Our second day in Portugal and the agave awe does not stop. We took a walk around the beachy area to see giant barbed limbs stretching in the distance. Yes, I did carefully hop over the steep ledge to take a snap of the spiky stems. I couldn't resist that shade of minty green, topped off with a sunshine bloom. Yellow and green seemed to be a common colour combo here and I was down for that. Prickly paddles lapped up the sun rays, sitting amongst a bed of dried floral buds. Sounds like the makings of a great arrangement. We hadn't made any specific plans, so we quickly searched Google for places to visit. A 'nature reserve', you say? We hopped in a taxi and arrived at our destination. Our enquiry about tickets at the main reception was followed with 'this is actually a campsite'. Ah, right. Google failed to mention that. No problem; a chance to explore the local area... and what an area it was. Huge cacti forms stood with unfurling agave dotted close by. I'm beginning to feel they're a rose bush equivalent here. Yes to a garden which spans to home them all. Mars, we here? The landscape took on an intense russet hue as we made our way around the winding roads. A great shade for a bronzing palette. One you wish you could dust over yourself whenever that sunshine dose is needed. A geologist would've had a field day. I stopped to appreciate the various stony forms embedded in the land. You can read about my appreciation for all things rockery in this post. Seeing as we're here talking stones, take a look at this one, which looks like light embodied - potentially as a bolt of thunder. Keep those stone formations coming, Portugal. Here, the corrugated lengths of the agave had a blue tinge, with a silvery touch. A lilac shrub sprouted boldly from the cracks. The purple flowers are reminiscent of this one, which had invited a few guests of its own - a sedate kaleidoscopic party. I was expecting greenery when we decided to visited this holiday destination, yet I wasn't expecting full-blown colossal succulents. You can probably imagine how excited I was. 'Look at this variegated one over here too!' Our walk took us past colourful homes, where those famous tiles came to feature again. Our first encounter with them can be found here. Bougainvillea canopies draped overhead; vivid pink petals contrasted with vibrant walls. Tall foxglove stems have spread across the garden at home, delicately dropping bells along the way. I'm happy to continue finding them dotted through the soil. Talking florals, I've been experimenting with illustrations which merge the botanical element with a fashion perspective. Colour blocking here was done so well. That sand and sea analogy came through with yellow and blue. I really have to find a way to spend more time by the water. It's time to bring all things nature to the forefront. I found myself asking, 'If I could spend my time doing one thing with my day, what would it be?' The first thought that came to mind was 'garden'. Growing plants. Flowers. Bringing that feeling onto paper too, Bouquet and plant arrangements at a larger scale, as well as mini pots sprouting beaded blooms. Take a peak at the markings of this florally plant, which wouldn't look out of place in the baked landscape around us, as well as in Jumanji (Robin Williams edition). Palm trees framed picture-postcard buildings, where architecture ebbed into the horizon. I'm all for walls a shade of pistachio. We stopped by a charming dessert place for some gelato in fab Ferragudo. Here during World Cup season, the locals came to sit and enjoy the big match, adding to the friendly atmosphere. There's more of this day at the 10.40 min mark, on sis's vlog here. Captivating fleurs and motifs feature on many a tile. The linear blue tendrils have me thinking about plants in this colour. I recall seeing a bluish-grey echeveria at Rutland Water in Leicestershire - what an idyllic day that was. There was also the beautiful blue Himalayan poppies spotted at Coton Manor, which I've yet to see in a flower bed around me since. Pinks and red collaborate in curved vases for one of my first plant/floral illustrations. Angular stems come through with as much impact as the vessels themselves. An element of the fishing life was embodied in this painting we discovered, perched atop the winding cliff. I can totally appreciate a good hat and the blended blues of the fisherman's hat echoes the waters perfectly. A palm sat comfortably in front. Is it need of a good drink or is that shade of coppery brown it's natural hue? Either way, yes to sporadic palms planted in many places. The collaboration of colour continued at every turn, with sky-hued sailboats and homes in shades of apricot, I'm in my green element for sure. A quick note to self for the future - pay a tad more attention to planty barbed edges, while appreciating cacti arms and admiring the coastal view. There's a slight chance one of the little spikes will leap into action. A sharp ouch as I nicked my ring finger (felt like a thorn encounter), reminding me that gardening gloves are a good call. Should've packed them. Roses and agave continue to have more in common. A quick tending to the wound and then it was swiftly back to all things nature. The leaves towered proudly in the glorious evening sun. A mottled pattern coursed through the length, like multiple glass fragments. It was reminiscent of scattered brown and cream seed beads. The intricacy of terrazzo comes to mind. Recently, I've been on the search for a planter with this style of pattern. I've seen tiny pots, yet I haven't come across one which could hold an arrangement of plants. I've thought about making one, which would involve cement, moulds, sanding, polishing etc. Time to get experimenting with mediums? I remember reading about the Japanese concept of 'forest bathing' or nature therapy. The idea of being surrounded by the calming environment to help with mental well-being and overall happiness. It's all true. I'd suggest no to hugging agaves though. Not that I tried. Here's a fun perspective I read on tree-hugging. It would probably apply to non-spiky plants, as well as trees. The coursing of energy and all. Being around these beautiful stripy triumphs, I'm wondering how to go about growing larger-than-me succulents back home... Ferragudo was a pleasure. As dusk set in, we made our way back to Portimão. A delicate sunset appeared like a watercolour wash on paper. Rock formations were dotted majestically in the waters and the horizon was tinged with rainbow hues. I'm getting a Baked Alaska vibe with the mountainous feat on the left. The Great British Bake Off is having an effect on my outlook. To be honest, I'd be happy to see dessert in everything I glance at. Shrubbery and green shoots surrounded the scene, where there was no filter required here, whatsoever. When I moved to my new place in Letchworth, Hinisha gifted me with a housewarming succulent poster. Note the agave with orangey/red floral stalks emerging from the top right of the illustration. Here, they dappled through the pathways in abundance, translating into the physical version delightfully. Earthy bands of colour came through with the mini-mountains, in a fascinating gradient. Creamy tones blending into ochre and dark browns... wow. Glancing back at these snaps, I adore seeing the mass of plants that thrive with little maintenance. I have to say, this is one of my favourite posts and one day that I'll look back on with fond memories. The thought of a massive greenhouse filled with succulents and flowers is exciting. I'm thinking a variety of anthurium, orchids and an entwining hoya kerrii. Many a wooden terrarium too. My latest creation features a dome of sempervivum and lithops blending effortlessly with pebbles. Until I find myself strolling through vast leafy/rocky terrain again, the miniature versions have a way of taking me back.
July this year saw us take an amazing family trip to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday. We all wanted to be by the beach - the sun. sand and a subtle tan. Our morning flight meant a not-so-bright wake up at 3am and flight at 6 in the morning. An hour on the plane and a hat-draped snooze later, we arrived in sunny Portugal. First on the agenda was a hearty breakfast, followed by a dip in the sea and a sand manicure. Ah, the beach. A knee-deep lounge in the water, sitting in the doughnut float. The simple and calming joys of a sea soak. We stayed at the Jupiter Algarve, which had comfortable rooms and friendly staff. I would recommend it for sure, especially as it was a stone's throw from the beach. The view from our room balcony overlooked the twinkling sea and the majestic building above, where every morning felt that extra bit zen. You can see it all unfold on sis's video here. We were based in Portimão, which had a family-friendly feel and pleasant buzz about the place. The sunshine and sand always helps. On our second day, we decided to venture into Lagos. A colourful carousel in town added to the backdrop of pastel buildings. Shop fronts in the lanes featured an array of souvenirs, from shell-adorned boxes to rows of magnets. As well as cork art. More on that in a mo. A gallery window exhibited rock-inspired art, with vibrant hues smeared skillfully on a canvas. Which reminds me, I have to experiment more with impasto paint in the coming year. I've dabbled slightly, yet haven't got around to creating an entire piece with the medium. It tends to get a bit messy, particularly having to clean the brushes with turpentine. The end result is worth it though. The art has a tactile, raised surface, which adds to the impact. A local artist beautifully captured the rocky vista, at what appears to be golden hour. I love the use of such vivid colours to capture the striking subject on canvas. I knew I couldn't be the only person in awe of the landscape. I took many a picture of the stony cliffs, which I'll be sharing in the coming Portu posts. A well-layered stippled palette - a good sign the paint and ideas have been flowing, This year, I experimented more with shapes and contrasting colours. The Abstraction series features clashing and complementary patterns. 