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….

Lockdown spring…

First shoots on Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’ last week, Tostat, March 2020

I had almost completed a blog post about visiting the Airth Pineapple and Culross when we were in Scotland only 3 weeks ago- but within less than a week, we are in covid19 lockdown here in Tostat, and it seemed out of time and place to finish that post.

What a strange and frightening experience this all is. Today, we expect to be told that we are no longer able to walk more than 500m from our house even with documents and that this will continue for at least 2 months. We have been in daily contact with family, spread between Scotland and England and Spain, and this has been a real relief. But it is the surreal, amorphous nature of the necessary lockdown which has taken us all week to come to terms with. The village is silent. Birdsong seems to have reached operatic levels, which is wonderful, but it feels very strange. Luckily the weather has helped, warm afternoon sunshine has turned the corner on winter and you can almost hear plants growing and changing.

Anemone nemerosa this morning, Tostat, March 2020

So, it feels as if the garden needs us to buck up and get on with freeing it from winter, whilst simultanously, I am reviewing and rethinking much of what I would normally have done at this time of year. So, I am only digging up dandelions and really pervasive perennial weeds in the beds- everything else is being left. The one-armed gardening of last year taught me that annual spring weeds are killed by drought and heat by mid June, so I am thinking that I will leave them. At the very least, they will cover any bare ground until the summer perennials get going, thereby retaining soil moisture for later. I just have to get used to that itchy period before the perennials fire up, and resist messing about with the balance. In fact, I am sticking roughly to this rule pretty much everywhere in the garden. This means excessive self control has to be applied after any rain, when the pesky annual grasses pop up at a great rate.

But there are also some lovely surprises. Back in Scotland, I had a gorgeous clump of the double Anemone nemerosa- and not being able to find that here, I experimented about 10 years ago with a couple of the single wood anemone, Anemone nemerosa. They have only flowered maybe 3-4 times in 10 years, and are roughly the same size as when I planted them. So, conditions are certainly not idea for them. But when they appear, as two days ago, I am joyful, no matter what the lockdown conditions are.

Doronicum ‘Little Leo’ this morning, Tostat, March 2020

‘Little Leo’ is another tiny plant that has not really enjoyed life in Tostat, but one or two small plants are hanging on in there. My mum adored Doronicum, and so this is in memory of her.

Gunnera manicata, Tostat, March 2020

The Gunnera is already more than a metre high, courtesy of the mild winter and the recent rain and storms. You couldn’t make it up really, as it is surely a bit player in every sci-fi film going with the strange prickles on the stems and the leaves opening like hands reaching for you.

Eriostemon myoporoides last week, Tostat, March 2020

This is going to be a great plant. Eriostemon myoporoides has died for me twice, mainly because I bought baby plants and then wasn’t careful enough of them in their early lives. Mea culpa. So, a glutton for punishment, I had another go with more mature specimens. I am really impressed. This plant has thickly cuticled leaves, a little like Choisya ‘Aztec Pearl’ to look at and tiny white, star-shaped flowers (allegedly smelling of gin and tonic, not yet apparent to me) in profusion in early Spring. It slowly makes a rounded shrub and will apparently grow to about 2m all round- mine is barely 0.5m all round and must be 3 years old. But it is bone-hardy, drought tolerant when established, and with time, will make a good evergreen presence in difficult areas. Works for me.

Anemone x fulgens Multipetala, Tostat, March 2020

This fabulous pillar-box red Anemone x fulgens Multipetala is a Spring favourite of mine. I bought 6 bulbs for a king’s ransom about 6 years ago, and since then, the plants have gently swivelled themselves to where they want to be, underneath Physocarpus ‘Tiny Wine’ and, aware of the photo potential, right in amongst Spanish bluebells which are about to flower. I adore them for their raggly-taggly look and the fabulous colour which leaps out amongst the green of the bluebells.

Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’, this morning settling into coral from lobster pink, Tostat, March 2020

I love this baby tree, Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’. It is a slow grower, well, so far. But tough, it takes heat, drought, frost, wind and rain with aplomb. This is the beginning of the show, when the new foliage (see top) starts out lobster pink then moves to coral. It is such a good plant. I hope it will get going this year, it’s 3rd year in the ground- but whatever it does, it will be noticeable and I will be watching. There’s going to be a lot of watching for the next 2 months- and a good season to be doing it.

Tendons and storms…

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Stormy weather generates moodiness, Magnolia stellata, Tostat, March 2019

I am over-dramatising just a tad.  Storm Gareth which has bashed Britain this week has only meant stormy interludes of rain and wind here- the rain part being very very welcome.  Inbetween, although we are back to winter temperatures, there have been passing sunny periods, with intense blue sky.  Not wet enough yet to start spreading the mulch I have been saving, but nearly- I may just spread it anyway at the weekend.

The poor old garden doesn’t know whether it’s coming or going as we plunge back to frosty nights and cold winds- but for most plants, they are now committed to beginning spring growth whatever happens.  I have been nursing a shoulder injury since before Christmas, hoping that time will do the trick.  Turns out to be a tendon injury in two arm muscles- good job Alison- so I am grounded from gardening whilst the anti-inflammatories have a chance to work on those pesky tendons.  So, gently swinging the camera in the other hand, I am just looking at the moment.

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Anemone fulgens x Multipetala, Tostat, February 2019

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Anemone fulgens x Multipetala, Tostat, March 2019

Boldly appearing in February, so far only 3 flowerheads on this beautiful wild anemone, Anemone fulgens x Multipetala have opened, and been a little rain-dashed for their trouble.  But, this great plant is such a joy, bringing postbox red to spring, and gently spreading beyond the three expensive bulbs that I planted 3 years ago.

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Bergenia ‘Eden’s Dark Margin’, Tostat, March 2019

I have tried so hard to source the fantastic red bergenia, Bergenia ‘Irish Crimson’, that I saw in Dan Pearson’s gardens near Kings Cross two years ago.  No luck in France, and I am not such a prolific plant smuggler as I used to be.  But this could get pretty close. I am trying out Bergenia ‘Eden’s Dark Margin’  and also Bergenia ‘Wintermärchen’ in a couple of places on the moister side in the garden.  So far, ‘Wintermärchen’ is more upright, with narrower, more pointed leaves and has already lost the redder tinge to the leaves that it had in January.  Whereas, the dumpier ‘Eden’s Dark Margin’ is still glowing crimson.

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The new path to the back, Tostat, March 2019

Also starring Sophora ‘Sun King’ in full bloom on the left, the unveiled new path curves sinuously round the side of the hot, dry border taking you on a full circuit of the house if you wish.  I love it.  I wasn’t sure before we did it, but keeping the angle of the curve and making it frame the dry border was a brilliant move- thank you Jim.  Molly the dog has other ideas and uses her own track as you can see- more direct and less messing!  By the way, if you are willing to wait, Sophora ‘Sun King’ bought in a 9cm pot and planted in a sunny, free draining spot, will only take 4-5 years to be a decent-sized shrub, and after that, it can gallop.

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Muscari botryoides ‘Album’, Tostat, March 2019

The above is an experiment, which I think will work.  I have planted spring flowering white Muscari, Muscari botryoides ‘Album’, in some rubbish soil at the edge of the Stumpery.  We will see.  I am hopeful.

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Baroque daffodils, Tostat, March 2019

I am really hopeless at remembering bulb names.  Mainly I suspect because I have a tendency to think of them as an after-thought to the main show. Daft.  Because right now they are the main show.  So I can’t tell you what this  very baroque variety is.  But here is a mutant variation.

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Mutant double baroque daffodil, Tostat, March 2019

Commitment to Spring has even started with my baby Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’, so hurry up tendons.

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Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’, Tostat, March 2019

 

 

 

Gold, green and blue…

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Sophora Sun King, Tostat, February 2019

Radio silence has lasted for more than 10 days- as we have had the most scarey, but also without a doubt enjoyable, beautiful clear, sunny days with cool nights- days that have got up to 24C by lunchtime.  And so, I have been gardening, with Andy and Jim as heavy-duty diggers and clearers, making a new border where the labyrinth was, and enlarging two established borders, as well as making a new path which completes the circuit of the house without getting muddy feet.  It has been glorious.  What luck, a friend arrives keen to help out with projects and the weather plays the part of good friend for a change.

