Friday, 28 August 2009

droplets on my hosta...

I'm not the most green fingered of people which might come as a surprise to any interested parties given that I garden for a living amongst other activities...

But I bought myself a book on Hostas while on a trip a year or so ago to Shropshire.

My in-laws of the sibling variety like to have breakfast at their local garden centre which is en route to East Midlands a stop off for a mug of stewed tea and a plate of sausage, eggs, bacon, a fried slice and a huge field mushroom fried in lard; a good cholestorol dose if ever there was one, and a side trip into the gift section brought forth a small handibook of hostas written by a New Zealander lover of these plants. I had no idea they came from Japan. But so it seems.

I hadn't upto that point considered hostas for my small garden, north facing and frozen solid in winter so thought the balcony would be a good enough space. Wrong.

The blazingly hot summer afternoon sun comes around the house in a furious arc, and falls upon any balconied plant. The geraniums hold their own but the hosta in it's pot and the bonsai'd acer both discolour and burn. I removed it therefore, to the garden and thought it was on its way to the green bag for garden refuse and would shortly be dumped with the cuttings from La Tanna' L'O or Chez Bochet at the local déchetterie. But a cool day, and a couple of nightly rain storms, brought forth new leaves and so now it rests in the middle of the shady grass on a stolen rock placed flat into the turf. And not quite over watered it seems to thrive.

We'll have to move house. But if we go further south, we shall have to find somewhere with a good bit of shade and maybe a little dampness somewhere near... I'm thinking Pyrenees.
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