Scent in the Garden

Tags

Christine Walkden, Great British Garden Revival, sarcoccocca, Scented plants, Toby Buckland, Viburnum bodnantense 'Dawn', Viburnum tinus 'Gwenllian', winter flowering honeysuckle

Winter-flowering honeysuckle

A few months ago Sue at the blog Backlane Notebook suggested we start a monthly ‘Scent in the Garden’ meme. Being a bit of a fragrant plant lover myself I thought it was a fantastic idea.

For centuries scent was the most important characteristic of a plant. In the days before bathrooms and a plethora of lotions and potions to make us and the world around us smell good, the fragrance of plants was an essential way to combat the many whiffs and pongs that would have been a constant onslaught to our olfactory organs. Nosegays – small posies of scented flowers and foliage – would have been pinned to your dress or coat or simply held under your nose in an attempt to mask whatever unpleasant aroma was in the vicinity. I just love that term ‘nosegay’ – in medieval Britain it meant an ornament to please the nose. Nowadays we have Glade plug-ins.

Now I certainly don’t want to return to the days when the contents of chamber pots were flung out of windows but I do love the idea of embracing fragrant plants and natural perfumes rather than the artificial chemical air fresheners we have today. But, ever since plant breeders started crossing varieties to create fancier flowers and supposedly ‘better’ plants scent has been the feature most likely to be lost in the process. Perhaps as we have become cleaner our interest in fragrant plants has waned. Certainly many shop-bought cut flowers are scentless, and for a period in the mid to late 20th century flower form and disease resistance were higher on the list of priorities for plant breeders, particularly when it came to that classic of all fragrant plants, the rose. Why you would want a rose with no scent is a mystery to me.

I have been enjoying the Great British Garden Revival series of programmes on TV and it has been fantastic to see scent playing a big part, with Toby Buckland championing scented plants and Christine Walkden campaigning for people to rediscover the carnation, a plant which has suffered more than most as a result of the global trade in flowers. So it seems like a great opportunity to seek out, to share and to celebrate all that is scented in our gardens. Sue and I hope you’ll join us each month throughout the coming year by posting about what’s filling your garden or allotment with fragrance. It doesn’t just have to be in your garden though, if you spot a deliciously perfumed plant whilst on your travels, you sniff out something in the hedgerows or you have an indoor plant filling your home with scent please feel free to share them too.

Viburnum tinus ‘Gwellian’

Winter might seem like an unlikely time of the year to be able to talk about scented plants but it’s surprising how many shrubs have evolved to flower at this time of year. It’s not easy attracting the small number of pollinating insects which might be flying around in winter, so to maximize their chances of grabbing the attention of a passing bee many winter flowering shrubs have incredible, intoxicating fragrances which will knock your socks off. One of my favourites is the winter-flowering honeysuckle. It’s a scruffy, unkempt plant for much of the year. It doesn’t have much structure other than looking like an unruly twiggy clump. Every year I debate whether to dig it out. Then it had a stay of execution when we started to think about moving as I didn’t want to have to replant the gaping hole it would leave behind. I’m also a bit sentimental about it. My winter honeysuckle was taken from a larger plant in the grounds of the college where I studied horticulture. A fellow student, Peter spotted a stem which had bent down and where it had touched the ground it had rooted. He dug it up and gave it to me. It’s all the more sentimental as Peter died a few years later.

Then, of course, every winter the plant does its thing and I’m smitten all over again. Tiny, delicate ivory flowers with strikingly yellow stamens appear along the woody stems, looking like miniature summer-flowering honeysuckle flowers. And the fragrance is just beautiful. I spent Sunday afternoon in the garden tidying up dying and soggy foliage to reveal the spring bulbs poking through and the honeysuckle perfume which hung in the air was such a treat.

Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’

You might say, ‘What’s the point of fragrant flowers in winter, it’s too cold, too wet or snowy to venture outdoors and appreciate them’, but a front garden filled with scented flowers will greet you every time your return home. Even a container planted with Christmas box (sarcoccocca) placed by your front door will raise the spirits on a January day. And, of course, you can always pick a few stems and bring them indoors to enjoy the perfume in the warmth.

My own January fragrant plant count includes Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’, Viburnum tinus ‘Gwenllian’, Sarcoccocca and the winter-flowering honeysuckle, which isn’t too bad but I would love more. In particular, I covet a wintersweet (Chimonanthes), although I’m dismayed to hear it can take up to eight years from planting to flowering. One of my quests is to fill my garden with as many scented plants as possible, so I’m hoping that if you’ll join in this meme I’ll be able to uncover lots of perfumed gems to add too my plant wish list.

If you’d like to join in with ‘Scent in the Garden’ just post about what’s perfuming the air in your garden/growing space and leave a comment here or at Sue’s blog Backlane Notebook with a link to your post.

Happy sniffing!

Heaven Scent

Tags

Dianthus 'Sweet Black Cherry', hanging baskets, Night-scented stock, Plant Me Now, scented flowers

Night-scented stock

A few weeks ago I was asked to come up with a design for a hanging basket for the online plant nursery Plant Me Now. The design had to include a selection of plants which would fit a 30cm rattan basket, there would be no side holes for planting, there should be no more than 7 plants and they had to come from the Plant Me Now bedding plants range or were plants which could be easily sourced.