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The extravagant beauty and construction of one of my rescued wild daffodils, Tostat, February 2019

But the self-same weather is also responsible for the reluctant decision on my part to abandon my hand-grown labyrinth in the back garden.  I trained as a meditative labyrinth facilitator as the last phase of my working and professional life before packing it all in to be retired- and I built my own 5 circuit labyrinth in the back garden, creating the definition of the path with home-grown Carex buchananii ‘Red Rooster’– nearly 400 of them.  So this was about 6 years ago.  Since then, the Carex has really toiled- it really is a case of summers that have lost their traditional pattern dramatically.

Fifteen years ago summers reliably worked like this- 5-6 days of warm, even hot sun- followed by 2 days of stormy rains.  In essence, we have now had 4 or maybe 5 summers of super-hot weather with no storms and very little rain.  The entire family began lobbying for the dismantling of the labyrinth two years ago- and I dug in, adding supplementary water occasionally and replacing plants.  But last year was the end of all that.  I realised that this was like a labour of Hercules- who I do not resemble in any way!

So, I am making a memory of my labyrinth into a tear-shaped border about 3m wide and 5m long, with echoes of the labyrinth path emerging from the sharp end of the tear in 3 wispy arcs of the tougher, remaining Carex.  I am trying out what I hope will be a shrub/plant mix that will take all that our summers can throw at it, without supplementary water after the first year in.  There are some Australians in the mix.  First off, Lomandra longifolia ‘Tanika’.  This is the brightest emerald-green you can imagine, an upright 50cm grass look-alike forming bouncy tufts.  It is frost-hardy to -10C, happy in drought and evergreen.

Also from Australia is Dianella caerulea ‘Cassa Blue’– which is a strappy 40cm plant with blue-green leaves and blue/yellow flowers in the summer, and another Dianella, Dianella tasmanica ‘Wyeena’.

Looking a bit like a galloping Phormium, I am hoping ‘Wyeena’ will make a nice, strappy presence around a small, deciduous tree that I have always wanted to grow,  Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’.  It has the most stunning coral-pink foliage in spring, settles to a beautiful gold colour for the summer and then flames up for the autumn- the photographs below are from a specimen that we planted outside the church in Tostat two summers ago.

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Early foliage, Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’, Tostat, early April 2018

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Going for gold, Koelreuteria paniculata ‘Coral Sun’, Tostat, May 2018

And then back in the new tear-shaped border, I am trying out Philadelphus ‘Starbright’, a new Canadian introduction with purple early foliage and good heat and drought tolerance.  And new to me is Cornus sericea ‘Kelsey’s Gold’ which is a dwarf form of Cornus, which I am hoping will give us a touch of gold in winter stems.

Lastly, because I can’t resist a good perennial, I am trying out two new plants, Parthenium integrifolium ‘Welldone’ and Thermopsis chinensis.  Parthenium promises to be a white umbel flowered clump to about 1.2m, which should handle heat and drought well being a native of of the US Midwest.  Thermopsis chinensis is a medium height spring pea-bush with yellow lupin style flowers, and again, should be on the tough side.  As these plants will be in battle formation to ward off the tufty old grass that made the labyrinth paths, I am thinking of laying cardboard down as a humidity protector and weed deterrent.  Just for the first year, you understand.  It won’t prevent everything from breaching the ramparts but it will give the new plantings a fighting chance.  I would use a mulch but I have other areas in greater need with more dense plantings to deal with.  This is, at least, a new area and so cardboard it will be.

Meantime, wild blue violets are everywhere that I allow them to be, and one solitary wild white violet has re-appeared as a solo plant this year.

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Wild blue violets, Tostat, February 2019

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Wild white violet, Tostat, February 2019

Photographs of the labyrinth memorial will follow even featuring cardboard.