It’s mid-summer in the garden. With barely any rain for weeks the surrounding paddocks have started to brown off, baled up hay decorating short stubbled field that remind me it’s well past time that I should have mulched my flower beds. The light has shifted into its soft golden phase as it slowly leaves us on a trajectory to the north and before long the evenings will be tinged with the dampness and woodsmoke of an autumn approach…although I’m not ready to think about autumn just yet.
Most of my summer seasonal produce is late this year. After a spring that tended more towards a wet winter, everything struggled to flourish. I can only boast one courgette so far which gives you some clue of what our summer has been like…but until I get a greenhouse I’ll just have to accept what the weather gods have in store and take my chances. With a rapidly changing climate (yes, it is happening sooner and faster than you’d expected, you’re not imagining it), every season is a gamble so whether it’s still questionable if I’ll get many tomatoes, and my garlic failed for the first time thanks to rust, my peas, rhubarb and redcurrants were a roaring success.
The transition from early to mid-summer flowers is seeing aquilegias replaced with achilleas, valerian with verbena and poppies with penstemon. Dahlias new and established are unfurling and after receiving an accidental double order of ‘mystery dahlias’ from a local supplier in spring, I have about 20 introductions to look forward to over the coming weeks. I, like so many others over the last few years, have fallen into the absolute mad dream of tall, majestic and romantic dahlia beds scattered around the garden and must now suffer the injustices of competing with everyone else who’d quite like that too, thanks. Not just any dahlias of course, only the most coveted and difficult to source ones will do. As always, I blame Instagram.
Leave a Reply