I have two bits of garden. The Barn Garden, at the back, is a recovered minibus stand, with some shade from mature trees hanging over the old garden wall. At the front, is another piece of recovering land, with a stony slope on the left hand side which I am developing into a ‘garrigue’ influenced landscape, and on the right, a recovering orchard, now with 2 cherry trees and no bamboo. Andy pickaxed and dug metres of rampant bamboo last year, and now we watch and wait to catch any returnees. I don’t water any of it, other than plant establishing watering in the first while after planting, and lack of rainfall water was not a serious issue last year.
But we are now in the middle of our 4th serious heatwave since mid-May. Lasting more than a week this time, with temperatures between 34c and 40c, this wave is slightly easier because the mornings are just a tad cooler. This morning there was a surprise half hour of rain. But essentially, we are in double whammy territory- cumulatively a drier spring and winter leading to a lower water table in any case, and recurring bouts of heat every 2-3 weeks that creates seasonal sustained drought that is never relieved by rainfall. On the planetary scale in terms of damage to species, human food production, stress and illness, not to mention the forced migrations of people trying to find water, this is truly terrible and, worst of all, all home-made by us humans. And here in my garden? I am rescuing plants that need help, and changing plans and thinking to bolster and support my no-watering policy.
For example, this poor Salix gracilysta ‘Mount Asos’ above, is in the recovery ward. I think it will make it. But it can’t be planted back into the ground, even in the shadier conditions in the Barn Garden, where it was before. It is so pretty, I can’t bear to lose those hallucinogenic pink catkins in the Spring. So where am I with maintaining my rainfall-only principle in the face of increasingly difficult conditions?
I am changing my thinking. Or to be more accurate, refining my thinking. Plants that I have tried in the Barn Garden, like the Salix, were always a bit of a longshot, but this summer has made me realise that longshots are now out of the question, and I need to work harder to research and find plants that will embrace the direction of the climatic conditions. I think that I have to consider our garden as summer-dry, winter-damp- so that nudges me more towards a Pacific North West kind of climate consideration than a Mediterranean one. Having said that though, the stony front slope, mainly because of the exquisite drainage, can look more to the Mediterranean palette albeit with decent frost tolerance built in. I like frost tolerance to -10c just to give a good margin.
And so I am looking to new reference points to help select those plants that will make it through this volatile climate picture. For example, in thinking of adding two more small trees in the ex-orchard area, I am thinking of Chitalpa tashkentensis ‘Pink Dawn’ and Albizia julibrissin ‘Summer Chocolate’– both of which look impressively tolerant of summer dry conditions.
Meantime, back at the ranch, there are some surprising discoveries, even in this week of heat. I planted a pot of Dietes grandiflora last Spring. The first flower appeared in December, just before Christmas, and the second flower appeared this week. I suspect rather young bulbs at the start as the main culprit, and so will carry on waiting, assuming that, with maturity, will come flowering. The raindrops look good from this morning.
And early this year, in a front sunny, exposed situation, I took a chance and planted a clematis, Clematis fargessii ‘Summer Snow’, against a dead apple tree, putting the roots into the shade of the old garden wall. it has flowered and looks very happy, though the flowers are pretty tiny, a result I assume of the dryness and heat. But who would have thought it?
Looking amazingly at home is the Eriogonum fasciculatum at the bottom of the dry, stony slope. I knew that it would like it there, but these small fists of tiny flowers joined together are really charming- good, because the rest of the plant wouldn’t win any awards, closely resembling a bunch of green sticks. But the plant is a fantastically useful source of food for bees and many other pollinators, so looks ain’t everything.
In the Barn Garden, I have finally succeeded in growing Patrinia scabiosifolia. In Tostat, it withered away, and here, it seems to have found just enough moisture to come through. It got fairly bashed in the second heatwave and so the flowering panicles, similar to a yellow Verbena bonariensis though less tall, have all gone to seed, but it still looks good, draped over Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’. You would have thought that this Caryopteris would try the eyeballs with the vivid lime-yellow leaves, but I love it for the brightness of the foliage, never mind the blue flowers which will start in a few weeks.
Here’s a plant that is a bit more thirsty than it should be, in my experience. At least it is much happier in the summer with a little rain, winter rain is not good for it, so I have it in one of the drier sections of the ‘garrigue’ slope. I hope it makes it through the winter and I will a) buy another plant and b) take some cuttings. It used to be called Justicia, sometimes Jacobinia, but the botanists at least have settled on Dicliptera suberecta. I saw huge mature plants of it in big tubs in St Jean de Luz this week, which is a bit more frost free than us here in Oloron.
Another survivor that is enjoying the heat, coupled with a little shade is Rosa ‘Astrid Gräfin von Hardenberg’, which has recovered itself really well from hating where I had planted in Tostat. This rose is also often sold as ‘Nuit de Chine’, but I prefer the German name in honour of the woman herself. I wrote a post about the naming of this rose five years back. The rose is a glorious deep deep crimson, almost black, and has a scent that even I can pick out. In the photograph taken this morning, you can see that the heat has bleached some of the dark colouring away.
Despite all, Rudbeckia subtomentosa ‘Henrik Eilers’ is coming through, strong as ever in the Barn Garden. It has these delicate quills of petals and is such a refined rudbeckia, quite different and much more classy in my view than the old warhorse ‘Goldsturm’. It is really tough, having pulled through when armies of slugs were chewing it up in late Spring. It is quite tall, maybe 1.4m or so, but is very happy being allowed to weave in and out of other plants.
Back to the research now…