Contrary to TS Eliot’s assertions, this year April has been the kindest month. Dry and sunny, without being too hot. I read that bluebells have been flowering a fortnight earlier as a result of the weather patterns over the autumn and winter adn we saw plenty of them at Easter in Devon. Particularly pleasing as they were more often English bluebells, rather than unscented Spanish bullies that we tend to see around here, and which are resident in the Midlife Garden.
While it has been a good year for the Bluebells, our tulips were not as numerous as last year and it seemed they finished earlier too. I was correct in sayign numbers were down, but I was mistaken in thinking they gave up sooner. Checking my Google Photos, April was the only month we were cutting tulips in 2025.By May, they were blown, despite purchasing bulbs that the supplier assured us range in flowering time from March to May.
One month is worth it, though. And while there might have been fewer blooms, we really made those tulips work. Throughout April we were supplying bunches to our lovely local farm shop outlets at Kimbers’ and Buffalicious, where they have been enthusiastically received. It was hardly the Tulip Mania of the 1600s, but they sold well.
As we cut the last tulips, Mrs B expressed concern that we were running out of flowers all together. But she need not fear, as nature (and a reasonably well-organised gardener) finds a way, with Hesperis and Honesty stepping up to the floral plate and (whisper it low) the mighty Ranunculus are finally showing some buds.
Holne Wood English bluebellLovely garden at Dartington HallTulips and Table Decs for Kimbers’Tulips in the Flower FridgeFlower bucketsThe Orange EmperorsWedding Day FlowersFancy FrillsLemon Beauty
In January I reported on my continuing efforts to grow Ranunculus. Commonly known as Persian Buttercups, these flowers were initially a breeze for me to grow, but more recently they seem to just die for no reason. I have no idea why.
But this year, I seem to have cracked it, thanks to some info sourced on the internet. The method involves starting the corms packed tightly together in a shallow seed tray, barely covered by compost. Given a light watering, within a few weeks there were small shoots coming through. I transferred them to 9cm pots and now every single corm is flourishing. All 101 of them. It seems too easy. I do not have the early blooms that I have tried for in previous years (and often failed) but maybe it is worth the delay.
Last week, we were in a ‘collab’ producing flowers for Ellie’s wedding (daughter of our good friends Steve and Lesley). It was joyful affair and we felt honoured to be able to contribute to the day in such a positive way. Being so early in the year, it was touch and go as to what stems we would be able to provide, but in the absence of any early ranunculus, the Garden Gate tulips came good, doing much of the floral heavy lifting. But ranunculus was there too, albeit stems that had been sourced from a Devon flower farm by our collaborator, Nat, Ellie’s sister-in-law. Nat was the primary organiser of the arrangements and utilised the ranunculus to create some wonderful bridal bouquets and buttonholes. She had also made some awesome dried flower rings for the smallest bridesmaids. It was a pleasure working with Nat.
I have said it many times, how gardening and horticulture teaches us about patience and humility. Our flowers bloomed because of some careful planning, nurturing and, above all, time. We did not have to shout, swear or use excessive force to get the results we wanted.
Although we might not have had ranunculus in time for the April wedding, we are quietly confident of a good crop of them in due course. As the Middle East is in danger of being bombed ‘back to the Stone Ages’ by our one-time allies, it seems ironic that I am about to produce my best crop of Persian Buttercups.
Ranunculus in MarchNot quite ready for the WeddingTable Decoration and Bud VasesBridal BouquetsA Welcoming DisplayGlorious PersianaPrepped for the serviceSpring Wedding Pew EndsAnother delivery of table decs and bouquets to Kimbers’Freshly cut
January means planning the spring planting but these days, fewer seed catalogues are landing on my doormat. Either the postal service is getting worse, or the seed companies are going electronic. Either way, instead of browsing catalogues, nowadays I am surfing the Web for my gardening fantasies.
I have plenty of seeds left over from summer, so have only needed to supplement them with a few from Ben at Higgledy Garden. But the internet is a dangerous place and leads me into horticultural temptation. After the losses of ‘dahliagate’ I was minded to order fresh ones to swell the depleted ranks and while I was browsing those tubers, I could not resist ordering a bulk batch of ranunculus.
