Reading time: 1 minute. Request for your help: could take 1 minute, or longer if you choose.
I finally got time to take ivy cuttings. Perhaps it's too late in the year. Anyways, 6 pots with 3 cuttings in each, using rooting powder to help them take root. That's why it's called rooting powder! Then, purely for my own information, I decided to keep 3 pots in the glasshouse and 3 in a sheltered corner outside. Has anyone experience of where is best?
One ivy will become 18, hopefully
Please leave a comment below if you can help. Even if you can't, leave any comment related to above. Note, however, that rude comments will be composted as advised in a recent article.
Páraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves propagating plants, increasing the odds of success and saving some money. He also loves ivy in pots, very sparing use of chemicals, but does not like taking photographs from above.
This is the first of an idea that fleetingly passed through my mind recently. I hope to revisit this Monday Meditation theme from time to time... on Monday's of course!
Study the photograph closely. Take your time and begin to notice the details such as:
colours, light and shade
mist/rain. I wonder what time of day was the photograph taken?
clutter. Sometimes interesting, sometimes with negative vibes?
life and end of life. This small space is the entire universe for this plant.
immigrant strangers "invading". There's a rogue flower in top right corner
what lies beneath or within? Friend or foe? Home or hidden trap?
Now, return to the list above and select one item of your choice. Focus on this for as much as two or three minutes. What thoughts come to you? If you feel comfortable, share these thoughts in the comments for others. Are there other themes that came to mind? See can you come up with three. For example, on a very serious level (that's what mindful meditation is about) describe the following moral dilemmas in relation to the photograph:
#metoo
Bodily Brexit: a terminally sick person whats to leave
Discrimination based on skin colour
Pádraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves clutter, rogue flowers and the macro-universe. He also likes occasional meditation and Mondays, but not earwigs hiding in the long grass.
My wife, Marion, grows rhubarb. For the past number of years she has had a good harvest from one plant in a very large terracotta pot. The pot is approximately 24 inches in diameter, and the rhubarb, although very tasty, is a bit lost in it. Last year, I entered into negotiations to secure exclusive use of the pot. There was a bit of horse-trading. That's my term for having to do a few more house chores in addition to hoovering and taking off my muddy boots. Contracts were exchanged verbally, and my plans were put in progress. But, like planning permission that can lapse, Marion held on to the pot because I did nothing about it.
This week I did! Monday morning was very very wet, and I visited Country Life again. This time, I did not know what to buy, so I spoke for 20 minutes with Malachy. I explained I wanted something to add interest for the winter and I described the pot with hand gestures. "It's about this big, and this wide", said I. There were so many suggestions thrown at me, but I was decisive lest I lose the pot permanently.
I agreed to purchase three plants:
All three plants were mature and expensive. I mean really expensive,
so I put on my thinking cap and within twenty minutes my plants were in
the very large basket and loaded into my very small car boot. The acer
tickled my ear as I itched home excitedly. Normally, I am reluctant to
buy very mature plants but my daughter said she'd buy the tree as my
Christmas present, and Marion would buy the two shrubs. Finally, the
days of Marion's rhubarb pot were over, and the task of getting presents too!
Step 1: remove the
offending rhubarb. Tuesday morning was equally wet and miserable, but
the afternoon was bright and sunny with only an occasional shower. It
took me a while to dislodge the rhubarb, divide it into four plants and
find a new home of Marion's choosing on one of the vegetable beds. I
thought it wise to hold off on mentioning that rhubarb is not generally regarded as a
vegetable. (As t turns out, I was wrong, so best left unsaid!)
Step 2: plant the shrubs and tree carefully using a mix of good compost and some soil robbed from the fertile vegetable bed. No evidence supplied, but I did break a sweat. Step 3: move the pot with its new plants to somewhere else.
Step 4: admire from several angles, with coffee.
Facing North
View from the glasshouse
Skimmia japonica Temptation
One hour later my long-awaited project was complete and all that will need doing is to wrap it during Christmas week!
Part 2:
I rarely watch television. There are a few exceptions, such as whenever Crystal Palace win a match, or a good historical film. I also do like overnight election counts, so I watched CNN coverage of the US mid-term elections very early this morning. Over a cup of coffee before dawn, I once again checked my Christmas presents. Anti-the-Trump vote was coming in strong.
