July in Oloron

Leonotis leonorus, or maybe not, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2023

What a surreal summer we are having here in our corner of the South West of France. Last year, the big heat had arrived by now, and we were dicing with average temperatures in the late 30s daily, lasting until nearly the end of September. This year, we have barely got out of the 20s, and have had so much rain that watering the courtyard pots has been an occasional activity rather than a bluelight daily, or twice daily, experience. For me personally, although the grey skies have been more than a little Scottish in feel, I have enjoyed sleeping properly this summer, but the volatility has been difficult for the plants- very heavy stormy rain, sometimes quite low temperatures, and only occasional sun, has left them stopping and starting.

So there are only slim pickings out there- and mountains of Olympian bindweed to carry out occasional purges on. So far, no tiger mosquitoes, but plenty of other pesky biters. I get bitten endlessly, Andy doesn’t. It’s a big bone of contention.

The best thing this week in the garden? The flowering of my mystery Leonotis. I have no memory of buying this plant. I do remember a pot with something in it that I held onto in Tostat for three years or so, and then, bam, it flowered one summer after being virtually consigned to the bin, and spending all winter outside. It is undoubtedly a Leonotis, but it defies all the rules. It has made a straggly bush of itself, with woody stems, it lives in a pot and it is still outside all year. But I look forward to the sheer guts and vibrancy of it every year. The flowers open like tiny jewels set in a crown and then flare outwards- it’s a wonderful thing. I notice that a few years back, I wondered if this plant is in fact Leonotis nepetifolia, mainly because it’s compact, bushy and woody, unlike the classic Leonorus. But I can’t be sure…

Salvia cacaliifolia, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2023
Salvia cacaliifolia, back in Tostat, September 2019

I thought that Salvia cacaliifolia was a goner. I had left it out, by mistake, over the winter and there was nothing there but dry sticks in the Spring. I even went back to the wonderful nursery not far from us in Tostat in April to see if the amazing Bernard Lacrouts had another plant, but he didn’t. Eight weeks later, a few leaves poked up from the soil. And today, the first flower sprig has broken through. The leaves don’t look as good as normal, a washed out green, rather than the glossy vibrant green of a usual summer, but both plants are alive. It is a lovely Salvia, it will almost twine if you can find a way to do that, next year, I will have a proper go at encouraging that. For now, I am just glad that I didn’t kill it. The blue is a gentian blue, that is stunning when the flower spike opens properly.

Salvia chameleagnea, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2023

And another strangely behaving Salvia. This dry garden Salvia chameleagnea is not enjoying the weather. It has angular, almost spiky leaves with a good, thick cuticle, and flowers very occasionally for me, always at the end of a sprig. It has pale white flowers with a blue lip, hardly blue at all this year. The perfume from the leaves though is very pungent, and is reminiscent of a dry pine forest, a very health giving smell. I love it for the smell alone.

Another plant not doing quite so well in these wet conditions, but still smelling amazing is the tiny but powerful Pelargonium abrotanifolium. I cannot now remember where I got this plant, but it is really worth having, for the powerful smell from brushing against the tiny, divided leaves, which brings to mind a dry Provençal garrigue, and for the minute white flower with a purple throat. The flowers are little fingernail sized, but who needs big? It goes woody as it ages, but has a lovely open structure to it, I just snip bits off that look like they have had it. It’s kind of like a summer flowering, smelly Erodium, and such a good plant.

Pelargonium abrotanifolium, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2023

Comebacks and juniors….

Disporum longistylum ‘Night Heron’, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

This is such a strange and fabulous plant. Disporum longistylum ‘Night Heron’ was collected by the great plantsman, Dan Hinkley, in China in 1996. So recently discovered! I discovered it from an online catalogue, not quite the same thing as China, and then very nearly lost it last year in the great heat, despite the shade. So it has lost a year of real growth. But, now in a pot, taking shade from the gingers in the summer and getting regular watering, it has flowered for the first time. It is bamboo like in the sense that single stems rise up from the ground, but the flowers are unlike anything else, very muted, elegant and draping beautifully. I wondered about the name ‘Night Heron’, but this photograph kind of explains it, as a wide, dark wingspan is formed by the leaves. I am so looking forward to it really settling in.