Oddly, I’ve never made a hanging basket before. I’m not sure why. My neighbour had a beautiful one by her front door this summer and they are an integral part of my village’s Britain in Bloom entry, with shops and pubs producing a spectacular show every year. Because my focus for the last couple of years has been the allotment and the cut flower patch I haven’t even planted containers to have by the front door or on the patio, but this year I did do a few decorative pots for the back garden. The simplest, and what turned out to be the most effective, was a zinc container filled full of night-scented stock. It was one of the first plants I remember growing from seed when I was about seven but for some reason I hadn’t grown them in years. The scent was so fabulous; one pot filled the garden with scent throughout the summer. The fragrance drifted into the house on those warm summer evenings that seem such a distant memory now. It was also so easy to grow from seed and just kept on flowering. I love the element of scent in a garden, something that makes you linger and stops you in your tracks, and that’s where the idea for my summer evening fragrant hanging basket started to form.

I had a quick look around the Plant Me Now website and a few old Gardens Illustrated and Gardeners’ World magazines for inspiration and then set about deciding on the planting criteria for my basket. There would have to be scent obviously, the plants should flower over a long period, they should be compact and there would need to be an element of trailing and tumbling plants to dangle down the sides of the basket.

Dianthus ‘Sweet Black Cherry’

Buying a bunch of sweet Williams from a local cut flower grower at a farmers’ market was one of the reasons why I started growing my own cut flowers. They have an old-fashioned charm, the sort of flowers you remember being given by your granddad when you were a child. Most sweet Williams are biennials so they are often forgotten about, and when you do come to think about adding them to your planting plans you realise it’s too late. That’s why I was so pleased to discover a range of annual sweet Williams. The subtle clove-like fragrance and compact upright habit makes them perfect for planting in the centre of my hanging basket. I chose the gorgeous claret coloured ‘Sweet Black Cherry’.

Nemesia ‘Lady Scented’

Around this central planting I plumped for Nemesia ‘Lady Scented’ with its pretty lilac/pink flowers and its strong fragrance. It forms neat mounds and is very free-flowering.

Petunia tumbelina ‘Melissa’

As this hanging basket has no space for side planting I wanted to include a selection of trailing plants which would tumble out of the top and spill over the sides softening the edges of the basket. Petunia ‘Tumbelina Melissa’ with its frilly, double ivory-coloured flowers fitted this role with the added bonus of scented blooms.

Planted amongst the petunias would be night-scented stock. They have a naturally leggy, sprawling habit perfect for cascading out of a hanging basket. The flowers of night-scented stock open in the evening to release their perfume providing a source of nectar for moths. The flowers aren’t especially showy but I love the pale lilac, pink and white four-petalled blooms for their daintiness. If you would prefer a flower that opens during the day you could grow Virginian stock instead which is scented too.

Verbena ‘Aztec White Magic’

Finally, to add some extra flowery oomph, I plumped for Verbena ‘Aztec White Magic’ as the last addition to the planting. Although not scented it makes up for this with its long season of flower production and it will tumble and trail out of the basket too. Verbenas come in a range of colours but I chose white because I love how white flowers almost ‘glow’ as light fades in the evening.

So that’s my summer evening scented hanging basket. Perfect for hanging by French doors where the scent will waft into the house and linger in the air around an outdoor seating area.

*I received a fee from Plant Me Now for working on this project and I will be donating a proportion of this to the Crisis at Christmas Appeal.

Flowers, friends and the finish line

Tags

Angie Lewin, autumn flower arranging, Petersham Nurseries, The Garden Gate Flower Company, The White Horse Flower Company

Autumn inspired arrangement

It probably wasn’t the best of ideas to go to Cornwall for an October break two weeks before my book was due in but, in my defence, I had booked it when my original deadline was February 2015. The reason for my visit wasn’t to see the sea, although I did manage to squeeze that in, it was something altogether more flowery. Becca and Maz of The Garden Gate Flower Company had decided, back in June, to celebrate the end of the growing season with a get together of flower growers/florists who had come to know each other via Twitter. There’d be the chance to chat, pick flowers and arrange, how could I resist. At that point my book deadline was the middle of February so it wouldn’t be a problem, I could easily squeeze in a break away. Then I worked out I could get everything I needed for the book done much earlier and it was agreed to bring the deadline forward. Scroll forward to a Sunday night in the middle of October and a restaurant in a converted lifeboat station in a tiny Cornish fishing village. I’m so excited to be meeting a group of flowery friends for a pre-workshop dinner but quietly panicking about the long list of jobs still left to do.

It struck me, on this Sunday evening how Twittter has transformed how people come together. There were those of us who had already met several times and had become firm friends, then there were those who were meeting for the first time. We had come from Wales, Wiltshire, Berkshire, London, Oxfordshire and Cornwall. It’s quite strange to think that only five or six years ago these connections would have been difficult to forge, if not impossible. And, you know the night has been a good one when the restaurant staff are doing everything, bar switching off the lights, to get you to leave.

Salvia uliginosa

So to Monday and Becca and Maz’s flower farm. There was chat followed by guided tours of their flower fields, more chatting, then flower picking. For a bunch of people who had spent all year growing and picking flowers it was perhaps a little odd that we all got so excited about picking yet more. It reminded me of when you’re out for a meal and the food other people have ordered always looks more interesting than your own plate. That surely isn’t just me?!!

We spent the next few hours arranging and photographing our creations in one of the stunning barns. Initially, I felt like a bit of a fraud. Here I was surrounded by people who arrange flowers for a living, whereas my own flower growing and arranging has only ever been to satisfy my own taste. I found myself and my bucket of flowers on the same table as Lindsey from The White Horse Flower Company, who will have arranged for an epic 70+ weddings this year, and Thomas from Petersham Nurseries, who creates beautiful floral designs for the rich and famous in London. Eek!! But everyone was so friendly, it wasn’t long before I was so absorbed by the process that I forgot my nerves.

