Short and very sharp this week. I’ve been busy with Christmas festivities, but I did find another five plus one for today’s round of Six On Saturday. Most of this week’s selection is about evergreen garden structure, which becomes very important in winter. Without further ado, here we go …
1. Lamium maculatum
Commonly called spotted dead-nettle, and very much alive, despite the name.
2. Euonymus
Variegated Euonymus japonicus. At this time of the year it shines brightly. The garden is back to bare bones so anything evergreen that also has a bit of structure is very welcome.
3. Pittosporum
Similar to the euonymus above, the Pittosporum does its job well. I have two of these, planted last year and I’m pleased to see them doing well. I’d imagine they’ll look even better in another year or two, but given my small space Ill be sure to keep them trimmed tidily.
4. Mystery
I did know the name of this. I’d imagine I made a note of it when I got it last year or perhaps the year before. In any case, despite not knowing it’s name, I like it very much. I have a feeling that I got it after seeing someone here on SOS highlighting it.
Update:
5. Skimmia
The skimmia is doing very well considering it’s in a pot, albeit a large one. I did remember to feed it twice during the year and I put a saucer under it so that during the summer it retained some water.
6. Birdfeeder
We love to attract birds to the garden and what better way to do that than to provide extra food during the cold weather. I’ve also been feeding myself a bit extra recently, just to see me through until spring. Soups and casseroles are my favourites, while peanuts, fat-balls and mixed seeds attract a good variety of birds.
I don’t mind losing things. Secateurs disappear. The blue jumper with the hole in one elbow has vanished. But losing something I’ve written tightens a knot in my stomach in a way nothing else does.
So I was delighted to find where I had kept “The Dark”, adapted from an RTE documentary in 2023, on one of my old blogs, and I want to use it again as we northerners celebrate Winter Solstice.
“The experience of darkness is such a different condition to light and is often sadly stigmatised. We are so accustomed to beginning things when the light is turned on, when the sun rises and when we open our eyes and adjust. Yet nature says the beginnings are in the dark. Life first is dreamed and vibrates in the absence of light. The seeds sown in autumn germinate underground through winter before appearing as shoots in spring. Each one of us reading this lived our first nine months or thereabouts in our mother’s dark womb.” – Dr. Karen Ward
Winter Solstice 2025.
I await brighter days of warm sunshine and I’ll sit awhile to soak it all in. Today is for slowing down and being content to wait for these brighter days ahead.
Finally, based upon this theme I’ve a more reflective version over on my Reflections Blog. Perhaps you might like to reflect further? Here it is.
Another week of downpours and deluges. However, this time it was only every second day, with hard frosts and bright sunshine in between. The downpour days were double downpours and they did test my spirits, they did. In the middle of these testing deluges, news from Bondi Beach brought a sobering perspective. Seems a bit pointless to be getting upset over rain.
Closer to home, I had two days of hard labour in Wexford: physical work that left its mark but also delivered a quiet sense of purpose. In between, there were lots of Christmas preparations—lists, small rituals and cautious hopes. And so, with boots still damp, perspective restored, and one eye on the calendar, here we go again — another Six On Saturday.
1. Beech Hedging
Fagus sylvatica
Spoiler alert: not my garden.
We spent two days planting two hundred beech whips at Méabh and Jimmy’s place in Wexford. It was a very satisfying job. Afterwards, less so. I discovered aches in places that had clearly been idle for some time.
Although this is very definitely not my garden, I may adopt it. Our daughter and other half seem willing to give me (almost) free rein to develop their site from scratch. It will never be my garden but I’d like to leave my mark. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to say: I was here.
“Whips” is the term used for small bare-root beech plants. I didn’t know that. Read more.
Soil conditions: Saturated
2. Pansy
Pansy
There are six of these—two in the window boxes and four among the pots beneath the pergola. A hard frost paid a visit last Monday night, but this little plant stands tall regardless, silently asking the weather, Is that all you’ve got? Small plant. Big attitude. Winter can bring its worst; the pansy has already read the forecast and remains unimpressed.
3. Geranium & Operator Error
Geranium Pelargonium
It’s really a pelargonium, though it’s commonly known as a geranium. John prefers it by its proper name, so I’m happy to oblige. A small correction, quietly noted.
It also lends some support to the rumour that I’m far from perfect. This was confirmed to me last Sunday when I emptied the washing machine and hung everything neatly on the clothes horse — all before breakfast. I allowed myself a moment of mild satisfaction.
It didn’t last.
None of it had been washed.
A little Operator Error, nothing serious. Still, it may be how habits begin.
4. Another Hellebore
Hellebore
I included a hellebore last week. Lo and behold, here’s another. This one is a textbook hellebore: head bowed, flowers facing the ground, and a firm insistence that you kneel to appreciate it properly. Photographs must be taken from below, camera pointing skywards.
Consider it a combined gardening and wellness exercise. As with all such pursuits, overdoing it is discouraged.
Reminder re: overdoing it… planting of the beech whips is a sad reminder that I really should listen to my own good advice!
