The grand tour…

Looking east towards the Mix and the green seat, Tostat, April 2020

I started this post last week. But life and death intervened. A friend died of Motor Neurone Disease in Paris, fortunately at home with her partner, and so she was with loved ones at the end. That stopped me in my tracks really. A very sad moment, especially as I watched her funeral ceremony by the internet from her flat led by her loving partner and son. So, this post is dedicated to Martine and Proinsias, in memory of some very happy times in the garden.

Young men with money used to do The Grand Tour in the 18th and 19th centuries- jollying round Europe’s ancient antiquities and cities, it was supposed to mature a young man, give him the perspective of what his wealth could bring him in the acquisition of artworks and cultural broadening. I set myself the lockdown task of trying to do my own mini Grand Tour of the garden, trying to find new ways of looking at it, looking though it and maybe discovering new ideas about how it can be and how it is. It was a dullish day, sometimes the best way to see the garden without the sparkle that sunshine brings.

So, the first picture shows the Mix, the back of the house and the small area inspired by Nicole de Vesian with the green bench and the wind-knocked pencil conifers. The Mix is still evolving and without the stately presence of the tall Miscanthus later in the year. The mauve lilac is just breaking into blossom- a good shrub that I always forget about.

Looking west towards the ruisseau and Populus deltoides ‘Purple Tower’, Tostat, April 2020

This is a view that is completely new to me! The purple poplar is one of my all-time favourites for the elegance of the shape and the dark, striking foliage in early Spring. In the foreground, Hakonechloa macra aureola is just getting going, one of the few plants we brought with us from Scotland which, playing against type, adores this hot, dry position for some reason.

Looking towards the banana plantation, Gunnera manicata and Rosa chinensis ‘Mutabilis’, Tostat, April 2020

Looking through the lovely old broken walls, is the banana, Andy’s beloved plant which is well on the way to becoming a small plantation, and his other great love, the Gunnera. Below, just over a broken wall, you can just see the village church tower in the distance.

The foreshortening, through the walls to the church tower, Tostat, April 2020

The New Garden, the Stumpery on the right, Tostat, April 2020

The New Garden, formed from a fallen-down barn area, has been transformed by the building of the Pond, which opens up and focuses the view behind the eucalyptus. I would love to claim credit for this wizard bit of design- but, truthfully, it would never have happened if we hadn’t gone over to a biomass boiler and had the old gas tank removed.

Looking towards the new pond, Tostat, April 2020

And here is the new pond, and you can see how it has changed and developed the view to make the garden truly wrap around the house. The shrub planted in the foreground ring of stones is an unsung hero, Euonymus alata compactus, which grows here in slightly added-to shit and stony soil in full sun, with only occasional water if it is really desperate. More on the pond building later on.

The fastigiate beech baby, the transplanted palm tree, the wildflower areas, Tostat, April 2020

The little beech is just becoming fabulous. Carpinus betulus ‘Frans Fontaine’ is fastigiate and should stay almost pin thin whilst getting taller. And the transplanted palm, a bad planting mistake of mine in the first year when we brought it in a pot from Scotland, Trachycarpus fortunei is one tough customer. Funnily enough, I bought it from Ardkinglass Tree Nursery, on the shores of Loch Fyne, so it is a well-travelled palm tree.

From the pond to the house with Rosa ‘Zephirine Drouhin’ just starting, and Molly the dog rootling, Tostat, April 2020

And back we are to the front of the house, with Molly the dog and the newly planted Agave americana big baby that blocks the pond off from foot traffic. We have several agave babies all queuing up for relocation at some point. They are gorgeous but vicious.

And on a brighter evening, the path by the back door, Tostat, early April 2020

And the full circuit ends at the back door on a sunnier evening.

A small miracle…

Aristea ecklonii, Tostat, May 2017

This little spray of irridescent blue flowers only measures about 15cms from the ground and has only these four buds/flowers on it, but it delights me.  I grew from seed about 7 years ago, three varieties of Aristea- Aristea ecklonii, Aristea major and Aristea inaequalis. The first has stumbled on in a pot, coming under cover for the winter and to stay dryish, the second has grown immense with huge straps of leaves like a Phormium (more later about this one) and the last I nearly killed the winter before last and so have only one slightly mournful specimen at the moment.

So ecklonii has come good, as it did last year.  The flowers only appear in the sunlight and shut themselves when the sky clouds over- and the whole scale of it is ‘freesia-size’, and of course, the slightest puff of wind and it bobs about- hence the slight wobble.  But the colour is quite fabulous- a true, sky-blue and it really shines out.

So, the big sister, Aristea major has done exceptionally well in the leaf department- but nothing else, till now.  In fact, it had a hard winter. I had it fleeced up, but some wind shook the fleecing a little free, and our hard frost nights (-10C) ravaged the leaves.  So, last month, I re-potted it into a massive pot, as it is a big plant- cut off all the black, frosted foliage, which gave it a severe haircut, and hoped for the best.  Only a couple of new leaves have begun growing, but wowee, no fewer than five flowerspikes!  I am truly thrilled.  They came well-disguised, wrapped inside emerging leaves with only a small maternity bump that I didn’t notice for a while.  So, I am waiting, like an expectant parent outside the labour ward. So far, they look like grey wheathusks.

