Kitchen crocus

Kitchen crocus, Oloron Sainte Marie, February 2023

Ok. Buckle up. We now have a new climatic phenomenon, winter drought. I am not complaining, especially as Venice has drying out canals. But just realising that there is a new experience to integrate into what and how we garden. Newly planted shrubs in the Barn Garden are crying out for water, and I did crack this morning and give a can or two even though, for the first time in more than 30 days, some rain is expected this week. But, unless it is slow and unrelenting, and continues for days and days, it will not restore the water table and we will go into the Spring with a big deficit. I would never have thought, being so close to the Pyrenees that I would need a water butt. But I do. And will be installing one very soon.

So, in the garden things are looking very sorry for themselves and not really very early Spring-like at all, whereas we already have had sunlit evenings lasting until 7pm. A spot more plant removal has been going on this week. Four clumps of hellebores that are seriously struggling with the drought and the unexpected sunshine have been lifted and are being convalesced prior to finding a spot in the Barn Garden, where at least I can guarantee some shade, if not damp. That might be enough to restore their fortunes.

My Derry Watkins Helleborus sternii, February 2023, Barn Garden, Oloron Sainte Marie

About 5 years ago, I had a go at growing Helleborus sternii from seed bought from Derry Watkins‘ fantastic Special Plants. She has a seed list to die for. I grew five little plants successfully, gave one away to the Eldest Daughter, and kept four in the Barn Garden. Ironically, the one that is doing the best is actually the one almost in some winter sunlight. The others are nearby, but underplanting a Mahonia eurybracteata ‘Soft Caress’. The snag is that the Mahonia, grown young in semi-shade, is a spot contorted and has provided almost too much cover for the Hellebores, which have responded by flowering almost along the ground. Never mind, some corrections to be made later on.

Helleborus sternii is not a blingy plant, it has tough, spiked, deep green leaves, and almond shaped buds that open to a soft green flower, with prominent stamens. I really love it. Two of the other plants have gone the bruised look- a strongish purply crimson colouring in the green of the leaves, and flowers that look as if they’ve been in a boxing ring- losing. But they are also very beautiful in a discreet kind of a way.

Helleborus sternii- losing the bout, Barn Garden, February 2023, Oloron Sainte Marie
Mysterious cerinthe, Barn Garden, February 2023, Oloron Sainte Marie

Only 5 or 6 years ago, I used to grow Cerinthe from seed in the Autumn, plant them out before Christmas and would know, for sure, that they would be bushy plants by March. This I did last year, and now I am looking at spriglet plants trying their best, but essentially only a few leaves bigger than when I planted them out. This is a bit sad. But they are flowering, and they are not just yellow but also have these inky bottoms to the flowers. I can’t remember if I bought a special variety- but on the whole I do like the yellow form although the ubiquitous blue is also good. Easy peasy, bu they do need rain.

Loropetalum chinensis ‘Fire Dance’, Barn Garden, February 2023, Oloron Sainte Marie

I wouldn’t want to oversell this. I bought this Loropetalum because I have lifted all the wayward growing Eucomis bulbs, of which more another time, and replanted the big pot with this early flowering shrub. I do love the pinky crimson finger shape of the flowers and am really looking forward to this becoming a very handsome addition to the Garden. But this is it’s first winter, and probably because it flowers on old wood, all the flowers in this first year are underneath the leaves. Still, this will change. The foliage is a lovely dark purple and so looks great even in the winter. I really wanted a darker red variety, but this is a newish shrub to France and there wasn’t much choice. No big regrets so far.

Back on the kitchen table, I briefly adored the bright yellow crocus flowers with brown striations, which our lovely bio lady at the market had sweetly potted up with her own moss. Gone now, but they were fabulous as a precursor to the bulbs in containers outside. This is the frustrating part of early Spring when waiting for plants to get going seems to slow down. Let’s pray for rain.

New and old surprises…

Aristea ecklonii, resting temporarily in a trough, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021

We are nearly at mid-May, and yet, despite some warm days, the season so far has been so dry and latterly cold, that it feels as if everything is only now beginning to trust the conditions enough to get going. I grew Aristea ecklonnii from seed probably 7 years ago now, and it has never quite found it’s stride- till now. I am astounded by it. It’s in the same pot, no extra anything except for a very wet January, and it has loved it here. Maybe all it wanted was to be against a wall and more in the shade than before. Compared with previous years, it is looking positively baroque and commanding attention and notice. Which I am giving it, with a lot of congratulatory pep-talk every morning. The blue is as close to a gentian blue as a non-gentian can get, and the flowerstalks reach out to 80 cms either side of the plant. Even without the flowers opening, it was looking splendid. I keep it outside all the time so I think it is a tad hardier than the link site suggests.

