Lessons in lavender and the vagaries of garden show adjudicators

HERMIONE, so gentle in so many of her ways, can be a tough task master when it is necessary. Like a teacher who expects homework to be completed, she requires completion of certain tasks. Those who fail to measure up in attending to their assigned duties receive stern reminders of their failings and shortcomings.

Young Persephone, for instance, must show a minimum of 60 per cent of floor space clear of all obstruction in her bedroom in order to meet clearly defined tidiness criteria. How she chooses to clutter the remaining 40 per cent is her own business, though some remarks may be passed.

Our Eldrick is required to eat at least one banana, but no more than three bananas, each day while he remains a member of the household. Proof of compliance is demanded in the form of banana skins neatly disposed of.

The senior member of the family (that’s me) is spared the grind of daily goals. Hermione has long since given up in despair all attempts to monitor my diet or keep my half of our bedroom neat. Though probably tempted to do so, she does not cast her spouse as a reluctant schoolchild in need of constant monitoring. She instead adopts the role of a professor dealing with a lovable but scatty mature PhD student whose thesis is behind schedule. I think I may be able to surprise her for once on that score. The mission statement laid out by the professor is an attempt to encourage learning by doing. I am asked to render an account of lessons learned during the year, with a view to developing more successful strategies for the future.Normally, production of the annual list of experiences is a task that becomes entangled with the Christmas shopping.

But 2018 is different. I am already working on a preliminary draft. Here is an extract:

One – always expect the unexpected at the Bridge Castle Show, highlight of the local gardening calendar.

I rocked up to the hall on show Sunday with three peppers I felt sure would be prime contenders in their class. Glossy red, long, lean and curled like Aladdin’s slippers, pride of the Medders Manor greenhouse, they had the look of world beaters to me. As a mark of respect to the show organisers, I also entered a bunch of bean pods bearing a rash of black spots, half a dozen jaded sticks of rhubarb rescued from the dung-heap and an apologetic plateful of tomatoes with peculiar red-and-yellow mottled skin.

Returning at the end of the day to learn the verdict of the adjudicator, I was deflated to find that my imperious peppers had been bested by some rival gardener. I glumly collected my under-appreciated produce and then cast a mournful look along the table to spot a winner’s red rosette clipped to the plateful of peculiar tomatoes. Apparently red-and-yellow mottling is all the fashion. Wow!

The moral is to keep trying. Next time Aladdin’s slippers may sweep the board.

Two – bumble bees are wonderful.

It must be the most comforting sound the in world. The rumbling buzz of bees setting about their work in the herbaceous borders of our garden is balm for the soul. The fuchsia in the hedge along the edge of the Side Garden used to be the main magnet for these industrious insects. However, the introduction of lavender plants has lured them closer to our front door.

I have spent hours upon countless hours this summer looking at them mesmerised as they shuttle from stem to stem. Watching them offers both therapy and biology. One lavender plant lures several different species of bumbler to sup its nectar at any one time. The most eye-catching have rusty-orange tips to their bodies. I have never yet been stung while I observe or attempt to photograph them in action with my smart phone. They are far too busy stocking up on sweetness, pollenating plants and saving the planet.

The moral is that we must grow much more lavender.

So, Professor Hermione, you now have a down-payment on my thesis, with plenty more to come...