flowers on several occasions. I do wonder if I caused a couple of heart attacks in nearby visitors when I emerged from the undergrowth for lunch, hair everywhere and brandishing a pruning saw.
In the afternoon Kay and I decided to get on with righting a Cupressus sempervirens that had grown too big for its stake and which was growing along the ground (presumably from the weight of snow). I quickly discovered that the topsoil in that area is very shallow, and you hit stones very quickly. Thankfully Dave, Patrick and Richard were on hand to help bash the stake in with the help of a very large stump thumper (or whatever they're called), and hopefully the cupressus will be a bit happier now.
Patrick had his interview for the seasonal gardener position in the kitchen garden, so we're keeping our fingers crossed. However the other shortlisted applicants were two people who'd been made redundant from the BBC's Berryfields garden, so he's up against some strong competition. I think he's got a good chance though, as Lorraine, the area supervisor, thinks he's great.
I've been borrowing books from the garden office - they have a nice selection of pretty specialist books on a range of hortic subjects, so last week I borrowed some on shrubs, and this week some herbaceous border books, all to research my design for the Commodore's Garden in Dartmouth.
7 hours
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
National Trust strategy and fighter jets
Today was Knightshayes' pre-season meeting, but before that got under way we managed a fair bit of rose pruning (yes, again) - this time the rose in question was alive, which is better (or not, depending on your view of roses). I still don't have the knack of pruning and should probably read up on it, as I've either gone mad and reduced the poor plant down to a shadow of its former self, or it looks like I've not been near it. I get the whole reducing it by a third thing, that's fine, but it's the bits to reduce (outward facing buds? Old branches? Dead bits?) that are confusing. I have come to the conclusion that it's a dark art known to and practised by the chosen few, of which I am not one.
The purpose of the pre-season meeting is to apprise everyone of how the previous year went, and what plans the various managers have for the coming year. First we heard from John Longworth-Krafft, assistant director of operations for the south-west region, on how the Trust is aiming for a more local approach, both externally and internally - leadership and delegation (ie giving staff more direct responsibility) were the buzzwords there. There was also a fair bit of emphasis on taking risks and not being as rigid an organisation as has been the case in the past. Then we heard from various Knightshayes supervisors and staff members on their particular department. 2009 was a record year for Knightshayes in several ways, with more than 112,000 visitors, and budgets met and exceeded.
After lunch Lucy and I headed back into the woods to do some cutting back and clearing while the blokes went about putting manure down. On the way we were treated to a low-flying buzzard with what looked like a fish from the pond in its talons. We chopped back the remaining epimediums and cleared old leaves from around the aforementioned rose, though the job was made much harder by what looked like variegated nettle runners, which wove through everything and made gathering the leaves doubly difficult. This was soundtracked by the whoosh of fighter jets heading over the hills; on their return journey they seemed little higher than the treetops, which was rather unnerving, especially for the resident birds.
The spring plants are really going for it now - swathes of snowdrops and crocuses are round every corner, and the hellebores are in full swing too. A white azalea was covered in flowers, and the winter aconites are peeping out of the manure too. The camellias continue to brighten up various corners with flowers in various shades of white and red, and the sound of birdsong is everywhere during the morning, with one bird doing a passable impression of a car alarm...
7.5 hours
The purpose of the pre-season meeting is to apprise everyone of how the previous year went, and what plans the various managers have for the coming year. First we heard from John Longworth-Krafft, assistant director of operations for the south-west region, on how the Trust is aiming for a more local approach, both externally and internally - leadership and delegation (ie giving staff more direct responsibility) were the buzzwords there. There was also a fair bit of emphasis on taking risks and not being as rigid an organisation as has been the case in the past. Then we heard from various Knightshayes supervisors and staff members on their particular department. 2009 was a record year for Knightshayes in several ways, with more than 112,000 visitors, and budgets met and exceeded.
After lunch Lucy and I headed back into the woods to do some cutting back and clearing while the blokes went about putting manure down. On the way we were treated to a low-flying buzzard with what looked like a fish from the pond in its talons. We chopped back the remaining epimediums and cleared old leaves from around the aforementioned rose, though the job was made much harder by what looked like variegated nettle runners, which wove through everything and made gathering the leaves doubly difficult. This was soundtracked by the whoosh of fighter jets heading over the hills; on their return journey they seemed little higher than the treetops, which was rather unnerving, especially for the resident birds.