So pretty close up…

I had never come across Dietes grandiflora until we saw it growing all over Brisbane and in botanical gardens in the Australian Spring of 2018. So, spotting the bulbs for sale was an offer not to resist. I am a sucker for tall, thin, striking plant shapes, and in an Iris-alike sort of way, that’s what happens until the flowers come.

Dietes grandiflora, new to me and Oloron, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021

And when the flowers arrive, I am hoping for this….or something similar. This close cousin was flowering fabulously in Sydney in October 2018.

Dietes robinsonia, The Royal Botanical Gardens, Sydney, October 2018

In the same vein, though with fatter, stumpier leaves, is this Bulbine frutescens ‘Medicus’ which is in a twinned position across from the Dietes pot. Three baby plants are so far doing fine. Like the Aloe, the stumpy fat leaves are apparently good for healing abrasions on the skin. But whatever the medicinal qualities are, I love orangey yellow and so it is already scoring highly in my view.

Bulbine frutescens ‘Medicus’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021
Helleborus x sternii ‘Pewter’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021

With little belief that I would be successful, I sowed some seed for this beautiful Helleborus x sternii ‘Pewter’ in the late summer of 2019. Some while later, 4 tiny plants came through and made it to the small plant stage- one found a new home in Glasgow with the Assistant Gardener, and three came to Oloron- and wow, they look happy. it is a lovely variety with almost translucent or even pearlescent foliage with small teeth and finely pointed ends. Delicate veining and red stems just add a little pzazz. Well worth the wait. And they have quadrupled in size since I planted them out in late February.

Physocarpus ‘Panthers’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021

This is a new Physocarpus to me, but guess what, it has the darkest purple, almost black crinkled foliage, and it grows to be a nice, slim column- even though it looks rather fatter in the link photograph. I grew Physocarpus ‘Tiny Wine’ in Tostat, and grew to love it for its toughness, the stunning foliage in the Spring and Autumn and for being a really handsome shrub. Cuttings didn’t seem to take, but, luckily, the last one did and I have a strong small plant ready for planting out next year. So, ‘Panthers’ has a lot to live up to.

Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Tiny Wine’, stunning spring foliage, Tostat, April 2020
Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ and Plantago major Rubrifolia, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2021

This limey-green Caryopteris x clanonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ was one of those reliable small shrubs that, in theory, should have done really well in Tostat. In my view, though, it was just on the limit of dryness tolerance that it could take, and so, often struggled with my no-watering policy. Here, in Oloron, I am trying again with a good sized cutting plant that I brought. It’s in the back barn garden, in a semi-shaded position, and so I am crossing my fingers. The brightness and vivacity of the foliage is the key for me, but if it flowers, which would be a good sign in late summer, the deep blue flowers are a gorgeous contrast with the foliage. Chumming up with the Caryopteris is a real star perennial, grown from seed, and such a good and tough performer- and it’s a plantain, that plant you pull out in your garden. Well, give in and grow this beautiful green and maroon plant, it will colonise any space with any soil in pretty much any position and looks superb. I give you Plantago major Rubrifolia. In my case, I bought seed through the post from the wonderful Derry Watkins at Special Plants. No more thanks to Brexit.

An incredible storm with the full thunder and lightening show, plus huge rain and twirling winds hit us last night with more to come this week. Maybe I give up with the rain dancing.

Smitten by carmine and orange…

Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

As the days begin to lengthen a little more, and the cold snap has gone for now, I feel myself getting excited by the prospects of new beginnings, and, of course, despite the many many plants big and small that we brought from Tostat, there is always the lure of something new. And, of course, I succumbed. Here, we have 3 areas of garden, each of which offers something different. Firstly, there is the sloping, sunny, stony area which has ‘garrigue’ planting written all over it in my mind. Then, next to that, is a gently sloping wooded area, with some small trees and quite a lot of fairly uninteresting shrubs and a massive clump of advancing bamboo. The bamboo will be attacked on all fronts by us and a friend with a sturdy digging machine- and we will continue to wage war on it over the next 5 years to eradicate it completely. We are going to get the dull shrubs out, and I am envisaging a mellow, semi woodland area, with wild grass, some sculptural evergreen planting, and bulbs, spring and autumn, planted at the foot of the old trees.

Then, at the back of the big barn, there is another area, which is south-facing, has a lovely partial view of the Pyrenees, and what looks like not bad soil at all. Here, with two metre stone walls all around and tree cover from next door on one side, I think the world is my oyster- and I reckon that it is not bone dry either- which gives me the chance to try out some plants that I have never dared to experiment with in Tostat.

