Breaks in the rain…

Anemone x fulgens Multipetala 1, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

The rain has continued to pour down, bringing flooded fields and a good dollop of soft snow on the tops of the foothills of the Piedmont Pyrenees, which we can just see from the Barn Garden. But this week we have had a few breaks in the rain, and so those doughty plants that are bashing on with spring growth regardless have had a little cheer. Patience is the virtue most required for gardening, but it is essential in Spring. I don’t want to stamp around on soaked soil and compact the life out of it. But the patience part is hard to muster sometimes, I will be frank.

I first saw this Anemone x fulgens Multipetala growing in a big clump in front of a gate in Auriebat, a village a short way away from Tostat, where we used to live. It is a wonderful flaming red when in full flower and I had to dig deep to identify it, plainly an Anemone, but now quite a rare sight. This is one of those plants that was common in farmyards and vineyards in the Southern end of France, but has largely retreated as the countryside has been liberally dosed with pesticides in the last 50 years. So, eventually, I found some seriously pricey bulbs and planted them in a good place in the Tostat garden. They are not speedy growers, and once flowered, they go back underground in the summer, and remain invisible till the next spring. So, when we came to move in the Autumn of 2021 to Oloron Sainte Marie, I had to take a stab at trying to dig them up and bring them, whilst not slicing them in half. Net result, I dug up only about half of my clump. Never mind. I still have some.

The foliage has been emerging since Christmas, and a week ago, the shy flowerheads have started to lift themselves out of the soil. I have them in a pot in the courtyard, so I know where they are. There’s nothing much to see in the early stages, see photo 1, but all will be revealed…

The Barn Garden, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

The Barn Garden is waking up. I love this mix of plants. From the left, you can only just see the bare, but budding branches of Amelanchier alnifolia ‘Obelisk’. I bought these as 6″ weaklings about 10 years ago, and had them in tall cream pots at the back door in Tostat. ‘Obelisk’ is such a great plant, svelte, upright, and doesn’t grow too big for the smallest garden, has lovely bright green foliage, late Spring cream flowers, small dark fruits and autumn colour. I don’t usually get the autumn colour because of summer dryness, but that’s fine. My two plants have greatly appreciated being back in the ground since we moved, and are really liking the Barn Garden.

Next left is a Mahonia eurybracteata ssp. ganpinensis ‘Soft Caress’ and muscling in from behind, a bright green leaved Fatsia polycarpa ‘Green Fingers’. The Mahonias, two of them, came from the Tostat garden and had become a bit tortured in shape from the big conifer that they grew under. I rather like the contorted shape, and they are straightening up a bit now. This is a more elegant, delicate shape than other varieties of Mahonia, and is also not prickly. I am convinced that it’s botanical name has been changed as I could swear it was only half the length the last time I talked about it.

The Fatsia was a bit touch and go for the first couple of years, as the conditions in the Barn garden were not brilliant, but this past year it has begun to motor. Which just goes to show that not disturbing the ground too much, leaving leaves to lie over the winter, basically giving the process time, and also leaving little weeds to grow and then letting them decompose, is what helps soil to recover. That is a very good use of patience. You can see I have not yet got to pulling the little weed population, but they will be left where they are.

The dry grass that has kept such a good shape through the winter is Pennisteum ‘Black Beauty’, another plant that took time to settle in. But it is now settled, as I potted up a couple of babies in the Autumn for the first time. Tostat was too dry for Pennisetum, but it’s just fine here. Those flowerheads get darker and more striking as the plant matures. The short spikey plants in the foreground are Dianella tasmanica ‘Little Rev’. These have never flowered for me, but this could be due to the tree cover that leans over, reducing the sun reaching the plants. But I like them for their stiff spikiness anyway.

The heucheras are the last thing to mention- survivors of a vine weevil attack when in pots, they are a really great plant, though I admit not being a fan of some of the more outrageously coloured varieties being developed now. These, I think, are Heuchera ‘Caramel’ and I love the apricot tones of the foliage. I split them every now and then, and just poke them in where I have a gap as they are tough and very obliging. A workhorse plant that I used to be sniffy about.

Aspidistra ‘Asahi’ and trimmed Muehlenbeckia grandiflora or complexa, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

I bought a tiny, dried up pot of Muehlenbeckia grandiflora or complexa a few years back, and just stuck it in a better pot. Two years later, and it was in a tall pot, beautifully tumbling with it’s twiggy, tangled growth and it seemed to love wherever it was put. Some sites say it needs sun, mine, just after it’s pruning last week, will soon be doing the tumbling thing and it is pretty much in semi-shade. It does lose leaves in the winter, but they are already popping back as you can see. I like the airy look of it next to the Aspidistra ‘Asahi’.

Anemone 2, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

Here is the Anemone four days later, just beginning to paint itself with colour.

Yellow cerinthe, self-seeded, Barn Garden, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

I love Cerinthe. I do like the blue, but I adore the yellow. Yellow is such a good spring colour. These were grown from seed last year and have self-seeded this year. So, I will need to grow some more for next year as they probably won’t make it back for a third year.