5. Malus
Malus: crab apple
That’s the fruit of a crab apple tree (Malus). Small apples hanging on long, thin stalks, often blotched or scabby. They cling on long after the leaves have gone.
There are hundreds, if not thousands of tiny red apples. Every now and then I notice a blackbird teasing one off for breakfast. She does not feast. It’s a pantry, not a party.
6. Mont Ventoux
In my garden there’s a small piece of metal that carries a big memory. It speaks of effort, companionship, and the curious satisfaction of having gone up something very big—only to come safely down again. Like all good garden features, it rewards close inspection, reveals a gentle truth, and asks a question just for fun.
Mont Ventoux en Provence
This plaque is to remind me that Marion and I, along with eight other members of Dungarvan Cycling Club, cycled to the summit of Mont Ventoux in September 2023, climbing the 1,910 metres in 2h22m. Extinct French volcanoes are trez magnifique.
The descent back to Bedoin took about 45 minutes.
Close inspection of the plaque reveals a subtle, symbolic detail: Marion is slightly ahead as is only right, while I am in minding mode. Some things, it seems, are captured perfectly in metal.
Mastermind or University Challenge question: what do the letters TC on the plaque mean?
Some weeks ask very little of us. Others ask for effort, patience, and a bit of kindness — to plants, to people, and occasionally to ourselves. This one asked for all three.
We planted two hundred beech whips in Barntown last week.
Why are they called whips?
They’re called whips because they look like… well, whips.
In nursery-speak, a whip is a young tree—usually one or two years old—with a single, slender stem and little or no branching. Long, flexible, and straight, it has more in common with a riding crop than a “tree” as we imagine it.
The name stuck because:
they’re thin and pliable
they bend without breaking
they’re ideal for hedging and training
Given time, soil, and patience, today’s whip becomes tomorrow’s hedge. A good lesson, really—start simple, grow strong.
I’ve missed my Six-on-Saturday and I’ve missed reading garden updates from others. So, just as if I’d been here every week, I’ll continue as before.
Who remembers Grow-Write-Repeat? Who remembers The Three Hairs? I’m Páraig, still here on the south-east coast of Ireland and I’ll be looking forward to reconnecting with lots of old SOSers. If you remember me, have a quiet chuckle as you read.
Today, I had a sudden urge to resurrect the old blog, but it’s full! I can write forever and ever but not a single extra photograph will upload until I pay some money, so I’m starting anew. This Six-on-Saturday reappearance is long overdue.
It’s been a wet one. In fact, it’s been a very very wet one. Storm Bram blew through on Tuesday, pushing rain northwards at a fierce rate of knots, in order to allow wetter rain to follow immediately. On Wednesday, in between being wet and being very wet, there was a short glimpse of blue sky.
In any case, all of that is just a meandering preamble to my surprise reappearance. I’ve missed my Six-on-Saturday and I’ve missed reading garden updates from others. So, just as if I’d been here every week, I’ll continue as before. Perhaps you will recognize me again and be tempted to reconnect?
1. Early Daffodils
These were bought recently and are well ahead of themselves. I’ve put them just outside the back door. As I enjoy my morning coffee, padded with heavy jumper and jacket, these pretty things bring a smile to my face this very wet mid-December week.
Gently coaxed into flower, they bring a welcome hint of brightness — like fairy lights in the dark of winter — reminding us that spring is already quietly preparing itself.
2. Hellebore
For many years I had put cyclamen in the kitchen window boxes, but I was never happy with their staying power. This year, I’ve added two of these beauties.
Calm, dignified, and flowering quietly while everything else argues about the weather, the hellebore is basically the sensible adult of the garden.
3. Hydrangea
Further down the garden, this is the only flower produced on this hydrangea this year. Who could advise about what to do for next year? Admittedly, it’s in a pot so perhaps it would be better on the ground?
4. Fuchsia
I’ve three different fuchsias in my small garden. Even at this time of the year, they look well.
5. New Tiled Corner
Recently installed and already earning its keep by providing shelter from the rain. Perfect for standing under, staring at the garden, and wondering why you didn’t do this years ago.
Our big project for 2025 was this area just outside the conservatory door. We had it tiled and we put up a covered pergola. Now, as it rains and rains and rains more, I like to sit and sip my morning coffee here. Many of the potted winter flowering plants here do benefit from this warm dry corner.
Blue sky, you’ll notice. What’s rare is wonderful.
6. Saving Best Till Last
Finally I’m more than happy to bend Jim’s Rule 7. This is not my garden. It’s not even my Christmas tree, but being a first-time grandad does confer some latitude. Rule bending really is such good fun.
My last Six-on-Saturday was back in February 2024. Shortly afterwards our granddaughter Bonnie arrived. She continues to bring us joy and happiness in abundance.
And that’s your surprise Six-on-Saturday: plants blooming out of season, rain everywhere, rules cheerfully ignored, and a blog that has popped back up like a perennial you thought you’d lost.