As I continued to watch CNN, my mind harped back to my work the previous day. The conservative wing of the USA remained emboldened and loyal to the-Trump, but there were less of them. Women got revenge for two years of misogynism from the-Trump's keyboard. At one point he declared the result "a tremendous success". My garden project is an example of a tremendous success. My work, my decisiveness and my collaboration with the owner of the pot is a tremendous success. The-Trump would do well to visit my garden. He will see that I cannot hide my tremendous success behind falsehoods. It stands there for even him to see.
I see, said the blind man. Shut up, said the dumb man; you can't see at all.
As dawn broke, I returned to the TV screen while reading the New
York Times and the Guardian. Every now and then, I broke into laughter,
particularly when a Guardian (UK) summary pointed out:
If that qualifies as a victory, then England can celebrate several World Cup wins since 1966.
Later when I remembered my beautiful Acer, the bark of which turns to a strong stripey pink in very cold weather, I googled for a quote about snake bark, and Friedrich Nietzsche jumped to the top of my screen:
The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die.
Malachy assured me that my terracotta plants will live happily together for at least 15 years before I'll need to consider a bigger pot. The trick will be to buy the pot for Marion one or two years ahead of time! The-Trump barely has two years left, and perhaps less. His American garden is divided and plants will not work well together. The ying and yang is missing some yang. Trexit may happen.
Balance and beauty
Please Leave A Comment
Tell me your "the-Trump" thoughts. I'll not declare it fake news if I don't like it. Have you a garden project that you are particularly proud of? Have you a garden blog you feel is worth sharing? Give me the link! I love reading garden blogs, and I quietly take some of the good ideas to mine. It's not robbing, it's admiration.
Páraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves Marion's pots,
Malachy's advice and makes very sure not to mix up the two. He also loves snake-bark and overnight election coverage, but he can see the wood from the trees.
Reading time: 6-8 mins.
Winter officially starts tomorrow, November 1st. The clocks went back an hour last weekend, and daylight time in the garden is reduced. Yesterday, I made very good use of my time in the garden. Initially, I did not expect to be able to, because my morning was taken up with other stuff including the dreaded grocery shopping. My wife and I take it in turns every second week, but I found the silver lining! Laden with supplies of edibles, I drove past my local Country Life garden centre and did an immediate about-turn to have a browse. Afterwards, I was happy that I did, because I returned home with winter plants including pansies, violas and cyclamens packed side-by-side in the car with avocados, gluten-free bread and socks from Aldi.
Pansy White Blotch
In some instances, my plants might remain unplanted for up to a week, but the afternoon was mild and pleasant so I donned my old jogging shoes and my painting shirt to get stuck in. Two hours later I rested to review my efforts, and I enjoyed a cappuccino with a side order of just one square of 70% chocolate. In the same way that some dunk a biscuit into tea or coffee, I did just that with the chocolate.
On the previous Bank Holiday Monday, I had started taking my 42 Begonias indoors. In some cases, I merely moved the pots into the glasshouse. Others needed to be carefully removed from window boxes and home-made raised wooden troughs. All of them were dying rapidly, and some light frosts over the weekend hastened their demise. Begonias are tender tubers. This means that they will die fatally if left outdoors. Over the coming weeks I will repot these wonderful bundles of energy, and keep them safely in the glasshouse until late spring. The soil will be allowed to dry out almost completely, and in March I will make sure that they begin to sprout. Actually, it is not I that miraculously lures the tuber into re-birth. It's in their DNA to do this. I am merely required to not go against nature and will provide the best conditions when I see the slightest new growth.
But I digress. All of this work to bring my precious begonias into hibernation came about because as I planted the 46 newly-acquired pansies, violas and cyclamens above, I discovered that I was short of potting compost. However, as I was in my painting shirt and had soil all over my clean hands, I did not much feel like returning to Country Life to replenish supplies. I was rescued (once more) by my wife Marion who agreed to go on my behalf, while I had another coffee, this time with no added chocolate. An hour later, I had recycled much of the depleted soil from the Begonia pots. I was amazed that the soil was so good, even though it had hosted plants since early May. I do remember doing a good job when planting, and the richness of the soil made for a great summer show, so I was very reluctant to not use it further. I did add some fresh compost with some sand/grit and fed the plants well when they were settled into their new winter home.