Salix gracilistyla melanostachys ‘Kurome’, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2024

Last year, I went a bit mad and ending up buying two Salix gracilistyla melanostachys or ‘Kurome’. It was knd of a mistake, but having got myself into that, I bit the bullet and they are both in the shady corner of the courtyard in big pots. These may get very big so I am going to be doing salix pruning to keep them manageable. This is the first catkin, and I am very excited. I tought it would be blacker but on close examination, it is more of a dark cranberry colour with almost chocolate coloured fringing. Imagine that on a sizable shrub. Great Spring drama.

Anemone 3, Oloron Sainte Marie, a week later than 1, March 2024

The cold has slowed the Anemone down, so it will be next week before we get full colour. Can you wait?

The magic of research… and chance…

Agave americana, Tostat, July 2018

I probably spend more time looking at and researching plants than I do buying them, planting, propagating them or gardening with them- if I am honest. I was reminded of this on reading the latest instalment of Dan Pearson’s blog about creating his new sand garden at his home. Some gardeners who write have a very florid style, maybe in my own small way I do! But Dan Pearson is a thoughtful, honest and very straightforward blog writer, whose intention, it seems to me, is to convey the whole truth about the way that he gardens and why. I love the calmness of it, and the acceptance that knowledge is no guarantee of perfection. Once a plant is taken into our world, we can’t know exactly how it will react or behave. We take knowlege on trust, but there is always chance- and risk, not neccessarily in balance either.

But it is still worth developing knowledge and learning from experience and the stories of other gardeners. Very much so. What helps me is watching what happens and deciding if intervention is needed – or not. Sometimes time is all that’s needed. Take my Agave americana in the front garden, on the stony, garrigue-inspired slope. It is a baby of my original Agave in Tostat, given by a friend in the Languedoc. So, I planted it only 3 years ago, and already it is more than 1.5m tall and wide, with several offspring plants nestling nearby. It clearly likes it. I have done nothing except watch and wait.

Daughter Agave and daughters, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

It’s the same story with my groundcover planting of Achillea crithmifolia. Three years ago, planting out my still baby Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’ and not far away, a new baby Rosa x odorata ‘Mutabilis’, I wanted to protect them from the miles of marauding bramble and bindweed that we were attacking with vigour. Reading about the use of allelopathic plants, those that secrete substances that deter other competing plants, I picked Achillea crithmifolia as low growing, aromatic, feathery foliage plant that does brilliantly in tough conditions. I had tried it out in Tostat in a limited area,a nd had been impressed, as well as liking the Achillea as a plant in its own right. I think I started off with eight plants in a ring round the rose and the tree. Three years later, you can see how well it has gently carpetted the area, giving the tree and the rose room to grow.

Achillea crithmifolia, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

It also has spread considerably, which I am really enjoying, though that might be a drawback to consider if you have limited space. The Achillea doesn’t seem to bother the lovely floppy velvety leaves of Stachys byzantina ‘Big Ears’ either. It is not widely available in the UK, but is really worth a try. Dan Pearson is doing the same with it in his new garden, see the blog article above.

Stachys byzantina ‘Big Ears’ and Achillea crithmifolia cohabiting nicely, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

Some plants love where they have been planted so miuch that they really go mad. This would be true of what I bought as a charming, small leaved Phlomis, Phlomis lanata ‘Pygmy’. The clue was in the name, I thought, and so it was for the first 2 years, a very sweet little hummock of Phlomis. It is still very sweet, but is breaking the 1m barrier in every direction and shows no sign of slowing down.

Phlomis lanata ‘Pygmy’, not so much a pygmy, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

Our conditions can be quite harsh, hot sun, little rain for long periods and damp, even wet winters into Spring. I had taken three small cuttings of Hydrangea quercifolia from the Tostat garden, and they have been slow to get going, with not much happening for the first two years. But they are clearly well rooted in now to our stony soil, and this year looks to be the making of them. I love them even more for the effort.

Hydrangea quercifolia, 3 yr old cutting from Tostat, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

In the Barn Garden, another plant that I have watched and waited for is Fatsia polycarpa ‘Green Fingers’. It was a newish introduction so there wasn’t a lot of information about it three years ago. And it did struggle getting into the shady, poor soil spot that I had put it in. But, three years on, this has been the year when it has turbo charged itself, and is now taller than the companion Mahonia with very cumbersome name, Mahonia eurybracteata subsp. ganpinensis ‘Soft Caress’ next to it. It has a wonderful form, with tiers of arching, jazz hands leaves in a good green.
Fatsia polycarpa ‘Green Fingers’ and Mahonia ‘Soft Caress’, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

I tried to buy another ‘Green Fingers’ last year but couldn’t find one, so went for the more usual variety, ‘Spider’s Web’. This is in a worse spot soil-wise, but a better spot light-wise, and seems to have gone for the big spread look in one year only. I quite like that it’s not too creamy at the edges.