'Hey, shall we hit up the cork factory?' Anyone? Cork was a big thing in Portugal. Tourist spots and vendors sold cork bags, sandals, purses and art-adorned slabs. There was a small purse with colourful flecks in the cork; I remember thinking, if they had made that in a larger size, possibly circular and satchel style, I would have snapped it up. Well, should you find yourself in Portugal with time on your hands, you know where to go. Cork as a canvas. I do like an unconventional canvas. Not just good for preserving your favourite tipple, ya know. Detailed tiles lined many a wall. I thought it'd be fun to try my hand at different crafts, so earlier this year I bought some mini tiles and and a pair of tile-cutters, to create mosaics on paper. Grouting and walls we'll save for another day. Speaking of tile work, I came across the craft of Caroline Jariwala of Mango Mosaics, when I was watching Kirstie's Handmade Christmas. Pieces spring to life in vibrant florals and lunar panels, where crockery is also creatively re-purposed in her designs. Many a different element forming the final picture. Once we arrived in Lagos, we stopped in the main city for lunch and then set on our way to the crazy golf venue. Walking though the rustic town, colourful alleyways and repetitive arrangements entertained visually. Such vibrancy to the city. This year I also combined abstract motifs with fashion illustrations on paper. Seeing as we're by the coast, here's 'Shoal'. I went back to three of the designs in the series a few months later to add finishing strokes. The maroon segment at one point appeared quite dense, so I later added the shimmering scales coursing through it. Sometimes, having that time in between allows for the reflection needed. Best believe plant spotting takes place wherever I am. Long lengths of sansevieria cast shadows on the windows, forming the backdrop of sprawling greenery. The patterned lengths mirrored the marbled surroundings. There's plant inspiration everywhere. I mentioned in this post how plants waken many a vessel - notably a life-size boat filled with them. We finally arrived at our destination, where I wasn't expecting buoyant ladies pirouetting away. What a sculptural surprise. The putting park was empty when we arrived - time to play! Funky plant forms were embedded in the surrounding rock beds. Giant acorn-like structures and fronds with perforated edges lined our game. Alike the rockeries built in my own garden, the different heights and layers gracefully draw the eye throughout. On a much larger scale in this case. I'm considering adding more ferns to my garden...maybe a collection which have a similar texture to the leaves below? Orby hedges wrapped around the expressive silhouettes and the dancers themselves added a light-heartedness. We enjoyed making our way around the course, at a relaxed and fun pace. I found there was a shot to make atop a mini hill, which I was able to putt in quite easily. Others were a little trickier to make. The score sheet balanced out again - no embellishing the scores here. It was looking fairly level pegging throughout, A continuing and curving shot was to be taken, where dad smoothly putt the ball in one go. I took a moment for composure on my chance, to find the ball gracefully plipip in too. Yay! Mini celebration all around. The pink figure must convey how you feel once you've hit a hole-in-one. Speaking of the dancing ladies, a mini placard told us more about them. Their enthusiasm was the brainchild of artist Karl Heinz Stock, where he wanted to convey the attributes of 'lightness, elegance and grace' through his organic sculptures. Made from polystyrene and a protective layer of fibreglass, they added a carefree touch throughout the park. Their bold colours stood out against the lush shades of green. Strike a pose. So, squirty frogs were dotted throughout the course. Boom! A jet beam of water came straight for you when you least expected it. They must've been sensor activated. After one encounter, hopping over rock barriers to make a water-free journey was the drier option. Sprinting through on a few occasions worked too. Midpoint, the boat-pulley-system seemed the only way for us to make our way to the next shot. We emerged on the other side unscathed and couldn't stop laughing on the way. We later realised there was the option to circumnavigate the route by walking, but where would've been the fun in that? Our last shot saw the balls vanish into the structure and dad did very well to clinch the win in the end. I thought I'd have to hop a flight to Hawaii to see such hibiscus. The exotics come to mind. We made our way back to the main town, taking the scenic route past the beach. There's always time to stop and smell the flowers. Some of these fleurs may not be the