An Easter Nest

I love nests

I am the nesting type.

Around this time of year I can usually be found fashioning things to hold eggs…chocolate or otherwise.

I recently spied this lovely thing on the Marfa Stewart website.

I had pussy willow (because I always end up buying it at this time of year)…and my old, dried, crispy Christmas wreath, looking forlorn in a dark corner…crying out for me to dismantle it. The result is nothing like the perfection of Martha’s…(I was time-poor, and the instructions are vague) but I love it all the same.

You need:

Some nest material: I used dried grasses from a selection of miscanthus and bunny tails that I’d just pruned from the garden, and the old, crispy foliage from some gladiolus callianthus that I had tied up aeons ago in my basement. Basically, a mixture of flat/thick and fine grasses….the sort of thing a bird might choose to make a comfy nest with.

Pussy willow: In all the shops right now – One bunch…mine came from the supermarket.

A wreath form – mine is about 35-40cm diameter

Some thin wire – mine is green

Wire cutters – I use sectaurs….*gasp*

Some fishing wire or thin, clear thread, and a thick, blunt needle (or ‘bodkin’ as my mother calls it)

Method:

First, take your wreath form and make a sort of dream-catcher out of it with your wire like this:

 

Next, separate your base-grass (in this case, my gladiolus leaves) into three or five handfuls and secure each of them with wire, and then attach them to the wreath form, just as you would if you were making a Christmas wreath (by placing them at regular intervals and securing them to the form with a long piece of wire like this:

 

So far, so messy, but don’t worry (birds don’t worry, do they).

Next, add in your thinner, prettier grasses. I just wove them in – I didn’t need to wire them because I had the framework. Concentrate on the outside of your nest – don’t worry about the base of it too much yet..you can fill that in later. Keep adding grasses until you have what looks like a bird’s nest with a hole in the bottom.

Now you’re ready to add your pussy willow. It’s really amazing how pliable this stuff is. Start by pushing each individual stem into the base of your nest, weaving it in and out of the criss-crossy wires so that you have what looks like a child’s drawing of the sun:

 

Then take the first stem and bend it firmly round the wreath form. Don’t worry about breaking it – go tighter than you might think possible. Martha says you can just tuck them in and that’s that…but my pussy willow had other ideas, so I threaded up a really long piece of fishing wire on a needle and ‘sewed’ the nest tight, holding each stem down as I sewed around it with my needle. There’s no denying that this is fiddly, but once you’ve got the hang of it, it becomes pretty easy to do.

 

Fiddle around with the nest until you are happy with the look of it, and then line the bottom with some more grass (and I used a bit of sphagnum moss and a few feathers from a forgotten hat too). Make sure it’s suitably messy (birds don’t do perfect).

 

My egg is a duck-egg – blown and dyed with pink food colouring. This is very easy to do.

Even better, store your favourite chocolate eggs here. There is something about this nest that says ‘hands off…I’m precious, and rare’.

If you don’t feel like doing quite this amount of fiddling, then I’ve written a cheat’s guide to nest-making which will appear very soon on the Crocus website…I’ll keep you posted.

 

Sweet violets for a heady concoction

The lovely thing about mothers is that they love you … whatever.

This year, mine will get this:

I used to grow all my sweet violets in pots when I only had a balcony to play with, and one of the first things I ever did when I got to my new garden was to plant them all in the ground near my apple tree.  They have thanked me for freeing them and are flowering now as if the world were about to end (I hope it’s not, because my new book is launching tomorrow)…

If you want to buy violets then go to a specialist nursery and pick your favourites. I’d suggest sticking with Viola odorata, (I love V. ‘The Czar’) because although Parma violets look oh so tempting, they don’t like frost, so need special treatment.

Violets do this funny thing to your nose: After that sensational initial hit, the scent sort of overwhelms the olfactory senses, and you can’t smell anything any more. It’s quite a feat for such a tiny little thing…and knowing you’ve only got a limited time to experience the sublime smell is all part of the charm methinks.

