Green and pleasant....

I've never been to an Open Gardens event before, so this weekend was a delight, as we discovered how much fun it is to wander round other people's gardens, pinching ideas and chatting to proud gardeners willing to share their knowledge. I discovered the names of plants growing in our garden, which will make it easier to check on how to care for them. For instance, we inherited some Iris Germanica growing in the shade, and not flowering - they are coming out, and will be replanted somewhere with a bit more sunshine. The little plant that is growing everywhere, very prettily, isn't a weed after all, but something called Sweet Woodruff. It apparently smells of vanilla once cut and dried, and can be used as an air freshener or used in wardrobes to scent clothes, a bit like lavender.

The village looks like a toy town imagining of a perfect English village, as can be seen from the top of the church tower. C took charge of the camera for this bit - I had to concentrate on getting up there.

The clock tower with medieval wooden fixings.

Another accidental Union Flag albeit it on its side!

Some (very) old graffiti.

It was a perilous climb for one as wimpish as I am, round the worn steps of the tower and up an almost vertical step ladder. Makes the heart beat faster for a couple of reasons!

But what a view once you're up there! It happened, luckily, to be a glorious day and we could see for miles, as well as down into the gardens we'd already visited, like this one below.

There were grand, stately gardens with enough space for ponds, chickens, vegetables, and even a river running through, and gardens contained in tiny back yards. Some were formal, some little more than fields with paths mowed through, that took advantage of the stunning views beyond. All were brimming with colour and ideas, and all of them induced sighs of pleasure, for one reason or another.

This garden above looks onto a view worthy of a Richard Curtis film, probably involving weddings...just idyllic! As for the others, here is just a selection...

That evening, C took some pictures of our own garden as the sun was setting. Perhaps we could take part in an Open Gardens event.... one day!

Classic or cliché...?

With every hedge brimming over with cow parsley I shouldn't have been too surprised to find a stalk of it in our garden, hidden behind the pear tree long enough for it to grow taller than I am. This article gives a little more information about it, including its lovely Suffolk name - Cow Mumble! I think my favourite name for it is Queen Anne's Lace, which does conjure up the delicate, white, frothy loveliness of it. It's pretty stuff, but I didn't really want it taking over the garden, so out it came (although I probably did a better job of sprinkling the seeds everywhere when I yanked it out than it could ever have managed on its own...watch this space).

Rather than put it in the garden waste bin, it ended up in a vase on the table. Hence the post title - is this a classic look or a cliché? Even the checked curtains are a little Laura Ashley circa 1973! Still, I'm happy to embrace the whole country look at the moment. We tried going a little bit edgy by painting the garden bench black to match the shed, but soon discovered there's a reason garden benches are allowed to weather gracefully and go grey - it works as a much better camouflage for all the bird poo!

It's also the time of year when walking around the garden needs a little bit more vigilance - baby birds everywhere, and almost catastrophically underfoot. I'd forgotten what tiny balls of fluff baby sparrows are, and almost invisible until you hear the mad scrabble as they disappear into the safety of the bushes! The other day a baby starling was determined to get into the studio via the (closed) garden doors, flapping and chirping, presumably at its reflection in the glass, and then spent the next ten minutes noisily demolishing the careless pyramids of plastic plant pots under the potting bench, as it hopped about trying to get a foothold. Of course, it won't be too long before we're inundated with the equivalent of teenage hoodlums at the bird table - last year we'd sometimes have more than 20 young starlings all ready to 'have a go' with any bird getting in the way of the seed. I don't think the garden bench is safe yet...