It’s about that time of year when people who love their gardens and the process of growing start getting a bit antsy about the weather. Not being able to get outside due to inclement weather is one of the things that drives me nuts at this time of year although being a pro now I do go out in far more inclement weather than I would if I didn’t have to. At heart I am a fair weather gardener to which my neighbours will happily attest!
Nevertheless even at this time of the year when it’s snowing or freezing temps or yet more rain (we’re Brits, I know we should be used to this by now…) the plethora of juicy seed catalogues start plopping onto the door mat as if too entice us towards the sultry months ahead (ok sultry in my dreams, more likely to be damp and cool followed by more damp and more cool, if we’re lucky there will be a spate of simply scorching days to which we will hark for years to come).
I usually start planning the veg plot in October November time, partly as I feel I’ll miss it somehow unless I plan well in advance and then there is obtaining the rare seed that I like to attempt each year and the paranoia that it will all go if I don’t order early. Suffice to say with leftover seeds from last year(s!) and this irrational collecting behaviour I am usually vegetable seeded up by Christmas. But not so of the flowery seeds.
Inevitably the media tempters will start showing gardening programmes around February that display last years bounty. This year travels of Monty here and the abundance in Glebe cottage there and to boot an A-Z of gardening which brings all the old programmes back to haunt us through the ‘down time’ in the gardening year. For research purposes I HAVE to watch all the programmes (No, I do!) and am consequently tempted beyond comprehension with all the possible flowering things there are to grow in the coming summer.
From experience I now know some of these little blighters need a VERY early start and to miss this = fail before you even get it in the ground. Last year I had stunning Nicotiana mutabilis that produced fat globular rosettes of leaves, juicy and lush and not one of the blooming things flowered, not ONE! Mainly I suspect because combined with my late start, (May as I recall) the weather was vile and we barely had sun for more than an hour about three times (slight exaggeration but you get my point. Late start + bad weather = no flowers. This year? HaHa they are already in the seed tray in the heated propagator, which will undoubtedly lead to leggy little monsters that flop at the first sign of a draft.
So back to seed catalogues. There are so many but personal favourites this year are:
Sarah Raven - slightly pricey but wonderful and unusual varieties.
Real Seed Catalogue – if you haven’t tried them do, they have a great ethic and some wonderfully rare seeds on offer, plus the advice is excellent and works.
Suttons - for James Wong‘s Homegrown Revolution seeds, inevitably success with these will be hit and miss for most of us!
I’m looking forward to the Bishop’s Children Dhalia’s and some black skinned, lime flavoured Tomatillo the most and not pinning too many hopes on a second round of Nicotiana mutabilis…. What are you looking forward to growing this year?
I am feeling slightly flat today having missed posting yesterday. ‘One a month’ was the original mantra, I missed Jan 2013 by a whisker of activity. Ho Hum, not going to give myself a hard time about it but ho hum!
So Hippeastrum…You’re probably wondering why on earth I would be writing about this rather kitsch plant that seems to pop up over the winter months (Oct to Jan blooming time) looking all blousey in your mother-in-laws kitchen/conservatory/dining room.
Well let me say that I inherited one from a family member. It was given to them as a gift about 4 Christmas’ ago and had been lurking in it’s increasingly tatty box in the garage unplanted and un-loved. I noticed it trying to poke it’s foliage into the light during the annual debris clear out in the garage 3 years ago. Being a bit of a collector, I can never resist an ambitious plant, and being thrifty (read mean) I can’t bear to throw potential away without trying. So I took it home and potted it up in the pot provided. It sat on the cold window sill and went onto produce not one but two spectacular stems with enormous stripey pink and cream flowers. Not so fleeting – a good 3 or 4 weeks in flower and in return I buried the whole pot in the partially shaded border for the spring and summer months, leaving leafage and feeding along with other shrubs and bulb-ery in that part of the garden. Low and behold more leaves appeared and the bulb grew, ish. At the end of Autumn I duly took it inside not wanting it to turn to mush in the sub-zeros we had last year and molly coddled it hoping for a spectacular show as the year before.
Not a bit of it, oh it thrived, leafed up and sucked up water, leafed up some more but no flower spike I will admit to feeding it at the sight of each new leaf (they look like flower spikes in the first few days) but not a single flower spike emerged. Having a remarkably short attention span for plants that don’t ‘do’ what they’re supposed to it was consigned to an east facing windowsill for the rest of the winter and then plonked in the ‘do something with’ shady border, under a rampant clematis for the rest of last year.
