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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Monday 8 February 1836

6 40

11 40

no kiss ready in 50 minutes soft dampish but finish morning and F36° at 7 ½ - then with Robert Mann + 4 (Wood come again) at the levelling down between Wheat field and coal pit field - came in and made breakfast at 8 40 - breakfast at 9 - read a few pp. before breakfast of Milne Edwards Elements de zoologie - William Keighley came about 9 ¼ - waited - went out with him at 9 ¾ (waited 1/4 hour on account of a shower) kept him till one cutting down dead wood, and pruning along the new roadside (in Trough of Bolland wood) and then clearing out (cutting out stakes and layers, and making ready for standing or moving) the holly hedge alongside and at the bottom of what used to be the little lane below the house between Pearson Ing and Hall croft - then the men having dined took them all and Frank and the cart for a largeish 2 grained oak overhanging the new approach road - got it up well and well planted at the top of the coal-pit field (under the 3 great elms) by 4 ¼ - it had rained more or less almost all the time that everybody was wet, but went down to the Godley boundary wall meaning to get down and plant 4 thorns (got up in the morning) but the rain drove us off about 4 ¾ - I left the men and went into the walk, and sauntered about - looked at the little yew tree John Booth had planted near the cascade bridge (opposite the house - east side of the bridge) while I left Robert Mann and co. for a little while this afternoon - came in wet and very dirty at 5 ½ - dressed - A- had written to Miss Rawson and sent her letter this evening - dinner at 6 ½ - coffee - A- did her French - owned she wanted a rummage - I proposed Paris - to set off next month - be 6 weeks away - 10 days going, 10 days returning and 3 weeks in P- thought £120 would pay the journey each way - and about £80 pay our expense in P- A- and I ½ hour with my father and Marian and A- a few minutes with my aunt - much better this evening - came upstairs at 8 ½ - wrote the above of today till 9 ¼ - high wind this evening and now towards night - boisterous and wet and F47° at 10 5 having been ¼ hour or 20 minutes with my aunt - to me she did not seem better tonight than last night - Note this afternoon (while I was out) from Mr. George Bates with a ‘model of one quarter of the water wheel being one seventeenth part ....... 1 inch scale’ - very neatly done model - Mr. George Bates will get the job - rainy night

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the-wardens-torch · 3 years

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((Just a thing I spurred myself into writing after that last post about Fal’s Duskwight ancestry. Filling in some gaps... As usual, thank you so much and ILU if you’re reading this.))

This was the first time since the gathering in Idyllshire that he’d had an opportunity to really study his father’s face…. He realized now that it looked quite a bit like his, only with even sharper features. He looked humorless and severe, an air only accentuated by the fact that he was a full head taller than Falerin, but perhaps only a ponze of two heavier. But most prominent were his ears, which had a subtle, but telltale backswept point to them. Falerin had noticed this when first they met, but the shock of finding out that he had a living, breathing father had obliterated any questions he had about racial peculiarities at that moment.

“You’re part Elezen, aren’t you?” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes. Duskwight, specifically. Which means you have that blood as well.”

Falerin watched as Uther turned away to rummage through a nearby bookshelf. He had expected some sort of elaboration beyond a slightly condescending remark about how heredity worked, but clearly it wasn’t coming. He was quickly learning that this man wasn’t the sort who provided personal information freely.

“And…?

“And what?” Uther said, not even turning around.

Exasperatedly, Fal clapped his hand over his mouth before dragging it down his chin. His father was shockingly bad at reading a room… If not for the facial resemblance and Uther’s blatant lack of social skills, he would have wondered if this was part of some sort of elaborate con.

“I’d… like to know more about that? If you don‘t mind, that is?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but Uther seemed not to notice. He stood up stock-straight and sighed, his hands pausing in their work.

“My mother was a Gelmorran witch, and my father was a Hyur of noble birth whom she extorted to keep my existence secret. She never told me his name and I never met him.”

The word “Gelmorran” sounded vaguely familiar, though Fal hadn’t heard it since his days of living homeless in Gridania. Uther seemed to anticipate the next question and released an exasperated sigh before he spoke again.

“…Gelmorra is a system of caves in Gridania, and the ancestral home of the Duskwights. My mother acted like it still was.”

“What… was she like?” Fal asked.

“Gods, boy. It doesn’t matter, she’s long dead, thank the Twelve.” Uther scoffed. Falerin could tell by his tone that he wasn’t fond of talking about the subject… or any subject for that matter.

“No, I… really want to know,” Fal said curtly, trying to mirror his father’s matter-of-fact energy. Uther removed a book from the shelf and placed it on a side table with an exaggerated thud.

“Well, she had the same skin and hair color as mine…Her eyes were dark blue with a long and sly look. The eyes of someone who thinks they know more than you do. Exactly like yours, actually.”

Fal felt a pang of familiar, melancholic anger at the insinuation his father was making, whether it had been intentional or not. It was a feeling that he was used to after a life of being starved for a parent‘s approval. He did his best to ignore it, hoping to get as much information as possible before his father lost his patience entirely.

“Was she the one who taught you arcanima?” he asked.

“No!” he snapped. “She kept me in a stinking, moldering cave for the first 13 summers of my life, trying to teach me her useless hedge magicks. Oneiromancy and pomanders and such. The sciences that people of real intellect shouldn’t waste their time on. I should think I’d have been at the top of my class if I hadn’t had to waste so much of my education unlearning her nonsense.”

Falerin’s breath caught in his throat. The feeling of angry melancholy was suddenly sliced apart by a memory as sharp and cold as a blade of ice. A pair of eyes, hooded, long, narrow and sharply blue like his, lit by an eerie pinpoint glow that shouldn’t have been possible in the darkness of hollowed stone. A bloodless white flame, a hollow sphere wrought of golden wire and filled with tiny white flowers, placed in his hands with a knowing smile. An awakening among the roots of a yew tree near the caves of Urth’s Fount, years ago.

Falerin breathed in sharply and ran his now-shaking fingers through his hair.

…The awakening had been the only part of that which had actually happened, and he had to remind himself of it every time. There had been no eyes, no pale flame, and no ball of flowers and gold. He’d just run himself to near exhaustion and his tired mind had punished him for it with a cryptic nightmare.

He clutched a handful of his own hair and stared at the back of his father’s head, suddenly glad they weren’t looking each other in the eye.

#Falerin Arcita #Uther Alcyone #my writing #in-character

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wrotetheaboveoftoday · 4 years

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1833 Tues. 26 March

6 35/.. 12 10/.. + + +L U U fine morning Fahrenheit 48º at 6 35/.. (ground covered with white ime) and 32º at 7 3/4 outside my window and regular snow - storm - had begun to snow a little at 7 1/2 - what a month of March! - spoke to John to get at Throps as many hollies as he thought good enough and 6 horse chesnuts, and 10 more yews - at my desk at 8 - and an hour making out clearly and arranging the bills of expenses of Mytholm mill to shew my father and ready for settling with George Robinson -

Breakfast at 9 5/.. in about an hour - books from Whitley’s - Ure's geology Scrope on Earthquakes and Digest of Bank Charter committee - looking into these till after 12 - then had Washington - Mr. Saltmarshe only pays 1 1/2 guineas a year and wants to give up the pew - very well - to be relet - all that W- [Washington] had to call upon want the pew rents lowering - very well - fiat - told W- about the coal agreement being off with Mr. R- [Rawson] merely said I was outwitted in saying we had agreed before the papers were actually signed - W- [Washington] thought Mr. R- [Rawson] had on the face of the deeds no sufficient reason to refuse signing