Disporum longistylum ‘Green Giant’, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

This is the big cousin of ‘Night Heron’. ‘Green Giant’ is a much beefier plant, and if anything, the flowers drape even more from the firm stems. ‘Green Giant’ took the heat a little better, but had to be moved all the same. Both patients are doing well.

Cestrum elegans, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

Poor old Cestrum elegans has had a rough time of it. The drought last summer and the heat put it under a lot of strain and it attracted cestrum-eating predators and, for a while, it was just leafless stalks. I thought about lifting it, but then decided to see what would happen as the heat decreased. It enjoyed winter, though it was a fairly dry one, but maybe the stress it was under set up this plethora of small flowers, which have covered the stems. I gave it a clipping to take out the dead wood, and once it has flowered, I will try pruning it back to a good re-starter shape. It would be nice to see it back in 2019 shape, fingers crossed.

Cestrum elegans, Tostat, January 2019

When you plant in difficult conditions, you have to allow for slow growth and time for a root structure to form that will support the plant in those conditions. So, for the ‘garrigue’ garden at the front, I now count two years at least before a plant really looks ready to take off. ‘Juniperina’ is reckoned to be the hardiest of the Grevilleas, but even so, these plants have needed all the time to settle in. It’s the same pink-red tone as the Cestrum, but the intricacy of the flower structure is enchanting, I think. Over 15 years in Tostat, my Grevilleas grew to 3-4m high and wide, so I am really hoping for that effect in the future. By contrast, another Australian plant that I love, Callistemon’Widdecombe Gem’ is still looking moody, I hope for the best.

Grevillea juniperina, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

I couldn’t remember when I bought the seed for these Kniphofia rooferi, so I trawled back through my emails to find out. Back in the auumn of 2021 I bought and sowed the seed, so here we are, nearly 2 years later, and six junior plants are installed in a pot, looking young but ready. I am looking forward to the day when these juniors have made big clumps that I can dot about in the Barn Garden for splashes of red. Another gardening task that requires patience and time.

Paulownia tomentosa, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

By contrast, Paulownia tomentosa will become a 30m tree if you let it. I grew two of these from seed that a friend gave me, and this is their 2nd year of being chopped almost to the ground late autumn/early winter. Last year they grew back to over 3m, so I am guessing they will be looking over the garden wall this year, with massive plate-shaped leaves. Ok, no pretty purple flowers grown this way, but the leaves are very dramatic and utterly unstoppable. The latter is true, because the giant stems that we cut down and are now using to protect the potato plants from the cats, are actually budding! Given half a chance, we would have a Paulownia forest if we upended the sticks and stuck them in soil. Kind of sc-fi-ish really.

Scilla peruviana, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

A Tostat friend gave me 6 small bulbs of Scilla peruviana, which I planted out in the dry ‘garrigue’ garden in early Spring. Only one has flowered so far, and it is a starter flower, so quite modest. I think that they will like it there, so a shot of blue would be lovely next year.

Rosa chinenesis ‘Mutabilis’, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023
‘Mutabilis’ at home in the ‘garrigue’ garden, Oloron Sainte Marie, April 2023

Rosa chinensis ‘Mutabilis’ has become Rosa x odorata ‘Mutabilis’ in the UK. It is a fabulous rose, tough, undemanding and flowers for months on end, with the beautiful colour changes it is famous for. It can be a bit of a toughie, so this plant, only 2 years old, has been given a bit of a perch to sit on in the ‘garrigue’ garden, which also means we can see it a bit better from up the hill. And look how well the Achillea crithmifolia has worked as a ground cover underneath it, it has taken a year or so but has really done the job, and I like the feathery foliage and the small cream flowers as a bonus.