My relationship with the Persian Buttercup over the years has been tempestuous, to put it mildly. The first time our paths crossed, at the Old Place, we managed to produce a fine crop of the multi-layered rose-like blooms. It seemed so simple: stick them in a pot in the autumn greenhouse, and by early summer – Boom!
In subsequent years I have tried the same formula, but it just hasn’t worked out. They have thrown up a few, sometimes weedy, green leaves, but each time they have wilted and died in the pot before spring could arrive. And this autumn I put them in 9cm pots and they never even bothered to germinate or shoot. Just rotted. I desperately want ranunculus in my life, but each time I try, they just swipe left.
I am clearly doing something wrong. Reading their biog, I see that they like the paradoxical “damp, well-drained soil.” So, they do not like being dry, but at the first sign of too much water, the corms will melt away like the Wicked Witch of the West.
Mrs B laughed when she knew I had succumbed to the Temptation of Ranunculus once again. The words of Soft Cell, she regards my attraction to ranunculus as a so so love; the standing joke of the year. For my part, I tried to make it work and although they didn’t even germinate last time, I wanna make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Despite my best intentions and ferent hopes, deep down I know that, even if they do manage to produce a few green shoots, I it is likely to be another case of Say Hello then Wave Goodbye.
Winter Table Decorations for the Local Farmshop Cafe
Eight and a half thousand people gathered to see the sun rise behind the Heel Stone and send its first rays into the heart of Stonehenge on the shortest day of the year.We assume the Ancients celebrated the Solstice because from now daylight hours will start to increase. In the middle of winter, we can just begin to feel a little hopeful, with spring just over the horizon.
Like an ancient pagan, I invest more hope in the solstice with each passing year. I will be looking at the garden for those green shoots which might be groping for the lengthening days. Goodness in the dark days of winter. For me, those green shoots would normally be garlic and onions, but in a change of tack in the Midlife Garden, we have not planted garlic this year.
The other day I saw tiny little bulbs sprouting on the top of three of the Allium Ping Pong I planted last year. In 2025 they only partially flowered, because of the dry summer. Instead, they have produced a plethora of baby bulbs. So, I have stuffed them into pots – and, with any luck, I hope to plant them out in the early spring, when they could provide some colour and, perhaps, some income.
Elsewhere in the garden, I am hopeful the five hundred tulips have settled in and are not rotting under the heavy autumnal rain. Whenever I see Monty Don planting tulips, he bangs on about the need for ‘free draining soil,’ as he shovels grit into his pots. No grit in my tulip bed, but I remain positive.
Free drainage is not a great feature of our clay soil, which was one reason I did follow Monty’s advice with my Dahlias. I lifted them before the frost, even washing the soil off them, as per MD’s advice, and left them in the greenhouse to dry off. Whereupon the hard frost bit them, panicking me into wrapping them up and storing them in the garage. But, as they were still a bit damp, I only succeeded in creating the perfect conditions for many of them to rot. Maybe next time I’ll follow local advice and leave them in the ground, well-mulched. Where, I guess, the rain can rot them instead.
It would be easy to get disheartened when stuff wilts, rots, or dies in the garden, but gardening, by definition, is a pragmatic and uplifting activity, even in the depths of winter. In the greenhouse, there are plenty of seedlings doing well, with sweet peas just coming up and antirrhinums standing strong in their pots, ready for the new season. They might not be flowering by the first wedding of the year on 2nd April (fingers crossed for the tulips on that one) but they will be going strong for a bride’s bouquet in July.
And that is what gardening does: it encourages us to look forward, with patience and positivity, and in the meantime, it keeps us stimulated and busy.
The summer has been a steady learning curve as we have developed our cut flower production systems of growing, cutting, arranging and marketing. So, always looking for knowledge to help us on our way, Mrs B and took the opportunity to attend the horticultural equivalent of a Ted Talk. Otherwise known as the monthly meeting of the local gardening association at the village hall, October’s guest speaker was a cut flower farmer from a neighbouring county who promised to share the secrets of her success.