The spring plants are really going for it now - swathes of snowdrops and crocuses are round every corner, and the hellebores are in full swing too. A white azalea was covered in flowers, and the winter aconites are peeping out of the manure too. The camellias continue to brighten up various corners with flowers in various shades of white and red, and the sound of birdsong is everywhere during the morning, with one bird doing a passable impression of a car alarm...
7.5 hours
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Here a prune, there a prune
The Sarcococca and I stared at each other. I brandished my secateurs; it puffed itself up just a little more. Dave said this was not a time for "ladies' pruning" and that we were to go in deep. So I did. But it's hard to know where to prune for fear of leaving large holes in the shrub, especially after the heavy snow that has forced a lot of the growth downwards. Still, I managed to cut it back a fair bit and it looked pretty even.
With the sleet turning to snow we were all glad of a restorative cuppa, and afterwards went into the glade to cut back hydrangeas. Some had succumbed to the frost at their tips, but all had lots of new buds appearing. I should have worn thicker gloves, as my fingers were frozen stiff by the time lunch came - something to remember next week.
Throughout the site there are signs of life among the plants, which is extremely cheering. The snowdrops look beautiful and the crocuses are about to flower - one tree on the lawn is surrounded by a circle of them and it looks lovely. Other bulbs are working their way up - still only one daffodil out so far but the rest are almost there, and what look like grape hyacinths too. Many deciduous trees have buds at their tips, some of which are just about to break out, and many of the camellias have begun to flower. But the star of the show today is a glorious Witch Hazel, Hamamelis mollis 'Pallida', which is covered in yellow flowers that you can smell long before you see them. On a gloomy day like today the flowers seem to glow; the whole effect being quite jaw-dropping as you round the corner and see the tree.
Lunch was a jolly affair in the walled garden mess room - Lorraine had met some financial target and so Paul had bought lots of cakes. It's much warmer and brighter in there than it is in our shed, so it was a struggle to leave and put our soggy coats back on. Unfortunately the afternoon's task was to dig up the brambles in the bed to the right of the terraces, and down to the woods beside the ha-ha. The rain didn't abate, and by the end of it we were rather soggy and fed up, although we did manage to get a lot of brambles up. There was quite a lot of fungi around, including a whitish bracket fungus on a fallen log and an orangey brown mushroom in among the leaf litter. I meant to bring some home with me but I left my sample down in the woods.
7.5 hours
With the sleet turning to snow we were all glad of a restorative cuppa, and afterwards went into the glade to cut back hydrangeas. Some had succumbed to the frost at their tips, but all had lots of new buds appearing. I should have worn thicker gloves, as my fingers were frozen stiff by the time lunch came - something to remember next week.
Throughout the site there are signs of life among the plants, which is extremely cheering. The snowdrops look beautiful and the crocuses are about to flower - one tree on the lawn is surrounded by a circle of them and it looks lovely. Other bulbs are working their way up - still only one daffodil out so far but the rest are almost there, and what look like grape hyacinths too. Many deciduous trees have buds at their tips, some of which are just about to break out, and many of the camellias have begun to flower. But the star of the show today is a glorious Witch Hazel, Hamamelis mollis 'Pallida', which is covered in yellow flowers that you can smell long before you see them. On a gloomy day like today the flowers seem to glow; the whole effect being quite jaw-dropping as you round the corner and see the tree.
Lunch was a jolly affair in the walled garden mess room - Lorraine had met some financial target and so Paul had bought lots of cakes. It's much warmer and brighter in there than it is in our shed, so it was a struggle to leave and put our soggy coats back on. Unfortunately the afternoon's task was to dig up the brambles in the bed to the right of the terraces, and down to the woods beside the ha-ha. The rain didn't abate, and by the end of it we were rather soggy and fed up, although we did manage to get a lot of brambles up. There was quite a lot of fungi around, including a whitish bracket fungus on a fallen log and an orangey brown mushroom in among the leaf litter. I meant to bring some home with me but I left my sample down in the woods.