Flowers and barn wall

Becca and Maz specialise in growing and arranging for weddings. They had such a beautiful array of flowers in soft colours that it was a real treat and inspiration for me to get my hands on flower varieties I haven’t grown before. My mind is still buzzing with ideas for my next cut flower patch. I can’t say I had any great plan when I initially started picking. I had taken a real shine to a particular dahlia called ‘Peaches’ and my arrangement ended up being built around that. I also took inspiration from the autumn countryside around the farm. I love teasels which capture the fading glory that I love so much about this time of year; they also remind me of my favourite artist Angie Lewin. In the end, my arrangement included dahalis, teasels, the rusty coloured and faded flower spikes of dock, straw flowers, Rudbeckia ‘Cherry Brandy’ and some fantastically sculptural seed heads from a couple of hedgerow plants such as ribwort plantain.

Another beautiful arrangement

Then came the photography. I’ve become a bit obsessed with this whole process in recent years. It has been fascinating to learn a little bit about the difference light and the right background can make to showing off flowers. What I’d give for Becca and Maz’s barn. As one person commented ‘You could photograph anything in here and it would look fabulous’. The quality of the light, the rustic doors, mossy bricks and stone walls added so much to the arrangements we had all created.

Since then it has been a crazy couple of weeks with late nights and being driven close to tears by Windows 8. It turns out I had inadvertently clicked on some tracking shortcut which it remembered each time I opened up the document, I couldn’t get rid of the damn thing. Fortunately Wellyman worked it out in the end. This final stage is so fraught with worry that you’ll click on the wrong button and something will disappear into the ether. There was a story, which did the rounds at university, about someone who had lost their dissertation only a few weeks before it was due, in a house fire. Whether this was an urban myth or not, it was enough then, and now, to make me overly cautious, with documents backed up several times to various places and emailed to myself. But even these can be a tad confusing when you’re on the umpteeenth draft.

Fabulous flowers

I had the final photo shoot on Monday and I clicked on the send button this morning. The next month or so will consist of the publishers designing the book and then there’ll be the edit but I’m nearly there and I can’t wait to see it all come together. So, I’m really very glad that I managed to get down to Cornwall after all.

The last photo shoot

If you fancy learning about flower growing and arranging Becca and Maz run a series of courses throughout the year which are open to anyone who love flowers, you don’t have to have a background in floristry. Becca’s mum provides a delicious lunch and fantastic cake to keep you going through the day. They’re also perfectly located near Fowey to combine one of their courses with a holiday in Cornwall. For more details check out their website The Garden Gate Flower Company.

Scampston Walled Garden

Tags

Chelsea Chop, Pensthorpe, Piet Oudolf, RHS Wisley, Scampston Walled Garden, The High Line

Scampston Walled Garden

I have long been a fan of the garden designer Piet Oudolf. Dutch born Oudolf has championed a new style of planting and landscaping known variously as ‘new European’, ‘new wave’ and ‘new naturalism’. Whatever you want to call it, it has become THE design style of the early 21st century and his ideas of large blocks of perennial planting have captured the imaginations of gardeners, designers and urban landscapers alike. Grasses such as molinias and calamagrostis and rudbeckias, echinacea and heleniums are all classic Oudolf plants. But it’s not just the visual impact of his design and planting style that have made his ideas so popular. His choice of plants, often inspired by the prairies of North America, tend to flower in later summer and autumn. Whereas many of the more traditional English cottage garden plants have given up the ghost by August, gardens planted with these late flowering perennials are just coming into their own. They also leave behind stunning seed heads and skeletons as the garden descends into winter which gave structure and interest. Another attractive feature of these perennials is that they tend to need little attention. Many benefit from the ‘Chelsea chop’ in late May and need dividing every 3 or 4 years but other than that they can be left alone. The other huge plus is that the plants are loved by pollinating insects. In many ways it is a much more sustainable approach to gardening particularly for parks and country houses which used to rely heavily on intensive and expensive bedding schemes.

Piet Oudolf’s style of planting has proved to be hugely popular with urban planners. The mass planting works particularly well on a large-scale where the dramatic effect of large blocks of colour can be seen at their best. Parks and urban areas in Germany, Sweden, the UK and America have all had the Oudolf treatment. Perhaps his most famous and inspirational project to date is the High Line in New York, a public park built on an old railway line raised above the streets of Manhattan.

Painterly planting – Piet Oudolf

There is something painterly about Oudolf’s designs. The blocks of colour created by sedums, eryngiums and eupatoriums make you feel like you’re looking at a work of art. The first Oudolf planting scheme I saw was at RHS Wisley where he had created his own take on the classic English country garden double herbaceous borders. It was an impressive sight but it was his garden at Pensthorpe Wildlife Reserve in Norfolk which really blew me away.

I’ve wanted to visit Scampston Walled Garden for some time now. Scampston is the largest example in the UK of a privately commissioned Piet Oudolf garden. In 1998 the owners decided to transform the derelict 4 acre walled garden and rather than restore it in a historical way they decided to go for something modern. It’s a brave choice to try to combine the old – a late 18th century Regency house and Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown grounds – with something contemporary. For me it worked incredibly well and I loved the combination of old and new.