I was not overly pleased with this arrangement
The leg of the P is too long
I needed steak and onions to follow all this washed-down coffee, and retired for the evening to the warmth of the stove with my footstool. I listened to some good music but the garden was still on my mind. Gardening does not stop when darkness falls. It is the time for online gardening, and this time of the year is perfect for two aspects among others:
Finally, an arrangement I like and can change next week
On this eve of winter, I chose to get cracking on the catalogues. In previous years I had requested catalogues from Thompson & Morgan and Unwins so these ones will automatically arrive in the post any day now. I broadened the list this year to include:
An hour later, all the account creating was finished, all the boxes ticked (except for the boxes I chose not to tick!) and the catalogue processing is happening overnight. While waiting for the hard copies, I browsed further at 1 and 4, handed over my money in exchange for a few spring bulbs (including rare Elite Collection Alliums) and slept contentedly for an hour by the fire in advance sleeping contentedly in my own bed, satisfied that a good day was had.
The buying continues at Farmer Gracy
Interestingly, I'm on the lookout for online Irish seed/plant catalogues, but that's a story for another day. I say this because, while UK and European companies can deliver seeds and bulbs to Ireland, they are unable to deliver plants. It had to do with Irish customs restrictions, perhaps because we want to keep riff-raff species out. Anyway, I thought I was being very smart last spring as I attempted to bypass Mr. Customs Inspector. I registered for an Address Pal account with An Post, the Irish postal system company. This service allowed me to have UK deliveries sent to a holding depot, to be forwarded to me by An Post. Full of excitement, I ordered plants from Unwins. The order was processed and delivered to a warehouse somewhere. Unfortunately, I forgot to note that An Post was also unable to deliver a parcel containing riff-raff plants to Ireland. Following several emails to and fro, the parcel was returned to Unwins five weeks later; the plants were very likely fatally dead, and I was unable to recover my €64. Unwins kept the money and the said dead plants. Dead money, you might say!
Last night I deliberately ordered spring/summer bulbs only, and I await unhindered speedy delivery. Watch this space, and in the meantime: enjoy your gardening, whether by day or by night.
Cyclamen are not always frost-hardy.
Queries to readers:
Do you have a favourite online seeds/plants supplier?
Describe your painting shirt in less than 20 words.
Do you like avocados and/or Customs Officials?
Footnote: While I write this garden blog specifically for myself in order to remember everything that I'll have forgotten when I forget it, I was delighted that last week's article about my memories of mam's garden got so much exposure. The feedback is lovely to have. As always, comments are optional and always will be. Páraig will never email you looking for feedback, but if you would like to comment, then please do. Remember, it is optional, but rude comments will be composted.
There's that White Blotch Pansy again!
Páraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves winter pansies, avocados and browsing hard-copy garden catalogues. He also loves Jersey Plants Direct and cappuccino, but not going to the garden centre in his painting shirt. He does love everyone (well, almost everyone) who chooses to follow him on Instagram or on his Facebook Page
Beauty Berry. Unfortunately, it died in the snow of March
I can't resist photographing marigolds
All year round garden visitor
Intense scent form this rose: Just Joey
Páraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves looking back through garden photos, as it brings back such great memories. He loves marigolds and autumn in particular, but not heavy snow that kills plants.
It all started when I was young. My mam had a small town front garden. It was just 20 feet wide by about 40 feet. It was her oasis, and all because dad was the hydration officer! I have many memories of Number 15.
The Google van rolled by in 2015.
The most vivid is when, during long, hot, dry summers the garden hose was retrieved from the back shed, rolled out through the living room and the hall to water the oasis. It was tied up to the kitchen sink by a dangerously leaky attachment, and dad proceeded to shower the garden lightly all over. I think he didn't much like having to sort out all the preparatory bits, but when the water was flowing, he came to see the temporary therapy of the task. There were a few choice words uttered silently whenever the water flow was interrupted by the sink attachment exploding away from the tap. However, whatever about the frustrations of the hose-holder in the garden, the water damage in the small scullery was more difficult to manage. The hose would detach and coil itself snake-like until it rested on the lino floor and would release some water by counterflow, and Dad would shout in for someone to tie it back on once more. Mostly, his calls went unanswered, as we were a busy household and everyone had their specific jobs to do. As time went by, this job was scheduled and whoever was put on tap duty was required to answer the call. At some point also, it was decided to add some twine as a backup. When the hose was attached to the tap, it was also tied in order to prevent such sudden detachments, and this seemed to work very well.