As non-members we paid our £2 per head for entry, a cost that would be covered by the Garden Gate Flowers training budget. There were over forty keen gardeners in attendance. The presence of Mr B and me reduced the average age by about ten years while my own attendance doubled the number of men
We were encouraged to buy raffle tickets, hoping for one of several exciting prizes. On the Table of Wonders I could see a hand-painted greetings card and a large bar of Toblerone, but for me the top prize was the large ball of Nutscene natural jute twine. You know when you have a reached a tipping point in your life, when a ball of string beats a bar of Swiss chocolate.
On another table, the members had brought in one ‘stem’ from their garden for the monthly competition, voted on by all present. Someone told me there was a time when the category of ‘something from the garden’ had a wider brief, resulting in countless jars of produce. Apparently the (now sadly deceased) previous Chair became so fed-up with repetitious entries of pickles, jams and jellies, she momentarily lost her patience and muttered an expletive under her breath. Overheard by another member, she is now privately known as “Mrs Fuck-Chutney”.
I think Mrs F-C would have been more accommodating of the entries this month which consisted of a range of roses, dahlias and a fine deep purple aster. But before we could vote, the lecture began. The speaker was a seasoned performer, winning over the audience with some well-placed flattery. Like Bono from U2 telling every gig audience they’re the ‘best ever’, our speaker knew how to work her particular crowd, complimenting them on the large turnout; noting their ‘stunning’ fashion sense; and then, rather bizarrely, telling everyone what wonderful toilets their hall has. She bracketed them alongside Gloucester Services in her top ten of public toilets. High praise indeed.
With the crowd eating out of her hand, she was able to flip through the rest of her Powerpoint, giving us pictures of her various pets, skipping the slide on accounts (“boring” she said) and getting to the nitty gritty of what to grow, how to grow it and what lessons she has learnt over the years.
It turns out, she has been doing this for six years but, after flogging herself every weekend going to farmers’ markets and stalls, she has decided to rein it back in and just do occasional bouquets for local delivery (as well as Ted Talks to gardening clubs). It was reassuring to know that GGF is doing the same things that she does. It appears there is no great mystery to it, although she did take great delight in sharing the “secret” way to wrap flowers. It turns out that this is how we wrap ours too, so maybe not that big a secret.
The talk ended with a discussion of seed suppliers (General consensus: Higgledy Garden, Good. Sarah Raven, Bad).
The talk was running twenty minutes over the hour, and we all felt we needed to get back home for hot chocolate and digestives, so it was left for the current chair to thank the speaker and make the draw. We did not win the ball of string, but we did depart with some stems of hollyhock which another member had brought it. No one seemed that interested in the hollyhocks until they heard the colour of the flowers was ‘blood red’ at which there was a noticeable stirring in the audience. Gardeners love a freebie – especially if it is a good claret.
We left having learnt a little but reassured that what we are doing a lot right. And we might have even have some hot red hollyhocks next summer.
Latest Wedding FlowersFlowers for bouquetsWork benchWrappers’ DelightAutumn Bridal Bouquets
This week’s Cultural Wednesday took Mrs B and me to Barrington Court. Our first visit to Barrington was with Josh, so it felt apt to be here on what would have been his 33rd birthday. I remember enjoying wandering around the gardens and on another, subsequent visit, I we watched a small child staring into the ornamental pond, yelling “Oh my God! Oh my God!” at the top of his voice, entranced by an enormous Koi Carp that lurked between the lily pads.
This week there were no child-eating Carp in the pond, but there was an impressive range of shrubs and flowers in the well-ordered borders. It being a school day, small children were notable by their absence, and so we could amble around the well-laid paths enjoying the warm sunshine in the company of folk against whom we ranked at the lower end of the age range.
But we are beginning to feel our age (‘midlifegardener’ is an increasingly tenuous nom de plume) and further evidence that we are becoming our parents, is provided by our increasing habit of attempting to name every plant we see. I am surprised by our degree of success. There was a time when I had to Google them or just describe a plant as “that pink flower with the green bits; well behaved plant or whatever”. Now, “physostegia” just trips off the tongue. I know my Eryngium from my Echinops and Veronicastrum from Verbena Bonariensis.
