The Holly and The Ivy

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seasonal greenery

Most of the winter greenery used in holiday house decoration is laden with symbolic meaning dating from pagan times. Holly is supposed to be the male plant, perhaps in reference to its prickly nature. Ivy is the female counterpart, maybe because it clings. Neither allusion is flattering in any way. A Black Country superstition is that whichever is brought into the house first, indicates which spouse will wear the trousers through the coming year. Neither (the branches, not husband or wife) is supposed to be nailed up indoors until Christmas Eve and both should be evicted by Twelfth Night on 6th. January or bad luck will ensue. Pants to that.

Hedera colchica “Sulphur heart” (Persian ivy)

Latin Ilex refers to an evergreen oak; the common name holly translates from holegn in Old English. French (houx) German (hulst) and Norse (hulfr) equivalents indicate a common root and that the stuff grows everywhere. Naturally, the poisonous berries are produced on female plants but this clearly irked some chauvinists who dished out designations. Both produce flowers but “Silver King” has fruit while “Silver Queen” remains more buttoned up and without frills. Trees may live to five hundred years old if unmolested by pruning. The leaves are dark, hard, fiercely barbed and hurt if you kneel on them. I can offer my own pink and pin cushioned knees as proof that they too will not rot down with the passage of centuries.

Ilex aquifolium “Ferox Argentea” (silver hedgehog holly)

The scientific name Hedera just means ivy. Depending on the variety, the stems can reach one hundred feet (30 metres) from the roots. A general rule of thumb is that the larger the leaf, the more chopping that you will have to do, to prevent it from taking over. The blossom and berries are produced when little else is around and are thus valuable for the benefit of insect and bird life. The foliage persists bravely when festooned about the home with no water and the central heating going full belt. There are plenty of pretty varieties available, some subtly variegated and others more suited to seasonal bling. If you haven’t got a specimen, make friends with someone who has. Consider swapping bits of shrubbery, so that you may both muster a good show.

Hedera helix (common ivy) berries

It’s rather cold up here in the North to grow mistletoe (Viscum album). I used to get great balls of the stuff from family in the South, where it grows on poplars, hawthorns and many others. The plant is a parasite, drawing its nourishment entirely from its host. It doesn’t always kill the tree on which it feeds but can see off whole limbs once it gets its teeth in. Nevertheless, I smeared seeds into crevices of an old apple tree, without any success whatever. You are supposed to pluck a berry from the sprig suspended over the front door, for every kiss enjoyed beneath. Such activity should stop when the mistletoe is bald but if you tie it out of reach, the party never ends. I hope that you have a wonderful celebration, with gifts that give you pleasure, in a colour that suits and a size that fits. Looking forward to a bright and happy New Year for us all, with plenty of fine weather for gardening.

Shedding Tears

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neighbours, Outbuildings

The woman whose garden backs onto mine has a face like a slapped arse. Her daughter has a mouth like a cat’s bum. Her husband looks like a bulldog chewing on a wasp. Instead of a yard full of flowers and foliage, they own a collection of tangled metal and tortured plastic. They enliven a heap of cardboard occasionally, by setting fire to it, cremating beef burgers in clouds of oily smoke and dancing around the flames. The man of the house has a hobby of erecting outbuildings, so the overall effect is of a very crowded slum Hobbit town.

Skimmia x confusa “Kew Green”

Each to their own; I try to adhere to the rules of the old nomadic communities and keep my eyes within my own boundaries. When they hold a barbecue in the summer, their children throw unwanted food over the wall, to adorn my carefully tended border of perennials. I love the idea of folk being so happy that they want to sing. These people partake of alcoholic beverages, possibly to excess, then caterwaul unrecognisable songs at full volume. I filter this with headphones and block the view with conifers for evergreen screening and shrubs for summer froth. My long term plan is coming along well apart from the new shack which my nincompoop neighbour is erecting against our adjoining wall. The roof is made of actinic green tarpaulin and teeters on the edge of allowable building restrictions. My laissez-faire is coming apart at the seams.

Acanthus mollis (bear’s britches)

The soil is too wet to work and it’s too soon for seeds, so I’m off to my potting shed, which is a discreet affair tucked underneath the conservatory. I haven’t seen the floor for decades, so unless I want to be trapped beneath a landfall of seed trays, action is unavoidable. The boxes of bone meal will be useful no matter how far they have exceeded their sell by stamps. Some of the weed killers pre-date safety legislation and bubble in a sinister manner when the lids are released. Since I cannot empty out the contents without poisoning the water table, they will remain sealed on the shelf, until I can get a line to Porton Down and some toxic chemical disposal. It occurs to me that with careful admixture of fertiliser and carbon, I could build a bomb with which to blast next door’s hut into history.

Lonicera fragrantissima (Winter flowering honeysuckle)

Stop thinking like this and get on with the job. After a lifetime’s collection, I have more plastic pots than Homebase, B & Q, Holwoods and Robin’s Bridge all put together. I’m dealing with this by loading them into bin bags and passing them on to a local gardener for plant sales, when they open for the NGS yellow book scheme. The trick is to drop off this largesse in small doses, so as not to frighten them. After an hour of wholesale junk removal, I become aware of a pair of eyes watching around a holly bush. Casually pick up a hydrangea cutting and make my way over to them. Offer the plant by way of an introduction and chat about the weather; we are British, after all. Her name is Susan and she wants to have a pretty garden. She has a charming family and they are having an Xmas party to which we are kindly invited, so I’ll warm up my vocal cords and take a couple of bottles. Hoping that your festivities are full of peace and goodwill. Cheers.