scent-emitting type, yet still have an allure about them. The dried floral arrangements combined shells with materials such as metal and paper. There's no end to the combination of styling blooms, be it a rose in a frosty cube or a cascading coral-esque collaboration. Palm trees stood breezily along the path, shooting firecracker-like fronds. If I did plant all the fascinating tree species that caught my eye, I don't think there'd be any walking space in the garden. The fiery yellow one spotted at Coton Manor would also make an appearance. The texture of this palm's layered bark resembled stacked shells. It looked as if it you could play a melodious scale, running a xylophone stick across the surface. This tactility is something I want to add in the new shrubs I plant for summer. We came to the end of the road, to a vista of sails. All things water were happening on the coastal edge: canoe lessons, fishing, boating and happiness from taking a dip. Eye- catching lighthouses stood strong and striped, irrespective of the weather having had an influence on them. Nothing quite like horizon gazing into the distance, which was the case with our day in Rutland Water too. Talk about tranquil. Glancing down, mosaic cobbling nodded to the nautical feel surrounding us. A giant anchor sat ashore, where I'm assuming Poseidon lobbed it far from his underwater haven to land here. It did have a trident quality about it. There's a whole new realm of a world in the watery depths and you never know what lays just beneath the surface. Elements can also have a stunning impact at a visible level, such as Colombia's rainbow river. The macarenia clavigera plant is responsible for the hues, with lime green and fuchsia appearing in ever-changing patches. This would be other-worldly to see in person. As we strolled along, I said 'wait a moment, I'm just going to take a clear shot of the allium.' Sis, of course, felt Homer-Simpsoning into the shot was necessary. Here's the beautiful result. Stepping in and out of the photo as I tried to capture the flowers. Straight out of the shot as soon as it was taken. I do like this photo, where I made her a 2018 Christmas card with a photo compilation featuring this one, of course. Can't wait for Spring to make an appearance again, to see an abundance of petals...and maybe another little photo appearance. Rich orange gladioli danced with the tall palms, where you can never go wrong with blooms in this tone. We continued exploring the town, to come across a lively music and beer festival. A few dessert stands joined the line-up too. It was time for a strawberry and Nutella crepe and some live music. I wouldn't say no at any point in my life to either. You can see the tribute to Elvis and our sweet treat endeavour at the 7 mins 48 mark on sis's vlog. We then ventured back to Portimão for dinner and the hotel for a game of pool with dad. It's not very often I can step out of the door to find myself at the beach, so I wanted to make the most of it I was accompanied by a hazy lilac sky and delicate swishing heather. The sand resembled multiple mini dunes, ready to mould beneath footprints. It was great being able to see the mood the beach takes on at different points of the day. We walked past the beach late another night, where the glowing full moon rippled on the dark waters. I was reminded of the time I spent in Eastbourne and how relaxing the dusky seascape can be. Running my hands through the grains, shell shards become unearthed. Iridescent pieces caught the last glimmer of daylight, with creamy brown and white bands decorating the sand. I brought some of the shells home with me, so I could create a sea-inspired terrarium. Pearly stones combined with spiky air plants to best encapsulate the scene. Quiet
moments on the beach were serene. Raindrops gently began to make their way down, just as sis joined me. We took in the view, before the heavens opened up something good. Ah London, it's always a fun visit and Autumn in the city doesn't disappoint. We visited Richmond, witnessing all the colours the season has to offer. A cluster of sprouting branches stood in the distance, adorned with jewel tones of ruby, citrine and peridot. Walking up a gently rising hill led us to a peak. coming to a view of the Thames meadow. What a spectacular view it was. It has been immortalized in many paintings; also inspiring the artist J.M.W Turner. The trees leave remnants of summer across the floor, yet does so beautifully. A sense of continuous renewal. The floor makes a perfect canvas for mottled leaf patterns. I love how each one is unique, and how the imprints would leave a different mark every time, pressed with paint upon paper. A few were collected from various trees to create a little art... I'm looking forward to blending the individual pieces. Created by Charles I in the 17th century, Richmond Park is the largest of London's Royal Parks. Known for the many deer who call it home, we spotted them in the distance and carefully made our