Anyway, I have enough now to make violet syrup, which was one of the first floral concoctions I ever tried. I used to drink it with champagne (those were the days) – as a sort of violet kir royal. Now I just lick it off a spoon with my daughter….smiling.

You need:

15-20 sweet violet blooms, stalks removed

150ml water

Granulated sugar

Method

Boil the water and add the flowers. Remove from the heat and leave to infuse for 24 hours or so. The next day, weigh your liquid and add twice that weight of sugar, heating slowly to dissolve it. Put a lid on the pan and leave it to infuse again for three days. Put it back on the heat and reduce it to a syrupy consistency. Strain and devour.

You can get a taster of my new book in You Magazine on Sunday. Very much hoping you like it…

x

 

Well Hello Darlin!

Magnolias, bursting…

They’ve got mink coats on…

…and nothing on underneath

Very eighties…reminding me of….(sorry) Dallas…

…So when they emerge, I always think about JR Ewing, eyeing up the ladies.

 

Did I ruin magnolias for you?

No?

Thought not.

Sunshine carpets

You make me wanna

…re-turf my entire garden and do this:

Narcissus ‘February Gold’ ….

Tens of faaaahhhzens of ‘em

Making you feel glad to be alive.

Thanks Kew - that was spectacular.

 

Something to soothe

 

Never parTICularly been one for an ‘erbal infusion’ (unless it’s lemon verbena or peppermint)

I’m far more likely to munch leaves or a flower in a salad…

or cover it with sugar and put it on a cake

 

… but stuff’s wee bit stressy at the moment, and I went out to pick a tiny posy because I thought it was something rare, and non-computer-based…and then I found myself marvelling at these pretty things, and I picked up Jekka’s Herb Book, and it said  that a tisane acts as a ‘mild sedative’…’good for anxiety and insomnia’, so I chucked some leaves and a flower in a cup.

Primula vulgaris are mighty easy to grow, particularly if you have a deciduous tree kicking around, under which they can live in a nice, moist, partly shady world.

Wild primroses are less common than they should be, so don’t pick them unless there are absolutely loads, and certainly don’t pull them up by the roots.

Colours vary from the palest of creams to much deeper, eggy yellows, and look how pretty the buds are:

 

You can grow them in a pot – just use JI No2 and water regularly, and you can divide them in the autumn if you’ve got big clumps.

The scent is sweet.

I think the small bottle of blooms did more for my jitters than the tea

My new book is coming out soon – and people – (people I admire and respect) are being SO nice about it. This is totally wonderful and deeply gratifying and NOT what I expect…So thank you English Mum and Fennel and Fern.

This site came under attack a while ago and I basically lost the whole caboodle. It was the brilliant Neil who resurrected it, and who is now helping me to improve it. My beloved Lust List has completely disappeared and I am re-writing it (slowly but surely…a little bit every day….). I am hoping to have it back up soon as poss.

 

February bells

Muscari (Grape Hyacinth) are out in the shops right now. You should plant bulbs in autumn and LOTS of them…in which case you could do a lot worse than create a river like this one at Keukenhof (oh to see that one day).

But for those of us with a little less space, they are perfect for a container, a window-box, or any piece of glorious china you happen to have at home…just employ a bit of judicious ‘plonkage’ and cover any plastic pot bits with sphagnum moss. Indoors, they will go over quicker, but frankly who cares?

They are perennial bulbs, which means they’ll come back year after year for you and have these tiny little urn-shaped flowers. They come in deepest cobalt, and also white and lilac (but honestly, why on earth would anyone want anything other than blue?).

Desperate measures

I don’t tend actively to involve my daughter too much in my gardening – Children command all your attention, and I am not Dawn Isaac…(although I’m trying…very, VERY hard to be).