Buckets Are For Bailing

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Winter weather

It’s been pouring for weeks. Siling down, to use the vernacular. I don’t know whether this is to test my flood defences, or to point up the lack of gopher wood in these parts. This garden isn’t big enough to fit in an ark for two of anything larger than insects and earthworms. If I go out with a pail to start a collection, I shall be drowning, not waving. I spend my days with my face pressed to the window, with the expression of a puppy who piddled in the wrong place and has been roundly chastised.

Sempervivum (houseleeks)

I’m getting tired of the lowering skies motif. I must admit to mounting hysteria as the levels rise in the gutters and drains. The Dahlias have been cut back by the first frost but I can’t persuade Attila to help with digging them up when the unremitting precipitation has turned the lawn into a quagmire. He can’t be fooled by my gurgling optimism, since the path to the potting shed is pocked with puddles the size of Loch Ness. Soggy shoes do not encourage a fair weather gardener like my otherwise willing spouse. We have made a deal that I will not lard the bed with horse manure until after the tender plants have been evicted to the garage. The wild eyed gentleman who fulfils all of my dung requisites will be calling any time soon. All of the gardeners hereabouts welcome his odoriferous appearance but no-one wants to get so close as to pin him down to a date. I’m caught between a rock and a hard, stinky place. I need a few drizzle free days to wring out the soil enough to lure my assistant outdoors and to dry the tubers adequately, for winter storage.

Phormium (New Zealand flax) & Fatsia japonica (Japanese aralia)

I had cut back a lot of the perennials in milder conditions and the constant showers have promoted the new growth of next year’s leaves. Where it is visible beneath the churned mud and nascent rivers, the grass is bright and perky. When I can see through the curtains of mist, the fresh foliage glows greenly all through the borders. Seed pods and berries come into their kingdom in these conditions, with Malus sylvestris (crab apple) and umpteen species of Ilex (holly) glowing through the gloom with splashes of scarlet. I would cut a few branches to liven up my grey home but if I walk on the quivering earth, I fear sinking as if in quicksand.

North facing ferns & ivies

Look on the bright side. The festive season approaches and presents are required for friends and family. With no horticulture to fill my every waking thought as well as a few wet dreams, I can spend time and effort in buying appropriate gifts, carefully tailored to the needs of the recipient. I may saunter down the sparkling arcades of shops, making sympathetic choices which will be greeted with shrill cries of delight on unwrapping day. I shall exchange cheerful greetings with others on a similar mission, their cheeks pink with excitement and goodwill. I spring out of the front door to begin the expedition, to be met with a wall of water. Oh poop, it’s raining.

Black Friday

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Hardware

Are you sitting comfortably? This is not what gardening is about. After a prolonged session outdoors, you are supposed to be aching in every limb, hungry, thirsty and uncertain as to your success. I’m pleased to tell you that there is no end of kit to help you reach your goal. The purveyors of labour saving devices have clearly put a lot of thought into producing equipment of dubious efficacy. As an example, I cite the rotavator. The websites shout about a machine which is comfortable to use and takes the effort out of turning the soil. They fail to mention the fact that the operator requires bulging muscles to keep the tiller on track and that upon encountering the smallest pebble, the blades will send it screaming through the air like a missile. Should you buy one of these, you will have to source a sturdy hard hat and possibly body armour with a full face welders mask.

Malus sylvestris (crab apple)

Electric mowers are contraptions for use on a tiny lawn, or for testing the patience of your circuit breaker. Energy driven scarifiers are a boon. Strimmers or weed whackers are useful, provided that you get a robust example with an option on a lifetime’s supply of nylon line. The early devices used single thread spools, which worked perfectly adequately. Then they worked out how to get twice the money off us and now you can only buy double feed cartridges. If you don’t pay a king’s ransom for the ready wound version, the filament is designed to tangle ferociously. I don’t care for leaf blowers, I find them heavy and awkward to manoeuvre; vacuums suffer from the same disadvantage. By the time that you have cleared the smallest patch of scrot, your arms feel like over cooked spaghetti; hand rakes and brooms are quicker, quieter and easier. If you want a shredder to chop stuff for compost, check the capability of the beast. If it will not accept anything thicker than paper, you can’t macerate twigs, trees or bodies.

Arum italicum pictum “Marmaratum” (Italian arum)

Hedge trimmers are handy; they are difficult to use on a small scale, so don’t take the tail off your topiary peacock in order to find this out for yourself. If you have a swath of green that requires a sharp edge, given a little practice, these are just the job. Don’t employ power cutters up a ladder unless you know what you are doing, or someone is paying you enough to take care of your dependants for the foreseeable future. Chainsaws should be approached with similar caution. The howl of the engine and the snarl of the teeth tend to encourage prudence. The problem is that in the hands of a man, you may find that their inner lumberjack takes over and you will be left with few plants taller than a pansy.

Iris foetidissima (Gladwin iris) seed pods

Be careful when giving plug-in goods for Xmas gifts. Attila bought me an electric toothbrush, which I took upstairs and wielded with gusto. Mother-in-law misconstrued the purpose of the gadget; she spent the holiday with an expression appropriate to the Inquisition and a mouth like a letterbox. She didn’t speak to me on the day, even to tell me how to cook the festive dinner. Turns out that she thought I’d been given a vibrator.

I dedicate this article to Nelson, the best, most loving and charming black cat that ever made friends with a mouse. There is a door in my house which squeaks just as he did; there is a room in my heart which will be forever empty.