Then near an hour with my aunt till came upstairs at 1 35/.. then reading Ure's geology (could not resist) and read from page 196 to 313 end of Jesse's Gleanings in natural history and making notes and extracts from it till 5 1/2 - Had sent for George Robinson to come to settle our account, but he was gone to Manchester - John brought from Throp's this morning 10 more hollies and planted them in the hedge top of Trough of Bolland wood - ordered the 6 horse chesnuts and 10 more yews to come tomorrow - the latter to be at nurse in the garden - wrote all but the 3 first lines of today and ran out at 5 3/4 (my aunt quite better today) - an hour in my walk - two turns from end to end - but snowing large flakes or small or rain partly frozen (more or less) all the time - 1/4 hour in the hut during the heaviest of the snow - yet this fresh air did me good, and the exercise warmed my feet -

Home at 6 3/4 - changed my clothes - dinner at 7 - afterwards cut open and read attentively from page 88 to 105 Ure's geology Letter from Lady V.C - [Vere Cameron] Leghorn March 8 (went into the and Florence March 10 other room at 9 1/2) - 3 pp. [pages] and ends - Kind letter but tho received my last forwarded to florence finishes her letter in a hurry and takes no notice of my offer of sponsorship tho gives me leave to call her husband lochiel

The Camerons had been a week at Naples and gone from there (to same time!) to Leghorn by steam - instead of ten days left N- [Naples] at 3 p.m. on Wednesday 6 and anchored off the harbor at Leghorn at 6 a.m. Friday the 8th instant - by the Francesco primo - very good vessel - going to Greece the middle of April for a 3 months tour if can get 50 subscribers at 85 guineas each - each to land at his own expense - 2 ladies going from Naples - did not supper at all from sickenings not economical of money but of time - should have vetturino'd it part of the way if they had gone by land -

3 days from Naples to Rome - then rest there one day for passport and business, and then 6 days from R- [Rome] to Florence per vetturino - N- [Naples]

'like an English watering place in point of society and dissipation - I saw a great deal of our little Paris Waller who is going out with Lord Ponsonby to Constantinople, I had the pleasure of talking of you' -

San Carlos closed - did not attempt Vesuvius 'and Donald had been up before'! saw Pompeii and Baiæ - 'this Leghorn is a nasty cold miserable place the wind whistle's round the house and we are going off to Pisa where the Ussero is said to be the best hotel in Italy, kept by 2 cidevant couriers' - they were not disappointed with it - beg me to note it down - think of leaving

'Florence the 18th which will bring us to Nice (by Lucca and Genoa) say the 30th - and I suppose at Paris by the 15th of April, do you recollect anything of consequence that happened on that day?'

no I forget all about it and not having my journal of that date can make nothing out - must look forward to see me in London in May - 'I think I shall be in and about it till the end of July, when if all goes well I shall hope to be well enough to remove regularly into the country' - finds Florence very cold - large comfortless rooms at 'Les quatre nations' recommended as the best hotel - Schneiders said to be fallen off - more doubts and difficulties than ever with her brother Lord B and his attorney Mr. Jones about the bond for her money in Lord Bs hands 'it is a very great worry to me' - Read the courier - came to my room at 10 40/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 46º - very winterly day - rain and snow - but the latter gone as soon as come - wrote the last 24 lines till 11 1/4 -

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #1833 #shibden march 1833

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woollyslisterblog · 5 years

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1834 Sunday May 25th

8 20/60

11 40/60

good kiss last night F 58 at 9 20/60 - breakfast at 9 1/2 -

all walked to church - there at 11 1/4 in 35 minutes - a small modern building, more like a methodist meeting house than an established church - only 2 pews the squire’s and the parson’s - the rest benches - warm with walking and asleep almost the whole service - reading the litany on our arrival - congregation of farmers and cottagers perhaps 50 to 70 - singing without music fair enough -

walked from the church to the hall some fine beech and balm of Gilead fir? timber near the house or silver fir? - Mr Morritt and his nieces in London - so could not see the interior of the house - only 4 men to keep the grounds in order, too few, and nothing will be kept - Had we come from Martins Inn (built by Colonel Craddock) in opposite to Chambers (the Morritt Arms) we should not have been allowed to see the Rokeby grounds - Martin have behaved abusively to Mr Morritt (will be aetatis 63 next October 27 last summer) therefore Mr Morritt had given notice in the newspapers that no company from his, Martin’s, house would be admitted to see the grounds - the park occupies 100 acres - struck me as very confined - which ever way one turned, a sunk fence, a hedge or wall caught the eye -

the junction of the Greta and Tees pretty but very little water now in either river - Mortham tower turned into a farmhouse - not very advantageously seen and not so fine and picturesque as I had expected - the tomb of Fitzhugh not put together straight and the ground around instead of being swod, new-mown, and neat, looked rough and neglected - the grove of yews and firs (silver firs? fine large trees) close along the Greta, pleased me best - (somehow or other disappointed with Rokeby) at the end of it an urn, on round pedestal, to Ann erected in 1797 in memorial of the long tried love of a sister of JBS Morritt ie the present possessor to his sister Miss Morritt who lived with Miss Goodricke at Cheltenham.

On paying off one guide, strolled along the Tees right bank a beautiful 2 mile walk to Eddelston (or Athelstan) Abbey - considerable remains partly turned into several cottages - Miss Walker 1/4 hour sketching the ruin of the church part - and 1/4 hour too sketching Fitzhugh tomb at Rokeby - the village of Eddelston consists of a few neat houses - walked back the same way in 3/4 hour having kept Miss Walker on at a fair pace - then went into the field just above our Inn to see the site of the Roman encampment - several Roman ruins found there and now arranged outside close to the house at Rokeby - inscription made mention of the 6th legion - the traces of the camp or castrum consist merely of 3 mounds and as many trenches plainest on the east side -

then dinner at 5 1/2 - very reasonable bill - very comfortable and well satisfied - Off at 5 37/60 and alighted at 6 5/60 for 25 minutes at Barnard Castle, a pretty considerable stirring little town, to see the ruins of the old castle formerly covering a large space of ground - fine view up the Tees from the round tower the staircases of which in the thickness of the wall still remaining tolerably perfect - it was the Innkeeper tenant who shewed us round - he had turned great part of the ground into garden, and a large walled enclosure adjoining is an orchard (not worth seeing he said) occupied by an old woman who makes her living out of it - disjointed fragments of one sort or another stretch over the longish space but not near so impossible as Richmond castle - as our Innkeeper would take nothing for his trouble paid 1/. for a 6 penny bottle of soda cheaper by 3d than I ever had it - but most people charge me 1/. a bottle - surely things are cheapish hereabouts - we had a nice dinner today (roast fillet of veal, pudding under it, cabbage, potatoes, salad, Couthornes cheese cheesecake and tarts and wine) only charged 2/. each - and I had above a pint I think of very good ale for 2d -

Alighted at the Queen’s head at Staindrop at 7 20/60 - reading - tea at 8 - till 9 50/60 wrote all of the above of today - very fine day - F59 1/2 in our large sitting room now at 10 50/60 pm

#gentleman jack #anne lister's diary #anne lister #ann walker

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hortascountrysidenotes · 5 years

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And ever Drier

Since returning from “up north” the weather has been glorious bar one night when it managed to rain a little bit followed by a cool cloudy day. Gorgeous sleepy September sunshine - another thing missing apart from moisture is wasps - or at least here - hardly a wasp all summer. The beekeeper is happy and fortunately the hornet that was circling the roof in May and June looking for a nesting site never stayed so there are no predators in that department for the bees in this warm autumn.