Here are two shrubs that I fell for badly in the first week after Christmas. Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’ could, perhaps be quite blingy for some. It really is this astonishing colour. The deep carmine pussy willow buds got me completely. Look at the frozen raindrops on the emerging carmine colouring, and the hat-shaped bud coverings that are coming away as the colour deepens- I find it stunning. A keen amateur plantsman in Japan called Dr. Tsuneshige Rokujo found and selected this beautiful variety in the 1970s, naming it for the highest volcanic peak in Japan, Mount Aso. I am hugely impressed by the quality of the plant I bought from Coolplants, a Belgian nursery near Bruges. It is beautifully shaped and ready to go. Thank you, Cathy Portier of Coolplants.

Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

I have never dared to grow Hamamelis- but have seriously lusted after one for years. So, along with the Salix, I ordered ‘Hamamelis Orange Beauty’ from Cathy Portier. This is a small but sturdy shrub, which should eventually form a beautiful mass of orange peel blossom in early Spring reaching a height and width of about 2 metres. I can’t wait. Both the Salix and the Hamamelis will be given special spots.

Hamamelis ‘Orange Beauty’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

So this will be their new home. I have some ideas as to what to do here, but, apart from dragging the soil to loosen big weeds and unwanted grass, I am going to take some time to get to know how the site works. This will involve drinking many cups of tea there and much ruminating… As you can see, there is nothing at all there just now- not an experience I have ever had in a garden, so tantalising times are ahead…

Barn garden as it is now, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

This photograph is from last Spring in Tostat, but features a fabulous small early spring perennial which I would recommend highly and is a deadcert and easy from seed. Erodium pelargonifolium has sprightly, bright green foliage which stands proudly no matter the weather, and the geranium-like pink flowers appear for easily three months of Spring. It will self-seed I hope. Seed can be got from Derry Watkins at Special Plants– but thanks to Brexit, I will no longer be able to buy seed from her unless I have a planned visit to the UK. A great big ‘darn’ is what I say.

Don’t get me started on Brexit. I will just have to get better at sourcing seeds in the EU.

Erodium pelargoniflorum, Tostat, January 2020

Spring has sprung…

The Spring garden looking over the Mix to the village behind, Tostat, April 2020

As Spring really gets going, photography has to squeeze into the gentle hours of light- but whilst the light is gentle, it still packs a punch and I am often to be found crouching in the shade. Here you can see what I call the magical effect of euphorbias right now- I have way too many and will be culling them in the next month- but they really light up the garden especially in morning and evening low light. Mine are not distinguished in any way, plain old Euphorbia wulfenii, but, though they are rascals, I really value them in March and April.

Deinanthe caerulea ‘Blue Wonder’, Tostat, April 2020

Deinanthe really punches its way out of the soil. Each stem has a beefy little fist that shoves the soil aside in the pot. This is a small shrub that I probably wouldn’t bother with but for the foliage. The scrunched up pale blue flowers are not very exciting, but the foliage pretending to be a dahlia, looks as if it has had a friend with scissors insert a dart, making the leaf look interestingly cut. I really like the foliage, and in a pot in semi-shade, this thirsty little shrub looks very good as long as you turn blind eye to the flowers.

Hedera helix erecta, Tostat, April 2020

Hedera helix ‘Erecta’ suddenly had the right light on it a few days ago, so you can see why I love it. The tightly stacked triangular leaves which aim for the sky, even with a bend in the middle of the stem, are fascinating. It grows in stony, poor soil in full sun. Reminds me of Pringles in a tin.

View past the back door in the evening, Tostat, April 2020

Another ode to Spring euphorbia- most of which have plonked themselves by themselves, waiting to see if I will approve. Sometimes I do.

The indispensible green morning mug, Tostat, April 2020

The lockdown has exacerbated my need for routines in the morning. It goes like this- first set up tea, second, take dog outside for 10 minutes (usually without my documents as we go just outside the gate, but, technically, I am in breach of regulations), back inside make first cup of tea. Yorkshire, of course. Then, with the mug, out to water and check on small plants in and around the barn. Then back inside to make second cup, which is required for the full tour of whatever’s going on in the garden- and sometimes, watering of pots. Two hours can pass like this, especially when full pot watering starts up. It is the best two hours of the day and keeps me from killing anyone!

Libertia procera or grandiflora, Tostat, April 2020

This plant is such a joy. Ten months of the year it does a very good impression of being a Carex type grass, and for 2 months, it goes full-on Japanese elegance with twisting pure white flowers. I grew it ages ago from seed, and have been calling it grandiflora, but I bought the seeds from the wonderful Special Plants, and just today, having a wee look, I notice that Derry Watkins calls it ‘Procera’. I think I stand corrected.