way closer. There is an enchanting feel about the woodlands. All the enthralling books read when younger seem to spring to mind. I thought back to my visit to a park earlier this year, where I was invited in by many a towering tree. A dreamscape surrounded by the majestic animals captures the feeling... with a little Elie Saab gown inspiration. As the weather changes and surrounded by Rudolph's entourage, the anticipation of Christmas is here. The beautiful fallow deer allowed us to come close enough to admire their speckled fur. There's a calm feeling in the forest, watching nature just be. I remember seeing the horse-chestnuts fall from the tree when younger, intrigued by how the smooth surface contrasts with its spiky shell. Roasted chestnuts are delicious this time of year. As a big fan of vintage fashion, the trusty sewing machine was used for tailoring the shoulders and pleats of my blazer. Knee-high boots were perfect for strolling through the grassland. With many amber-leaved trees creating an overhead canopy, I was reminded of wen I painted one on the studio wall. Feeling at home in the long grass, it's safe to say it felt like I was in the Outback, especially in the snap above. Noses to the ground, the deer sniffed for berries and chestnuts for the entire duration. I tried to take a photo of the stag with his antlers standing tall, yet he was completely unfazed... conkers were calling of course. Well, when food is on the mind, there's no room for anything else. It was a joy to see the red and fallow deer up close. Maybe Bambi will make an appearance on another visit. A much welcome burst of sunshine illuminated the leaves. The natural glow allowed the spindly branches to create layers and entwine against the sky. On the walk back, we spotted some artists taking in the picturesque scene, carefreely painting away -. a little reminder to take the easel next time. It would feel like you have all the time in the world. Back in the studio, those rich garnet hues come to life in a leaf-tail gown. Golden leaves double up as expansive skirts to swirl in. Walking on Richmond Hill, the landscape was one I couldn't have imagined and it's clear to see why it's such a renowned viewpoint. The meandering in the Thames actually inspired the namesake city in Virginia, U,S, after the founder saw a curve in the James river (who wouldn't have a Pocahontas moment up here?) The stunning colour palette of Richmond was captured in rich bursts of evergreen, red and fawn.
Here we are, after what felt like the longest January and flash-by Feb. I thought it'd be a while before I could introduce grassy vibrancy back on the blog, what with icy cold walks being the norm. Yet, it's a chance to share my 28th birthday. Do I feel my years? Not so much. You're as old as you feel though, right? Quote me on that in about 20 years when the #LeafLadies movement (the politically correct term - no Crazy Plant Lady here) is in full force. Sounds like the dream to be honest. We visited Calke Abbey in Derbyshire, surrounded by greenery. There's an undeniable happiness it brings and reminds me that summer isn't too far away, especially when I look out of my window right now to see a blizzard. No exaggeration. I'm considering this get-up for the next trudge into town. Even so, there is something mesmerizing about watching the snow. Wooden branches in the distance lay like an inviting outdoor installation. A quick hike up the marshy hill led me to find a giant dino-lizard snapping at my heels. No time to stop... Venturing in, we found hand-crafted sculptures in wood and wrought-iron lining the garden square. The horsie heads in particular were eye-catching, with curved panels of wood carefully pieced together. I'm hoping to create a dimensional illustration in my garden this year. Small shards of wood forming multiple figures. Handsaw and sandpaper at the ready. This summer, it's be nice to create larger planters to house all the floral trees, such as the magnolia and cherry blossom. This way, there'll be space for roots to spread out and branches to flower. We stopped for carrot cake and tea, surrounded by specks of colour. The more sedate lifestyle has kicked in...and quite frankly, I love it. Walking through, I admired the various blooms whilst trying to decide which one to purchase. Creamy white petals took centre stage, with their long draping stems. I didn't catch their name although if I had to guess, I'd say a variety of gladioli? Three years ago, I planted peacock orchids, which have similar elegant flower heads. Their bulbs also multiply naturally, so I found many beautiful clusters popping up unexpectedly. Not to mention the stunning fragrance they release. If you're going to plant any flowers for their scent, make it this variety. Here's hoping the tuberoses I planted come to bloom this year, as they're also known for their aroma. The garden critters need to take a back seat and resist eating them. We were looking forward to exploring the stately manor