7.5 hours
Friday, 19 February 2010
Rose: 0; Me: 1 (just)
Well, the deceased climbing rose certainly put up a good fight, no doubt about it. My hands, neck and face are now covered in scratches and I'm rather glad I had my tetanus booster last year.
It had pretty much done what was required of it, ie climbed up and surrounded the nearest tree, a large Scots Pine. It had got pretty far up, in fact. But then it had evidently become infected with a fungus, a bracket type that could be seen growing at its base. There was still the odd green branch here and there, but the rose was to all intents and purposes deader than a very dead thing. However this meant that the branches snapped all too easily, making the job rather difficult. As many were interwoven, it was very difficult to extract branches without whipping oneself in the face (not a good idea given how thorny it was) or pulling down the entire ball of twigs. Ivy and a nearby Escallonia that had both grown through the rose's branches added to the difficulties, and so the whole job took considerably longer than expected. I was tasked with cutting back the Escallonia while I was there, but in the end I didn't have time.
I was interested to see Paul's job has been advertised on Horticulture Week, and I was somewhat disappointed at the (seemingly) low salary - £19-19.5k - for the knowledge and experience required. This is what the industry is notorious for, but it comes at the same time as Tim Smit criticises the National Trust, RHS et al for paying their gardeners too little. Smit is right, although he's got a bit of a cheek as Eden's basic horticulture salaries aren't anything to write home about either, but it's a debate that needs to happen. The problem seems to stem from the fact that people feel the gardening they see done in NT or RHS gardens is the same as they do at home, and so doesn't require any specialist knowledge. Well, obviously it does. Punters wouldn't be very impressed if they asked a gardener what he or she was planting and received "I dunno, I'm just sticking it in the ground" as a response. Large gardens such as Knightshayes need seasonal planning, maintenance and development, and this requires specialist knowledge. Industry head honchos whine about not getting any new blood into horticulture, but who's going to go for a job that pays barely more than minimum wage, even when you've got five years' experience and a degree under your belt? Not to mention the perception of horticulture in schools - it's the remedial option. If I'd said I wanted to go into horticulture when I was at school, I'd have been sneered at by my careers officer. It just isn't considered a viable option for anyone with half a brain, and this is something the industry and schools have to work together to change. I also hope that the Eden Project and its ilk inspire schoolchildren to consider horticulture, whether inadvertently or directly.
Speaking of Eden, I was very pleased to receive a phone call from Mark Paterson, our practical week contact, confirming my work placement there and at the nurseries this summer. Now I just have to sort out a fortnight at Heligan and that's my summer sorted. I am dead chuffed!
5 hours
It had pretty much done what was required of it, ie climbed up and surrounded the nearest tree, a large Scots Pine. It had got pretty far up, in fact. But then it had evidently become infected with a fungus, a bracket type that could be seen growing at its base. There was still the odd green branch here and there, but the rose was to all intents and purposes deader than a very dead thing. However this meant that the branches snapped all too easily, making the job rather difficult. As many were interwoven, it was very difficult to extract branches without whipping oneself in the face (not a good idea given how thorny it was) or pulling down the entire ball of twigs. Ivy and a nearby Escallonia that had both grown through the rose's branches added to the difficulties, and so the whole job took considerably longer than expected. I was tasked with cutting back the Escallonia while I was there, but in the end I didn't have time.
I was interested to see Paul's job has been advertised on Horticulture Week, and I was somewhat disappointed at the (seemingly) low salary - £19-19.5k - for the knowledge and experience required. This is what the industry is notorious for, but it comes at the same time as Tim Smit criticises the National Trust, RHS et al for paying their gardeners too little. Smit is right, although he's got a bit of a cheek as Eden's basic horticulture salaries aren't anything to write home about either, but it's a debate that needs to happen. The problem seems to stem from the fact that people feel the gardening they see done in NT or RHS gardens is the same as they do at home, and so doesn't require any specialist knowledge. Well, obviously it does. Punters wouldn't be very impressed if they asked a gardener what he or she was planting and received "I dunno, I'm just sticking it in the ground" as a response. Large gardens such as Knightshayes need seasonal planning, maintenance and development, and this requires specialist knowledge. Industry head honchos whine about not getting any new blood into horticulture, but who's going to go for a job that pays barely more than minimum wage, even when you've got five years' experience and a degree under your belt? Not to mention the perception of horticulture in schools - it's the remedial option. If I'd said I wanted to go into horticulture when I was at school, I'd have been sneered at by my careers officer. It just isn't considered a viable option for anyone with half a brain, and this is something the industry and schools have to work together to change. I also hope that the Eden Project and its ilk inspire schoolchildren to consider horticulture, whether inadvertently or directly.
