I was also interested to see a short piece featured on Gardener’s World last season featuring Jenny Barnes from Asthal Manor giving a tutorial on how she cloud prunes the many climbing roses there. After seeing this I decided it was time to give it a go, albeit on a much, much smaller scale.

1. This is the rose that I chose to cloud prune. It’s Teasing Georgia by David Austin and has beautiful pale yellow flowers as you can see in the main photo. It has some nice whippy and long pieces so it’s perfect for cloud pruning.

2. Next take off all the leaves. They will probably drop anyway and you will be able to see the shape a little more clearly.

3. After you have pruned out anything that is dead, diseased or dying carefully curve the branches into circular shapes. Ideally, no branches will cross. I’m not sure I achieved that but I’m happy with the finished look.

This type of pruning should produce more flowers than last year, but I won’t know that until it flowers. In the meantime it looks interesting and has already garnered some questions from visiting gardeners.

I have found that the best secateurs for this job are Felco number 2s. (Amazon Affiliate) I don’t use any other secateurs.

I’m thankful for a frost for so many reasons. Not just because it looks pretty and it’s a great excuse to pad about in my nightdress taking photos in the morning but also because lots of my plants do better after a frost. It doesn’t bother the evergreens and quite a few of my vegetables are happy to sit in frozen soil (like Leeks and Cabbage) and even taste better and sweeter after a frost (Carrots and Parsnips). But many of my flowering plants (like Roses and Clematis) have a much better season after a frost, simply because there are fewer pests and diseases around.

Last year in New England, we had a strange winter. There was no snow and very late in the season there was a very hard frost that killed or knocked back a lot of the plants that would typically be okay. I got a lot of questions about Hydrangeas. Why are they not flowering this year? Are they dead? Should I cut out the brown stalks? Well, my Hydrangeas took a beating in the frost just like everyone else’s, and when they eventually started growing again they did so from the base of the plant not from the buds on last year’s growth. And there’s the flower problem. Hydrangea’s flower on last year’s growth and since that was a gonner, no flowers for me. I cut out all the brown, dead stalks and am crossing my fingers for this summer.

Here are some reasons why frost is good!

Hardening and Dormancy: Frost helps many plants to harden off and enter dormancy, a state in which they conserve energy and resources during the cold months. This natural process is crucial for the survival of perennial plants through the winter, ensuring they can resume growth in the spring.

Pest Reduction: Frost can significantly reduce the populations of pests that afflict plants. Many insects and disease-causing organisms cannot survive the cold temperatures, giving plants a healthier start in the spring.

Improved Flavor: For some crops, especially certain varieties of fruits and vegetables (like kale and Brussels sprouts), a light frost can enhance their flavor. The cold causes these plants to convert stored starches into sugars, leading to a sweeter taste.

Seed Stratification: Many plant species require a period of cold temperatures to germinate successfully. Frost periods contribute to the stratification process, breaking seed dormancy and promoting uniform germination and growth in the following season.

Water Distribution: Frost helps break down soil clumps and aids in the redistribution of nutrients as the soil thaws. This process can improve soil structure and moisture retention, benefiting plant roots and promoting healthy growth in the spring.

So bring on the frost, I say. Have gloves will wear them!

My grandmother always grew Begonias. So, in my mind, they were a little old-fashioned and perhaps even out-of-date. But when I saw their amazing array of colors (both leaf and flower) and their, frankly crazy, variations of leaf texture and leaf shape I started to understand why so many people love Begonias.

Take this one below. It’s name is Escargot (you know, like Snail in French). And you can see why it’s named that. The swirl on the leaf is almost mesmerizing. These Begonias do have flowers but you would buy this one for the leaf shape alone.

I also love the names. Below is Begonia Rex, Jurassic Watermelon. Whoever named this plant was bang on the money. It looks like a watermelon exploded in a scene from Jurassic Park. Doesn’t it?

They look particularly good in hanging baskets and planters. This one is Begonia Solenia Salmon Coral with Creeping Jenny. I love the coral color.

The reds and pinks are particularly vibrant. This one below is Begonia Solenia Dark Pink.

As I understand it, some Begonias like to be in bright conditions but not in direct sunlight. They like their soil moist but not water logged as they are prone to fungal infections. My aim is to try to propagate my own Begonias. I think I’ll try a leaf cutting first and see how that goes. I’ve heard that you need patience, so I’m prepared to wait for my baby Begonias. The Begonia below is Iron Cross.

I’ll let you know how the propagating goes. I found this very useful video on how to propagate Begonias, so I’ll be trying this method.

As you can see, I grew quite a few vegetables last year. Despite part of the garden being in the shade for much of the day. The heat helped with ripening the tomatoes and I harvested many, many beefsteak toms that previously I could only grow in my greenhouse.