A humming bird hawkmoth is visiting the late flowers in the containers - enjoying the last of the lobelia and Verbena Sissinghurst Pink - and another little visitor this evening that brings joy was a tree sparrow. When we arrived at Beck Farm some 30 years ago we had a thriving flock which suddenly completely disappeared. It soon became obvious that as no habitat per se had disappeared that they had clearly lived in the ruined barn next to us. The barn was renovated about four years after our arrival which coincided exactly with their disappearance. It was a classic ruin - elder and bramble growing inside and around the doors which obviously provided the perfect habitat for these dear little endangered birds.

I am really starting to put the garden to bed in some ways and tidy up for winter. We have had a visit from our tree surgeon which was highly successful so the purple plum, yew tree by the house and the top of the Italian Alder have been seen to and so blissful to have it all chipped and left for us to use rather than struggle with bonfires etc. All the topiary yew is done and I have started the endless round of the box hedging for the last time this year. Blight returned in the classic time of July, but is very superficial and as we intend to reduce the height on two runs in front of the borders, I dont see it as a problem. The hedges will look a bit sad next spring but should soon perk up with some fertiliser and Top Buxus.

The bindweed in both the pond and bog areas has been dreadful so I have spent much time pulling it off dogwoods and iris so at least it looks better and the dogwoods will look good in winter without all the bare stems and dead brown leaves of the wretched weed festooned amongst it. Its a ghastly job as there is still a bit of insect life in both those areas and a number of nettles!

We have done a lot of training but had a minor disaster yesterday when we were having a very happy time doing a walk up in sugar beet with cold game, clays and all sorts of bangs and pops going off to help keep the dogs steady. Mavis having almost got over her habit of putting game down about 6 yards short, reverted to her default setting so I decided to go back to the plan we put in place before of running at her on the way back to get to her before she puts the bird down. Unfortunately she came flying back with the pigeon at top speed but its wing was over her eye and she completely didnt see me approaching. Before I knew what had happened she had run straight into me taking my legs from under me like a good rugger tackle and I fell down on top of her with the game bag full of dummies for extra weight. Poor Mavis did scream and was absolutely overcome with shock shaking and quivering and looking so forlorn. I was a bit bruised today and stiff but my main concern was whether she would have a mental scar as she was very shaky all evening. Luckily she bounded out of the kennel and in the afternoon we did a few dummies and tennis balls with her usual enthusiasm. We have some cold game available so before we go away I am just going to check that all is well so I can enjoy the break as by the time we get back we are up for the real thing and training really goes on hold until March. What a palaver!

An amazing crop of Williams pears - lots stewed with blackberries for crumbles in the freezer and loads of poached ones in syrup too. The Doyenne de Comice and Concord will hold until we come home. Apples - the William Crump are good and a reasonable crop. Spartan a huge crop but small despite the thinning. Quite a few on Jupiter - absolutely no Sandringham cookers this year after a glut last year and only one little Cox Self Fertile - no James Grieve at all.

We set sail for Slovenia for a week with some trout fishing in the rivers that are in the foothills of the Julian Alps. I am told it is stunning so am very excited and we shall have a day in Ljubljana first. Not a language I shall take to I dont think as there dont seem to be many vowels, but it will be fascinating to hear it spoken and see the culture.

Before leaving however various things to do in the garden - rake up rubbish and leaves from under the walnut trees so I can mow off the rough stuff down to a low level. Do a quick dead head of anything that is still flowering - the dahlias are now struggling with no water and the Cafe au Lait have formed buds that never opened - very sad. Try and cut some more box hedging if not too sunny. Am not really even cutting the grass but will give it a light trim where it has managed to grow a little. Put all the wallflower plants and honesty out in the open from the coldframes so the promised showers do some good.One wisteria the macrobotrys has sent out yet more shoots so I shall deal with those and all the excess on the Pyracantha at the front of the house - clearly as this is shady in the afternoons and sits in the lowest point there is good moisture still and Maigold looks wonderful after her customary second flowering so maybe she is not on the way out after all and we shall have her to look forward to in May 2020. Bulbs coming the week after we return so it will be time to rip out the summer containers and do the winter ones - the grasses are kept in pots ready and the skimmia look healthy too.

HORTA

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delmarbarton · 4 years

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GARDEN LANDSCAPE

Dark zones present challenges for the home gardener, since most plants prosper best in tolerably brilliant conditions. However, whether or not you have a dark scene, there are satisfactory choices you can make in each plant arrangement—from grass turf to rising above yard trees.Here are 14 recommended plants that will prosper enjoyably in the dark locales of your yard.

1.Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida)

Blooming dogwoods are little understory trees in the wild and they make phenomenal choices for enormous hedges or little shade trees in a scene. 'Cherokee Chief' (Cornus florida 'Cherokee Chief') is one standard cultivar of blooming dogwood tree. Its lower branches have an in any event, fanning configuration, advancing interest to any scene plan. This blooming dogwood creates to a height of 20 to 25 feet and spreads 12 to 15 feet.Cherokee Chief dogwood puts out becoming flushed red fledglings in spring, while its fall foliage is a red tone with hints of bronze. Various kinds of Cornus florida have blooms that are white or pink.Caution: Dogwoods are defenseless against a parasitic affliction known as dogwood anthracnose. Advice neighborhood experts to choose whether this disease is an issue in your.

2.Canadian Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis)

Canadian (or "Eastern") hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) are colossal trees (40 to 70 feet) that work outstandingly in shade, on the off chance that you can outfit them with the right conditions (all around drained soil, no dry season or profound breezes). Hemlocks are generally well known as woods trees, anyway at whatever point pruned dependably they can be kept up at the height you need. A suitably pruned section of hemlocks can even edge a thick and engaging insurance uphold.

3.Red-Twig Dogwood (Cornus alba or C. sericea)

These two dogwood species with red branches are ideal models for a dark scene. These are multi-stemmed shrubberies with pretty white fledglings in spring, appealing green foliage through summer, and breathtaking red stems that give winter interest.Shade-receptive red osier dogwood (Cornus sericea 'Allemans') sprouts in white in mid-spring. A relative plant is Tatarian dogwood (Cornus alba). While both suffer disguise, you will get a more prominent measure of the red twig tone by giving them full sunlight. Foliage also will when all is said in done get lighter in full sun.

4.Yew

The Taxus sort fuses a couple dozen kinds of woody coniferous trees and shrubberies, going from prostrate brambles to rising above trees. Most sorts used in orchestrating are brambles, all of which do really well somewhat cover conditions. The short, level needles of yews are faint green on top and light green on their undersides. The new foliage in spring is splendid green and sensitive. Yews are for the most part lazy creating and can either be left unpruned or arranged into a help.

5.Impatiens (Impatiens walleriana)

For a long time, this consistently standard sprouting bedding plant, a column for dark nurseries, vanished from garden centers due to an unfathomable parasitic issue known as fleece development. Impatiens have now made a return, because of the improvement of collections that are impenetrable to this disorder. Impatiens may never recover the extensive inescapability they once appreciated, yet they are undoubtedly meriting your thought, as there are essentially the same plants that sprout as energetically in dark conditions. Impatiens create to 6 to 24 inches tall, dependent upon the grouping. This shade-loving plant comes in various shades of pink, rose, red, lilac, purple, orange, and white.

