Rain almost stops play…

Papaver commutatum, ‘Ladybird’ poppy giving Romneya coulteri a shove-over, Tostat, June 2018

It really has.  I was away for 2 weeks in Southern Spain, enjoying cool, but perfect temperatures for travelling and walking a lot, and have come back to discover a garden that is the closest to a bog you can imagine.  Squelching across the grass, the dry plants in the South-facing border are looking a bit sick, and everything else looks as if it has been on drugs- and not necessarily in a good way.  What had been normal sized Ladybird poppies are now 2 metres tall and out-running the well-known thug, Romneya coulteri.  Weeds have appeared as if in a sci-fi movie, and I can’t quite believe it.  Another 3 ins of rain fell last night, so everything is leaning at 45 degrees, as if being sick in a boat in a storm.  People in the village, never mind plants, are looking very depressed.  Non-stop rain, massive electrical storms which almost shook the earth, and cool temperatures do not suit us here in June.

Roses have been beaten into submission, but not Rosa ‘Kiftsgate’, a thug at the best of times but likeable all the same.  The perfume from the massed swags of roses can be smelt, even by me, from 50m away from the house- and I have never noticed that before.  This rose poses a danger to traffic passing unless we don protection and give it a good hacking every year, but it does hide a horrible bit of wall so I am always pleased about that.

Rosa ‘Kiftsgate’ battered but unbowed, Tostat, June 2018

Close up, ‘Kiftsgate’ is almost a sweetie, Tostat, June 2018

Going back briefly to the Ladybird poppies- they are a tribute to the power of the seed.  The only explanation for their appearance is that Andy sowed seed which did not germinate about 4 years ago or maybe more.  In early spring, I cleared and disturbed that ground- and astonishingly, up they popped.  Nature waits sometimes.

Dripping ‘Ladybird’ poppy, Tostat, June 2018

New to me, and soaked but holding on, are Penstemon digitalis ‘Husker Red’ and Ceanothus x pallidus ‘Marie Simon’.  I had a go at growing the Penstemon from seed and drew a blank, so I bought a couple of good sized plants last autumn and divided them- thus making 6 smaller plants.  I had chosen them for their drought tolerance, so I think the wet is not their thing, and consequently, they look a bit weedy- but the sun has got to come out soon, hasn’t it?  Ceanothus x pallidus ‘Marie Simon’ appealed to me because it isn’t blue, but a lovely pale pink with very good green foliage and reddish stems- a feature it shares with the Penstemon.

Penstemon digitalis ‘Husker Red’ and Ceanothus x pallidus ‘Marie Simon’, Tostat, June 2018

In both Granada and here, Iris foetidissima is flowering.  Just the concurrence of that is a testament to the weirdness of the weather here in Southern Europe.  Of course, it is more sinister and this is about the growing effects of climate change.  Am I alone in worrying what we are leaving, it would appear, to our children to resolve when it is too late? Or can the human being generate world support for science and technology that can change things?  It worries me a lot.  Back in Southern Spain, I spent a week off-grid on an eco-farm that is single-handedly saving a small piece of the Alpujarras landscape.  It was both a very inspiring and sobering experience. Next post….

Iris foetidissima, Carmen de los Martires, Granada, June 2018

 

Kiftsgate Court Gardens…a delightful tapestry

The White Sunk Garden, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

It was a blazing hot afternoon when we visited Kiftsgate Court Garden, almost across the road from Hidcote.  So hot that an ambulance was called for one elderly visitor, and the tea room was full of hot, exhausted people.  The sun was so brilliant that it was almost impossible to photograph some areas of the garden!

Kiftsgate really plays a very different tune to Hidcote.  it is an almost phantasmagorical mixture of planting, sumptuous colours, not a spot of earth to be seen as the planting is so luxuriant, and roses that seem to be taking speed they are so large.  The exuberance of it comes as almost a visual shock after the care and restraint of Hidcote.  And Kiftsgate chances its arm with some wilder areas and two contemporary areas, for which it is to be commended.  A garden is nothing if not a growing, changing environment, and whilst historical preservation is needed at times, fossilisation is not the best course. Many of the roses date back to the original plantings made by Heather Muir when she started to create the garden in the ’20s- some of the pink roses were a delightful antique pink, quite different from the more sugary pinks that have been commonplace in rose development.

Beautiful unknown rose with giant blooms, and a lovely violet tinge, Kiftsgate Court Garden, June 2017

Rosa Himalyan Musk almost finished, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

Another unusual ruffled Rose, but unknown, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

Rosa Mundi, Kiftsgate, June 2017

Of course, there is the famous original Kiftsgate rose, splaying itself magnificently down a long Rose Border and lunging into any trees it can latch onto.  At 20 metres high and about 25 metres wide, this giant display hints at why I have to be so vigilant to reign it in in my garden!  Heather Muir bought this rose in the 1930s from the famous nurseryman, E.A. Bunyard as a Moschata, but Graham Stuart Thomas identified it as an exceptionally vigorous form of Rosa filipes in the late ’40s and the rose was then named after Kiftsgate Court.

Rosa ‘Kiftsgate’, Tostat, May 2017

The Yellow Border is a gorgeous blast of colour, using blue and orange to counterpoint the yellow.  Rosa ‘Graham Thomas’ was a repeating theme, spiked by fabulous deep azure delphiniums in the bright sunshine.

Rosa ‘Graham Thomas’ and those stunning delphiniums, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017 photo credit: Colin Massey

The New Water Garden was added by the grand-daughter of Heather Muir, Anne Chambers and her husband in the late 90s.  Making use of an ex-tennis court, they created a cool, modern dark pool, encircled by the existing mature yew hedge, and the sculptor Simon Allison designed a simple, but magical sculpture of copper philodendron leaves, which drips water atmospherically every few minutes. It was an especially powerful experience to sit quietly listening to the music of the water gently falling in the hot sunshine.

The New Water Garden, Kiftsgate, June 2017

The New water Garden, detail, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017 photo credit: Colin Massey

One of the surprises of Kiftsgate’s location is realising that you are at height above the Vale of Evesham as you descend the terraced hillside towards the Lower Garden. Heather Muir terraced the hillside with the help of Italian gardeners in the 30s, building her little summerhouse to her own design, and her daughter, Dianny Binny, created the semi-circular swimming pool, which adds such dramatic interest to the Lower Garden. The Lower Garden comes to an abrupt finish looking across a view which creates a tremendous false perspective as the ha-ha leads the eye to believe that you are at height. But when you look over the ha-ha, you can see that you are only about a metre above the ground.  Brilliant landscaping.

The ha-ha, false perspective and semi-circular swimming pool at the edge of the Lower Garden, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

I think that there is only one false note in the whole glorious thing.  And that is the newest ingredient in the Garden, the Mound.  A young, but will-be-magnificent avenue of tulip trees leads to an impressive, elegant sculpture by Pete Moorhouse, using a leaf design and Islamic lettering to create a filigree effect.  Lovely.  But not lovely was the Mound itself, with a lumpy chevron pattern in coloured gravel and four potted olive trees.  A bit like an aircraft landing site to my mind.

The Mound..mmm…Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

Detail of the Pete Moorhouse sculpture, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017 photo credit: Colin Massey

View through the Orchard, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

The Wild Garden, Kiftsgate Court, June 2017

But, stay with the mood of the sculpture, and follow the path into the wild Garden and the Orchard, two more newer additions, and very peaceful and restful indeed.  I loved Kiftsgate with a real warmth, not least because it is a garden made by three generations of women, but also because it has been made with such warmth and abundance, and care.  And you can feel that in the mood and the spirit of the place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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