Salvia cacaliifolia, Tostat, June 2019

Thought I had lost this fabulous blue Salvia cacaliifolia. I bought it several years ago from the best nursery in SWest France in my humble opinion. Bernard Lacrouts is not only an expert plantsman but a very helpful source of advice and counsel, and his nursery is always worth a visit. I was there last week hoping to find another plant of this Salvia, but he has stopped growing it commercially, so instead I bought some other Salvias, of which more later. But, two days later, with some of our first warm sunshine this month, I could see it re-growing in the 2 pots I had been about to replant. Phew! It is an unusual Salvia, the gentian-blue flowers are gorgeous, but so is the almost twining foliage, which you could probably persuade to climb a little with some support. I will do that.

Jazz hands in the garden…

Phygelius aequalis ‘Yellow Trumpet’ with the pink Scabiosa columbaria peeping through, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

Cuttings from one garden to another is such a good and friendly way to build a garden. Here, in Oloron, I have a lovely neighbour with whom I am sharing cuttings and offshoots, and I am really enjoying her choice of plants, quite a few of whom, like Melianthus major, I failed with in Tostat as winters were sometimes both too cold and too damp.

Phygelius aequalis ‘Yellow Trumpet’ was both a seed grown plant and a cutting from me to me. I love the robustness of this plant, glossy bright green foliage whatever the conditions and these elegant cool yellow trumpets that go on for months. It is really pretty and bombproof. As it gets more substantial and clumps, it will make an almost shrub-like presence and it may well spread through running roots if it really likes you. No problem I reckon, just more plant material for friendly sharing and swapping.

Another gift to myself were some small cuttings of Monarda fistulosa. This is the only Monarda I can grow that doesn’t succumb to any mildew at all. With us, even ‘Gardenview Scarlet’ reputed to be mildew-free, is just as riddled with mildew, and this opinion comes from Bernard Lacrouts, the best plant nurseryman for miles around. I love this plant and it seems to be really enjoying the slightly shaded position, out of the hot afternoon sun, here in Oloron. Easy as pie from seed.

Monarda fistulosa, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

Fancy another tall, floriferous and elegant plant that flowers like a train in July and August? I give you Alcathaea x suffrutescens ‘Parkrondell’. I took my cuttings from a village planting last summer, and now my cuttings are taller than me, and bushing out really well, and will next year be a beefy but elegant shrub. This plant is not well known at all, and it should be. Easy, undemanding, hardy and tolerating even dry conditions, it brings a ruffled elegance to the garden. I had hoped I had taken cuttings of the sister, ‘Parkfrieden’, which has cream and very pale pink flowers, but I will have to wait and see what happens with the other two plants to be sure. There is a third sister plant, ‘Parkallee’ which is entirely cream coloured. There is a bit of the hollyhock about them, but they absolutely merit being better known and grown more.

Alcathaea suffrutescens ‘Parkrondell’, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

Rosa ‘Woollerton Old Hall’ was a rose I gave to a good friend, who did the perfect friend-thing and grew a cutting on for me as a present for my birthday last year. I was really touched by that, and so the rose has a good position in the new barn garden, and with a slightly shaky start, has really picked up and got going. This rose has all the full beauty of an old rose, but with a slightly open centre, so that it does work for pollinators even though the flowers qre loosely double. The scent, and ok, I am not the best nose on the planet, has a warm clove type body to it, almost savoury rather than sweet, and very unusual- not ‘rosy’ in tone. The cream and butter colouring is lovely, almost apricot towards the centre. A treat.

Rosa ‘Woollerton Old Hall’, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

And now to some survivors of the winter and being largely abandoned in their pots…Pelargonium sidoides is a fighter of a plant, albeit on the tiny side. It has come back from being reduced to tiny sprigs by the end of winter, and is flowering hard. The flowers are strange. They are definitely pink- no two ways about it. But they should be a very dark maroon, almost black. What’s going on? In every other respect, it is sidoides….not just the fact that the seed came from a reputable source, but the foliage is dead right. Ah well.