Katsura Grove

The Piet Oudolf area is contained within the walled garden. A path initially takes you around the edge of the garden. Known as Plantsman’s Walk, the high brick walls on one side and tall beech hedges on the other give the impression you’re walking into a maze. Deep borders are filled with hydrangeas, geraniums and the fabulously red wine coloured leaves of Cercis canadensis ‘Forest Pansy’ and the unusual berried Actaea alba. From here a path leads into a series of ‘rooms’ divided by more beech hedges. I particularly loved the Katsura Grove. I had heard of this mythical tree, whose leaves smell of cinder toffee, from my tutor at college but I have never come across them before. You know when you’ve been told something is fantastic and then when you experience it you wonder what all the fuss was about, well I’m please to report I wasn’t disappointed – they really do smell like toffee. Beds were planted with multi-stemmed Katsuras (Cercidiphyllum japonicum) and underplanted with Aster divaricatus. It was a beautiful combination and both plants have gone straight to the top of my ‘plants to buy for my next garden’ list. From here paths lead off into areas with more traditional style borders backed with beech hedging and planted with late summer flowering perennials and grasses. But it was the central perennial meadow which was the showstopper. Divided into quarters with a circular pool at the centre each section is planted with a rich palette of colours punctuated by swaying, tactile grasses. And it was teeming with bees, butterflies and hoverflies.

Drifts of Grass – Scampston Walled Garden

Currently one end of the garden is boarded off. The old glasshouse, in desperate need of restoration has been removed in sections to be repaired with the help of Lottery funding. It will be an impressive sight once completed looking out on to the hub of the garden. It’s a pity more thought isn’t given to construction work on tourist sites though. I remember as a child my dad complaining that wherever we went on holiday in Europe there would always be scaffolding or a crane spoiling the very view we had travelled so far to see. The Italians though had a very nifty idea. They used to – I don’t know if they still do – hang huge canvasses over the building which is being restored. The canvas would have an artist’s impression of the restored building which would hide the worst of the building work. It wasn’t perfect but vastly superior than a lot of plywood and a big blue lottery sign.

Piet Oudolf planting at Scampston Walled Garden

In contrast to the colour of the perennial meadow the adjoining area consisted of blocks of one type of grass, Molinia caerula ssp caerula ‘Poul Peterson’. It was simple, striking and hugely effective. It was impossible to walk through without stroking the grasses. There are other areas too, a small orchard and kitchen garden and the landscaped grounds which, on this occasion, we didn’t have time to see, but these really are the sideshows to the spectacular centrepiece. Designs, styles and plants come and go in gardening just as they do in fashion and interiors but I think the influence of Oudolf will be around for some time to come. If you can, try to visit one of Piet Oudolf’s gardens or parks – I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Racing Away

Tags

Beetroot 'Chioggia', Centaurea americana 'Aloha Blanca', Centaurea americana 'Rose', Tomato 'Indigo Rose', Tomato 'Tumbler'

I’m feeling a little out of control. I’m someone who likes to plan and feel on top of everything but I’m having to accept this year that it just isn’t possible. The garden and allotment are racing away with themselves. One day away is all it takes and I have courgettes morphing into marrows and French beans well over a foot long. These are the same beans that less than 48 hours ago were tiddlers. The fabulous summer weather we’re having is making everything romp away and now we’re past the solstice plants are doing what they need to do to ensure survival – going to seed. Keeping up with the deadheading is a feat in itself. At least the recent rain has meant I haven’t needed to spend time watering.

It’s been a hectic few weeks with work and I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’d like in the garden or on the plot. Blogging too has been neglected. I think I’m experiencing what might become known as the ‘August Dip’. I remember writing last year about losing my mojo around the same sort of time. A strange wave of apathy seems to descend upon me in August. Maybe it’s just I’ve run out of steam but I’m sure it’s also linked to the feeling that the both the garden and allotment have reached their peak. Once September arrives there’ll be a renewed sense of energy, well I hope so …..

The cut flower patch in August

The cut flower patch is blooming and it’s a real joy to see it teeming with insects. There was a day last week when I managed to get up there early, it was still and warm already. There was nobody else there. It was sheer bliss and all the effort felt worth it. The patch looks exactly how I wanted it to look. New varieties of flowers I’m trying for the first time elicit excitement when the first buds start to break. Gladioli are in full bloom and I walked back from the plot yesterday with a huge bundle of them. Centaurea americana ‘Aloha Blanca’ and ‘Aloha Rose’ have been great new discoveries for me. They seemed to take forever to open although their buds are so attractive – like botanical filigree – that this wasn’t a bad thing, I was just impatient to see the flower. And they’re fabulous, think huge fluffy thistles.

Centaurea americana ‘Aloha Rose’

On the fruit and veg front it has been a good year. Lettuce ‘Marvel of Four Season’ is my favourite and it has coped well in the face of not much rain. It’s only just starting to bolt, but as the name suggests I can sow now for autumn and winter crops. For once my successional sowing of lettuce has worked although that success might be come to an end if I don’t get sowing my next lot soon.

Centaurea americana in bud

Finally after 6 years of tomato disappointment we have our own home-grown ones. Our last tomato success came when we lived in Berkshire. It was a glorious summer with hardly any rain and we had a lovely sun trap where we gathered 15kg off only 6 plants. Ever since we’ve been defeated by either dodgy compost or blight. Having the greenhouse this year has made a huge difference and, so of course, has the weather. Although my nerves have been tested as I agreed to grow tomatoes for a magazine photo shoot. Fortunately the tomatoes survived and the photos are in the can. I can’t say the tomato growing has been a complete triumph though.

