Autumn colours

The cornus at the front are in their winter colours now: the strong winds of recent weeks have stripped off all the leaves.  We (and passers by) enjoy the contrasting red of the original plant, a layering from a Tonbridge plant, the mahogany stems of the variegated ones and the lime green of one we planted more recently.  All seem to tolerate the dreadful clay.  The landscapers planted some skimmias alongside the cornus, and they are contributing a bit of colour in their insipid way - not our favourite subject.  There are lots of forget-me-not seedlings around a surviving box bush, so we should have a splash of blue in the spring.  The frost will finish off the bedding dahlias in the tubs unless I pot them up and get them under cover soon.  We have plenty of bulbs and polyanthus to plant in their place when I summon up the energy.

Round the back, the beech has developed its glorious autumn colours, and as it fades to brown, it’ll keep its leaves until the new season’s foliage begins.  It won’t be long before the fuchsias are finished, but in the meantime, Tony's magellanica alba is looking good.  I nicked the cuttings from his garden a good decade ago when the art crowd met to do some sketching in his garden, and our two surviving plants have gone on to provide cuttings to populate other friends’ gardens.  It responds well to hard pruning, but we can enjoy the flowers for a bit longer.  The variegated one at the front is threatening to take over the driveway, so it too will get its usual severe chop back when the leaves die down.

Tim Williams 1972-2023

As if 2023 hasn’t bowled us enough googlies, today brought the dreadful news that Tim, Martyn’s nephew, was found dead this morning.  Fate had dealt Tim a bloody awful hand.  As a child he suffered bad head injuries when the brakes failed on a bike he’d borrowed, and he was hit by a car.  He recovered to a degree from that, but it left him rather vulnerable.  He was twice married, each rather ill-advised marriage ending in divorce.  He had significant health problems: in particular he required corneal transplants to give him some degree of useful eyesight.  And despite all this, he was a delightful bloke: sweet-natured, kind and generous, thanks in no small measure to his mother Gillian’s unstinting care over the decades. The signs are that he died suddenly, which is perhaps a whisker of comfort to his mother, his siblings and the rest of us.