Pelargonium sidoides, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021…..and curly foliage below….
Salvia cacaliifolia, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

Salvia cacaliifolia is a stunner. Not only do you get spires and spires of gentian-blue flowers, but the triangular shaped leaves twine and curl, and if you wish, with a few bits of twiggy support, you almost have a climbing salvia on your hands. It does need winter protection, mea culpa there, but this need only be a roofed over area or a cold frame as it doesn’t need warmth as much as dry conditions. Cuttings are easy in the autumn from sideshoots, and I would have lost mine altogether if I hadn’t at least taken a cutting.

And for a strong whiff of a Moroccan desert in full sun, try the tiny but indomitable Pelargonium abrotanifolium, which is a bit of a mouthful and not the easiest name to remember. Again, dry cover in the winter is needed, but brush against these delicate, filigree leaves in the palest green, and the scent is released. It’s like a fix for the holiday you haven’t had. On top, these tiny, but memorable flowers with dark purple throats appear all summer. Could be grown anywhere in a pot as long as it has full sun, as it doesn’t grow big. Doesn’t want to be swamped by big-boy plants I reckon- another good reason for a pot.

Pelargonium abrotanifolium, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

Talk about jazz hands… the Cardinal Vine has both fabulous foliage and glowing red hot flowers which flower non stop for one day only. What a show. Full sun, some moisture and a little bit of feeding to keep it powered up. I bought this in Oloron market and have twined it through a pair of metal Moroccan window shades which the previous owner kindly left us. Just for a bit of drama, you know.

Ipomoea guamoclit or Cardinal Vine, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2021

And now it’s early June…

Gertrud’s Penstemon, such a good plant, Tostat, June 2020

Where has this year gone? I cannot believe the evidence of my own eyes as I look round the garden and see that early summer arrived about 2 weeks ago. Most of the once-blooming roses are over and done with, and spring flowerers of all kinds were beaten by the last 2 weeks of 30C and no rain. But a plant that has just adored it, is my unknown Penstemon, bought 2 years ago at the lovely Jardin d’Antin, where Gertrud has a very good eye for a plant.

Isoplexis canariensis, the Lazarus of the garden, Tostat, June 2020

Years ago, I grew Isoplexis canariensis from seed and had two big pots blooming magnificently. I left them out over the winter once, bad mistake. But incredibly, last year, three small plants re-emerged from death and this year, with a guarantee of good behaviour from me, they are back. I had them kept dry but with protection in the open barn last winter, and they really liked that. Masses of water and some feed to kickstart them and they have flowered 2 months earlier than they used to. I adore the colour, and the glossy evergreen leaves are a great foil to the orange-rusty flowers.

Libertia ixioides ‘Goldfinger’, Tostat, June 2020

This is a really lovely Libertia. These plants have had a slightly chequered history with me, as I grew them successfully from seed and then planted them out in an area that was a bit too tough for them. So, out they came and went into the Mix, the massed perennial planting under the cherry tree. This slim Libertia is not a fastgrower, but it is especially good in the winter, when the orange stripes on the leaves really glow. But this is the first time they flowered, with a sprinkling of these charming white flowers- which, when woven in amongst the other perennials, charmingly catch the eye.

Nigella papilosa ‘African Bride’, Tostat, June 2020

I am a grumpy annuals grower- they aren’t really my thing, but I grew some of this Nigella that we were going to give away as ‘freebie pollinator’ plants at our Tostatenfleur event in April- but it didn’t happen because of covid-19. However, I have loved this slightly different Nigella for the drama of the petals and stamens combo. And in early morning sunshine, the stamens have a ruby glow to them. I am saving the seed for sure…

Oenethora speciosa, Tostat, June 2020

Some people hate this evening primrose, Oenethora speciosa, but the trick is to plant it in rubbish soil and full sun. Any conditions more luxurious will ensure you have a massive growth and it will run and run. And even with rubbish soil, be prepared to yank masses out. Having said that, in low light, the gorgeous shell-pink flowers, of which there hundreds every day, glow. I have been known to be snobby about it, but actually, it is a good doer in controlled conditions.