Back in March I was sent some plants of a variety called ‘Indigo Rose’. They have been bred especially to have black skins. The idea behind this is that the compounds which give the black colour – anthocyanins – are antioxidants which are believed to be good for us. Oh they looked so promising. The plants grew away strongly and seemed to be very healthy and dark fruit started to form. But they have taken such a long time to ripen and when they have finally looked ready to eat I have been unimpressed. Wellyman summed up their flavour as ‘out of season supermarket’. To be honest I think even that’s being a bit kind. Of course, it could have been something I’ve done, too much water perhaps or not enough feed. Although the simple ‘Tumbler’ tomatoes I picked up as young plants from my local farmers’ market have been grown in the same way and they taste fantastic and they’ve also produced ripe fruit much more quickly. I’m still waiting for fruit from my yellow heritage variety, the name of which escapes me at the moment. I’m just glad I didn’t rely on one variety. I’d have been so disappointed if, in this perfect tomato growing year, the only ones I’d grown were ‘Indigo Rose’. I’d be very interested to hear if anyone else is growing ‘Indigo Rose’ and what they think of the flavour.

Rainbow carrots

I’ve been delighted with my colourful carrots and beetroot. The book ‘Kitchen Garden Experts’ inspired me to grow some even though they weren’t part of my original plans. I thought I’d have enough to plants to grow with the list I needed for my new book but I couldn’t resist. OK, I’m not going to be self-sufficient in carrots – I only have a few large pots on the patio but they look so pretty and taste amazing picked, washed and eaten within minutes. I’ve also been very impressed with the flavour of the pink and white striped Beetroot ‘Chioggia’ which is milder than the dark red varieties and doesn’t make quite such a mess of your kitchen.

I hear a storm is on the way for Sunday so today will be spent staking plants on the plot. They’re promising strong wind and rain. I’m just hoping everything will be standing by Monday. Growing plants for a book is not for the faint-hearted and I’m wondering why I ever suggested I would do it for a second year in a row. Well I do know why, it’s because I love growing but it would be nice if the weather didn’t cause me so many headaches. So, wish me luck and lets hope the weather forecasters have got it wrong.

A Show of Hands

Tags

Chelsea Fringe, cut flower patch, RHS Chelsea Flower Show, Show of Hands

Show of Hands – Chelsea Fringe

I have been meaning to take part in Veg Plotting’s brilliant project dedicated to the hardest working part of most gardeners – their hands –  for the last few weeks but I keep getting distracted, generally by gardening. It appears though that I have managed to sneak in my contribution just before the project ends. A ‘Show of Hands’ is part of the Chelsea Fringe, a festival entirely run by volunteers, which celebrates the quirkier, edgier side of horticulture. It runs during May into June and coincides with the RHS Chelsea Flower Show. The idea of the Fringe is to show that gardening and growing are open to anyone. Gardening does have a reputation for being the preserve of the older generation and the RHS Chelsea Flower Show creates a certain air of exclusivity. The Fringe wants to turn those thoughts on their head. The first Chelsea Fringe took place in 2012 and it’s proved hugely popular. This year there have been over 250 projects with events not just in London but in other UK cities and even further afield in Europe.

Michelle asked people to post up a photo of hands in the context of gardening. It didn’t have to be their own, they didn’t even have to be human. Anna, for instance, on her Green Tapestry blog, posted an image of a sculpture depicting hands which she came across in the gardens of Sudeley Castle. All manner of social media has been put to use with people participating using Twitter, Facebook and blogging. Once the Fringe for 2014 draws to a close, on 8th June, Michelle will create a map showing where all the images have originated.

So, for my contribution Wellyman took a photograph of me holding a bunch of flowers picked from the cut flower patch. It gets you thinking when you focus on something. I probably take my hands for granted. They are so fundamental in my gardening, and writing about gardening; I really should look after them more. I don’t moisturize enough, I’m normally so tired when I get into bed that I forget. But I do have a degree of vanity when it comes to their ‘maintenance’ – I do try to keep my nails looking nice.  I rarely garden with gloves. I should wear them more – it would certainly make cleaning them at the end of the day much easier but I find them cumbersome. It’s impossible to sow or take cuttings wearing them so I might start wearing them but inevitably once I have removed them for one task I forget where I’ve put them. My one concession is if I’m planting or weeding in the garden as I’d rather not put my hand in a pile of cat mess.

Increasingly I suffer from allergic reactions to plants. Borage brings me out in a nasty rash and last year during a spot of weeding I discovered echiums and I don’t seem to like each other. My hands were quite a sight, covered in weals and burning like I had never experienced before. It wouldn’t have been so much of a problem if I hadn’t had a photo shoot the next day where my hands would be captured for posterity. Thanks to the wonders of antihistamines my hands were restored to normal by the morning, which is just as well as I think there’s only so much you can do with Photoshop.

I chose this picture because it sums up how much my hands mean to me. They give me the chance to grow beautiful flowers which give pleasure to me, my family and friends. The hands which sow and grow so many plants allow me to also write about my passion for plants. When I think about it they really are fantastic.

Thanks to Michelle for such an inspired idea. If you’d like to join in there’s still time.