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iplantsman · 4 years

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Difficult to showcase conifers (esp large ones) without showing most of the plant. The foliage alone shows very little of their quality. Today’s #oneadayplant is one of my favourite design sentinels, particularly useful as an exclamation mark in planted schemes. Taxus baccata ‘Fastigiata’ (Irish Yew). . Slow growing and often seen at maturity only in botanical collections, the gardens of stately homes, or churchyards, this is an excellent, slim, naturally upright form perfect to demarcate path ends, frame views and organise spaces. . Dark leaved, glossy, evergreen foliage and contrasting coral-red berries, it requires little to no maintenance once planted and will naturally grow perfectly vertically. . Like all Taxus, all parts of the plant excluding the flesh of the berries (often called ‘Snot Berries’) is toxic if eaten. Even the seed inside those berries are toxic with only a few seeds potentially enough to seriously harm or kill a person. While obviously dangerous, it poses no risk if you simply don’t eat it, so, as long as family members are educated and if you have foolish pets, planting is kept well away from their access, you should be fine. . Taxus is an unpopular choice for a hedge adjoining farmland or paddocks as grazing horses, sheep and cattle will likely consume it b and get seriously ill or die; so best not planted in these spots. . There are variegated forms of these fastigiate yews. All are good, though even slower growing than this green leaved form and prone to scorch. Very slim until later life, they are a shorter, suitable alternative to Pencil Cypress (Cupressus sempervirens) or the tall, upright blue juniper (Juniperus scopulorum ‘Skyrocket’). . #taxus #taxusbaccatafastigiata #yew #irishyew #tree #conifer #shrub #topiary #juniperusskyrocket #cupressussempervirens #churchyard #statelyhome #botanicalcollection #conifers #yew #poisonousplants #poisonous #iplantsman #gardening #plantingdesign #gardendesign #foliageplant #foliage #gardeningadvice #gardeningtips (at Stanmer Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGewLYeABKy/?igshid=1x8vizozvveeo

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beyondmistland · 7 years

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Hidden History of the Westerlands: Lost Lore

 Letter #1: The singers tell us that in the days before the coming of the Andals, when the writ of House Lannister reached less than half the Westerlands, there was the savage War of the Lions between the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and the Lannisters of Lannisport when the latter refused to give up its crown to the former in a conflict that would consume the lives of no less than seven Kings of the Rock (though that number may well be an interpolation of the Faith). In the aftermath the two lines of Lann the Clever reconciled but only after Casterly Rock solemnly swore never to grant a city charter to any town in the Westerlands, of which it has the most after the Reach. (The Crakehalls and Baneforts, who had supported Lannisport, did not meet near as kind a fate, losing land and wealth that took centuries to recover, not to mention kinsmen. The Greenfields and Yews, on the other hand, did not even fare that well, being reduced from lords in their own right to the rank of master, a position they have kept till the present day as landed knights after the coming of the Andals. Those that had sided with Casterly Rock from the beginning prospered however in the years that followed such that by the turn of the century the Reynes, Westerlings, and Plumms were amongst the foremost lords in the west for example.)

 Letter #2: Much frustration and confusion has arisen around House Lannister's long-lost Valyrian steel sword, Brightroar, given that it is repeatedly mentioned as having been wielded by Lancel IV despite him having lived thousands of years prior to the Doom of Valyria, around which time it is known to have been bought. Maester Theomore, in his book, Questioning Inventories, however, posits a reasonable explanation for this discrepancy. That the Lannisters once had another Valyrian steel sword whose name has since been lost to history and thus the name Brightroar was applied to it as well without regard for the headache such a decision would inevitably give rise to.

 Letter #3: Gerold III cast aside worship of the Old Gods to take up the Faith of the Seven, with his people quickly following his example for then as now the Westermen were infamous for their (supposed) lack of piety when compared to the men of the Vale, Reach, and Stormlands, the last of whom they reserved a special disdain for on account of their "poverty".

 Letter #4: Some of the Lannister kings were famed for wisdom, such as Cerion II, who, with the help of his twin sister, the famous Septa, Ceryse, unified the laws and taxes of the Westerlands, earning the sobriquet "the Consolidator".

 Letter #5: Others on the other hand were known for their valor, such as Tywin (I) the Brave, who, while young, extended the writ of Casterly Rock to the Shield Isles in the south and Stone Hedge in the east only to then lose those gains once he grew feeble, having failed to take Highgarden from its child king, Garland VI, who, in the fullness of time, became known as the Hammer of the West.

 Letter #6: All, however, were noted for their generosity...save perhaps for King Norwin Lannister, better known as Norwin the Niggardly after he refused to ransom his youngest son, the future Lancel V, when the latter was captured by Perceon II Gardener near Red Lake whilst returning from a pilgrimage to the Starry Sept in Oldtown, forcing his long-suffering queen, Alys Farman, to pay for the release of her favorite child herself though it took seven years to raise the necessary funds and beggared her personal holdings in the process. As for the Lion Prince himself, he would live out the remainder of his days (and later reign) in peace following his Golden Victory over his erstwhile captor at Old Oak, earning the sobriquet "the Kind" for allowing Reachermen fleeing the grey death to settle in the Westerlands despite the protests of his lords, merchants, council, and kin. (As an aside I thought it would be remiss not to mention that King Norwin (I) was also well-known for three other things of interest. One, founding House Payne of Chequers from a long line of able tax collectors. Two, raising taxes to the highest they have ever been in the long, glorious history of the Westerlands. Three, spending most of his days in the vaults of Casterly Rock counting coins and examining tax ledgers such that by the end of his long life the shriveled king had been both blind and deaf for years.)

 Letter #7: Yet Casterly Rock also housed many a weak, cruel, and febble king, such as Tyrion (III) the Tormentor, who died heirless after all three of his wives disappeared once they could no longer bear him children. (Here I must make note of the controversy which surrounds Tyrion II and III, who are so often confused for one another on account of the Tormentor’s fondness for killing Maesters, particularly if they came from the Riverlands.)

 Letter #8: Norwin II was none of those things though, being instead known for his plain debauchery. Indeed, if the tales told of him are to be believed, he not only slept with every woman in the Rock, maiden or married, but also took his pleasure even in the middle of holding court, for which he is known in the histories as "the Lusty". Tywell III, on the other hand, was simply mad given that he not only refused to accept the fact that his betrothed, Jeyne Stackspear, had perished the morning they were to be wed but even went so far as to have her corpse crowned and seated beside him whenever he rendered judgment or entertained guests.

 Letter #9: On a somewhat less morbid note, Jaime II Lannister became known as "the Just" after he celebrated the seventh anniversary of his marriage to Cersei Lydden by sponsoring the construction of seven new towns and septs in the Westerlands as well as roads to connect all of them to both Lannisport and Casterly Rock, from which the royal couple rode forth on a never-ending progress. Their son, Joffrey (III) the Precious, in turn, would build a golden sept at Lannisport twice the size of the Starry Sept. When it was destroyed during a great fire three generations later his grandson Jason I built a new one twice the size of the original. That one too was destroyed a century later but by Ironborn under the command of Othgar the Degenerate rather than fire and, just as before, it was again rebuilt, this time thrice the size of the second. As a result, when a merchant from the Reach later shat in it while services were being given a long, terrible war ensued between the two kingdoms that left both realms crippled for generations and for once the golden sept was left to lie in ruin, which it still does to this very day, its beauty having slowly faded from memory into myth.