Pelargonium ‘Ardens’, Tostat, June 2020

This species Pelargonium is a delight- deep red flowers with an enticing darker splash, and needs no special treatment other than a dry winter, protected from the cold, and then watering to wake it up in the spring once frost has finished.

Punica granatum ‘Mme Legrelliae’, Tostat, June 2020

This is a great flowering shrub, which deserves to be better known really. There is nothing quite like the frilly-hankerchief look of the coral and cream flowers. It’s a non-fruiting pomegranate, but is hardy down to -15C and is very happy in not particularly great soil that is free-draining. It won’t like water round the roots in winter. I wrote a post a couple of years ago about the naming and history of the plant, a fascinating story of important, but unknown horticultural women.

Rosa ‘Alissar, Princess of Phoenicia’, Tostat, June 2020

This rose, Rosa ‘Alissar, Princess of Phoenicia’, which I bought with my pal Jane at Chelsea from Harkness several years ago, is a Persian descendant, and is bred for heat tolerance. It grows pretty well in a slightly damper bit of the garden. I love the early apricot-pink colouring, just a bit disappointing that it fades to what I would call a dull brick colour- but never mind. The open, single structure makes it more useful for pollinators than many roses.

Rosa ‘Cuisse de Nymphe’, Tostat, June 2020

Here is a ready-made bouquet of Rosa ‘Great Maiden’s Blush’ or ‘Cuisse de Nymphe’ here in France. It smells lovely and blooms off and on in waves all summer.

Rosa ‘New Dawn’, Tostat, June 2020

I am very fond of Rosa ‘New Dawn’– it has that perfect shell-pink, with a lot of cream in it, a bit of an ice-queen really. But the slightly angular petals appeal to me and it lasts well, flowering for about a month in a lazy droop over the garden wall.

Rosa ‘Tuscany Superb’, Tostat, June 2020

Rosa ‘Tuscany Superb’ struggles a bit with me, a bit too dry and hot for it I think, but the colour is fabulous. This photograph does not do it justice- think the deepest, richest crimson velvet, and you are almost there.

Salvia cacaliifolia, Tostat, June 2020

And now for the Battle of the Blues- won only just by Salvia cacaliifolia. This is a tender salvia, with bright light green ivy-shaped leaves, which will just about twine upwards with a little support. I have it supported by a bit of redundant barbecue grill, not yet wind-tested as a support, but it is working for the moment. The blue is deep, and electric.

Salvia patens, Tostat, June 2020

Salvia patens is just a tad lighter in tone, but scores for really big flowers. Oddly it has the same ivy-shaped leaves as cacaliifolia, but has more of a darcyii look about it.

Rosa ‘Woollerton Old Hall’, Ludlow, June 2017

I saw this rose in Ludlow a couple of years ago, and just the year before, I bought it for a rose-loving friend in Tostat, who has just returned the favour beautifully by growing on and giving me a very good looking cutting. I missed the flowers of my new rose in the rain, so luckily had a photo from 2017. I am so looking forward to it. Thank you, H and M, very much.

Mists and heat…

This week has been the week of the ‘June canicule’- in other words, serious heat. We have been lucky, half of the hot days have started with misty, damp mornings and we have not gone over 40C. Today, Sunday, it will cool back to the late 20s, which will be perfect. The misty mornings have been a relief and are rather magical, giving the garden a bit of respite from the overpowering sun.

The front garden early in the morning, Tostat, June 2019

I love this dahlia- I only have two, but this is one of them, Dahlia ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’. The name is amazing, and so is the flower with furled dark blue/grey petals surrounding a brilliant golden centre. The first year, probably the bulbs were too tiny, produced nothing, but this year, the 3rd, the plant is getting into a swing with generous foliage and lots of buds. I didn’t take it in in the winter, I just left it in the pot and took my chances. Lucky me.