Mam was the gardener. Over the years she created a beautiful display of plants, and she tended her patch with diligence. My recollection of her favourites include dahlias, roses and the beautifully simple marigold.
My love of Marigolds comes from home.
I watched annually as she tended these wonderful summer visitors. Visitors, in the sense that they appeared every year from the seeds of the previous. She minded them, carefully limiting them where wanted them to grow, disposing of other seeds that grew in the wrong places. She had dad to water them, and she garnered the flowers for a small indoor display. She continued with regular dead-heading to prolong the flowering season. I did not know it at the time, but I realised later that I was learning so much about this lovely plant. Years later, I had my very own selection of marigolds, and whenever she visits my garden she is brought back in time. In addition to learning about how to care for plants, the bigger picture is much bigger! I learned:
to care for the earth
to see patience in action
to view planning ahead as important
to see beauty amid life's difficulties
Michael and Mary 1957
In short, I learned the art of gardening. Of course, I learned many other things too. Our road of 20 houses sported many fine gardens. It was generally an inexpensive hobby when times were hard. As I grew through my teenage years, I became aware of how much pride mam and dad took in having a lovely garden. Mrs. Murphy four doors down was in a similar situation, and there was some rivalry. My dad would say that hers was not as good as ours. He would say this only to us, for fear of being accused of pride, and I felt he said it also to highlight his contribution because Mr. Murphy never took a hosepipe in hand!
Dad kept the oasis watered. Photo approx 1990.
Note: For the past number of years I have updated this page from home. Sometimes it has been on a regular basis, and sometimes neglected for weeks and months. Finding dedicated working time has not always worked for me, as I am distracted by actually going to the garden, hoovering and having to hang out the washing! So, I opted to write away from home. I have booked in to Dungarvan Coworking Hub at the Enterprise Centre on Main Street.
Do you have childhood garden memories? Did you have any unusual garden tasks? Share in the comments below. I'd love to rekindle memories!
Páraig is the author of Petals by Paraig. He loves marigolds, good neighbours and away-from-home office space. He also remembers his mam's garden with fondness, but not having to tie the garden hose to an indoor tap.
It's the first day of October. The swallows have gone, and the days are shortening. My gardening year is coming to a close, yet there is much to do. However, rather than doing it, I am still in writing mode and the doing will be done it its own good time.
In attempting to find reasons to cheer Up My Monday, I am never lost for ideas. This week, I find myself thinking about bots. Yes, bots. These are the fake automated accounts I realised are everywhere out there. Let me give an example.
I use Instagram to share my garden with others. My account is petalsbyparaig and I love the interaction there. A simple garden photograph speeds its way to my many followers. Similarly, I enjoy looking at photographs posted by others, and the circle continues, adding excitement and motivation to my garden photography.
This is a list of some recent "followers": (names edited to prevent further following!
click.toincreasefollowers (Yeah, right.... more bots!)
clinique58 (House of Fazer?)
presstoobtain (Get Fame on instagram)
pproteinIreland (I have enough, thanks!)
Gracie98 (with Snapchat link only)
hayeng212 (I can earn $100 per day.... wow!)
Brazilian Lingerie (Online shop that delivers to me)
The list goes on and on. What amazed me was that many of these replies are automated, and a "like" or a "follow" returns instantly. Initially, I thought to myself, ah feck off.... and continued my day. But as I write this, I intend taking things a step further. I intend removing accounts that are obviously fake, because not only do I not want them following me, more importantly, I do not want them having access to my data. I am considering making my account private but will consider the matter a bit more. In such a case, I would approve follow requests, yet this takes away from gardening and writing time.
This will cheer up my Monday big time! Other things that cheer me up today include:
Still lots of tomatoes ripening
Garden catalogues arriving soon
Sunshine last week was incredible
The garden still looks great.
Autumn is blooming
My to-do-list is taking shape. Among many of the jobs on the list are:
Final spraying of roses
Make a cold-frame
Fix a leaking drainpipe
Propagate several plants from cuttings and division
Stop the birds from enjoying a soil dust-bath just where I have sown beetroot seed
Sto the birds from enjoying a soil dust-bath just where I have sown spring onion seed
Other than that, here's a photo selection to cheer me up even more!
About the author: Páraig is the author of Petals by Páraig. He photographs and writes about his garden in Ireland. He loves using Instagram and sharing things there, but doesn't love the bots, and particularly dislikes the ones that promise money or other things.
