A coolish day, somewhat surprising, after the hot days, with the temperature creeping up to the low 20s while I am in the garden this morning. But it remains dry. Two days ago we had 3mm of rain which gives us 4mm this month, which is a paucity when August’s average in London is 48mm. Many of our plants are flagging and the pond is low. I water for over an hour.
We have been given a water forget-me-not. The flowers are like the regular forget-me-not, five petalled and pale blue. They grow by the waterside, often in shallow water. The plant comes to us in a plastic beaker in water. I transplant the plant it in compost in a flowerpot. I water it copiously and place it on the shelf of the pond, in few centimetres of water, by the papyrus.
One origin of the name forget-me-not is the tale of a German knight and the maid he courted. They were walking by the river and she pointed out the flowers on the far bank. He dived in to swim across to gather some for her, but weighed down by his armour, he drowned. His last words were forget-me-not. I wonder about this tale, as it is quite silly, as even a besotted knight would know better than to try to swim across a river in full armour. I am reminded of the Monty Python knights who said N! Less daft than attempting to swim a river in full armour.
I water the Fothergilla which is aptly in the Fothergill bed. I read that it prefers slightly acid soil, which makes me wonder what will happen if it doesn’t get it. It’s the adverb slightly which makes me question. How slightly? Either way, we are going to transplant it, as it is confined in a corner of the bed. The leaves go yellow and red before they fall. We’ll wait for leaf fall before transplanting.
I watch a cabbage white butterfly. It flits about the garden, hardly alighting. There aren’t many flowers left; it wants nectar and it is hard to find. One place though is the herb bed. In the bed are mint and purple toadflax both with tiny blue flowers, which are busy with pollinators. I see a bumble bee, a honey bee, quite a few bluebottles, and a small bee like creature which I conjecture might be a solitary bee.
Thinking of plant names, I wonder about purple toadflax. The flax bit especially. Could you get a yarn out of it and weave it? A brief look on the internet says, you can’t. The flax appellation is due to the plant having leaves like flax. And the toad bit: it is said the flower has a toad like mouth.
On a wildflower site people are wondering how purple toadflax got here as it originated in Italy, and make suggestions that it was perhaps used in herbalism or perhaps dyes. I find a reference to its use as a laxative and diuretic, and for conditions like jaundice and liver problems. So maybe herbalists first brought it to the UK.
Though a plant doesn’t have to have a use to get here. Purple toadflax seeds itself very easily, we have it all over the garden. Seeds could have come in imported grain, or in material which was then shaken out. Some plants just get around without our conscious help.
In the shade behind the book shed is an abutilon shrub in flower. So shady that when I take a photo my flash comes on. I am surprised it could flower there at all.
I look around the garden for garden crucifix spiders but I cannot find any at all. This is their season, but I wonder if the dry weather has killed them off. In previous years, I might find half a dozen in their large webs, females awaiting mates. But his year, nary one.