Here we are, my third March in this garden, and people say we are about a month ahead of ourselves. From the first day of March we had no rain for an unbelievable 22 days (the last two years have seen a washout month), with daily temperatures on our south-facing slopes sometimes climbing to 24 or 25 degrees centigrade. The crocuses have now been and gone, and I'm savouring the remaining daffodils. After that long dry spell we had welcome rainfall last weekend, but it seems we will have to hold our breath until the next gift next Saturday, 5 April. It's been quite whirlwind month here - good and bad. To begin with the bad: my second chocolate Burmese cat was put to sleep early in the month.
Fortunately Aldi had a special offer on Magnolia soulangeana (already marked in my diary since I'd been planning to plant two in the Hornbeam Gardens). So he's sleeping peacefully down below now, bless his affectionate little soul. Unfortunately they did not have a special offer on chocolate Burmese kittens; I had to make do with gazing at pictures of them on the internet for hours that night.
Nick says the cats will rightly be frightened of the month of March from now on (beware the ides and all that ...), since this is the second year running we have lost a chocolate boy in this month. We have two little brown (nervous) ones left, dreading the arrival of next March. My second post ever on this blog was about the first chocolate boy, Musha, now fertilising a spectacular growth (after only one year!) on Rose 'Blairii No. 2' in the Iris Garden. Below are pictures of Eirig being comforted by a friend on the night before his death and the amazing basal growth on Musha's rose. Always fertilise your young roses with dead cats.
The Rose Walk is looking PDG, if I do say so myself. I'll not have the Dame's Violet (Hesperis matronalis) that made it so pretty last year - the plants were so big that they swamped the roses, and I decided on lower grower companions. Having said that, I often change my mind. The most recent additions are three clematis ('Arabella', 'Mme Julia Correvon' and a white clematis gift left by the previous owner). I'm feeling quite proud of the little rustic tripods (below) that my gracious hazels supplied. Although the gaps left by the coppicing are still painful (and we needed their shade), hopefully young stems and catkins will be there to keep the snowdrops company next year. I never did manage to tart up my scruffy path with nice paving stones or to cart my rubbish away during the winter ... but that's life. 
The vegetable garden (above) has now been terraced, although so far I've not had time to do planting/sowing. But - hurrah, hurrah! - today kindly friends stopped by with a heap of well-rotted manure (thanks Clare and Monk!). I'm not sure if the terracing was a good idea after all - there may be weed growth from the top of the landscaping fabric (weeds are sometimes hard to remove on our heavy clay), and the central portion is very narrow. But it's done now, and when I get up a second wind I could always put it back again next winter (unlikely). I missed my veggies last year when I was so busy in the rest of the garden, but the boring job of preparing the ground reminded me how I feel about vegetable growing. I'm relishing the purple sprouting broccoli I'm eating regularly at the moment, but it doesn't quite fill my head with the same exciting visions as alliums, tulips and roses can spark while I'm doing the hard graft.The Long Border (below) is cleared for planting in April and there are plenty of tulips coming up (cheap from, you guessed it, Aldi.) I was very excited to see I had acquired a little Anemone nemerosa - possibly on the roots of the hosta given me by a friend last year. I'm still anxiously awaiting the arrival of the hosta itself, and I've found plenty of holes in the grass in front of the border indicating the activity of the voles. But no lives lost yet, and Syringa 'Charles Joly' is restored to his place on the Long Border (he was savaged last year and left with just a few roots). Note to one of the remaining Burmese cats: you are no longer allowed in the house Dill. Out there and on with it!
The structure of the little Winter Garden is now there as well (to the left, above, the proposed knot garden; to the right the wilder area with the little stepping-stone path). But my poor transplanted hellebores and peonies in this heat! Since I am not buying any more box (due to the blight), the knot garden could be quite a long project while I take my own cuttings. This year I'm going to use it as a cut flower garden - you can just see the two tripods for the sweet peas in place.So much to say, so much to do, but I'm off to a good start for this year. Before I go, just a few plants that have made me happy in the course of the last month.
Euphorbia characias ssp. wulfenii, from seed sown in 2012 
Euphorbia rigida 
Euphorbia characias ssp characias, from seed sown in 2012 
E. rigida again - can't resist it! 
Helleborus argutifolius ex 'Boughton Beauty', from seed sown in 2012 
Good old H. orientalis before their transplanting shock 
Cowslips this early! They say here that if the cowslips flourish in a given year, there will be a good harvest of hay. I love them (and we now have three babies), but how on earth do you manage them on a formal lawn? It was fine when there was just one good clump - I mowed around them. But a few more sprogs and there won't be a formal lawn left, what with all my squiggles as I move out of their path.Lots to hope for (below). I noticed that my red peonies thrust their way through the ground earlier than the pink. Although the pink are in a much warmer position, I am only seeing their little noses now, virtually the last day of March. The red have been warming me with their colours for the last fortnight.
The dry weather and the fact that I have not clipped the box for over a year now (and have removed any diseased growth when seen) means that I can still enjoy that emerald flush of young growth without great fear of blight. How can the French clip those lovely young shoots away? But I am currently being advised to do just that - the French clip twice a year. I shall stick to my English traditions and clip (if I clip - big 'if', dependent on weather) in June or July.Meanwhile rose 'Souvenir de la Malmaison' is already budding up - in March! A little more as per schedule are the buds on 'Canary Bird' and R. banksiae 'Lutea' - this last is going for the 'chapeau', to my great delight, since it has only been in the ground for a year.
Rosa 'Souvenir de la Malmaison' 
Box - not a bother on them (yet)!