Cotinus coggygria @old Fashioned’, Tostat, April 2020

I am very fond of a smoke bush. But being a sucker for a new variety, I bought Cotinus coggygria ‘Old Fashioned’ about three years ago. I am still waiting to be dazzled…but it is slowly but surely making progress, and I think this year I may at least be pleased if not yet dazzled. And I do love the early growth caught in morning dew.

Physocarpus poulifolius ‘Tiny Wine’, Tostat, April 2020

I think I should start a ‘Tiny Wine’ fan club. This is so gorgeous all year round really. Not so tiny as the name suggests, mine is easily heading for 2m tall and 1.5 wide- but who wouldn’t want this in their garden??? Me, me, me…

Pittosporum tenuifolium ‘Golfball’….flowers! Tostat, April 2020

Who would have thought that ‘Golfball’ produces flowers? I had no idea. They are remarkably Daphne-like, and for a moment, I thought that the Daphne next door had hit the hair dye. Only a few flowers, very small, well hidden, and scented. Goodness me.

The very fragile Quince flower, over in a day, Tostat, April 2020

From the fast-vanishing quince flower to the relentless beautiful bully that is Wisteria. It was here when we arrived, so it’s a no-name, and it does its very best to pull down the pergola under which we eat in the summer. The strength of it can be seen in the twisted trunks. But, now, with a million bees in it creating a serious noise, it is forgiven everything.

Seed extravaganza…

Is this a rogue Leonotis? Tostat, September 2020

Fifteen years ago when we moved to France, I was really a bit intimidated by the idea of growing perennials from seed, but now it really is my preferred way of growing plants, though I do still buy plants from time to time- when the wait is just too long. I have learnt that there is tremendous surprise and pleasure in the growing of something from scratch and I have a great emotional commitment to all my plants that I have grown myself! Sometimes there are great results and sometimes no results, dud seed- or rather probably, wrong time, wrong place, no can do. So you have to be prepared for a little Russian Roulette.

This plant grown from seed this spring is a mystery. One reader of this blog is a lovely chap called Tony Tomeo, who often leaves me interesting questions and observations, lives in Southern California and is a genuine horticulturalist- I am very pleased that he enjoys my blog and always look out for his comments. Puzzling a couple of weeks ago about this plant, he wondered if it was a monarda…he was bang on about the smaller plant, which clearly now a somewhat stunted Leonotis leonorus. To me this mystery plant is trying to channel an East European TV tower from the 1960s…and I am still at a loss. Have another go, Tony?

Conoclinum coelestinum, Tostat, September 2019

This is another new-to-me by seed plant. It used to be called ‘Eupatorium coelestinum conoclinum’, but is now just Conoclinum coelestinum– or in plain-speak, Blue Mist-Flower. I shouldn’t really be growing it as it needs a tad more water than I have in the garden, but I adore this shade of blue right at the end of summer, and it is a pretty thing in a raggy sort of way. This is the first flower on a new baby plant so the adult version will be about 1m tall with big, wide plates of blue fluff- and I will find a spot for it- as always happens.

Dendranthema weyrichii, Tostat, September 2019
Dendranthema weyrichii
Photo credit: http://www.rhs.org.uk

Grown from seed this spring, these were seriously miniscule as seedlings- but now measuring 2 handspans in the garden, and survivors of three canicule heatwaves, these plants already have a gong in my book. Dendranthema weyrichii is a tough, no-nonsense plant- in effect, a tiny chrysanthemum as shown in the RHS photo, and with a growth habit that just keeps on spreading, I think it makes a really good hot, dry groundcover plant. No flowers yet for me.

Vernonia lettermannii
Photo credit: http://www.specialplants.net

This plant has been such a triumph that I have already sown more seed for next year which I bought from the fantastic Derry Watkins at Special Plants. She has always got interesting new plants to try, and this Vernonia lettermannii is a good’un. Growing to less than a metre, with feathery branching stems, it is close to flowering in the garden with me, but is such a wispy, almost see-through plant, that my photograph looked pathetic in comparison with Derry’s clump. The growth rate has been astounding for a perennial, and like the Dendranthema, it has come through serious heat and drought without blinking. The giant Vernonias are fabulous, but this smaller, feathery relative is such a good plant for late-summer and totally trouble-free for a dry, hot spot.

Early this morning, the tail of dying Hurricane Dorian brought us good rain- no wind, just good, serious rain for a couple of hours, and this works miracles on the exhausted garden. So, not to ignore old favourites that are also doing a good job, I love this combination of the bright, fresh blue of the Caryopteris and the soft orange of the Abutilon.

The Caryopteris is just at the limit of what it can handle in my summer-dry garden, but two out of three plants have survived this summer- probably because they have been a little sheltered from the full sun by other plants, like the Abutilon. There are many many reasons to be cheerful.