But I had one of those desperate moments the other day – the sort where you have to kill 30 minutes, and every toy has been played with, and illness is preventing a proper walk, and you’re just out of ideas….

generally…

…in life.

So that’s when I remembered this, from Homebase, where you buy what looks like a takeaway coffee cup, with compost and a packet of seeds (these are bunny tail grass) inside. You’re supposed to sow the seeds with your child, put the lid on, so it becomes its own propagator, water, watch and wait.

She loved it.

…loved doing the seed sowing thing, and every morning she wants to look at it, to see if it’s germinated.


It’s not like I haven’t sown seeds with her before…(we did some peas in the summer)…but I think the attraction of this was partly the packaging, and the fact that she has ownership of this colourful paper cup with its own lid. #simplepleasures

It’s an easy way to do the gardening thing with her when I just don’t have it in me to gather all the necessary bits and pieces…I’ll be buying more and putting them in a cupboard, in exactly the same way that I store lollies….for emergencies.

 

 

Look away now….

I can’t quite believe I’m about to do this…

I am going to talk about my laundry…(there’s a little voice in my head saying “I really wonder AT you, Laetitia” … could it have been Mrs Vetch? Spoils of Poynton? Is that her in there?

Anyhow…

I went to a gardening press event recently. It was lots of fun (if you like gardening, and gardeners).

 

Anyhow, I was given this labelling thingy from Brother (they said they didn’t mind if nobody reads my blog…they WANTED me to have it…They were also frightfully apologetic about it being sans batteries (SO don’t care – Thank you very much Brother!)

It’s meant to be for labelling your plants and seeds (fat chance of that…I’m too much of a haphazard gardener).

 

The past couple of weeks my house should have had a red cross on the door. Babety has been ill, and up all night. We cannot go out to see friends because we might be CONTAGIOUS …and of course nursery is out of the question. My adored nanny, who gives me several hours off a week, is also sick as a dawg.

 

I have proper, exciting amounts of work to do (not mothering work, or housework…which is totally WORK, but fun, scary, career type work. Sick children don’t let you do fun, scary career type work….they need you firmly there…just focused on that hot little head.

 

I suppose I became a tad deranged – worry…lack of sleep…too much chatting with NHS direct…but what can I say, I was stuck indoors. I did something frightfully strange. During the fleeting moments when I had time to myself…

 

I arranged my linen.

I should have been catching forty winks, or meditating, or something…

 

But I arranged my linen.

 

I blame this machine thingy. It makes these lovely labels, that stick to anything, with print that is indestructible (hence the gardening angle). I am hooked. I now have an urge to label EVERYTHING. I think I am going to label the Hunk.

 

Okay, now I am going to tell you how I arranged my linen, so if you are baulking already then, well, go somewhere else for a bit.

 

Everything is arranged into sets of linen, (rather than grouping like with like) and then it’s all put inside one of the pillowcases*. Then there are neat(ish) piles of extra sheets for when I’m feeling slatternly and don’t want to wash the whole lot.

…a perfect, boring exercise for my addled, flu-ridden brain.

I am disgustingly excited about not having to unfold and re-fold three or four fitted sheets to get the right size one. I am also thrilled to bits that I will never, ever have to do it again.

 

Amen.

 

*I got this idea from Martha Stewart, whose cavernous website is my guilty, secret pleasure. This is where I go to get lost when I feel anxious or overwrought…to ogle a sanitized, perfect life, where even the garage is colour-coded and you KNOW where you left the calpol (why, in the first aid cabinet of course…I don’t have a first aid cabinet..I have bottles of half-empty out-of-date calpol sitting in amongst the vinegar, the biscuit cupboard, under the bed)….One day….one day x

A swamp for George

Soleirolia soleirolii – the perfect bathroom plant.

I’ve been using these lovely creeping emerald droplet-leaves for years now, both indoors and out.