 Letter #10: Jason (II) the Upright later made amends with the Gardeners by loaning gold to the reconstruction of Highgarden during the reign of Mern VI though many found his sudden death shortly after proposing to build a bank in Lannisport quite suspicious, leading to the common but erroneous belief that the Faceless Men killed him given that he lived a thousand years before the founding of Braavos.

 Letter #11: Tywin (III) the Titan, greatest of all the Lannister kings, conquered the Iron Isles in the aftermath of the Famine Winter with the intention of scouring Westeros of the Drowned God's menace forever but died trying to hold them when his attempt to involve the Faith Militant instead led the Reach, Riverlands, and North to aid the rebellious Ironborn. (The Shrike, who had led the Ironborn against Tywin III initially, met a particularly gruesome fate, having been tied naked to a sharp rock and fed seawater until he died, whereupon his corpse was given over to crabs so as to deny him the right to join the Drowned God beneath the waves of the Sunset Sea.)

 Letter #12: House Lannister reached the nadir of its power during what the Westerlands call till now the Century of Defeat, which started under Tybolt IV, during whose reign King Garse V Gardener overran the Westerlands with the aid of the treacherous Lord Crakehall and may well have conquered them had Tybolt IV not threatened to release all the gold in Casterly Rock so as to ruin trade and thus make Highgarden's victory worthless. After Tybolt IV came his son, Stafford I, who died in battle at Goldengrove fighting against the one and only Gardener queen, Olenna I, known as "the White" due to her unusually pale skin, which was said to be cold to the touch all year long due to her blood having frozen in her veins when she was born during a long, cruel winter in the time of her great-grandfather, Garth XI. Stafford I was himself then followed by his brother, Tywald II, during whose reign the Farmans broke away when it became clear the king could not stop the reaving of the Ironborn under Wulfgar Blood-Drinker. Finally, this cycle of shame came to an end with the ascension of Tywald II's second son, Tywin IV, a strong king who restored law and order to the Westerlands after setting the Reach aflame from Old Oak to Red Lake and Goldengrove.

 Letter #13: Since then Casterly Rock has seen all manner of kings. Thus, we have Lyman IV, who was crippled in a tourney mishap and had been known outside of battle as "Nail-Biter". Willem (I) the Hunter, who sponsored hunts against mountain lions throughout the west, leading to their near-extinction. Kevan (II) the Bold, who invaded the Reach after buying dozens of elephants from Volantis and attempting to carry them across the Narrow Sea on a hundred ships. Tyland V, who died drinking molten gold in the blasphemous belief that it would turn him into a golden version of the Warrior. Tommen (III) the Bad, who renamed his seat Tommen's Rock and beggared the Westerlands by ordering the construction of an enormous statue of himself that was upon his untimely death immediately torn down by a mob which, to add insult to injury, then ran off with all its adornments without ever being brought to account. Jaime III, who proposed building a bridge connecting Fair Isle to the mainland. Tyrion (IV) the Judge, who called for a Holy War against the Starks and warred with them for control of Cape Kraken. Tytos (V) the Noble, who sailed into the Sunset Sea alongside his best friend, Ronard Reyne, after spending most of his rule building, restoring, and fortifying castles throughout the Westerlands without once raising taxes. Tygett II, whose murder sparked bounties as far as the Free Cities. Willem (III) the Solitary, during whose reign disease ravaged the Westerlands, with Casterly Rock in particular being so badly affected it is said that even today on a full moon's night the king's lonely ghost can sometimes be seen wandering the halls calling out for company. Tymond (I) the Traveler, who died fighting the Jogos Nhai in Yi Ti after abdicating the throne, having spent as king less than a moon's turn in the Westerlands, which he left under the regency of Rupert Reyne until his son came of age. (His bones were interred alongside those of Bu Han, the first azure emperor, making him the only Lannister king not to be buried inside Casterly Rock. Indeed, to hear the tales, he is today worshipped by the men and women of Yi Ti as a demigod child of the sun.) Loreon VI, who gave sanctuary to House Tarbeck when it was forced to flee the Reach three centuries before the Manderlys. Jaime V, who was said to animate the bones of miners using black magic. Tywin (VII) the Tall, who had a menagerie to rival that of the Prince of Pentos. Loreon VIII, who, on a sudden whim, ordered his face carved into Casterly Rock's seaward side before later that same day rescinding the order. Tommen (IV) the Glad, who played with stray kittens even upon reaching manhood and may well have been poisoned less than a year after donning the crown by his own wife, Johanna Sarsfield, who was said to love a man other than him. Kevan III, who died trying to steal the Valyrian steel sword, Vigilance, from House Hightower whilst on a pilgrimage to Oldtown. Gerold X, whose youngest daughter, Rohanne, married Robert the Ruin, grandfather of Arrec Durrandon, and finally, Tion (V) the Able, father of Loren (I) the Last, who gave his people the Golden Peace after defeating Halleck Hoare in no less than two wars. As always, share, comment, and critique. Next month, we head to the Vale of Arryn.

#hidden history #the westerlands #asoiaf #worldbuilding #house lannister #lost lore

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hellyeahgeorgeorwell · 8 years

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A Good Word For the Vicar of Bray (1946)

George Orwell

Some years ago a friend took me to the little Berkshire church of which the celebrated Vicar of Bray was once the incumbent. (Actually it is a few miles from Bray, but perhaps at that time the two livings were one.) In the churchyard there stands a magnificent yew tree which, according to a notice at its foot, was planted by no less a person than the Vicar of Bray himself. And it struck me at the time as curious that such a man should have left such a relic behind him.

The Vicar of Bray, though he was well equipped to be a leader-writer on THE TIMES, could hardly be described as an admirable character. Yet, after this lapse of time, all that is left of him is a comic song and a beautiful tree, which has rested the eyes of generation after generation and must surely have outweighed any bad effects which he produced by his political quislingism.

Thibaw, the last King of Burma, was also far from being a good man. He was a drunkard, he had five hundred wives–he seems to have kept them chiefly for show, however–and when he came to the throne his first act was to decapitate seventy or eighty of his brothers. Yet he did posterity a good turn by planting the dusty streets of Mandalay with tamarind trees which cast a pleasant shade until the Japanese incendiary bombs burned them down in 1942.

The poet, James Shirley, seems to have generalised too freely when he said that "Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust". Sometimes the actions of the unjust make quite a good showing after the appropriate lapse of time. When I saw the Vicar of Bray's yew tree it reminded me of something, and afterwards I got hold of a book of selections from the writings of John Aubrey and reread a pastoral poem which must have been written some time in the first half of the seventeenth century, and which was inspired by a certain Mrs Overall.

Mrs Overall was the wife of a Dean and was extensively unfaithful to him. According to Aubrey she "could scarcely denie any one", and she had "the loveliest Eies that were ever seen, but wondrous wanton". The poem (the "shepherd swaine" seems to have been somebody called Sir John Selby) starts off:

Downe lay the Shepherd Swaine So sober and demure Wishing for his wench againe So bonny and so pure With his head on hillock lowe And his arms akimboe And all was for the losse of his Hye nonny nonny noe... Sweet she was, as kind a love As ever fetter'd Swaine; Never such a daynty one Shall man enjoy again. Sett a thousand on a rowe I forbid that any showe Ever the like of her Hye nonny nonny noe. As the poem proceeds through another six verses, the refrain "Hye nonny nonny noe" takes on an unmistakably obscene meaning, but it ends with the exquisite stanza:

But gone she is the prettiest lasse That ever trod on plaine. What ever hath betide of her Blame not the Shepherd Swaine. For why? She was her owne Foe, And gave herself the overthrowe By being so franke of her Hye nonny nonny noe. Mrs Overall was no more an exemplary character than the Vicar of Bray, though a more attractive one. Yet in the end all that remains of her is a poem which still gives pleasure to many people, though for some reason it never gets into the anthologies. The suffering which she presumably caused, and the misery and futility in which her own life must have ended, have been transformed into a sort of lingering fragrance like the smell of tobacco-plants on a summer evening.

