As the seasons ebb and flow, so too does the ever-changing beauty of our founder Lucy’s cottage garden. Each month, she shares quiet musings from among the borders - small joys, new discoveries, and the gentle rhythms of nature as they unfold. From the first unfurling petals of spring to the mellow glow of autumn, these notes offer a glimpse into a garden forever in motion.
As the end of April draws closer, I’m finally daring to hope that the last frost has, at last, passed. It’s time, then, to begin hardening off some of my seedlings—always with fingers crossed that they’re now robust enough to brave the great outdoors in my main beds. The chief threat, of course, remains the ever-hungry slugs. I feel most confident in my nasturtiums, which are looking particularly strong. They’ll be the first to go out, while some of the new annuals I’m experimenting with this year will need a little more nurturing in the greenhouse.
My fruit and vegetable seedlings are rather modest at the moment – just three cucumber plants and one solitary broad bean, lovingly grown by Alma at school. As ever, I’ve been swept up in the joy of trying new florals instead. Next year, I tell myself, I’ll strike a better balance.
A little earlier than last year, the first of the tulips are beginning to unfurl, happily catching the spring light. We do seem to have lost quite a few this time, though, with much of the foliage coming up blind. I’m making a quiet note of where autumn top-ups might be needed – but one new favourite that is blooming beautifully just now is Tulip ‘Password’. Its soft, frilled petals are layered so densely that it could almost be mistaken for a peony. Glorious.
I am thrilled that, after many seasons of trial and error, I finally seem to have unearthed a floral miscellany that’s thriving in my large metal trough, tucked away in the shade at the entrance to the greenhouse. The triumphant pairing of Erythronium 'Pagoda' and a type of woodland forget-me-not seems to be very happy in this shady spot – which is all the lovelier, since they look so very beautiful together.
One sight that never fails to cheer my soul at this time of year is the demure and exquisite snakeshead fritillary. Each spring, I vow to plant more and more of them for the following year. Their sweetly bowed heads are currently delighting us in the odd pot, as well as in small clumps in one of the beds. But I do so long for a true carpet of them one day.
I’m encouraged by the abundance of crabtree blossoms this year, which I hope heralds a bumper crop of crab apples to come. In the meantime, the bees are in heaven.