Outside, they do this tight-knit, softening thing – the leaves are slightly tougher and darker, and none the worse for that. I long to take a machete to the cement between my paving stones and let it do its thing.

Some people regard it as a nuisance, but (as I’ve said many times before) nuisance plants are my kind of deal, for obvious reasons.

Indoors, it’s a very different proposition. You can put this plant in almost any sort of container and it will thrive. The warmer it is, the longer the creeping stems will become, and the softer the cushioning.

I have this hideous window in my bathroom, and found a tray thingy in one of the big sheds. I thought I’d make a place for George the crocodile (Schleich toy of the moment) to hang out, and decorate this desolate window-sill (although I’m not sure you can even call it that).

You need:

1 x Soleirolia soleirolii plant – available at good garden centres in little pots. Sometimes it’s sold under the name ‘Helxine‘, sometimes ‘Mother of thousands’, sometimes ‘Baby’s tears’ (ahhhhhh). I’ve never seen it sold in any of the big shed ones (silly billys, because it would fly off the shelves)

A container – anything you want, but you’ll need drainage holes, which is why I had to drill some in my tray. I drilled three large holes with a fat drill bit that had a point on the end of it. It took a grand total of ten seconds…but if you hate stuff like that, then just use an ordinary pot or pots – terracotta is nice.

Some multi-purpose compost – try to find one without too many huge bits of bark in it. But if you can’t, then just remove them when you come to fill your pot. This is simply to create the best environment for the creeping stems to attach themselves and put down roots.

A drill, to make holes (if you need them)

Method.

Fill your container with compost, right up to to the top. You don’t want to be leaving a gap between the top of the compost and the rim of the pot because this plant’s M.O is to ‘spill’ over the edge – it’s very very pretty.

Now remove your plant from its plastic and divide it gently into little pieces. How many depends on the number of containers you have to fill, but know that it only takes the merest suggestion of leaf and roots, planted with care and attention (or not) to get this plant started and within weeks it will have covered the surface of the compost.

Of course, you could just buy enough to fill your entire container and have the finished product right there and then…no harm in that, except watching things grow is more fun.

Plant your pieces, making sure that the roots go in your compost, and the leaves remain above it, but generally you can be quite slap-dash and just squish it in.

Water well from above with a watering can that has a rose attached to give you a gentle shower of water, and from below also, by putting your container into another one, filled with water, and leaving it there to soak.

Keep the compost damp at all times (which isn’t hard, in a bathroom, is it?)

 

Comforts

This lovely thing is soothing my heartstrings right now. I made it in October last year, having bought rather too many hellebores.

I wish I had made more – it’s one of those all-year-round pots to which you do precisely nothing, and it sits around looking gorgeous in spite of that.

Bruised, sober, ever so slightly funereal…but with bulbs in it, symbolising hope (?)…okay, I’ll shut up now – suffice to say, we are one year on from this. Tricky.

Here’s how you do it:

So here’s the thing -

I love cyclamen and pansies as much as the next person

…and I have buckets of them everywhere…

…but right now I’m in the mood for something that’ll go the distance with me…

Here’s a lovely pot that will remain lovely all year round. I’ve been growing hellebores in pots and window-boxes ever since I began gardening and they are completely low-maintenance and trouble-free. I’ve added some bulbs to this pot for spring zing, but a hellebore and some pretty ivy is enough for me…enjoy.

You need:

1 gorgeous hellebore…they’re on sale now and there are a squillion different permutations
3 little ivy plants
5 dwarf daffodil bulbs
A pot (mine is 30 cm diameter)
Some multi-purpose compost, mixed half and half with John Innes no. 2, because this pot is not a flash-in-the-pan part-time lover…it’s a keeper.

Simply fill the pot with compost half full and put a circle of bulbs around the edge. Place your hellebore in the centre and fill in the gaps, squidging your ivy into the sides as you go. Don’t worry about the bulbs getting through…they always manage somehow.
Water it thoroughly and enjoy x