But to come back to trees. The planting of a tree, especially one of the long-living hardwood trees, is a gift which you can make to posterity at almost no cost and with almost no trouble, and if the tree takes root it will far outlive the visible effect of any of your other actions, good or evil. A year or two ago I wrote a few paragraphs in TRIBUNE about some sixpenny rambler roses from Woolworth's which I had planted before the war. This brought me an indignant letter from a reader who said that roses are bourgeois, but I still think that my sixpence was better spent than if it had gone on cigarettes or even on one of the excellent Fabian Research Pamphlets.

Recently, I spent a day at the cottage where I used to live, and noted with a pleased surprise–to be exact, it was a feeling of having done good unconsciously–the progress of the things I had planted nearly ten years ago. I think it is worth recording what some of them cost, just to show what you can do with a few shillings if you invest them in something that grows.

First of all there were the two ramblers from Woolworth's, and three polyantha roses, all at sixpence each. Then there were two bush roses which were part of a job lot from a nursery garden. This job lot consisted of six fruit trees, three rose bushes and two gooseberry bushes, all for ten shillings. One of the fruit trees and one of the rose bushes died, but the rest are all flourishing. The sum total is five fruit trees, seven roses and two gooseberry bushes, all for twelve and sixpence. These plants have not entailed much work, and have had nothing spent on them beyond the original amount. They never even received any manure, except what I occasionally collected in a bucket when one of the farm horses happened to have halted outside the gate.

Between them, in nine years, those seven rose bushes will have given what would add up to a hundred or a hundred and fifty months of bloom. The fruit trees, which were mere saplings when I put them in, are now just about getting in their stride. Last week one them, a plum, was a mass of blossom, and the apples looked as if they were going to do fairly well. What had originally been the weakling of the family, a Cox's Orange Pippin–it would hardly have been included in the job lot if it had been a good plant–had grown into a sturdy tree with plenty of fruit spurs on it. I maintain that it was a public-spirited action to plant that Cox, for these trees do not fruit quickly and I did not expect to stay there long. I never had an apple off it myself, but it looks as if someone else will have quite a lot. By their fruits ye shall know them, and the Cox's Orange Pippin is a good fruit to be known by. Yet I did not plant it with the conscious intention of doing anybody a good turn. I just saw the job lot going cheap and stuck the things into the ground without much preparation.

A thing which I regret, and which I will try to remedy some time, is that I have never in my life planted a walnut. Nobody does plant them nowadays–when you see a walnut it is almost invariably an old tree. If you plant a walnut you are planting it for your grandchildren, and who cares a damn for his grandchildren? Nor does anybody plant a quince, a mulberry or a medlar. But these are garden trees which you can only be expected to plant if you have a patch of ground of your own. On the other hand, in any hedge or in any piece of waste ground you happen to be walking through, you can do something to remedy the appalling massacre of trees, especially oaks, ashes, elms and beeches, which has happened during the war years.

Even an apple tree is liable to live for about 100 years, so that the Cox I planted in 1936 may still be bearing fruit well into the twenty-first century. An oak or a beech may live for hundreds of years and be a pleasure to thousands or tens of thousands of people before it is finally sawn up into timber. I am not suggesting that one can discharge all one's obligations towards society by means of a private re-afforestation scheme. Still, it might not be a bad idea, every time you commit an antisocial act, to make a note of it in your diary, and then, at the appropriate season, push an acorn into the ground.

And, if even one in twenty of them came to maturity, you might do quite a lot of harm in your lifetime, and still, like the Vicar of Bray, end up as a public benefactor after all.

#george orwell #essays

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

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Sunday 25 May 1834

8 20/..

11 40/..

Good one last night. Fine morning F58° at 9 20, breakfast at 9 ½ -all walked to the church there at 11 ¼ in 35 minutes - a small modern building more like a Methodist meeting house than an established church - only 2 pews the squire’s and parson’s - the rest benches - warm with walking and asleep almost the whole service - reading the liturgy on our arrival - congregation of farmers and neat cottages perhaps from 50 to 70 - singing without music fair enough - walked from the church to the hall some fine beech and balm of Gilead? firs timber near the house or silver firs? - Mr Morritt and his nieces in London - so could not see the interior of the house - only 4 men to keep the grounds in order, too few, and nothing well kept. Had we come from Martin’s Inn (built by Colonel Craddock - in opposition to chambers, the Morritt Arms) we should not have been allowed to see the Rokeby grounds - Martin had behaved abusively to Mr Morritt (will be aetatis 63 next October 27) last summer .:. Mr M- had given notice in the newspapers that no company from his, Martin’s, house would be admitted to see the grounds - the park occupies 100 acres - struck me as very confined - whichever way one turned a sunk fence, or hedge or wall caught the eye - the junction of the Greta and Tees pretty but very little water now in either river - Mortham tower turned into a farmhouse - not very advantageously seen, and not so fine and picturesque as I expected - the tomb of Fitz-hugh not put together straight and the ground around instead of being snod, new-mown and neat, looked rough and neglected - the Grove of yews and firs (silver firs? fine large trees) close along the Greta pleased me best - (somehow or other disappointed with Rokeby) - at the end of it an urn, on round pedestal, to Ann erected in 1797 in memorial of the long tried love of a sister by JBS Morritt i.e. the present possessor to his sister (Miss M-) who lives with Miss Goodicke at Cheltenham. On paying off our guide strolled along the tees right bank, a beautiful 2 miles walk to Eddelston (or Athelstan) Abbey - considerable remains - partly turned into several cottages - Miss W- ¼ hour sketching the ruin of the church and ¼ hour too sketching Fitz-hugh’s tomb at Rokeby – the village of Eddelston consists of a few neat

SH:7/ML/E/17/0037

houses - walked back the same way in ¾ hour having kept Miss W- on at fair pace then went to the field just above our Inn to see the site of the Roman encampment – several roman ruins found there and now arranged outside close to the house at Rokeby - inscriptions make mention of the 6th legion - the traces of the camp or castrum consist merely of 3 mounds and as many trenches plainest on the east side - then dinner at 5 ½ very reasonable bill very comfortable and well satisfied. Off at 5 37 and alighted at 6 5 for 25 minutes at Bernard Castle a pretty considerable stirring little town, to see the ruins of the old castle formerly covering a large space of ground - fine view up the Tees from the round tower the stair-case of which the thickness of the wall still remaining tolerably perfect - it was the Innkeeper tenant who shewed us round - he had turned great part of the ground into garden and a large walled enclosure adjoining is an arched (not worth seeing he said) occupied by an old woman who makes her living out of it - disjointed fragments of one sort or other still stretch over a largish space but not near so impossible as Richmond castle - as our Innkeeper would take nothing for his trouble paid 1/ for a 6 penny bottle of soda cheaper by 3d than I ever have it - but most people charge me 1/. a bottle - surely things are cheapish hereabouts - we had a nice dinner today (roast fillet of veal, pudding under it, cabbage potatoes, salad, Couthorn? cheese cheesecakes and tarts and were only charged 2/ each) and I had above a pint I think of very good ale for 2d - Alighted at the Queen’s head Staindrop at 7 20 – reading – tea at 8 till 9 50 wrote the above of today – very fine day F59 ½ in our large sitting room now at 9 50 pm

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wendyimmiller · 4 years

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Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

The exclamation point is, I assure you, fully justified. After three and a half weeks without the stuff and without piped water to my sunniest gardens, I had reached a point of exhaustion and had begun the process of separation.

