Flowers and weeds, who decides?

9 to 11 June 2015

Although my toe stood up the the vaults tour there really hadn’t been that much walking and I thought I’d be wise to rest it as much as possible before I had to walk to work on Wednesday. As Tuesday was bright and sunny, if still not particularly warm, I spent the day pottering in the garden trimming things back and generally tidying up. Unless you listen to Commando, who is chief mower of lawns, mine is a low maintenance garden. Mostly it consists of shrubs that need tidying occasionally and lots of annuals that seed themselves. Apart from cutting back the honeysuckle and ivy arch once a year and a bit of judicial clipping, it tends to look after itself.

In most gardens, weeds are an issue but, other than the dandelions, clover and daisies in the lawn, there aren’t a lot of weeds in mine. At least there aren’t a lot of things I consider to be weeds. The odd dandelion creeps into the flower bed and gets uprooted, occasionally some bindweed sneaks in from Topol’s unkempt garden next door and is swiftly dug out and put in the brown wheelie bin. There are oxeye daisies and hawkweed but I planted them on purpose because I like them even though most people would call them weeds. Ivy leaved toadflax also appear here and there, where it came from I don’t know but I like it so I leave it.

Quite a few of the things in my garden have wandered in of their own accord. The pulmonaria, for instance, appeared out of nowhere and keeps springing up all over the show. It’s finished flowering now, more or less, but I’m hopefull of another show later in the year because the bees love it. Under the palm I have a patch of cuckoo pint that comes up every spring. It wasn’t something I planted, it’s considered a weed, but I like it so it stays.

Many of the other flowers were in the garden when it belonged to Mother. Maybe she planted them or maybe she inherited them as I did but they’ve stayed. The aquilegias are real old cottage garden flowers. They seed themselves and wander about at will. One year they’ll be popping up by the gate, another they’ll be along the gravel path. Occasionally I pull the odd one up, mostly I leave them to go where they like. It’s the same with the forget me nots, cornflowers, bluebells, campanula and chives.

Other things I actually went to the trouble of planting. A neighbour gave me some Welsh poppies many years ago, she dug them up from her garden. At the same time she gave me Icelandic poppies and evening primrose. For some reason the Icelandic poppies didn’t do so well and I only have one or two left. The Welsh poppies and the evening primrose are everywhere. From time to time I have to have a cull and pull a few up to stop them taking over completely. Mostly I don’t bother.

Another thing I planted was nigella, or love in the mist. They actually came from a packet of seed. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t bought them because, pretty as they are, they are taking over the garden and most of my weeding cosists of trying to get rid of them in places I’d rather they didn’t grow. Still, it’s not a bad problem to have. There are feverfew and lemon balm too, mainly contained where I want them.

At the moment my favourite of all the things I’ve planted are the violas and pansies. These were some cut price plug plants from the supermarket and they have been real value for money. Sadly they don’t seem very keen to seed themselves but I live in hope.

Possibly the most precious plant in the whole garden is the little apple tree we moved from Commando Senior’s garden before his house was sold. It was originally planted in memory of April, Commando’s mum. We were terrified that moving a two year old Apple tree woild prove fatal but it has survived. There were flowers earlier in the spring and now we have tiny baby apples. Whether they will make it to maturity remains to be seen but they’re a good sign the tree is healthy.

As I toddled off to work on Wednesday I was thinking about weeds and flowers. Who decides which will be which I wondered? There were swans by the big stones as usual and the sharp wind had churned up the salt water leaving a bead of white foam along the shore line. A train was passing in one direction and a brightly dressed jogger in the other.

On the boardwalk spikes of purple toadflax looked as good as any garden flower and the queen Anne’s lace were pretty balls of tiny white flowers to rival anything you’d see in a garden centre, surrounded as they were by bright ragwort and the delicate flowering heads of grasses. Why should these be any less than marigolds, viburnam or veronica? I climbed the slope surrounded by yet more weeds, tassels of green nettle, spikes of yellow verbascum, nodding oxeye daisies, purple button buds of knapweed and goodness knows what else. What makes these weeds and not flowers?

Of course, once I got to the office there was no time to ponder any further. There were phones to answer, emails to portion out and meetings to attend. There was also the small matter of arranging train tickets for the next depot visit on Friday. This time one of those tickets would be mine and I was hoping for good weather because I’d be off to the seaside in Weymouth. The weather man didn’t give me a great deal of hope but a wet seaside is better than a dry office in my book.

Thursday morning was warmer and I noticed ball like buds on the lime trees as I passed under them on my way through the desolate park. When they open the sweet scent will make me want to linger. The river was still choppy and the walk along the bank windy with traces of the foam still clinging to the stones. It was high tide and the hippie ship was almost completely submerged as I started off along the boardwalk.

Although I walk the same route most days in spring and summer there is always something different to see. This time there were two trains passing as I strolled along the boardwalk but my eyes were on the mass of tangled greenery beside the rails. The buds I’ve been watching on the wild sweet pea are almost ready to open. Right now they look yellow but I know they will be palest purple in a day or two. At the top of the slope the first of the knapweed flowers have burst into spiky pom-poms. Soon they will be everywhere. These weeds that any self respecting gardener would frown upon seem like beautiful flowers to me no matter what anyone else says.