During this years autumn clear up I discovered it was quite happily lurking with 3 or 4 leaves tattered and bent from slug attention and neglect. This time I’d read up on the old hippeastrum and swiftly cut back the leaves potted it on to a 2ltr pot with fresh compost mix and brought it inside, “one last chance” I told it, “if you don’t flower this year you’re compost!”
Now I’m not a big conversationalist when it comes to dialogue with my plants but on occasion I have been known to threaten such things and even tell them how beautiful they are, with not much small talk in between. I’ll be honest I have never noticed one jot of difference in a plants behavior following such chats but, well some of you might. Christmas came and went, New Year came and went, nothing. Lush juicy leafage but no sign of a flower stalk. Then after a particularly cold weekend away I returned home to the makings of a flower stalk. The stem seems to lurch in growth, not so much steady increments but 6 inches one week and nothing the next. I am a sporadic water-er and feeder so no doubt this will have everything to do with it but maybe not, maybe this Hippeastrum is just contrary and likes doing it it’s own way. About ten days later the first flower unfurled. HUGE. Honestly it is the size of my hand span (size 7 glove) a softer reddy pinky creamy than I recall and flowery. Then flower number two emerged fattening up and up until one dark night the whole thing keeled over into the money plant, tipping soil all over the place. Staking was required. I pinched the green stick from the Orchid I am also attempting to coax into re-flowering and tied three lots of string around at even intervals up the chunky stem, it seems to be holding nicely. Bloom two was no less magnificent, no less blousey, ok possibly a tad more gaudy. Finally bloom three popped out pushing towards the opposite direction and balancing the whole perfectly. Flower one is still perfect, flower three is emerging (takes about a day) and I am wondering how long it will all last.
not THE one but jolly similar
Of course because it’s so in your face flouncy I am thinking of purchasing another to complement it, and take up more window space and frustrate me in the coming years. Though this time having done my homework and discovered they need 6-8 weeks of cold (10 degrees C) and a spot of drying out, simulating a dormant period in the growing phase. Once dormancy is done and leaves begin to poke up, it’s into faking spring/summer mode for the plant, upping the temp to a healthy 15-18 (i.e move it to a lived in room) and begin the feeding and careful watering. Careful watering is so as not to rot the bulb and of course as a horticulturalist I should say I do this, I don’t I am slack, the hippeastrum is forgiving, one thing I do make sure of is that it doesn’t sit in or on water, I park it in half a sink of water for 20 mins then drain it for an hour on the drainer, sit it back on it’s dish until I remember again it needs watering.
At the time of posting the third flower is still out some 3 weeks later. Well worth the effort.
I am certain many gardeners are staring with trepidation at the weather forecast every evening as the Spring reverts to ‘normal’. WHY? well snow, snow, snow and the dread frost.
In 2010 I planted a Reine Claude Green Gage which is a green plum variety, one of the most common and delicious when ripe. Slightly smaller and rounder than the usual purple plum more like a green Mirabelle and just as sweet. Anyway in the warm days of the last two weeks it has burst into flower all 5 stems COVERED in translucent white blossom.
GREENGAGE REINE CLAUDE
YUM I thought lots of fruit this year – last year, it’s first year, I assiduously stripped it of flowers to stop it fruiting and put all energies into rooting and establishing.
So if it snows or we have a heavy frost and the fruit has not set…well no fruit, or not much will come later. Very disappointing.
I have a box of old net curtains and some tatty horticultural fleece at the ready and if snow moves this far south, well I have access to a chunk or two of straw!
Next doors apple has sensibly NOT flowered yet.
GREENGAGE REINE CLAUDE
Coreopsis grandiflora ( always cheerful), Mentha (virtue), Cosmos bi-pinnatus ( joy in Love and Life), ROsa Westland (orange = fascination), Dhalia (dignity)
I just read a wonderful fiction novel called the Language of Flowers. So captivating was the storyline that I stayed up half the night and lounged in bed the following morning. Manuals and text books don’t invite this level of commitment very often but an enticing novel does, on occasion. I think Harry Potter might have been the last one that had me avidly finding quiet spots to read undisturbed, followed b y late nights and early mornings.
Being a plant person of course the language of flowers is intriguing, though it seems to have come about in Victorian times when lovers, and friends, could not speak as openly as they can today, somehow finding the exact flower to communicate your precise thoughts and desires seems rather appealing in today’s communication overloaded society.