Last year and the year before were the years to plant trees – and I did. But this year, I finally had time to put in the thuja hedge. Now it’s being kept on life support by milk jugs schlepped up from the creek. How wonderful that the crab grass and creeping charlie seem undaunted.

I know you are familiar with this gardener’s trick of self-preservation. Just stop looking at the things that upset you so that they in effect, disappear. My inherited 100ft Long Bed currently requires a machete, pith helmet and vaccine certificate to enter, but by simply turning my head left instead of right when I exit the back door, the issue is solved until winter takes a crack at it.

Douglas Adams wrote of something similar in his Hitchhiker’s series – advocating the use of a towel over one’s head to successfully protect the wearer from seeing anything dangerous. And I am successfully using something similar with my mirror these days – you do not have that many years on me you know.

I touched upon this August feeling of exhaustion/annoyance two weeks ago on my own website – pulling no punches – only to have a subscriber withdraw her reading services, citing “Looking for something more positive.”

Oh how I wanted to reply to her – breaking no doubt, sixteen Mailchimp covenants and sworn oaths of privacy – to say “My friend and fellow gardener, this IS positive. It’s the perfectly packaged pap from the everything-is-okay-I’m-doing-awesome-having-it-all-#BestLifeEver crowd that you should be avoiding. We’re all in this together – it sure as hell helps if someone is truthful about it.”

I refrained. But I did get a giggle when Anne Wareham of The Vedww House Garden commented “Still knackered – I measure this by how many times a day I say f… off to an inanimate object.” Wonderful.

I believe you are dry in the Midwest too this year – isn’t it annoying to find ourselves more dependent on the wet stuff than we wish to be? And that’s just the vodka gin and tonics. The despair attached to a long cool spring and mostly rainless summer in a year where I am writing and photographing a book on tropical plants has necessitated a few more visits to the drinks cabinet than are advocated by those that officially advocate these things.

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Some mornings I can feel the ghost of Beth Chatto hovering over me and my watering cans as I slop warm rainwater over sandaled, gritty toes and give Anne at The Vedww something to strive for in graduate level Creative Swearing.

Hearkening back to our discussion of gardeners you do not care to read, but don’t mind slagging off, Chatto championed the idea of planting specifically for drought tolerance. When I last visited the Beth Chatto Garden in East Anglia two years ago, they had received all of 13 inches of rain by the end of August, and the gravel garden (built over the remains of a car park) had not had a drop of supplemental water. It was a hot summer certainly, but that area of England is particularly dry in the best of years.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

Chatto’s ghost chastises me for planting choices made in wetter years. I’d offer her a coffee, but she has so many gardeners to chastise on her morning rounds there’s no time for a chat. Should she stay, I’m ashamed to say I would begin the discussion with an excuse — having been instructed throughout my gardening career not to.

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

She would look at me blankly – in that way the British are so good at – in the way my militant (but beloved) godmother used to – politely waiting for the actual problem. And I would instantly feel ashamed of myself and get back to water slopping and some menial weeding.

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

Not that I wouldn’t continue to feel sorry for myself, chastised and muttering into the crabgrass. For I am a gardener and that is what gardeners do. There is an enormous amount of energy spent feeling sorry for ourselves. A dry season, a deer feast, a late spring freeze, a child on a mower. Poor Anne and Charles at The Vedww lost one massive yew in an established hedge to a dripping tap and I want to shake my fist at the Heavens for them – I can’t imagine how cosmically wronged they feel.

Ah! The glories we could achieve were it not for [X]! The vegetables we could grow were it not for [Y]! The excuse-free year we would have were it not for [Z]! I could go on, but I have an excuse to finish illustrating for you and demons compel me…

A wooded stream valley means free draining alluvial soils worthy of a Mediterranean garden…were it not for the 90 foot tulip poplars meting out sunlight like a miserly king. And then there’s the cold air that trips and tumbles down the hillsides to pool over my expensive zone-pushers. Lavender without the sun. Ferns without the moisture. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink…

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

During this dry year, it is tempting to allow the survivors to slip quietly into dormancy. With COVID bells sounding and everything off the calendar, including tours of my garden by highly opinionated gardeners tsking and tutting between mouthfuls of quiche and cheap plonk, I have questioned the need (for instance) to keep watering containerized color for my eyes only. Further existential questions such as “What is it all for?” or “Is there a purpose to all this suffering?” or “Why the hell did I wait to put in that thuja hedge until THIS year?” have been springing from my lips just as often has Anne has been abusing her inanimate objects.

Now it is you who are no doubt looking for something more positive. Forgive me. I am in an August state of mind and there is nothing like it. August will try the very soul of you. How many new, excited 20-something gardeners have met their Waterloo in August and fled back to more pleasurable ways of abusing their bodies and minds?

There I go again. This is getting grim quickly. You might as well be writing this letter. Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

This perhaps is the most positive lesson coming out of all this mess, by which I mean the COVID emergency, the dry summer, and the non-stop political wars: The perspective it gives on the importance of the garden. Not the garden in a particular moment in time mind you (glorious May, damnable August), but the garden in general. The necessity of the garden.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination. I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

I have also been made more aware of the things I don’t need – like that containerized color in a far off part of the garden, extra pots of cuttings to water that will never find a home this season, clearance plants at deep discounts that will cost me dearly in sweat trying to revive them during a cruel summer. It is a freeing state of mind.

I was so very thankful recently to a professional gardener on a social media page who took an honest picture of plants heading to the compost pile in the back of a truck because he hadn’t the staff to plant them, much less water them after the COVID mess. He also had zero time to find homes for them all and arrange pick up etc… (yes, this takes time!). He was saddened, but realistic.

I submit such honesty as “something more positive.” We all know we’re going to keep working with plants. We all live, breathe and sleep it. But to pretend the difficulties don’t get us down? That creates unrealistic expectations for others (particularly beginners) that may result in them chucking it all before they have had a chance to thoroughly swallow the hook.

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either. But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

With August’s arrival, the tropicals are coming into their own, which is why I adore them and have spent the first half of this year slouched in front of my laptop trying to communicate why we should all have a tropical love affair or two. They are heavy drinkers of course (you’d get on splendidly), but sometimes I am amazed by what I can get away with wielding only a watering can.

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

In the early evening when I walk the garden in a better frame of mind, they magically transfer their enthusiasm for heat and humidity to the temperate shrubs and perennials who are flagging. A bit like that guest at the party who comes late, mixes up a new cocktail, commandeers the playlist and gets everybody moving again. We’ll all have a hell of a hangover digging rhizomes in the fall, but damn, it will be worth it.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Thank you by the way for your last letter which elicited a belly laugh of the best kind. You are too rich in your praise – I can assure you it is undeserved. I am merely an extrovert who enjoys the natural introversion of academics – and would happily sign my life away to sitting in a common room discussing Zingiberaceae over a subsidized beer if I didn’t have to literally sign my life away to another round of crippling student loans.

Been there. Done that. If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer. And the piercings.