Caryopteris clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ with my unknown orange Abutilon, Tostat, September 2019

Nipping round the garden with the camera…

The rain we have had this week has brought lots of things back from the  brink and encouraged others to push the boat out a bit, so I am frequently to be seen nipping round the garden with the camera.

Sphaeralcea munroana, Tostat, June 2015
Sphaeralcea munroana, Tostat, June 2015

This Sphaeralcea munroana is a lovely thing, but it isn’t at all what I expected! For a start, it should have been a crimson orange, and secondly, I was expecting it to be less drapey and more upright. But, whatever, I am actually rather fond of it. New to me this year, and picked out for its drought resistance, it is described by American sites as a ‘xeric’ plant, which means it is seriously good at drought tolerance. And, of course, as soon as I planted it, we had a soaking wet February. But it has pulled through, and is very pretty, if a sweeter pretty than I meant.  At the moment, it is trailing along the ground rather than growing upwards. But, maybe next year when it grows up a bit..

Anthemis tinctoria 'Sauce Hollandaise', Tostat, June 2015
Anthemis tinctoria ‘Sauce Hollandaise’, Tostat, June 2015

There is nothing special about this plant, Anthemis tinctoria ‘Sauce Hollandaise’, but, my goodness, it is a beauty. From 3 tiny pots planted 5 years ago, I have swathes of it now, and I adore it. Tough, pretty, fresh, and very happy to go without water for a while, it is a very good friend. Virtually bombproof, as Bob Brown would say, and most years, there is silvery green foliage all year round. Just deadhead to keep it going, and it will work really hard for you. I am becoming a daisy nut.

Echinacea purpurea 'White Swan', Tostat, June 2015
Echinacea purpurea ‘White Swan’, Tostat, June 2015

Another bombproof plant. You can pick up seed for Echinacea purpurea ‘White Swan’ all over the internet for a pound or so, it germinates easily and gives you a great return. These vigorous plants were teeny weeny seedlings only a year ago, and this year, are quite splendid.  I love Echinacea, I am not so sure about some of the very gaudy doubles that are being bred right now, but you can’t beat the simplicity of ‘White Swan’. And here is a mature flower, the flower reflexes as it matures and exposes the central cone. Wow.

Reflexed Echinacea 'White Swan', Tostat, June 2015
Reflexed Echinacea ‘White Swan’, Tostat, June 2015

Knautia macedonica, Tostat, June 2015
Knautia macedonica, Tostat, June 2015

This is another really good plant. Happy in drought, probably fine in good soil if a little floppy, but wouldn’t want serious wet, it self seeds all over my gravel area and elsewhere too. Knautia macedonica is an unbeatable crimson, and wafts elegantly making a lovely haze of transparent colour. The flowers sit at the top of tall thin stems, so it almost seems to float. It will flower forever once it starts until frost cuts it down, and is totally hardy.

Rudbeckia fulgida var. deamii, Tostat, June 2015
Rudbeckia fulgida var. deamii, Tostat, June 2015

Oh oh, another daisy. Rudbeckia fulgida var.deamii is a very yellow daisy, maybe too Birds Custard for some, but I can take the yellow because it is another toughie.  And, though I am fond of ‘Goldsturm’ and have loads of it, I also like this one, which I grew from seed, easy as pie, and this is how they look 2 years on. It muscles it’s way past any weeds, and insists on being seen, so nothing retiring or delicate about it, right down to it’s coarse, hairy legs. But, flowering all summer, who can complain?

Bee coming in, Nepeta tuberosa, Tostat, June 2015
Bee coming in, Nepeta tuberosa, Tostat, June 2015

Warning! This is my 3rd shot at this plant, having grown it from seed twice and lost it. Nepeta tuberosa, so lovely that I will keep at it, needs razor sharp drainage and sun all year round. But if you can give it that, it will reward you with lipstick-shaped upright flower spikes, some more carmine than others, I have had carmine, almost pink, deep blue…It doesn’t last forever, but will self seed if it likes you. It also has the most strokable, velvety leaves and is very striking. Another Derry Watkins, Special Plants plant, and a right good one. Tweezer job on the seedlings so you need a steady hand.

And green is the colour…

Now that we are in a surprise period of large dollops of rain, kindly delivered towards the back end of the day, and continuing for the rest of the week, the colour green is returning to the garden. Not to the grass, still crisp and burnt, and also a large purple clematis which has been completely brule-d. Not to mention one or two other things which probably are not mortally wounded. But there are other things…

Here are two plants that I would probably never be able to grow other than in a pot with daily attention. I wouldn’t normally want to be bothered with daily attention, but there are some things that are just so beguiling that I fall for them. I grew both of these from seed from Derry Watkins at Special Plants about 3 years ago. Not one of my more successful plantings as I only got one good seedling from both sowings, but they are both really worth it.