Where to start

Tags

Lunaria annua 'Chedglow', RHS Cardiff Show, Suttons Seeds, Tomato 'Indigo Rose'

I’m never quite sure where to start when I have had a bit of a blogging break. I didn’t plan a hiatus. I rather like the discipline of writing a post every week and know from my attempts in the past to keep a diary how hard it can be to start writing again once you get out of the rhythm.

A virus sapped me of much of my energy for several weeks. I know something is wrong when the thought of going to the plot, or the need to spend some time in the greenhouse feels like too much of an effort and more like a chore than something I normally love. Work was pretty hectic too and the two combined to result in a stinking cold. There wasn’t much I could do but crawl into bed and stay there for a few days. Of course, I spent the whole time lying there thinking about how much there was to do. I would say if a gardener is going to go sick the worst time to do it is probably April. I could almost hear the weeds at the allotment growing as I reached for another tissue. Oh, and there was the small matter of having to prepare for the first photo shoot of my second book. I’m not quite sure how that bit happened but I find myself growing plants for another book and entering round two of my battle with the weather. Last year my panic was fuelled by the lack of any spring and the worry we might never have a summer. This year it’s all change with a spring of warm sunshine. Beautiful, and I wouldn’t swap it but it has been a bit of a nightmare trying to keep plants from going over.

Tricks of the trade – photo shoot day

With a bit of breathing space, now I have some photos in the bag, followed by a relaxing Easter break I thought it was about time I put fingers to keyboard and return to my neglected blog.

In some ways being otherwise occupied has been a bit of a blessing. I do have a tendency to get a bit carried away with half-hardy annuals, sowing them too early. I always seem to forget, or choose to ignore the fact that they germinate and grow pretty quickly. By the start of May, I have windowsills chock full of courgettes, French beans and squashes romping away with nowhere to go because it’s still too chilly for them outside. I’m hoping my timing this year, sowing in the middle of April rather than at the start of the month, might be a bit more realistic and save me the headache of trying to accommodate the triffids reaching for the sun.

R A Scamp – Floral marquee RHS Cardiff Show

It’s a pity I can’t be more realistic about the number of plants it is possible for me to grow. The greenhouse, cold frames and windowsills are running at full capacity at the moment. But it’s impossible to turn away more plants. One day, a few weeks ago, an unexpected parcel arrived from Suttons Seeds. They had very generously sent me a sample of 3 tomato plug plants. I did groan a little initially, thinking where on earth was I going to put them, but it wasn’t long before I had mentally rearranged the myriad of plants I already have to be able to squeeze them in. I’m really looking forward to giving them a go. I have had pretty disastrous results growing tomatoes since I moved to Wales, with tomatoes succumbing to blight, and then last year, with the greenhouse installed they suffered at the hands of a bad batch of compost and shrivelled up and died. The tomatoes Suttons sent are a new variety called ‘Indigo Rose’. It’s a black-skinned tomato that is apparently packed full of the antioxidant anthocyanin. It’s a grafted tomato too which I have never grown before. The apparent advantages of grafting include greater yields and improved disease resistance. They’re growing quickly on my study windowsill at the moment. Hopefully it won’t be long before some space is freed up in the greenhouse so they can take up residence there. I’ll let you know how I get on and hopefully I’ll get some fruit so I can report back on the all important flavour test.

RHS Cardiff Show – Victoria Wade’s Norwegian garden

My cold shifted in time for me to make a trip to the RHS Cardiff Show. The weather couldn’t have been more spring-like and the show does have a feeling of excitement and anticipation of the growing season to come. The floral marquee looked spectacular with the incredible R A Scamp narcissi display winning best exhibit. The show gardens were much improved this year compared to last. I particularly loved Victoria Wade’s Norwegian inspired garden with its naturalistic feel.

Lunaria annua ‘Chedglow’

The highlight of the show for me was the discovery of this beauty, Lunaria annua ‘Chedglow’ on the Avon Bulbs stand. It’s a variety of the humble honesty plant with incredible chocolate coloured leaves and striking purple stems. I love honesty for cutting, both for the spring flowers and for the moon-like seed pods produced in summer and think this will be a stunner when arranged with tulips. I came away with a packet of seeds. As a biennial it won’t produce flowers until next spring but it’ll be well worth the wait.

 

 

 

Say it with British flowers

Tags

British flowers, imported flowers, Primroses, seasonal flowers, Valentine's Day

primrose posy

Valentine’s Day, one of the busiest times for flower sellers across the world is approaching. You can’t get stirred for the ubiquitous red rose, deemed the perfect expression of love, but it’s a gesture that comes at a considerable cost. Whilst the creep of supermarkets into the world of floristry has made a bouquet of roses more affordable for the masses, demand means a single stem can still cost into double figures from your high-end florists. But it’s not just the impact on your bank balance there’s the cost to the environment too.

Ten or fifteen years ago a revolution in food started here in the UK. We started to appreciate locally produced food for its freshness, seasonality and provenance. I really hope that we can start to care that little bit more about the flowers we buy too. Most flowers for sale in the UK are imported, grown in far-flung countries using chemicals often banned here in the EU. The environmental impact can be huge, depleting the local area of its water resources and damaging eco-systems. Flowers are beautiful and I can’t imagine not being able to have them in my home but let’s face it, they are non-essential. And, for that reason, I think we should care about the environmental cost of the flowers we buy even more. It feels even more careless that an indulgence should damage the planet. Taking a stance and refusing to buy imported blooms doesn’t mean you have to do without though. Caring for the planet doesn’t have to mean donning a hair shirt, it’s about taking a look at what we have closer to home and sourcing British grown flowers or growing your own.