This fluency in horticultural Latin feels to have happened suddenly, but it’s no coincidence that it manifested itself as we embarked on our cut flower journey. I guess we need to know exactly what we are growing in our garden, and now we can identify them in the National Trust’s gardens too. With knowledge comes power and confidence and the MLG side hustle is starting to turn into a pivot, evidenced by the creation of Garden Gate Flowers (BA22), with our lovely neighbor, Kate. We have a regular Friday stall at Galhampton Village Hall, and we take orders and offer a delivery service to the village. There are tentative enquiries about weddings, including a “DIY, Rustic Festival” style wedding, which matches our vibe perfectly.
You can even find us on Facebook and Insta so we really do exist.
Who knows where this will lead us? Up the Garden Path, through the Garden Gate…
The business buzz word amongst some of my self-employed friends at the moment is “pivot”, to describe a changing of direction in one’s business or lifestyle and some have suggested that we might be mid-‘pivot’ in the Midlife Garden. It is true that ever since the ‘Invitation To Leave’ from my previous employer (I see it as an ‘inflection point’ in my life), I have been searching for an income stream that could be rewarding financially as well as emotionally. Clearly, this blog is never going to cover both those bases, so I knew I would have to be a ‘change agent’, taking a look at what I enjoy (apart from scribbling random words) and find something truly ‘transformative’ to ‘add value’ to my life (and bank balance).
Regular readers (both of you) will know how I find enormous emotional rewards in gardening. But after the success of the cut flowers on show at the 2024 WOTY*, I’ve joined forces with a neighbour to explore ways to monetise our blooming commodities.
First we decided to ‘segment’ this down, to ensure we had flowers for the whole summer. We took a deep dive, drilled down and, thinking outside the MLG box, we invested in dahlias. Previously regarded as blousy, ostentatious dandies that evoked memories of dreary seventies mixed borders, these could yet prove to be a game changer, producing blooms throughout autumn.
To move the needle for early blooms, we took a punt on tulips. We were ‘down on all fours’ with this, looking at it from the client’s-eye view and decided on Luxury Tulips: stems to mark us out from the ten-for-a-fiver supermarket types in dull hues of red and purple. So, posh tulips became the ‘moat’. We ‘swept the sheds’ to make it happen, to ‘action this solve’ and November saw us raking compost on then off, then onto the front bed to get the 500 bulbs to the perfect depth. We waited for April with crossed fingers.
We chose a price point, to give the customers ‘snackable content’ hoping they will be back for more when spring turns to summer. Unfortunately, the first stems were snackable to the point of stunted, but, they eventually reached their full potential, proving popular, if unprofitable. But not all stems will have the same base costs as posh tulips, so our ‘runway’ is longer than it might appear. The tulips were a loss leader, but a striking one at that.
We will take a ‘kaizen’ approach to improve all that we do as we try to get this thing off the ground (after mulching and watering it first).
By the end of the summer, we might have an answer to the question: is this just a side hustle or could I be pivoting from Ed Biz to Flower Biz? Only time, ‘brand positioning’, ‘demand generation’, ‘revenue performance management’ and the power of ‘the flywheel’ will tell.
The February half term break feels like a significant moment in the horticultural year. Mrs B is fed up with the cold weather, but finally it seems the days are lengthening, and March is nearly upon us, which, nominally at least, is the start of spring. The growing season is imminent, but now I start waking in the night worrying that it is too late to sow annuals and veg seeds.
Last month Mrs B and I braved the winter chill to make the annual Potato Day pilgrimage to Caryford Hall, joining the line of fellow pilgrims earnestly shuffling past the colour-coded plastic tubs of first and second earlies or main crop chitters. Unusually, I went with little planning or forethought on what I wanted, or perhaps it signifies how I kinda know what I want these days, without having to overthink it. No plan was probably wise, as many of the spuds I would have grown in the past were not available, not even anything Arran based, so I randomly selected Jazzy, Pentland Javelin, and Caledonian Pearl. All of them are earlies, as these days I tend to agree with Mrs B’s view that main crop do not justify their space in the raised beds.
As we stood in line, I heard rumblings of discontent among the Potato Day punters.
“They’ve got no International Kidney and no Pink Fir Apple”, muttered one middle aged lady.
“Hmm. It’s a pretty crap year” was her husband’s considered reply, which I thought was little harsh, as the Pennard Plants staff always offered a couple of alternatives, but that just led to more earnest debates on their relative merits.
“What do you think love, Marvel, or Sunset?”