Dahlia ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’, Tostat, June 2019

Mist and dew on bronze fennel, Tostat, June 2019

The dew has been heavy and luxurious, almost like a small shower of rain. The bronze fennel catches the dew beautifully and shines with each droplet.

Cobweb on Echinops sphaerocephalus ‘Arctic Glow’, Tostat, June 2019

The dew and damp has brought out the summer spiders, creating their connections between plants, and draping some, like the Echinops sphaerocephalus ‘Arctic Glow’ above. This is a plant that pleases more by it’s vigour and form than by the often short-lived flowerheads, but the darkly outlined cut leaves are present for a long time and work like fake thistles in the garden.

Romneya coulteri, Tostat, June 2019

Romneya coulteri is a plant with a tremendous capacity for life- as long as you plant it where it wants to be- in full sun, poor soil and don’t even think about watering it. But if you move it, it will turn up it’s toes and die- best to buy a small plant, a baby, and then let it grow in situ. It will take a year or two to flower, but then you will have beautiful glaucous greeny-blue foliage and these colossal chiffon flowers like the best Spanish fried egg, crinkly and delicious. It is a bit of a thug, hence why people do try and move them, me included. What will happen if you are lucky is that a piece will stubbornly refuse to be dug up, and next year you can start again with a new baby plant sitting where it wants to be. Give it space, or pin it back with another tough shrub, and all will be well.

Salvia ‘Ton Ter Linden’, Tostat, June 2019

This is a really fabulous Salvia, ‘Ton Ter Linden’. It is a deep purply-red, not quite captured above, and has a drapey habit, so that it could almost be called a tumbling salvia. I picked it out at our local nursery, the wonderful Bernard Lacrouts, mainly for the habit and the deep, dark colour. It is a newish variety, bred in the Netherlands, and named for the famous artist and gardener, Ton Ter Linden. He led the way, along with Henk Gerritsen and Piet Oudolf, towards a more naturalistic style of perennial planting that is loosely called the Dutch New Wave. Another garden on the list….

Sanguisorba ‘Cangshan Cranberry’, Tostat, June 2019

In the same colour band is my almost favourite Sanguisorba, ‘Cangshan Cranberry’– and the moment when the flowerheads fill up with colour is one of my most anticipated summer moments. I don’t have it in the best place, as the massive banana behind it decks it with water when we have heavy rain, but it is the only place where it will be happy- so there we are. At nearly 1.5m it is a tall plant, but wispy and wavy, and takes a few years to bulk up- but all worth the wait. Dan Hinkley found this plant in Yunnan, China in 1996. I am so glad that he did.

Telekia speciosa, Tostat, June 2019

I love this workhorse plant. Every summer, I feel bound to try and increase the fan club membership for Telekia speciosa, as it is such a good reliable plant, and virtually unknown next to the more famous contender in the big-yellow-daisy stakes, Inula magnifica.

Salvia cacaliifolia, Tostat, June 2019

Another new Salvia! Salvia cacaliifolia has charming, triangular-shaped leaves and the bluest of blue branching flower spikes- curiously, it has no Salvia smell about it either. New to me, so I can’t offer much in the way of experience, but I am really enjoying it. It likes a little shade, but other than that, is not demanding.

Cephalaria gigantea, which has been a lovely surprise this June, has found the last week too hard for it, so it is fading fast. Celebrate it with a last photograph after early morning spider activity.

Cephalaria gigantea in the heat and the mist, Tostat, June 2019

Another reason to be happy is another surprise development. A stunningly successful germination rate 3 years ago of Rudbeckia occidentalis ‘Green Wizard’ led to rather boastful behaviour on my part- and thence to the punishment of my hubris by the total failure of all the plants to re-appear in the Spring. Aha! Four small plants must have been hanging on in there, as this week up they popped. I am so pleased. My friend EBee will also be delighted. I adore the chocolate flower head and the golden ruff- magnificent, though not necessarily in a floral way.

Rudbeckia occidentalis ‘Green Wizard’, Tostat, June 2019
2 days later, with golden ruff, ‘Green Wizard’, Tostat, June 2019