The environmental cost isn’t the only reason why I dislike imported flowers. Even if the roses came with a zero carbon footprint I wouldn’t want them. They speak little of a thoughtful gift and a declaration of love and more of the way big business dictates to us what we can buy. It was the Victorians that first made a big deal about Valentine’s Day, but before the advent of air travel lovers would have had no choice but to exchange small posies of spring flowers. It’s only really been in the last twenty to thirty years where flowers have become a commodity to be traded on a global scale.

Imported roses always look fake to me. They never open fully and, worst of all, they have no scent whatsoever. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I know for some nothing other than a red rose, or a dozen of them, will do. But there are alternatives, blooms which are seasonal and scented, which will bring spring cheer to a gloomy, soggy February. It’s hard to believe when you look out the window on to a garden that is muddy and forlorn that it is possible to substitute those imported flowers for home-grown blooms, but it is. Our reliance on imported flowers has disconnected us from the seasons.

Valentine’s heart

Walking around my garden the other day I was able to pick a small posy of primroses. I added a few ivy leaves and tied with twine and there you have it – the sweetest and simplest of flowery gifts. All the stormy weather we’ve had recently means it’s a great time to go out and collect windfall stems. Weeping birch is perfect for making wreaths because it’s so bendy. I collected these on Friday and bent them into a heart shape, securing at the base. Scouring the garden again I picked some scented stems of Viburnum bodnantense, Viburnum tinus, sacococca and winter honeysuckle. I tied these into the base along with some ivy which I wound around the heart. A home-grown, hand-made and completely free (well apart from the twine) Valentine’s gift. Pop it in a vase or jug of water and it’ll last a week. Plan ahead and you could also have early flowering daffs or any number of bulbs in pretty pots.

Now I know that men purchase the vast majority of flowers on Valentine’s Day and some of them are possibly not going to be scrabbling around in the garden for flowers and making wondrous woven hearts, but that doesn’t mean red roses have to be the default alternative. Subtly or not so subtly, depending on how you approach these things in your relationship, point him in the direction of the increasing number of amazing flower farmers here in the UK. They are springing up all over the country and many deliver too. To find your nearest try the Flowers from the Farm website or The British Flower Collective. It might seem bleak and bare out there but even in February we have British grown scented narcissi, tulips, hyacinths, pussy willow, muscari and hellebores to choose from. So this Valentine’s Day say it with British flowers.

The Grumps

Tags

Crocus 'Cream Beauty', forcing bulbs, slug damage, The Cut Flower Patch

It’s raining again

I’m grumpy. I am sat here at my desk writing, with the rain and wind lashing against the window, wondering if this weather will ever stop. I can’t remember the last time I saw sunshine. It has been the wettest January for a hundred years in parts of the south. No mention of how Wales has fared yet but if someone tries to tell me there has been a wetter January …. well it just can’t be possible. A simple 5 minute walk to the post office or to pick some vegetables from the plot requires head to toe waterproofing and I am sick of looking like a trawlerman every time I need to leave the house. I’m even fed up of having to wear my beloved wellies. I’m not just grumpy with the weather I’m grumpy with myself for constantly banging on about the weather. As I commented to Flighty the other day, I’ve started to bore myself.

My muppet-like crocus

Back in the autumn I planted up a variety of bulbs for indoors. The narcissi, hippeastrum and hyacinths have all been and gone now but I planted up some crocus too. I love crocuses and their cheery flowers but hate the fact that they seem so easily damaged by the weather. I have found the best compromise is to fill some small clay pots with bulbs, put these in the greenhouse and when there are signs of greenery bring them indoors. They flower a little earlier with the extra protection, last so much longer,and I get to enjoy their flowers from the warmth of my kitchen. Well, that is if you get to them before the slugs do. Slugs in January, now that just made me even grumpier. The distinctive silvery trail ran across the top of the pots and the crocus stumps they had left behind. I’ve also discovered this odd phenomenon where some of the petals seem to have not developed properly but the distinctive orange stamens have poked out. It makes them look like mini versions of Beaker from the Muppets. Has anyone noticed this before? It doesn’t look as if I can attribute the blame for this to the slugs. Fortunately, some of the pots were untouched and I now have the flowers of Crocus ‘Cream Beauty’ appearing unscathed, so all is not lost and it looks like ‘Snow Bunting’ and some of the ‘Barr’s Purple’ have survived too. A couple of crocus in the garden have reared their heads but they really shouldn’t have bothered as they look forlorn and mud splattered at the moment.

Crocus ‘Cream Beauty’

The real delight of bringing plants like crocuses indoors is that you get to look at them close up. It’s hard to get close to something that might only be 10cm tall when it’s growing in the garden. In a pot on my window sill I can see the delicate markings on the petals but best of all I have discovered that crocus have a scent. You need to get right into the flower to catch a whiff of the perfume but it’s worth it. It isn’t a scent which permeates a room, which is a pity, but every time I pass by, I stop to have a sniff, and it’s enough to lift the spirits.

Some plants in the garden haven’t escaped winter slug damage. The flowers of snowdrops have been nibbled too, as have some primroses. It all makes me wonder about climate change and gardening. In 2012, we had no summer to speak of. Instead we had grey skies, cold days and lots of rain. Last year we had no real spring with cold days lingering on well into June. I remember vividly that first week in July felt as if we went from winter to summer. My memory of this is so good because I needed an extension on the deadline for my photographs for the book I was writing. It’s hard to conjure up summer when you haven’t had one yet. And, so far, we are yet to have a winter. No real frost, no snow and interminable amounts of rain. I’m wondering what 2014 and beyond are going to bring. Will we ever get to garden this year or should we start to farm cranberries?