Apart from potatoes, I bought some chilli seeds and aubergine seeds, as they need an early start, and I am pleased to say they are already germinating. It is always exciting to see the first seedlings poking through. I never tire of this horticultural ‘miracle of birth’ which spurs me on to sow lots of annual flowers. The flowers seeds are germinating in the greenhouse, but I started the chillis and aubergines on the heated floor of the bathroom, which probably helped them, but created an element of jeopardy and mild peril for any nighttime trip to the toilet.
Just another reason why Mrs B cannot wait for the warmer weather arrive.
Serried ranks of garlicAubergines Chillis love a bit of heatTulips are comingLove that shiny clean barkCalendula always do well (to start)Broad BeansRhubarb looking good this year
It’s been a busy autumn and winter in the midlife garden. We started by distributing two tons of revive compost around beds and borders after which started to make some strategic changes with plants. The Christmas tree was dug from the garden and taken inside for the festive period, and replaced by a mariessii, which was otherwise likely to partially block the front path in the summer.
When we realised the Christmas tree might have survived the indoor festivities we decided to place it in the back garden: an exercise which included the removal and replanting of bamboo from the garden and a pot. All of which brings instantaneous results.
Less instantaneous, but hopefully equally pleasing results, are hoped to be gained from the bulbs that we planted in the autumn.
In the veg patch that meant garlic and onions. The garlic is our go-to plant for mid-winter positivity, the green shoots reminding us that there is life in the midlife garden yet and I noticed this week even the onions are starting to show.
Beyond the veg patch, there is a plan for early spring flowers. We sowed various coloured ranunculus in pots in the greenhouse, but they have suffered repeated assaults, with some failing to germinate, some succumbing to damping off, while others fell victim to mice. A few doughty plants remain, like survivors at Rorke’s Drift. The dachshund has busied himself trying to dig up the mice.
Out in the borders, we have sown a bunch of allium bulbs (Ping Pong and Azureum) in the Spursy bed to provide a little early blue and white colour. But, the brightest spring moments are planned for the fruit tree bed, where, in between storms and prior to frosts, we managed to insert 600 tulips for cutting in the spring.
So, lots to look forward to, with crossed fingers.
Prepping for tulips600 tulip bulbs?SowingMouse damage ranunculusOne survivorRemains of the mousehuntGarlicSplitting the bambooReplaced bamboo…With Christmas treeTall bamboo with the shorter stuff in the tub
Mrs B bought some Russet apples last week, which brought to mind a picture I have of my mother sorting russet apples on the lawn at the old place, around 1984. Crops of fruit were always impressive with my parents in charge and normally ended in vast quantities cooked, frozen or bottled.
I was thinking of those harvests as I sat down to review my own efforts in the garden this past summer. Fruit was not a great success, although we got a few apples, and enough raspberries to keep us going for a while with no danger of having to deal with any surplus.
Vegetables were not great, apart from the runners and French beans and some awesome aubergines in the greenhouse. The suggestion from Paddi and Richard to plant the aubergines in the partial shade of the tomatoes really seemed to work. Elsewhere squashes were poor and we only harvested two courgettes in total. An unwanted record, that one.
But there’s a good reason for the poor crop of veg, as the priority this year was flowers. These were an undoubted success, inasmuch as we got enough to bloom on the 13th July for THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR.
But looking ahead we need to get more flowers for longer through the season. So now comes the important planning bit, seeking out early bloomers, like tulips, ranunculus, and sweet Williams and other biennials. And then, perhaps, something that could still be flowering into October. Which brings us to dahlias, flowers I once regarded as too blowsy and flash, but which I now realise could create an absolute bonanza of cut flowers.
It will require some investment in seeds, corms and bulbs, but the rewards should be there from April through to October.
It is the planning for a new season and new plants that keeps me going through the shortening days, and If I can apply myself to cultivating blooms like my parents produced crops of fruit, this time next year I could be looking back on a summer of flower power in the Midlife Garden.
Still picking theseSomething for next year? (Saw these at Tyntesfield)Feels like a guilty pleasureHardy annuals for the new seasonRanunculus planted“And they were red and yellow and pink and….”This is what is possibleWouldn’t stand under that if I were you…
