This was my bargain of the month, a pretty large Cunninghamia lanceolata for a fiver, courtesy of Southcombe Nursery.
I have now checked it out on Dave's Garden and discovered that it's a fair bit hardier than the tag suggested (I don't think I need to fleece up a conifer hardy down to zone 6b - I doubt London has been considered zone 6b since the last ice age).
This photo is a little blurry, but it shows the gorgeous colours. It looks like a more delicate Araucaria araucana, but is even spikier, hence me deciding (on examining my pin-pricked and bleeding hands when I got home) to name it Mr Stabby. Hubster will be happy enough learning that name.
I think I experienced a very tiny aspect of being a parent of a newborn though. Children do not feature anywhere in my future with Hubster, by mutual consent. Pretty much the only things that make me occasionally jealous of mothers are the guaranteed seat on the train and the overwhelming approval, delight and interest of complete strangers.
Well, I didn't get a seat on the train (although Mr Stabby did exact some revenge for this), but I did get approval, delight and interest from complete strangers. I was stopped about half a dozen times within the RHS halls so people could ooh and ahh over the plant, ask if they could note the name, was it as prickly as it looked (yes, more so in fact), where did I get it, was it hardy, where was I going to put it? And it wasn't just fellow plant nuts. I was stopped in Clapham Junction station. The guy at Krispy Kreme wanted to know all about it (while persuading me that I wanted a chocolate iced with sprinkles doughnut with my coffee).
Tragically, getting a £5 conifer seems to have been the single thing I have done with my life that society has thoroughly approved of!
I have now checked it out on Dave's Garden and discovered that it's a fair bit hardier than the tag suggested (I don't think I need to fleece up a conifer hardy down to zone 6b - I doubt London has been considered zone 6b since the last ice age).
This photo is a little blurry, but it shows the gorgeous colours. It looks like a more delicate Araucaria araucana, but is even spikier, hence me deciding (on examining my pin-pricked and bleeding hands when I got home) to name it Mr Stabby. Hubster will be happy enough learning that name.
I think I experienced a very tiny aspect of being a parent of a newborn though. Children do not feature anywhere in my future with Hubster, by mutual consent. Pretty much the only things that make me occasionally jealous of mothers are the guaranteed seat on the train and the overwhelming approval, delight and interest of complete strangers.
Well, I didn't get a seat on the train (although Mr Stabby did exact some revenge for this), but I did get approval, delight and interest from complete strangers. I was stopped about half a dozen times within the RHS halls so people could ooh and ahh over the plant, ask if they could note the name, was it as prickly as it looked (yes, more so in fact), where did I get it, was it hardy, where was I going to put it? And it wasn't just fellow plant nuts. I was stopped in Clapham Junction station. The guy at Krispy Kreme wanted to know all about it (while persuading me that I wanted a chocolate iced with sprinkles doughnut with my coffee).
Tragically, getting a £5 conifer seems to have been the single thing I have done with my life that society has thoroughly approved of!
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