Fatsia japonica ‘Spiders Web’, Oloron Sainte Marie, November 2023

Now this is a vital stone. Last winter I noticed that a low branch of Mahonia ‘Soft Caress’ was brushing the ground, so just thought I would have a go at getting that branch to root by weighing it down with a stone. Nine months later, the Assistant Gardener went home with a rooted cutting which should make a bonny plant in a few more months. So I am having another go with the vital stone.

Time, chance and a bit of knowledge combined.

The vital stone….

The peskiness of March and April…

March light line-up, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2022

That fickle March light can be amazing. This area has only been ‘in’ for a year, but, on the whole, it has done really well here with some morning sun, some late afternoon sun, and the shade and protection of the big wall. Reading left to right, there is an unknown Helleborus sternii, Salvia spathacea ( which got zapped by some frost in January and is growing out of the frost damage), Amelanchier alnifolia ‘Obelisk’ which is just coming into leaf, Mahonia eurybracteata ‘Sweet Winter’ to the right with Fatsia polycarpa ‘Green Fingers’ at the far right. The Amelanchier and the Mahonia came as mature plants from Tostat pots, but the Fatsia has shot up in a year from a thin little thing to becoming an imposing plant. And the foxgloves all appeared on their own, probably as a result of us turning the earth as we planted, removing rubble andd massive river stones. Oh, and Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle’ is at the very back, a cutting from our Tostat plant.

Second March line-up, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2022

Looking further along, more illumination picks out Rhamnus frangula ‘Fine Line’ in front of Calycanthus floridus, Muhlenbeckia in the blue pot, some winter-brown from Hakonechloa macra which takes time to get going after winter and the dull-green winter leaves of Cestrum far right. It is such an exciting time.

Syringa laciniata foliage, Oloron Sainte Marie, March 2022

Well, it was exciting for a while. And then April, apart from maybe 6 sunny days, was cold, wet and grey and now early May is not doing much better. Sorry to moan about the weather, but it has really tried my patience and I ain’t no saint. Rain we have had, and here is the back garden – weeks later than the first photographs in this post.

The back Barn Garden today, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022

So, the foxgloves have loved it and are close to 2m high, but the bright red flowers of Heuchera x brizoides ‘Firefly’ give it a little buzz despite their relative size. I did have a baby Tetrapanax at the far left, but it didn’t make it, so I planted a Fatsia japonica ‘Spider’s Web’ a month ago and so far, so good. The foxgloves will be enjoyed this year, and then I’ll take half of them out, plus any seedlings and plant them somewhere else next year- only because they have obscured everything else in the first photograph entirely. The other plants will need the space.

On the sunnier side of the stone path, Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’ is adoring the cooler, damper conditions in Oloron, and has almost covered Rosa ‘Mrs Oakley Fisher’ and Salix gracilistyla ‘Mt Aso’, although you can still see the fresher green of the Salix through the Geum. I think that both look great with the Geum, but a spot of Geum thinnning might be done next year. On the wall, Rosa ‘Lawrence Johnston’ with it’s eggyolk coloured blooms is also loving the move to Oloron, and the much criticised (by me) Digiplexis, could be Illumination Raspberry, but I’m not sure, has actually come back this year and spread a bit. Only one plant did make it though out of 4 or 5 plants that went in, so I think my main beef with it remains.

The other shrub that is so glad to be in Oloron is Cestrum elegans Rubrum. This was a rescue plant at the beginning, but really struggled in Tostat, and is utterly reborn and is literally covered with bursting wine-red buds, it will be fantastic this year.

Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’, Salix gracilysta ‘Mt Aso’, Cestrum elegans Rubrum, Rosa ‘Lawrence Johnston’, the Barn Garden, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022
Syringa laciniata in rescue, Oloron Sainte Marie, end April 2022

Meantime, from a terrible spot in the front garden where I abandoned it last year, I have rescued the Syringa laciniata and it is in intensive care in the courtyard. It will recover, despite being a bit one-legged from dieback, and I will plant it out next year in a kinder place; I do love the ferny foliage and the pretty lilac flowers, so I hope it forgives me.

The front door of our old house has been changed over the years, and this Spring, the front window (ex front door) was being ridden out of town by a big conifer, almost reaching the roof. So we took it out, and have replanted with a really lovely columnar Liquidambar styraciflua ‘Slender Silhouette’. It is beautifully narrow, about 1m, and grows to about 6m, but has all the attributes of the bigger ones, with glossy green leaves and, cross fingers, great autumn colour.

Liquidambar styraciflua ‘Slender Silhouette’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022
Liquidambar foliage close-up, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022

And on one of the rare sunny days, a touch of class was provided by Tulipa ‘Ronaldo’ and ‘Jan Reus’. ‘Ronaldo’ has just a hint of blue about it to my eye, whereas ‘Jan Reus’ has a warmer scarlet tint to it. The tulips are so worth it for their sheer exuberance, and this year, I will dig a trough in the front and stick them in there. You never know.

One of the sunny days in April, Tulipa ‘Ronaldo’ and ‘Jan Reus’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022