The Cut Flower Patch

As well as the appearance of the crocuses something else which managed to lighten my mood was the arrival of an advance copy of my book. A small number of books arrived just after Christmas, ready to go out as review copies to newspapers and magazines. The rest will arrive in the coming weeks, closer to the date of publication. I knew the book was on the way, so when I saw a parcel in the postman’s hand and the label of my publisher on the envelope I got a little excited. I know it might seem a little odd that I sound surprised I got excited about it, but I am. I have seen the images and text so much over the course of the last year that I feel like I know them inside out, so I did wonder whether it would be a bit of a let down when the book finally arrived. I’m pleased to say that wasn’t the case, and to see it all together, as a finished product, did make me grin in a slightly inane manner for quite a while. Wellyman, bless him is actually reading the book, even though he must feel like he knows it all inside out too.

It’s been quite cathartic to write about my grumpiness but I can’t put off the inevitable any longer. I have kale to pick and it appears to still be raining so where are those waterproofs…..

Winter blooms

Tags

forcing bulbs indoors, Hippeastrum 'Royal Velvet', Hyacinth 'L'Innocence', Narcissi 'Grande Soleil d'Or', Narcissi 'Paper White'

Hyacinth ‘L’Innocence’

My regular readers will know I approach January with a certain degree of trepidation. It’s much easier to feel positive and optimistic when there are twinkly Christmas lights to brighten the short, dark days of winter. Mince pies and mulled cider help too. Then January arrives, the Christmas decorations come down, there’s the metaphorical tightening of belts as we recover from seasonal expenditure and the physical loosening of belts to cope with all that festive food. The sense of anticipation which accompanies the Winter Solstice ebbs away as I’m still scrabbling away in the dark when I get up on a morning.

Something that has made a difference for me this winter has been the decision to grow indoor bulbs. This has been the first time I have managed to get my act together, remembering to not focus purely on spring and the outdoors when I ordered my bulbs back in the autumn. On the list were hyacinths, Narcissi ‘Paper White’ and ‘Grande Soleil d’Or’ and Hippeastrum ‘Red Velvet’. I was a bit dubious about whether I would like them or not so I stuck a tentative toe in the water and I didn’t go mad with the order.

My reluctance partly stemmed from my dislike of probably the most popular of all bulbs to force, the hyacinth. They have always seemed funny plants to me. With their short stumpy stalks and fat stubby trumpet flowers they just look a little odd, particularly when they’re grown directly in the ground. Perhaps if the flowers were more delicate or their stems longer, but as they are they have never done it for me. If Narcissi ‘Paper Whites’ are the Kate Moss of the bulb world, all willowy and sylphlike, then hyacinths have always seemed, to me, like a Les Dawson character, solid and stocky. Then there’s their famous scent. Potent is how I remembered it. My mum used to grow them, and with several on one windowsill I remember them being so overwhelming that a particular room was off-limits whilst they were in bloom. But browsing through the bulb catalogue back in August I thought I should give them another go. And I’m rather pleased I did because I have several in flower now brightening up the January gloom and filling my house with a delightful perfume. My selection of variety may have something to do with my new-found love of hyacinths. I picked the white flowering ‘L’Innocence’ which not only looks more stylish and modern than some but it also seems a little more delicate and a little less dumpy. As for the scent, it isn’t overpowering at all, and with the very occasional patch of sunshine or heat from the radiators warming the air the aroma is wafting through the house. So for bulbs indoors I’m won over but I remain to be convinced by them as additions to my borders.

Narcissi ‘Paper White’

The hyacinths weren’t the first of the bulbs to flower with the Narcissi ‘Paper White’ timing their opening for my birthday in November. They are the most delicate of flowers with a sparkly sheen to their purest of white petals. They are also one of the most perfumed of narcissi. The jury is still out on whether I like their scent or not. Occasionally I would wander into the kitchen and sniff the air and then start looking around for the offending aroma, checking the soles of shoes, emptying the bin etc, only then would I realise it was the narcissi. I have heard it likened to the whiff of cat wee before. But then there would be other times when it would smell completely different and quite beautiful. I’ll grow them again because they are so easy and home-grown flowers for a November birthday are too good to ignore.

Hippeastrum ‘Royal Velvet’

The winter blooms continued with my hippeastrum. Its huge bulb took a while to get going but then I dug out my heated propagator and sat the pot on the base of this. It wasn’t long before a green stalk emerged. It kept on growing and growing in a triffid-like manner. When it reached nearly 3ft it started to show signs of a flower bud. Slowly, four individual trumpet-shaped flowers appeared with them finally opening on Boxing Day. The variety ‘Red Velvet’ couldn’t have been better named or more suited to the Christmas period with its luscious and humongous flowers. It was fascinating to watch it grow because I had never tried it before, and there’s nothing like rekindling that child-like wonder by cultivating something new. I might look to see if there are any smaller varieties though as it’s tall and increasingly leaning flower stalk have given some cause for concern.

In the greenhouse I have a large pot of Narcissi ‘Grande Soleil d’Or’ and some crocus waiting to be brought indoors. The extra warmth inside will speed them into growth for an earlier show and keep up the succession of winter blooms. And, whilst I’m waiting for the days to lengthen and the weather to improve, my indoor flowers are providing some much-needed cheer.