I will admit to finding some of the associations annoying and difficult to understand – why is Lavender Mistrust? how can Sunflowers be False riches? and really a cactus…. ardent love? certainly not what it makes me think of….but it is a fascinating subject. As with all languages there are local ‘dialects’ whilst a Yellow rose signifies friendship in some parts it states, infidelity and jealously in others…better watch that you know the language of the sender and receiver in this case or things will most certainly go awry.
I can feel a project coming on – because I don’t have enough to do! – I’ve already listed the plants in my garden and their meanings and can feel an urge to keep on going… I might even post it sometime, pictures and descriptions and all…
Like those red busses where you have none then 3 come at once so my latest projects all seem to have varying degrees of shade planting required.
I have long been a fan of shade so it didn’t fill me with the usual groans I often hear about shady spots. In fact shade is wonderful for many plants that cannot bear the scorching (!) heat of summer. Ok maybe that scorching weather is in my dreams in the UK, but there are many plants that do better with a light dappled shade during the day.
Visits to Beth Chatto’s Colchester garden have inspired several planting plans and having recently purchased her excellent book The Shade Garden I am rather excited about putting more of these ideas into practice.
Sample planting plan for partial shade - Green and White focus
The 3 plots are in fact quite different. 1st is woodland with mature deciduous trees around a meadow area, 2nd is a wide sandy bank in full, deep shade and the 3rd a front garden with a large un-moveable, un-trimable conifer.
Let me say here that not all shade is created equal and though shade is often considered a ‘tough environment’, a light dappled shade with plenty of well drained, moist soil is heaven for literally hundreds of well known varieties.
Hosta in late April
Dicentra alba, commonly known as bleeding heart
Aquilegia vulgaris - commonly known as Granny's Bonnet!
Anemone bland - wood anemone
Deep shade on dry soil on the other hand is less appetising for most plants and thriving in such conditions is a tall order for all but the most vigorous and yet, some do.
Euonymus fortunei Emerald Gaiety
Geranium
Ajuga reptans ' Catlins Giant'
Liriope muscari
Like all garden designers I have my favourites for planting and like any kid in a sweetshop I want to have everything, in this case that means trying out new plant combinations in these, new to me, planting environments. Taking into account the clients interest and expertise in plants is also something I consider and if they have a professional gardener that’s all to the good for introducing the odd specialist variety.
I am ‘composting’ ideas at the moment but am excited about the emerging combinations.
Where on earth did all the flower shops go? There used to be a marvellous one in the middle of town, it;s been there since I was a child and my Dad knew the owner, Mr Barker. Oh I know he retired and the shop eventually closed but didn’t someone open another great flower shop? You know the one with all the ribbons and pots and pots of glorious blooms begging you to buy them, the one with the rustle of brown paper and raffia and the little shelves stacked with coloured ribbons of all colours and widths and an array of flower arranging paraphernalia in the back?
They used to make fabulous wreaths at Christmas and sells bundles of holly and greenery for the house, small table decorations and swathes of floral heaven to be festooned and draped about the house.
GONE.
Apparently Paula Pryke hasn’t made it this far north nor has Jane Packer – let me say their flowers are FAR better than their websites! So what is a person to do when they need a fantastic array of blooms and is face dwith Sainsbury’s, Tesco or M&S as a florist? drive around madly looking for something resembling a proper flower shop, that’s what I say. AFter an hour of scouting, including the yellow pages, nada… scouring the web on my iPhone nada x2 I drove past a REAL flower shop, appalling location for parking but REAL flowers displayed in the windows no less. For Fleurette, I found a park and walked back to it.
Turns out the owner trained with Mr Barker all those years ago, then continued in London and has come back to rescue this town from floral purgatory! The shop abounds with ribbonry, oasis, arrangements and of course buckets and buckets and buckets of gorgeous floral blooms. The staff know about flowers, what they’re called (in Latin!) and how to care for them not to mention how to arrange them and entice customers to buy them!
I spent a ton, they were worth every single penny!
REFLECTIONS UPON A GARDEN VISIT - written for the SGD student writing competition 2010.
The Dorothy Clive Garden, Shropshire
Shropshire is glorious country. Far enough off the beaten track to be truly unspoiled but filled with and close to, so many enticing garden greats that an offer of the use of a small, well appointed [...]
REFLECTIONS UPON A GARDEN VISIT - written for the SGD student writing competition 2010.