Astilboides tabularis, Tostat,  June 2015
Astilboides tabularis, Tostat, June 2015

The colour of the new leaves on Astilboides tabularis is mouth-wateringly green, but the hairy leaves are outstanding in bright sunlight, and although it is a slow grower, I am devoted to it.  It grows steadfastly, stubbornly carrying on even if the odd slug gets in there, and when fully mature, the leaves should be much bigger, up to 1m apparently. Don’t believe the RHS.. there is nothing common about this plant. But it does need very consistent moisture, good soil and semi-shade, so hence the pot in my case. So I will just keep it, and pot on as they say.

Peltoboykinia watanabei, Tostat, June 2015
Peltoboykinia watanabei, Tostat, June 2015

This is a complete mouthful of a name- with more syllables than you can quite believe- Peltoboykinia watanabei.  The new leaves are an almost luminous green, and, like the Astilboides, it is totally hardy so I leave both plants out in their pots in the winter.  Again, it needs consistent moisture, good soil and semi-shade and will eventually make 0.75m in height and a bit wider probably. I love the palmate shape of the leaves and its doggedness. It just keeps slowly going.

Caryopteris x clandonensis 'Hint of Gold', Tostat, June 2015
Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’, Tostat, June 2015

This is quite the best caryopteris I have seen. I also grow ‘Worcester Gold’ which is anaemic in comparison. I bought these Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ as small plants in the early Spring, and though they have taken their time to get settled, and it is a bit too early for flowering, they have paid their way already. The foliage is an exhilarating lime-yellow-green, not a bit sickly, and it is a tough little plant, on its way to making a nice rounded boule-shape about 1m x 1m. So, I can’t wait for the flowers.  I am growing it in 2 places, one hotter than the other, and one with a lot less moisture, but actually, the plants are level-pegging, though the one in the sunnier spot has marginally better colour, so I am very hopeful that it will be a Great Success.

Acanthus 'Whitewater', Tostat, June 2015
Acanthus ‘Whitewater’, Tostat, June 2015

Now, ok, this is slightly slipping from the green theme, but it is so extraordinary that I had to put it in. Have you ever seen a plant that so closely fakes being a pool of spilt, creamy milk?  This is Acanthus ‘Whitewater’.  Now, I love Acanthus, but they really do take their time with me, and this small plant is, believe it or not, 3 years old. But it is in a harsh spot, and so I believe that it will get to the point where the rhizome is big enough for it to be out there all year, not just now and then. Eventually, it will also have candy-pink flower spikes, up to 1,5m- but that’s a way off. So I am used to the fact that it comes and goes, depending on the weather and the moisture, but it does always come back. So I hope I won’t be in a bathchair by the time it gets to flowering.

And lastly…

Begonia grandis ssp.evansiana, Tostat, June 2015
Begonia grandis ssp.evansiana, Tostat, June 2015

a begonia! I am not a begonia fan, but I love this one. Sites say that this is a hardy begonia. I think that’s a dodgy recommendation and I always overwinter it dry in its pot, just out of the weather.  Begonia grandis ssp.evansiana is like an opera coquette..all flashy red underskirts and posing, and gorgeous when backlit. Also, once it likes you, it will give you tons of tiny bulbules, which will sprout all over the place, so it has a generous nature. Mine is maybe 4 years old, and when at full height is a stunning metre and a bit.  Lovely.

Patience is a virtue…growing plants from seed

…and not one that I classically take to, being of the busy bee variety of person. There was a very irritating book, that I don’t remember the title of, which I read as a child, and I remember wanting to stab the character, a girl called Patience, with a fork. But, probably what turned me from just being an enthusiastic gardener with not a lot of time ( you know, 3 small children, full time job) to being a total nut, was the experience of finally obeying the instructions and successfully growing plants from seed.

It is a job for the patient, especially if you are growing perennials and shrubs from seed, as you do have to put in a long wait for the final outcome. Of course, once you get there, you are busy patting yourself on the back for growing 30 whatever they are for about £5, including the compost.

So, I thought I would share with you some of the successes that I have had in growing from seed. And I am choosing plants that give out in more ways than one, often great foliage and then superb flowers. I often pay homage to Derry Watkins, and my first plant was one of my first seeds from her.  Here it is, right now, in my garden, and the size of these leaves has to be seen, easily 12″ long and 8″ across..

Telekia speciosa leaves, Tostat, May 2015
Telekia speciosa leaves, Tostat, May 2015

they are spectacular.  It is Telekia speciosa.  And the best bit is that in July-ish, enormous yellow daises are produced on 2m stalks, which last right through till Autumn and beyond, as the seedheads brown up but make a great skeleton in the winter. I absolutely love them.  I planted them where Derry suggested, moist-ish, not far from the canal or ruisseau. But since then, they have brought themselves right to the front of my partly shaded woodland area, so that they have put themselves right into the sun and away from the moisture. And they also seem fine.  Here are the flowers from two years ago- as they age, they copy Echinacea and the big centre goes chocolate-brown, another little virtue. From seed to flower, I think probably a 2 year wait.