Other things romping away and causing great delight…

Anchusa italica ‘Dropmore’, Tostat, May 2017

I grew this Anchusa italica ‘Dropmore’ from seed 2 years ago, and as ever, with most perennials, you are paying forward for the flowers, but here it is.  Tall, despite the drought, at nearly eye-level with me, and the same sort of irridescent blue that the Aristea offers, but in a big, slightly floppy, way.  I think it will go from strength to strength.

That little flash of red, the tiny but mighty Dianthus deltoides ‘Flashing Light’, Tostat, May 2017

Good old standards here,  the Stachys byzantina at its best, Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’ and Centranthus ruber, but that little flash of red that really does sparkle is my new Dianthus deltoides ‘Flashing Light’.  I adore it.

Rosa ‘Alissar Princess of Phoenicia’, Tostat, May 2017

The very first rose this year on this rose, Rosa ‘Alissar, Princess of Phoenicia’.  It has not had an easy time.  First, I cut it back to smuggle it back in hand luggage from Chelsea 2013, then I planted it for 2 years in a very dry spot which it really couldn’t cope with, then I potted it up in intensive care last summer and lastly, this Spring, it finally got the home it deserves.  A re-developed section with plenty of sun, but also, a little shade and moister soil, and it looks in great shape.  Phew.  It is a gorgeous thing.

Rosa ‘Hot Chocolate’ with good backing, Tostat, May 2017

But maybe my favourite rose is this one, Rosa ‘Hot Chocolate’ for its robustness, and above all, the colour, a mahogany red unlike any other, almost burnished at the tips of the petals.  I planted it without thinking sort of in front of this Berberis thunbergii f. atropurpurea ‘Helmond Pillar’– which I love.  And they love each other, I think.

Zantedeschia aethiopia, Tostat, May 2017

This Zantedeschia aethiopia pops up naturally in any shady spot with me.  I really love the horn shape of the flowers and the glossy leaves.  The only problem is that the flowers become waste-bins for any garden bits flying around in the air- still, you couldn’t have a nicer bin really.

Wind, wind, wind

Windy June: Clematis viticella and Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle’, Tostat, June 2016

This has been a windy month like no other.  Positively Scottish amounts of wind, with little warmth, have torn across the garden most days this month, scorching the soil and ripping at the plants.

This Clematis viticella, whose name I have forgotten, is a very forgiving plant that comes back and back.  I had hoped to be able to grow clematis when we moved here, but a few deaths quickly taught me that we did not possess the best conditions for most clematis, and I was about to give up.   Talking to Thorncroft Clematis at Chelsea one year, persuaded me to have a try with this Clematis viticella and Clematis texenis ‘Princess Diana’.  I grow them them both tucked into a forest of woodland shrubs and early spring perennials, and I mostly forget to cut them back as they are way down in the undergrowth, but each early summer, they pop up again growing through and over the shrubs.  I love the dark blue against the creamy white of the ‘Annabelle’.

Hydrangea macrophylla and Nerium oleander, Tostat, June 2016

I can claim no credit for this combination which stayed still for the camera and was here when we moved in.  The last couple of years, this hydrangea, has got bluer and bluer.  Maybe it’s the early summer rain that we have been experiencing more and more, but the Nerium oleander is obviously enjoying the conditions too, despite being a highly drought tolerant plant.  We did, however, paint the shutters!

Rosa ‘Kiftsgate’, Tostat, June 2016

Close up of ‘Kiftsgate’, Tostat, June 2016

This is a giant of a rose and a serious thug, Rosa ‘Kiftsgate’.  But it has done a great screening job for us on the wall bordering the road, and it has hung on for grim death in seriously high winds, looking pretty unbattered and just losing its scent when the temperature drops.  I love it for its abundance, hanging in great swags of flowers with golden stamens from 3m above the ground.  You need body armour to deal with it, so probably best grown only where you will never need to interfere with it.  And, of course, it only flowers once in June, but it is a fabulous sight when it does.

Windy June: Testing the purple Verbena bonariensis to the max, Tostat, June 2016

Verbena bonariensis is a really tough customer, but even it has been decked by the wind this year.  I once had it in a ‘proper’ place in the garden, but it moved out as soon as it could and did, actually, what it does best, working as a fringe to the other bits of the garden that are dry and hot. I adore it for this haze of colour and light, dancing habit.  But it is a scratcher of bare legs, be warned!  Another plant that made its mind up to go its own way, is Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’, the spreading low grass that you can see in the photograph.  This came from a tall pot in Scotland with us, and I stuck it in here without really thinking.  It now thoroughly enjoys life in the blazing sun, in one of our driest spots, and, in other words, completely confounds much conventional wisdom about it preferring moisture and dappled shade.  Just goes to show- it’s always worth trying, though best off with an insurance policy plant in hand.