The Dorothy Clive Garden, Shropshire
Shropshire is glorious country. Far enough off the beaten track to be truly unspoiled but filled with and close to, so many enticing garden greats that an offer of the use of a small, well appointed manor house in exchange for a week of chicken sitting and a little ‘light weeding’ made it too good to resist. Encouraged by my Shawbury based hosts to include a visit to the, as yet unknown to me, Dorothy Clive gardens near Market Drayton it was planned in as a quick stop en route to the recently rave reviewed gardens at Wollerton Old Hall, a mere hop and a skip down the A53.
Climbing the slight hill towards the wide entry way I began to wonder if I was stepping back in time to a Victorian pleasure garden and the verdant shrubberies and dated signage lining the entry did not bode well. Though first impressions are said to be important in this case they could not have been less so. Entering the gardens at the base of the steep south facing incline a pool stretches before me heavily planted with water lilies and marginals and lush with late summer foliage. Directly behind the pool a staggered gravel path winds steeply upwards between deep plantings of mature mound forming shrubs, evergreens, dwarf conifers, junipers and delicate alpines. The spreading mounds of Choiysia and Geranium interspersed with arching Dierama pulcharis contrast with the strong vertical flowers and foliage of the mature Yucca gloriosa. Trees to either side reinforce the enclosed valley feeling in this part of the garden giving it a sense of mountainous alpine garden. Turning to survey the view from the top I am struck by how beautifully it sits within it rural Shropshire setting, borrowing well the landscapes beyond it’s own boundaries.
As the topography evens out wide swathes of lawn lead the eye, and the foot, upwards through more seasonal planting on the hillside, schemes of pink and white Cleome hassleriana, white Nicotiana sylvestris, vibrant blue Cernithe major var. purpurascens and the striking pinks of Cosmos bipinnatus, frothy annuals bursting they glorious bounty for a few shorts months in front of heavily hipped shrub and rambler roses and interplanted with perennial fuschia and grasses. Beyond these are the riotous colours of the herbaceous borders. Dotted through the more familiar flowering British perennials, white mop head hydrangeas, sunny yellow Hemerocallis, brilliant coloured Salvias and Persicarias 
are the architectural but tender perennial including Ricinus communis and Ensete ventricosum (Banana plant), Dhalias, ‘David Howard ‘ and D. ‘Bishops of Landaff’, Canna ‘Striata’ and C. ‘Louis Cayeux’ and cleverly anchored by tall stately grasses, Cortaderia selloana and Stipa gigantea. 
According to the scant literature this sections recent past was that of farmers field with sand for soil, the remnants of the quarry waste. Making it’s transformation since 1958 is all the more remarkable.
Skirting the small but functional salad and herb garden to the side of the cafe and plant centre takes me up into the very top of the quarry garden and ducking through a clipped Ilex into the tree canopy of the quarry gardens bursting with giant shrubs and trees. The path falls away, steeply in places, to the bottom of the old quarry but the lush foliage of the canopy is captivating and exciting. 
It is not often one can stand in the tree canopy and truly admire it’s layering and complex forms. Seeing huge mature specimens set in their own space is not something many gardens have space for. It delights the inner child in me, the one that longs to climb the tree and survey my surroundings. I resist the urge, and instead walk towards the sound of falling water off to my left. The woodland quarry was abandoned 50 years ago and following a planting of timber oaks for the local village the soil matter has developed from the accumulation of leaf litter, into well drained acid soils. Taking advantage of this the creator of the garden Colonel Harry Clive enlisted the help of friend and former director of RHS Wisley, Frank Knight and embarked on selecting Rhododendrons and Azaleas that would thrive in these conditions. Eventually some 250 species and cultivars have been collected and are currently on display though it is clear that today they are suffering from the effects of a recent outbreaks of Phytopthera ramorum , and have closed of two sections of the quarry to deal with the containment and eradication of the disease through careful removal of affected plant matter and implementation of the strict DEFRA codes of hygiene. Though Cornwall and the south west have been hardest hit by the spread of this disease which has led to thousands of outbreaks in the last 8 years it is sobering to see this devastated section of the garden and a strong reminder of the fragility of such gardens. I am careful to observe the instructions and keep to the path, all thoughts of tree climbing are now firmly parked in the ‘not appropriate’ box.