However. Do not think for one minute I am not on to you and your cleverly-chosen avatar of Underdog. That is a strategic place to lurk, and you pull it off well. I can only come off as harsh and unsympathetic in comparison. I will remind you that I did once sit through one of your interminable lectures (the one where you weren’t attacking me), and you are fooling no one with the “I’m just an average, at best, student” shtick.

The Pity-The-Poor-Midwesterner routine is also particularly shrewd (esp. as anti-coastal bias is popular and I am creature of not one, but two); but I’ve seen the black, beautiful soils out there. You could throw a pack of cigarettes on the ground and sprout tobacco. Who needs mountains and oceans with fertility like that?

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

P.S. My version of too much gin at age 15 and the dirty asphalt of a drive-in right off the Mosteller Road exit in Sharonville, Ohio, is tequilla in a little town in Norway at 18. No asphalt. Cannot touch the stuff now…double-vision fjords come flooding back. Thank God social media didn’t exist when we were young & supple, eh?

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

The post Looking for Something More Positive appeared first on GardenRant.

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turfandlawncare · 4 years

Text

Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

There I go again. This is getting grim quickly. You might as well be writing this letter. Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination. I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either. But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Been there. Done that. If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer. And the piercings.

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

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archienewling · 6 years

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This is the third of three posts sponsored by RISE’s AND not OR home and garden program. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

Everything made it through the winter! Improving the backyard has been my big outdoor focus for this year, but I wanted to give you an update on the front, too.

The garden was pretty high-maintenance when we moved here, and I wasn’t out there all the time taking care of it. Half of our front yard had basically gone to weeds! I did a massive cleanup last year, keeping the boxwoods, clematis, and a rose bush. Everything else was ripped out in preparation for a new, easier to tend to garden.

I haven’t added anything new to the front yet this year, but I did weed and tidy things up. My in-laws helped and between us, the front was done in a day. So much better than in the past! We raked out old piles of leaves and junk (pest-friendly and unkempt is not the look I’m going for), trimmed back the hydrangeas and clematis, and pulled any weeds that were starting to come up.

I planned the garden with my level of commitment to it in mind. You can get tips from AND not OR tailored to your gardening style too (I’m sort of a cross between what they call “Daring Doers” and “Picture-Perfect Planner”).

A new row of boxwoods along the fence mimics the rows lining the walkway (or they will, in 10 years or so when they’re not tiny little things). Near the house, I planted yews as a foundation hedge with Annabelle Hydrangeas in front. The new shoots are just now beginning to take off.

I laid sod in the middle portion. Not my favorite gardening project to date! The results though — instant lawn — were admittedly nice. It was just a lot digging to prep the area. You can check out RISE’s list of grasses that work well in the midwest if you’re looking to add a lawn.

We watered the grass deeply and often all summer and into the fall, and it’s looking decent. A few spots are a bit brown, but I’m hopeful that they’ll green up along with everything else. And I kept that gazing ball on a pedestal in the middle. The previous owner added it and while it’s not something I would have chosen on my own, I’m into it!

Also very into my new planters on the porch and stairs. The bust of Apollo with flowers is my favorite thing out there right now, and the curvy metal planters are a close second. Mine are vintage, but I found reproductions for sale.

To the left of the porch, our Dwarf Alberta Spruce is getting new growth! It had been slowly declining and the master gardener that RISE put me in touch with last year helped me realize I need to treat for spider mites. There are still bare patches, but it seems healthy overall and I’m hopeful that it will eventually recover.

The yard has come together so nicely! I’m a little jealous of all the tulips that popped up in front of other houses around town, so maybe I’ll plant bulbs in the fall. I also want to do something along the fence this year — it’s a prime opportunity for something pretty. RISE has a downloadable list of flowers that work well here, and that part of the yard gets full sun, so there are tons of options open.

My sister has been watching our yard progress and she asked for help picking out a few easy to care for, low-maintenance options for her place. I’m all too happy to oblige! Now is the time to get bushes in the ground, and the selection at local nurseries is expanding everyday. Have you been out there planting too?

The post The Front Yard, One Year Later appeared first on Making it Lovely.

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hortascountrysidenotes · 4 years

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Mixed fortunes

Another confusing week of weather - warm and balmy until Friday when yet another gale came through which brought no rain, thereby negating the good rain we had had on Wednesday. Thursday was a gorgeous day - typical of the early stages of autumn, white puffy clouds, light winds, warm yet not too hot to work and we did a full day in the garden. The hedge behind the border was cut as far as the Holm Oak line, and along the back of the dog kennel which gives that area a lot more light. The veg patch got tidied up and I sowed some Miners Lettuce aka Winter Purslane - delicious, filled in the gaps in the two rows of Lambs Lettuce with a little more seed, pulled up some old lettuce, finally dug out the rather unproductive and actually not very nice tasting Tayberry plant, and at last planted out the Buddleia crispa for the second try to see if by moving it 2ft further to the right and swapping places with some iris,we have avoided any possible soil contamination.

Swallows look to be on the move - early - we still have the male roosting in the garage but it could be the rest have gone after the mass gatherings of the last couple of weeks. Certainly the weather is very unsettled which may mean they have felt the need to set off early. Having said that, we might find the female back in a couple of days!

The border has taken a bash from Friday’s gale and I think looks like taking another one this coming Tuesday. I have cancelled garden help until Thursday - we are to start on all the yew hedges and it is a thankless task in high wind and rain. I am mindful that the puppies will soon be climbing out of the whelping box and am praying it will be after Tuesday, as that would not be a good day to have their first day and night in the kennel! They came out onto the lawn this afternoon for about 15 minutes to feel the sun on their backs. It was a very sweet encounter with the great aunts who kept their distance and watched with great interest. The puppies were fed - we have just started the weaning process today, and have had two to a bowl, but clearly after two meals we shall have to give a bowl each as they have cottoned on very quickly and two heads in the little bowls is too much!

We move into the busy phase now - feeding 4 times a day, slowly reducing Mavis’ involvement - some days she seems more keen to feed them than others so our help is now needed - its been a blissful two and a half weeks! The pee and poo volume has increased exponentially as well so I picked up a load of newspapers this morning to keep us going.

It is impossible to keep the moisture in the garden and even the courgettes are starting to stop - this garden is so well drained - a bonus in the spring after a wet winter but a nightmare now and tonight I shall have to water the leeks again. The containers therefore are starting to look sad - probably two or three weeks before they normally do - the lobelia is virtually over so in due course I shall pull it all out and prepare early for the autumn schemes of tulips and wallflowers by perhaps getting some violas in early.

Mixed fortunes - a client of mine has died really rather suddenly and it is really a great sadness he will not see the garden he requisitioned reach even the beginnings of maturity. We were just starting to make progress on getting the weed explosion under control, following all the planting and disturbance of virgin ground, and I think next year he would have seen such an improvement - I hope his wife will stay and enjoy it for some years to come. Darling Scout is quite poorly - we are in a holding pattern for the moment but I fear the side effects of the drugs might prove difficult to manage. For the moment she is cheerful and comes for walks still but is much slower and not finding the warm days easy to cope with. We have a review at the end of the week when hopefully the drug level can be dropped a little and we shall take each week as it comes. We shall not let her quality of life be compromised in any way but it is nonetheless a huge sadness, she is such a special person. New life in our utility room clearly eases the prospect of losing her, but whichever one gets chosen will have massive boots to fill.

HORTA

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loragranger4-blog · 7 years

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Blooming Plant kingdom That Attract Butterflies.

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