Windy June: battered lilies and the last roses, Tostat, June 2016

From the back door the other night, with towels laid like sandbags against the door, we watched a tempest roar through, culminating in M&M sized hail which lay like lots of tiny eggs in all the plant pots giving them a horrible cold surprise.  So, the lilies are not in the best shape, all more Hunchback of Notre Dame than lily, but we do have green in general, and plenty of it.

One plant, which is new to me this year, is Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Black Steel Zebra’. I bought it from one of the newer online nurseries, Promesse de fleurs, and I adore it. I have to say that it arrived a bit bashed up, but I am hoping for good things from the cuttings that gave me, so am not complaining.  It has dark, dark, almost black stems, and is topped by dramatic flowers, creamy-green-yellow, which open out to a double-cream, Devon tea, kind of colour.  In a pot for now, and should make a metre high and wide by next year, it is beguiling.  Here it is.

In the dark of a storm: Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Black Steel Zebra’, Tostat, June 2016

 

 

At the Inner Temple Garden, London…seclusion with just a dash of Billy Connolly

On a sunny and cold Tuesday afternoon, with 2 garden nut friends, I strolled round the hidden The Honourable Society of the Inner Temple Garden, just off Fleet Street, sandwiched between barristers’ chambers, the round 12th century Temple Church, and the busy Embankment with cars, buses and taxis whizzing by.  You get there by ducking down a little entry off Fleet Street, which immediately recalls the setting for Jarndyce and Jarndyce, the interminable legal case that chokes lives and life in Dicken’s ‘Bleak House’.  Weaving your way towards the Garden, passing barristers in full court tog, and people carrying tottering piles of files and paperwork, it is a cloistered world- literally.

The public can visit the garden from 1230-1500 each weekday, but mainly we came across young legal people enjoying some sunshine and a sandwich. Fringing a spreading lawn, are borders and pretty spots of themed planting. I particularly loved the zing of the Smyrnium perfoliatum, which looked luminous in the sunshine. Sarah Raven loves it with tulips and I can see why. It’s a biennial, which means you need to wait a year for it to flower, but it will get going and self-seed, and with 3 months of possible flowering, it’s a bargain.

Smyrnium perfoliatum, Inner Temple, April 2015

Smyrnium peeping over the top of unfurling ferns, Inner Temple, April 2015

There were some gorgeous herbaceous paeonies which I didn’t know the name of, they just needed another day to fully open. I am not a great fan of salmon pink, it always reminds me of 1950’s toilets for some reason, but this beautiful paeony just shaved in by only brushing against salmon pink. Not at all sure which one it is.

The light somehow saved it from being salmon pink. Unknown paeony, Inner Temple, April 2015

And, up on the terrace, in full sun, were several Geranium maderense, going full guns.  I have never managed to really get a geranium maderense going, although I have succeeded with Geranium palmatum on a couple of occasions, our rainfall is so very variable and I haven’t mastered the overwintering yet.

Geranium maderense, Inner Temple, April 2015

Sadly, a giant and striking Catalpa tree was destined for the chop, as 85% of it was dead. It is sad when a glorious tree has to go, but what a chance to imagine another great tree in the future when re-planting.  When you think about it, many of  Capability Brown’s parklands must have looked as if they’d been planted with sticks for at least two decades. We have really benefitted from the power of his imagination 200 years later.

I also loved the underplanting of a spreading Viburnum plicatum, not sure which variety, with Hakonechloa macra, the flowing Japanese grass.  The grass hasn’t quite filled the space out yet, but is nearly there, and it makes for such fluid groundcover in a rich green. Simple and elegant. I grow this one, and the more popular golden variety, in my garden. Funnily enough, the golden one, Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’, was planted by me in a state of early ignorance, in a boiling hot, dry, stony soil position. See how stubborn I can be. Well, I can report that it is in great health and is now 5 times the original size. It flags a little if there is sustained heat and dryness, but it has always come through. Perhaps though, not the recommended approach to take- a bit high-risk.

Hakonechloa macra underplanting Viburnum plicatum. Elegant. Inner Temple, April 2015

There was one ghastly bloomer, literally, in the garden, however. Maybe a case of my own forte for ‘It’ll come good’ when actually you are kidding yourself. I can only describe the planting pictured below as the horticultural equivalent of Billy Connolly’s jokes about diced carrots.  For those who like Billy Connolly, here is a link which explains what I mean, it takes 7 minutes but it will enrich your life! Back to the planting. Well, I have to say that the pale blue muscari look washed away when faced with the sweetie pink of the bellis and the loud yellow. It is repeated, unfortunately. Hmmm.

Billy Connolly, Inner Temple, April 2015

But to finish, how breathtaking it was to sit beneath the big, spreading Magnolia x soulangeana, and look up at the sun. Even with the sharp wind, it felt very good.

Magnolia x soulangeana, Inner Temple, April 2015