Speaking of Eden, I was very pleased to receive a phone call from Mark Paterson, our practical week contact, confirming my work placement there and at the nurseries this summer. Now I just have to sort out a fortnight at Heligan and that's my summer sorted. I am dead chuffed!
5 hours
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Sunny days are here again (praise be)
After a parky start which featured me pressing snooze repeatedly, I zoomed up the A396 like a bat out of hell (well, as much as is possible in an aged Peugeot 106, so more like a bat out of Bournemouth), enjoying the sunshine lighting up the Exe valley. This is the first time in months that it's been decent weather for my Tuesday foray to Bolham, and what a difference it makes.
Today's first task was to finish off my hazel hurdle rose training efforts, so I wandered down to the hazels in the copse to find some nice long and straight branches to chop down. I am suffering from chilblains at the moment and so my attempts to saw were punctuated with swearing, which hopefully nobody heard. Finally I had my three choice branches and dragged them back through to the terraces. I was pretty pleased with my hazel hurdles, and once I'd won the battle with the last one (they put up a damn good fight against being bent into the ground) and tied in the last rose stem, the effect was rather pleasing.
Once I'd (re-)covered my tracks with manure, I was tasked with digging over the rosebeds where Lucy and Christina had been pruning the day before. This is fairly back-breaking stuff, even with the short forks we were using, and I was glad when the call to tea came. No respite after break, however, and so we carried on clearing up the prunings and pulling out bastard bindweed and rose suckers, digging over where we'd been and disentangling ourselves from rosebushes as we went.
Lunch was a shorter affair today; because it was colder everyone was a bit quicker to get up and at 'em outside again to warm up, which we did pretty quickly with our next job: clearing woodland beds of leaf litter and helping the bulbs show through better. We tamed roses that had got ideas above their station, and cursed badgers for chewing shrubs. There was a fair bit of apologising to bulbs for treading on them, too. I have to say I was thoroughly fed up at having to leave everyone to go to work.
The snowdrops are well and truly out now, and are a beautiful sight in their clumps and swathes throughout the gardens. They are being joined by crocuses now, and the odd daffodil here and there (though these last are being somewhat reticent). The birds are everywhere, fighting for territory and singing as if their lives depended on it. Good to see a lot of Goldfinches and Long-tailed Tits in the gardens today.
Kay has found a task for me for next Tuesday: chopping down a climbing rose that went off to meet its maker many years ago and which is just hanging around the base of a lovely Scots Pine.
5 hours
Today's first task was to finish off my hazel hurdle rose training efforts, so I wandered down to the hazels in the copse to find some nice long and straight branches to chop down. I am suffering from chilblains at the moment and so my attempts to saw were punctuated with swearing, which hopefully nobody heard. Finally I had my three choice branches and dragged them back through to the terraces. I was pretty pleased with my hazel hurdles, and once I'd won the battle with the last one (they put up a damn good fight against being bent into the ground) and tied in the last rose stem, the effect was rather pleasing.
Once I'd (re-)covered my tracks with manure, I was tasked with digging over the rosebeds where Lucy and Christina had been pruning the day before. This is fairly back-breaking stuff, even with the short forks we were using, and I was glad when the call to tea came. No respite after break, however, and so we carried on clearing up the prunings and pulling out bastard bindweed and rose suckers, digging over where we'd been and disentangling ourselves from rosebushes as we went.
Lunch was a shorter affair today; because it was colder everyone was a bit quicker to get up and at 'em outside again to warm up, which we did pretty quickly with our next job: clearing woodland beds of leaf litter and helping the bulbs show through better. We tamed roses that had got ideas above their station, and cursed badgers for chewing shrubs. There was a fair bit of apologising to bulbs for treading on them, too. I have to say I was thoroughly fed up at having to leave everyone to go to work.The snowdrops are well and truly out now, and are a beautiful sight in their clumps and swathes throughout the gardens. They are being joined by crocuses now, and the odd daffodil here and there (though these last are being somewhat reticent). The birds are everywhere, fighting for territory and singing as if their lives depended on it. Good to see a lot of Goldfinches and Long-tailed Tits in the gardens today.