which the grounds hold, yet we missed the last tour time. I guess it's an excuse to come and visit another time with family -alike our day in Newark. Many a stable to see here, alas no horsies this time around. Ivy crept up the walls, reminding me of how it enthusiastically made it's way up tree trunks two Januaries ago, That particular day is a little more fitting in matching the current chill in the air (I'll be staying here and thinking warm thoughts). A field of delicate Queen Anne's lace looked as though it had been carefully meshed together. Something I want to do more of this year is hand-stitch. I recently purchased a stash of seed beads to sew onto paper. If I'm treating myself, it's usually to art goodies and such - it's for my craft, so justifiable, of course. It starts with 'Oh, I need some light green beads. May as well get them in dark green too seeing as I'm here... can't hold out on the turquoise andd checkout'. As pretty as they look in the beadtrove, a mini goal of mine is to get them threaded onto a surface. Also, It must've been my first time seeing black petunias, so they had to make small feature. Fielding and covering many a floral base here. When toadstools make an appearance, a pixie moment is inevitable. You should see the outtakes of trying to hop aboard - it's a lot higher than it looks. We'll save those for another day (nope). I chose the dianthus in a pastel shade of orange as my birthday plant. I have a variety of this flower in shades of pink and they've grown back year after year. They happen to be more commonly known as 'pinks' too, irrespective of colour. Hopefully this one will continue to re-bloom annually in the garden, reminding me of this point in my life. The dresses I usually wear tend to be of a flared style. yet I was happy to wear this floral number that my mum actually sewed for for me. The love of sewing is indeed something that's passed down. The apple gladly doesn't fall far and all. I paired it with some tassel loafers, I do like fringe-like detailing, be it on a shoe or paper. Spotting this nettle mass reminded me of the perils of pricking plants, alike rosehip thorns - a price I was willing to pay for creating art that day. Our first encounter when we came upon the vast grounds, was with plentiful sheep. They dotted along the landscape and we were welcomed with a chorus of bleating. Maybe they were singing Happy Birthday. Casual sauntering and days basking in the shade, like little lamb here have got to be the best. I'm having a hard time believing that May is rolling around again, so very soon. Winding roads twisted in the hilly distance, asking to be explored... Various stones were embedded in the patchwork wall, with different textures and colours working together. It was reminiscent of a collection of minaudierès and totes. Speaking of stone bags, Barbara Segal is an artist whose work takes heavy shopping bags to a whole new level. She deftly carves handbags from precious stones, such as marble and onyx. Each design is sculpted to the nearest mm measurement of the original bag, The attention to detail and bands of colour are astounding. It'd be a Herculean feat walking around with these creations - probably best to admire from a table top on this occasion. Fields of gold. Sting wasn't joking when he said 'you'll remember me' - he was clearly singing from the perspective of the yellow-petalled fleurs. We were initially going to call it a day, before we decided to set out on one last stroll around the grounds. The sunshine piercing through was a dream. Taking those extra steps showed that it's the only way to find out where the path leads. If the bright buttercup field we discovered is anything to go by, I'm going to go ahead and believe it's somewhere beautifully surreal.
Last year saw me create my first two small rockeries. I saw a colossus one in the gardens at Lamport Hall and was inspired to make my own version. I then had to consider the structure becoming waterlogged and the last thing I'd want was a washout rock slide. It was time to scale it down a little. I mentioned in my previous birthday post that dad had helped me build some planters, so smaller rocky microcosms it was. This decision happily led to many an even smaller terrarium created. Like a kid in a rock candy shop, I had a fun day deciding which pebbles to purchase. Rose quartz, amethyst and aventurine are some semi-precious favourites. Polished pieces add a statement touch, alongside stones in a more natural, jagged form. I find pebble combos look good with a similar theme, such as slate and metallic ore minerals. Yellow-hued stones come together to complement light green leaves. The bench is also currently under construction, where dad's building skills know no limits. I found an online shop which sold a collection of bare-rooted plantlings and a variety arrived on my doorstep. I conducted some research; the vivid lengths of Purple Heart make a stunning addition to any planter. Speaking of small plants, you