Wednesday 3 July 2019

Garden notes with some Wimbledon chat thrown in...








"At Christmas, I no more desire a rose, than wish a snow in May's new fangled birth; But like of each thing that in season grows." William Shakespeare, Love's Labours Lost.


July already. Half-way point of the year. How are your gardens coming along? It won’t get much better than this so enjoy the colours. Summer, seems to have finally arrived. Pleasantly warm, blue skies, light winds. After the coldest and wettest June that I can remember in all my time in London, things have calmed down. And following the incongruity of last weekend’s brief Mediterranean heat, the ‘Spanish Plume’, plume not plum, as they call it - essentially hot air travelling up from Africa across the Iberian Peninsula towards us - things have developed into a classic English summer. That intense level of heat of last Saturday just feels odd. You should be in a place with palm trees and ice cold cerveza and calamari when it’s thirty-three degrees. Now it’s looking good for quite a while AND it’s the first week of Wimbledon too. Lovely weather and Wimbledon without rain. England at its best. Don’t read the newspapers or watch the politicians. That’s England at its worst. Watch tennis. And good news, it’s not been snatched by Sky Sports yet either.
         Is Wimbledon the greatest tournament of all? I’d say so, but I loathe comparison and everything or almost everything in life is subjective. Is it just jingoism? Nostalgia? Perhaps, but not quite. There is something about the grass, the gentility, the history, the atmosphere, the uniqueness. A cushion to protect those of us lucky enough to love the game from the harsher realities of the world. Or at least forget them temporarily. But tennis is more than that. We can learn from it. Wimbledon is a place where beauty, dignity and respect thrive, one or two Australian louts aside. Neither beauty nor dignity nor respect are priorities of politicians or the capitalist machine.  Now the French open, also a great tournament, is played on clay. Clay will never have the romance of grass. That’s just aesthetics, it’s a natural reaction of the senses. If you go to Paris and go to one of the beautiful parks, on closer inspection, the white gravel leaves you a bit cold. And they don’t let you sit on the grass. A double whammy. The French are better than us at many things, including tennis – Andy Murray aside - but regarding public parks, perhaps they can cede defeat. Regents Park, Hampstead Heath, Richmond Park and all the other beautiful parks up and down the country are testimony to that. And an English garden does, after all, have a certain renown and reputation.
         So back to the garden. The French lavender, after a strong April and May is suffering, losing most of its colour and the bees with it. Perhaps the cold and wet of June did for it. And I have noticed waking around the neighbourhood that English lavender is currently thriving. A beautiful purple/blue colour with intense perfume. Perhaps that’s my comeuppance for being too pro-European. An interesting development has been the white lavender. This is the wonder of a garden. It was planted last year but I don’t remember it being white before. In retrospect, I think it didn’t flower. The scabious is thriving, loved by bees as is the buddleia, a late bloomer and always welcome. On the lawn, some buttercups have sprung up. What a thrill to see those yellow flowers. The simple act of visual recognition does something to the brain and takes you back through time to childhood innocence and enthusiasm. Well, I was mostly innocent. The other marvel is the thyme pot. A pot belonging to my absent friend Daniel Kirkpatrick who cooked with it when he was still with us. The mass of colours would have pleased him. And the roses are currently budding again after their first flowering. There is literally one rose flower in bloom today (from three plants). A single solitary and most beautiful English Miss, yes that’s the name; English Miss. Delightful name, delightful colour and perfume. And perhaps just one is apt. Two English Misses could be considered indecent.
         Birdlife is relatively quiet. Swifts screeching across the sky, like something from Star Wars, herald summer at its peak. Still city birds, unlike swallows for example, they nest in holes they find in these old Victorian houses. The odd blackcap, a summer visitor, the odd wren, so tiny. Blue and great tits. Goldfinches, so gregarious and beautiful. A dunnock, the bird which proves that still waters run deep. Drab and brown they hop about looking for seeds. But they enjoy rather exciting love lives. Polygamous, essentially the swingers of the bird world. The ubiquitous robin and blackbird. Blackbirds are rather taken for a granted, I think. Their melodious song is one of the symbols of spring and summer and the male is really rather beautiful. Jet black plumage contrasting with orange eyes and beak. Sadly, no summer visitors such as warblers yet, but there is time for that. Plenty of unidentifiable insects flying about. A large green cricket on the wall. Little centipedes fleeing the light when uncovered by moving plant pots. An unusual wasp with long antennae. A harvestman which I don't think I've seen since I was a kid. No it's not a cheap pub chain. It's related to spiders. A round body and giant long legs. The odd mammoth bumble bee and some solitary wasps and bees. Small. Tiny in fact and colourful. They’re useful pollinators and unlike social wasps and bees, the fear of a sting, which we seem to have ingrained in us, is an irrelevance. Hoverflies too, using wasp mimickery to trick potential predators - are again harmless and identifiable, by their hovering, naturally enough. All these insects are what you want you to see in your garden. One other more unusual sight last Saturday evening was a hummingbird hawkmoth. Very striking, it is basically, a large striped moth that feeds like a hummingbird i.e. hovering in front of plants to suck their nectar with a long proboscis. And it is predominantly Mediterranean. We saw one whilst walking past a garden. Almost certainly it hitched a ride on the Spanish plume across the English Channel, ended up in North London and presumably returned again as the weather cooled. They surely couldn’t survive a normal summer here. An astonishing thing is nature. Now back to the tennis.
                                        

No comments:

Post a Comment