Telekia speciosa, Tostat, August 2013
Telekia speciosa, Tostat, August 2013

And now for something smaller and discreet. I also bought this from Derry. It is Libertia procera.  Of this, Derry says, plant in dry sun. Well, for me, they also work well in not bone-dry sun, but she is right in that the flowers are bigger and better on the plants in my bone-dry spot.  In fact, this week, caught at quite a jaunty angle, I thought they looked almost Japanese, a delicate spray of white, see below…

Libertia procera, Tostat, May 2015
Libertia procera, Tostat, May 2015

the slight breeze accounts for the faint wobble.  The foliage is grass-like, a bit like Sisyrinchium, and stands up straight and defiant all year round, making a clump about 1m tall and 0.25m wide.  So it is a good companion for other, more floppy flowerers giving some welcome punctuation.  Easy from seed, but probably more than 2 years wait for the flowers. For me, I think it was 4 years wait, and although they don’t last long, they are very decorative.

Sideritus syriaca, Tostat, May 2015
Sideritus syriaca, Tostat, May 2015

Quite often, I’ll see a plant I like the look of somewhere on the net, discover I can’t buy it in France, and then I spend an enjoyable hour scouring the internet for seeds. Sometimes off and on, for weeks, I confess.  So it was with Sideritus syriaca, which I first saw on Annie’s Annuals weekly email.  It is a mountain plant, from Greece and Crete, from which a refreshing anti-oxidant tea can be made. I haven’t tried that yet, but I really love the plant. Low-lying, a bit like Stachys with woolly-ish leaves, for me it is a ground-hugger.

Now, it may be that as it grows it will stand up more as in Annie’s photo in the link.  But, this is the second year and it has produced flowers! Result. It was one of those tweezer jobs to deal with the seedlings, I don’t literally use tweezers, it’s more to illustrate the tinyness. But, this year, they have really put on the beef and are 10 times as big as they were at their biggest last year. Yes, it’s for hot and dry, throw in stony and it will be utterly at home. I am pretty sure I got seed on ebay. It is always worth looking there.

And for my last plant, here is also my hand in the picture which shows how tiny it still is in Year 2. Dianthus cruentus, sometimes called the Blood Pink, is going to be a stunner next year. Already, the tweezer scale plantlings are producing flowers and have grown, so you wait. The colour is really hard to reproduce. It is an electric red, rather as Verbena bonariensis is an electric mauve. So the colour is very intense and looks a bit too safe in my photograph.

Dianthus cruentus, Tostat, May 2015..and my hand.
Dianthus cruentus, Tostat, May 2015..and my hand.

Here is where I saw it and was entranced.

Spot Dianthus cruentus. Cleve West, Best in Show, Chelsea 2011.
Spot Dianthus cruentus. Cleve West, Best in Show, Chelsea 2011.

Again, the colour is not as it is. But this small plant was a highlight of this beautiful show garden. After Cleve West and his Best in Show Garden in 2011, Dianthus cruentus plants were in limited stock and disappeared from shelves all over the UK. It was only a couple of years later that you could buy seed easily. Derry Watkins now has it in her seedlist, see the link on the plant name above. Again, it prefers hot, dry, stony…but full sun and handfuls of gravel when you plant it would probably do the trick. Enough already.

High and mighty…but tiny…Papaver rupifragum

Friends have sometimes said of my garden, ” ..you have so many tall things..”and I do, and one or two have said “What about smaller plants?” And I have laughed and said something about compensation for being a short person, but isn’t it funny how some things stick in your mind. So I have been getting to know shorter plants lately, on the grounds that my friends had hit on something. I was ignoring the plant world that lives at less than 1 metre high.

Right now, a very tiny and delicate plant is getting ready for its moment in the limelight. I first saw this plant on Annie’s Annuals about seven years ago, but since then, the same plant, I am pretty sure, is now being called Papaver atlanticum ‘Flore Pleno’.  Still, not having got to the bottom of a possible identity crisis, I was relieved to find a good poppy blog by Matt Mattus, a plantsman, that is still talking about Papaver rupifragum or the Spanish Poppy. So, for now, I’ll stick with the name I know.