Speaking of greenhouses, I left my gorgeous, 13 ft, wooden greenhouse back in Portland. I miss it. But in the left-hand corner you may be able to spy my solution to being ‘sans’ greenhouse; a cute little double-height cold frame which is conveniently located next to an electricity outlet where I can plug in some heated growing mats. Last year I grew all my vegetable plants and much of my cutting garden in that tiny little greenhouse.

Behind the mini greenhouse is my potting shed. It started life as a disused out-house and is now my very own potting hideaway. It even has two little windows, one to survey the garden and the other to keep an eye on the boats coming in and out. It’s pretty cute inside and has bistro lights strung on the ceiling. I’ll take some photos and do a separate post about it. It deserves its own post.

I feel very lucky to have this beautiful garden and even luckier to have this view. I hope to grow lots of fruit and vegetable here. I might even plant another espalier apple tree – that is, when I have conquered the ivy on the brick wall!

The dreaded January is around the corner. I feel like I ought to dread it but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s the start of a new year, the month of lists, and good intentions and new beginnings. There is nothing to dread, surely.

Yes, the days are grey, the weather is mostly bleak. There is little to nothing growing in my garden right now (although I did spot one solitary Camellia flower today). No doubt we have some harsh weather to get through before Spring arrives, and the temperature in the greenhouse means that I won’t be sowing anything for a while.

But… as a gardener I can’t help but plan. Even if it’s just sitting on the couch and thinking about what to grow this coming year. It’s still exciting. Pretty soon I’ll be flipping through my seed box, making a list of what’s missing and what needs replacing. I’ll be ordering some seed sowing compost, rummaging around under the greenhouse staging and plugging in my heated seed tray mat. I’ll be buffing the greenhouse windows until they sparkle, tipping the water out of the wheelbarrow before it freezes, tightening the wires on the fence where the grapevine will grow and ordering bags of manure for the vegetable beds.

I’ll be scraping the top off the compost pile to see if the stuff underneath is good enough to mulch the fruit trees in the orchard with. I’ll be reading what Percy Thrower did in his garden in January (pruning his Pelargoniums if you’re interested) and copying most of what he did (minus the chemical spraying). Then, I’ll be checking when Gardeners’ World is back on TV. And we’ll be off…

When you’re a gardener there is ‘always’ something to do and that’s what I love about it. I couldn’t not get excited about it if I tried.

I will never get bored of sitting in my garden and watching the bees and birds flit about.

The book that I’m reading is Tasting Paris. It’s full of recipes that are inspired by great Parisien restaurants. I just made the chocolate bread recipe and it was a big hit with the boys in the house – in other words, it’s already gone!

The recipe I used comes from Ripe, the gorgeous fruit cookbook by Nigel Slater. I think he’s a bit bonkers but his Blackcurrant recipe works really well. He leaves the ‘bit’s in. See, I told you he was bonkers.

I couldn’t find a link to the recipe so I’ll just put it here. Hope he doesn’t mind. I add a bit of pectin if it needs it to set.

sugar – 4&1/2 cups (900g)
blackcurrants 5&1/2 cups (600g)
water – 2&1/3 cups (560ml)
1/4 tsp of pectin if needed

Boil the fruit and water, add warmed sugar, bring to boil and strain through jelly bag. Boil again if not jelling. Enjoy.

My Blackcurrant bush is about seven years old. It’s fully grown and I harvest some of the fruit by pruning off whole branches and picking off the currants. Others I just pick off the bush. That way I can keep a nice ‘open goblet’ shape and encourage new branches to form without crowding out the others.

Blackcurrants like sun and a fair amount of water. This one is on the south side of the garden and gets a good amount of water from the watering system. I have another one that is the same age but about half the size because it doesn’t get as much water as this one.

But nature will march on. And today that very same Garlic, (Red Russian) purchased with such abandon months before needed to be harvested. It’s perfect, with not a blemish in sight.

Like a lot of people right now, I’m extremely glad that I have a garden. To sit in, to think in, hide in, to social distance in. I’m always so amazed by the fact that gardens just do their thing, every year, year after year. Not much gets in their way. I’m pretty thankful for the predictability of my garden right now. When a lot of other things seem to be swaying underneath me.

I’ll probably plait these like I do with onions (here’s a post on how to plait onions) and hang them in the cool basement until I need them.

Bye for now.

In the first few years the flowers were too few to even contemplate picking. They make such a beautiful, layered carpet effect that I didn’t want to spoil it all by picking the flowers. It’s been a few years now that my Elderberry flowers so profusely that, let’s be honest, it won’t miss a few flowers. But have I made Elderflower cordial? No.

Why? A combination of laziness and just missing my chance. Once the flowers start to go brown then the party is over.

  But this year I was ready with the secateurs.

I had already secured an Elderflower cordial recipe from The River Cottage Preserves Handbook that I got from the library. And I had bought some bottles from the kitchen shop. Although I quickly found I didn’t have enough.

So here it is. The 13-years-too-late Elderflower cordial. One to check off the bucket-list (yes my list is that sad). And it tasted sooooo good. And I haven’t even tried it in champagne yet. Cheers!