Locating the sound of falling water I am presented with the sight of layers of stone embedded in the hillside cascades of water tumbling over it in a rhythmic stream. The water fall is man made and installed to mark the 50th anniversary of the garden in 1990. A pump stimulates the flow and once again invites curiosity as to why there is an irregular flow to the water. From the base one is looking up into the steep side of the quarry that is now matted with lush planting. Thick with damp ferns and hostas, backed by towering Rhododendrons and vast Hydrangea macrophylla bushes. Above the fall is a small feeder stream with a rather incongruous but imposing bronze stag sculpture sits surveying the garden from above.
The woodland floor is no less alive and supports a mass of Dicentra, Epimedium and wood Anemones as well as ivy leaved cyclamen and mats of glossy dark Hedera. The season of interest in this woodland quarry is a long one beginning with early Rhododendrons and Magnolia in spring, followed by Azaleas, Rodgersia podophylla and tree like Hydrangea macrophylla, then as autumn draws in, the promise of colour comes from a number of fine Acer palmatum specimens.
To be within the quarry is to be transported to a deeply shaded woodland environment, surrounded by the sounds of the trees, the waterfall and living inhabitants. It has rained on and off during the day and the damp smells of forest are really quite delicious when deeply inhaled on this walk.
Again a steep rise out of the quarry leads to more wide open avenues, heavily planted on either side with rich blue and deep pink shrub Hyndrangea. On this side of the 4 acre garden there are mere glimpses of the surrounding countryside, it focus seems more towards the views created within the garden and to showing off the natural and man made topography within it’s boundaries. Dipping away to the back of the quarry lies the gravel garden, terraced, hedged and inviting further exploration. It’s purported to have strong architectural and textural plantings with many non-natives from New Zealand on display. My first sight over the terraced raised beds is of a long metal pergola carrying thick stems of Laburnum, Wisteria and roses, reminiscent of those iconic, well photographed walkways at Barnsley House and Bodnant . 
The Gravel garden, formerly the Secret garden, is less pleasing than some of the other sections and although packed with unusual plants and interesting, diversionary routes through it, I find I do not want to linger. Perhaps were there hot sunshine it might transform the space but given the slightly damp, overcast morning I head downwards back towards the hillside gardens.
Finding a quiet bench overlooking a long sweep of lawns and shrubbery I read that the Dorothy Clive Garden and the Willoughbridge Trust that maintains it, was created by Colonel Harry Clive in 1958. The actual gardens were created by Colonel Clive for his wife, Dorothy, who was suffering from Parkinson’s disease and works began in the quarry in 1940 and continued until 1958 when further stretches of farmland were acquired and plans developed for the expansion of the gardens. Colonel Clive oversaw the projects as curator until his death in 1963. The original purpose of the garden, as a haven for his wife to exercise during her illness, has remained a key objective for the Trust and it continues to offer visitors space to enjoy rest and relaxation among the many distinctly divided areas of the garden.
Stretching over 12 acres the garden has been cared for and developed by many people, staff and volunteer, though clearly the head gardener of 35 years, George Lovatt and the curator Paul McCauley have influenced it greatly during their periods of stewardship. The two main gardens, the quarry and the hillside are broken down into smaller sections that flow easily back and forth via gravel paths and interesting walkways. And although the flow is quite clearly defined through wide paths and open lawns, the temptation to wander off on a narrow path in search of a plant one can see in the distance is just too much for a greedy plants person.
If I had one criticism it would be, as ever, the lack of consistent good plant labeling, I know and understand the frustrations and challenges faced by hosts of public and private gardens open to the public that, as the late Christopher Lloyd of Great Dixter stated in his leaflet,
“Labels
…Here are some of my reasons for not labeling:
- They’re expensive in terms both of materials and the time needed to list the plants and to write and place the labels.
- Plants need labels that are stuck into the ground. The public removes them, the more easily to read, but does not replace them firmly or even in the right place.
- It is easier to pop a label into a handbag that to try and memorise it on the spot
- The wrong label is read for the name of the plant to be identified
- Visitors dart into the border, oblivious of foot prints, the better to read a label that is out of reach from the front”
Christopher Lloyd and Charles Hind: A Guide to Great Dixter. 2008
So I find I am recovering old ground during my visit coming upon areas from different angles and gaining yet another insight into the planting and the design of this lovely private garden. I want to spend more than the hurried morning I have planned here but Wollerton Old Hall is equally demanding of my attention so I make a mental note to offer pet sitting services next spring when the quarry garden will be at it’s very best and to make a day of it, brining not only camera but also note book and pen to record as much as I can about this enchanting garden.