It is a spirited and delicate thing. It’s a slow grower, I practically needed tweezers to transplant the seedlings to grow it on, and probably because we get a tad too much Spring rain for it, it’s still with me, but in recovery this year from the epically wet Spring we had last year. So, although it is in a hot South facing spot, I reckon it’s got to be hotter and drier still. So, for the UK, thin, bone-dry soil, tops of walls, that kind of thing and SUN.  So, for the first reveal, I give you the plant as of yesterday…

Papaver rupifragum, April 2105
Papaver rupifragum, April 2105

Not much perhaps to look at, though I love the arching shepherd’s crook shape of the flowerhead, so here is how this will look later in the week, when I will miss it as I am in London and Edinburgh for a few days.

Papaver rupifragum April 2012
Papaver rupifragum April 2012

It is the most beautiful and delicate, and not shouty, orange with petals that softly crinkle at the edges.  Tougher than it looks in rain too. I think that what I must do is buy some more seed from Derry Watkins and have a go in a drier spot. There’s a plan. And a great reason to, while I am at it, see what else Derry has got that’s new to me. Usually masses of things and then I have to choose. Delightful torture.

I love my workhorses…

Well, sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.  Workhorses are those plants that are utterly failsafe, reliable doers that actually often get overlooked by me because I know them so well. But it’s in early Spring that you are reminded of what good plants they are, and how it’s your own whims that dictate their survival in the garden, not their intrinsic qualities.  So here are three of mine. They suffer because I can get irritated by their self-seeding and I can get snobby about them because they seem so obliging. But they really do work for me, so I am giving them their moment of glory.

Teucrium hyrcanicum ‘Purple Tails’ is my first unsung hero.  I got seed from Derry Watkins. She is the amazing woman who runs Special Plants near Chippenham, and whose seed catalogue would bankrupt me if I weren’t firm with myself.  I had never been very successful with perennials from seed, but a few years ago, I made much more of an effort to get the conditions right, and Teucrium hyrcanicum ‘Purple Tails’ was one of my first successes.

Teucrium hyrcanicum 'Purple Tails' photo credit: www.specialplants.net
Teucrium hyrcanicum ‘Purple Tails’ photo credit: http://www.specialplants.net

And here is one of the reasons why I love it.  I have just been moving some clumps around the garden in a gail force wind, and yet, in early Spring, it is already energetic, bursting with pretty foliage and raring to go.

Right now in the garden, Teucrium hyrcanicum 'Purple Tails' Mar 15
Right now in the garden, Teucrium hyrcanicum ‘Purple Tails’ Mar 15

You can tell that it’s an early summer bloomer because it is already up and running, but it will give you a good month of flower and then you will have seedheads once the flowers are over. It will self-seed, so then you have the choice of pulling out, making more clumps, or just enjoying it. For me, it likes goodish soil, not too dry, but it is perfectly happy with normal rainfall and warm sun. It is quite an insistent clumper, so it doesn’t let other stuff invade it. It grows to 2′ or so, and one year I must have a go at Chelsea-chopping some of it to see if I can prolong the flowering a bit.

Phlomis russeliana is my second choice.  It works all year. Big plate-sized, thick leaves make sure that nothing else creeps in where it is growing, and then, in early summer, tiered candelabra soft creamy yellow flowers shoot up on straight, tough stalks. By late summer, the flowers have gone over, but the seedheads remain statuesque right through till early Spring the following year when they can be cut back. Winter frost looks stunning caught in the phlomis heads, and so it really is a truly four season plant. It will take rubbish soil, heat, very little water, sun and is altogether obliging.  Here it is growing in what I call ‘The New Garden’ made out of a caved-in barn space at the side of the house. This was another of my Beth Chatto type challenges, to grow plants that work in unenriched, poor, very rocky, free-draining soil. Look how happy it is amongst the kniphofia and perovskia.

Yellow Kniphofia, Gaura lindheimeri, Perovskia atriplicifolia 'Little Spire' and the creamy spires of Phlomis russeliana, June 2012
Yellow Kniphofia, Gaura lindheimeri, Perovskia atriplicifolia ‘Little Spire’ and the creamy spires of Phlomis russeliana, June 2012

And my last hero is, Bronze fennel or Phoeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’. It is a light, airy wonder of a plant. The bronze foliage is at its most striking in early Spring. Here is a fennel baby coming up right now in the garden alongside a pal, phlomis russeliana.

Foeniculum vulgare 'Purpureum' coming up in March 2015 alongside Phlomis russeliana.
Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’ coming up in March 2015 alongside Phlomis russeliana.

Completely tough, it will self seed everywhere, so you will never be without it, especially in a veiled planting next to roses, the feathery, dark foliage is stunning. The yellow seedheads are really pretty in themselves, and it will be happy in both good and poor soil, but will need sun.

Rosa 'Edith Piaf' and Phoeniculum vulgare 'Purpureum' July 2013
Rosa ‘Edith Piaf’ and Phoeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’ July 2013

There’s nothing common or garden about these three heroes.