Kay has found a task for me for next Tuesday: chopping down a climbing rose that went off to meet its maker many years ago and which is just hanging around the base of a lovely Scots Pine.
5 hours
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Back to Knightshayes again, hurrah!
What with assignments, Christmas and several severe weather 'events' (snow), I've not been volunteering at Knightshayes since early December. So it was with not a little excitement that I got out of bed this morning and drove up the Exe valley to Bolham.
The house has a habit of looming out at you when you're least expecting it, and the mist and rain this morning added to the general spooky feel. I recall Paul saying that if we wanted to know how the weather would be, we need only look to the hills in the west; today the hills weren't visible. Nuff said.
As I stomped down to the gardeners' shed I bumped into Kay, who showed us how plant records are kept. Upon checking whether I had my own secateurs (I did), I was taken to help prune the roses in the terrace beds. The roses haven't been pruned for several years, and had thrown out suckers here there and everywhere (including into the terrace above). So once I'd pruned a climbing rose (Rosa racemosa if memory serves) back into a more manageable state, I went off to find some bamboo canes to train them, only to be frogmarched back by Paul, this time armed with a saw, to cut down some hazel branches instead. So off we went, selecting long, straight branches that were not too thick and not too thin, suitable for bending and using as hoops to train the roses. I then made an artistic attempt at hazel hoops, which seemed to go down well with everyone, and tied the rose branches to the hoops. It did look rather nice, even if I do say so myself.
By this point the rain was horizontal so we elected to take an early lunch. It transpires that Paul is leaving to work for Clinton Devon Estates (who own Bicton Arena), which sounds like an interesting mission, and considerably more independent. However the intended new head gardener for Knightshayes was offered another job by another National Trust place and so unless they find someone by the end of April, they will find themselves without a head gardener or an area supervisor for the ornamental gardens. Paul's breadth and depth of knowledge is astounding, so his replacement will have rather large boots to fill.
After lunch, and somewhat cold after sitting in damp clothes for an hour, we headed back out to the roses. Alison and I were charged with pruning a couple of shrub roses, and proceeded a little over-zealously, some might say. Kay managed to hide her horror fairly well, but I think next time I will reign in my maniacal chopping and perhaps go for a light trim instead.
5 hours
The house has a habit of looming out at you when you're least expecting it, and the mist and rain this morning added to the general spooky feel. I recall Paul saying that if we wanted to know how the weather would be, we need only look to the hills in the west; today the hills weren't visible. Nuff said.
As I stomped down to the gardeners' shed I bumped into Kay, who showed us how plant records are kept. Upon checking whether I had my own secateurs (I did), I was taken to help prune the roses in the terrace beds. The roses haven't been pruned for several years, and had thrown out suckers here there and everywhere (including into the terrace above). So once I'd pruned a climbing rose (Rosa racemosa if memory serves) back into a more manageable state, I went off to find some bamboo canes to train them, only to be frogmarched back by Paul, this time armed with a saw, to cut down some hazel branches instead. So off we went, selecting long, straight branches that were not too thick and not too thin, suitable for bending and using as hoops to train the roses. I then made an artistic attempt at hazel hoops, which seemed to go down well with everyone, and tied the rose branches to the hoops. It did look rather nice, even if I do say so myself.
By this point the rain was horizontal so we elected to take an early lunch. It transpires that Paul is leaving to work for Clinton Devon Estates (who own Bicton Arena), which sounds like an interesting mission, and considerably more independent. However the intended new head gardener for Knightshayes was offered another job by another National Trust place and so unless they find someone by the end of April, they will find themselves without a head gardener or an area supervisor for the ornamental gardens. Paul's breadth and depth of knowledge is astounding, so his replacement will have rather large boots to fill.
After lunch, and somewhat cold after sitting in damp clothes for an hour, we headed back out to the roses. Alison and I were charged with pruning a couple of shrub roses, and proceeded a little over-zealously, some might say. Kay managed to hide her horror fairly well, but I think next time I will reign in my maniacal chopping and perhaps go for a light trim instead.
5 hours
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