never know what'll spring up overnight. This miniature mushroom felt at home here, nestled between chunky leaves. If you ever fancy creating a rockery yourself, here's a few tips. This is along the lines of what I initially had in mind for the back of the garden. When the small wall in the garden was built by dad many a year ago, there were a few spare grey bricks left in the corner. I thought they'd make great mini-mountain additions to the rockery. Cue an enthusiastic throwing-bricks-against-the-paving session (highly recommended). Pieces broke off in perfect chunks. Don't forget the safety gear when doing so. The area looked like a little makeshift quarry. I had no idea what to expect in the internal brickwork, yet I was pleased to discover a stellar moon-rock pattern throughout. The large echeveria first had a home in the flowerbed, but was carefully moved to the planter for better drainage. It's come up a cropper, year after year. Echeveria and sempervivum are some of my favourite succulents. When I was younger, I remember visiting my aunt's garden, where she used to have some embedded in the soil. I was fascinated by their rubbery, squidgy leaves - they looked almost artificial. I also like how resilient these two varieties are and how even when the frost bites, they still come through in Spring. Which is what I was hoping would be the case with the various new stems planted. I found it was sadly, a very different story... Alike the last post, this one is also a retrospective. As much as I want to say all the plants made it through last year's harsh winter, most of them perished. It was pretty upsetting stepping out briefly in December and seeing the strong length of the cacti curling up on itself, Many of the leaves had become mushy. In hindsight, I wish I has considered protective covering measures, alike the couple in Norfolk, who have created an astounding cacti and succulent garden. I came across the article when searching for large-scale ideas and was blown away by the vast array of exotic greenery (look at all the agaves!), as well as the fact that it's here in England. What a surreal escape to see every time you step outside the door. The last few weeks of summer saw the final photos taken, after that the roots had had time to take hold. I don't want to focus on the fact that the planters no longer look like this. The weather-beaten lengths were retrieved and bought indoors, in the hopes they'd spring back to life... to no avail. On a positive note, I'll mention some more favourites in this mini jungle: Crassula Moonglow, with its patterned nodular leaves; Aeoniums, with their contrasting red edge; and Spoon-leaved Stonecrop sedum, which have a cluster of greyish-hued florettes. There was one, however, that did make it, which I've had chance to re-pot into a permanently indoor terrarium. There's a creative element that you can bring to the table, or planter, when decorating. Before the final potting, I had a play with the arrangement in sections, deciding which plants work next to the other and as a whole. Alongside pebbles, a few beads make an appearance. Each section melds into different tones, from the reddish copper leaves to subdued blue-tinged ones. Materials such as terracotta, slate and stone course like a rocky stream, into the next. The large keystone bricks were put in place first (same ones which built the wall), with smaller rocks falling in accordingly. A landscape feel was formed by raising heights in certain areas. There was something so satisfying in seeing it all come together. I had luckily collected some fallen leaves from some of the plants, which meant I could propagate them this year. It's a slow process, although tiny buds are beautifully starting to take form. I'm still a tad gutted that there's some cuttings I didn't take, such as the seaweed-looking form above, and the trio of cacti totems. The store from which I bought the bundle is unfortunately no longer in operation. So, now it's a case of keeping a look-out in plant shops to see if I stumble across them again. Yet, I'm also trying to curb my plant shopping, as I feel I've officially run out of window sill or sunlight receiving space. I might, might just make rare exception if something striking catches my eye. As well as every sill space, I've also considered how floor space could be best utilized with long colourful vases - filled with sprawling vines and feathery fronds. Best believe I'll be
covering up this year's planters as the harsh cold comes around again (plastic tray covers maybe)? I recently moved to Hertfordshire, so it won't be possible to spend as much time in my garden as I used to. That said, Letchworth is coincidentally a 'Garden City' and tree-lined walkways make up for it. A bunny-ear cacti I purchased from a local florist (this be the exception of paragraph above) has made the perfect house-warming plant. I'm also taking some terrariums with me, naturally. All in all, the outlook is still pretty green from here. |