Service interruption…

I am interrupting my three-part Paris blog to post to you about what is surviving in the garden, and even looking good, despite the fact that we have had no rain for what seems like weeks.  It was a dry Spring once we got past the soaking of February, and that theme has continued.  Fortunately we have only had a few really warm or hot days, but even so, the accumulated effect is of deeply dried-out soil conditions.  Our neighbour, Odette, describes this as ‘a year of nothing’ as her superb vegetable garden buckles under the dryness.

I have, yesterday, resorted to the hosepipe, which I never otherwise use, for two newly planted areas.  Desperate times.

So what is surviving?  This Caryopteris clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ seems to be supremely tough.  Last year, the first year in the ground, it hung on through thick and thin, and it is powering over the conditions.  However, Leucanthemum ‘Banana Cream’, just peeping out bottom right, has mostly been terminated by the massive slug population.

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Caryopteris clandonensis ‘Hint of Gold’ with some returning Leucanthemum ‘Banana Cream’, Tostat, June 2016
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Geranium himalyense ‘Birch Double’, Tostat, June 2016

This little geranium, Geranium himalyense ‘Birch Double’ was mostly wiped out by the dryness last summer, but look, one small plant is holding on.  Possibly I did over-reach myself with planting it where I did, but well, sometimes it works.

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Lychnis coronaria ‘Gardeners World’, Tostat, June 2016

I love Lychnis, but it is a terrible pest in the self-seeding department.  However, here is Lychnis coronaria ‘Gardeners World’ which is sterile, therefore has no seed and the same gorgeous magenta flowers, but double.  I suspect that the plants are a little less robust than their more normal cousins, for whom the phrase ‘tough as old boots’ doesn’t even come close, but next year will tell.

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Sanguisorba ‘Cangshan Cranberry’, Tostat, June 2016

This lovely Sanguisorba ‘Cangshan Cranberry’ is really worth buying beyond the lovely name.  In it’s third year with me, and now a stately clump, it measures 1.5m across and 1.5m tall, growing in the slightly moister conditions near the banana.  This year, and I suspect that this is a sign of some stress, it has developed the slightly odd-looking albino striping on some of the flowers, but the foliage is doing fine for the moment.

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Monarda fistulosa, Tostat, June 2016

This plant is doing fabulously.  Introducing Monarda fistulosa, which I started off from seed last year.  Monarda has always rotted with me, too much heat and too dry, but this American native came highly recommended for a greater tolerance of drier conditions and resistance to mildew, thanks to Seedaholic. I am expecting those shaggy mophead whorls of flowers in lilac any time soon, but I am already saluting it’s general fitness.  Another survivor, as a very young plant, of our murderous housesitter, it has come back fighting with fresh, green foliage and will be a good-egg plant. I am looking forward to the flowers.

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Flowering spike of Salvia spathacea, Tostat, June 2016

This gorgeous thing has been a complete surprise.  Currently standing at about 1.5m high, this huge flowering spike is the first time my plants have flowered.  I tried this from seed about 3 years ago, tempted as I was by Annie’s Annuals’ account of scarcity in it’s native California.  It’s a very smelly Salvia spathacea, or Hummingbird Salvia.  Huge, felted leaves carry that strong (unmistakeable even to my nose) smell.  And that was all it was doing until last week.  As you can see, the spike is six layers of flowers, and so they come out slowly at different levels.  What a thing.

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Abutilon under stress, Tostat, June 2016

But mostly everything  else is trying to lie low, hoping for rain.   This abutilon has folded its leaves flat against itself in an attempt to reduce transpiration.  So, I am about to get the jungle drums out and am scanning the weather forecast.  No hope yet.

 

A death to report….and a small cheery thing

Fremontodendron californicum May 2015
Fremontodendron californicum in flower, Tostat, May 2015

I am really gutted.  I had grown this Fremontodendron californicum from a tiny 0.25m stripling to such a big tree, which was a bit of a shock so we had to lop it back a few years ago.  It was one of the first plants I  bought when we moved here eleven years ago, and it was a Spring show-stopper, absolutely covered in these vibrant, custard yellow, waxy flowers in Spring.  It was in a hot, south-facing position, and although it was never that fond of a wet Spring, it had always come back fighting.  Not this year.  It is definitively dead, and we will need to chop it down as it is the height of the house, say 7m.  Las Pilitas, the nursery in California on the link above, hints at sudden death syndrome in garden conditions, but my stony, poor soil should have been ok for it.  Who knows, and as with small babies, you have to learn that things happen and knowing the reason why is actually of no help at all.

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Dahlia imperialis photo credit: strangewonderfulthings.com

So, although I will have to try a bit of a bodge to beef up the soil situation, I am tempted to try out one of my wilder purchases in the Fremontodendron’s place.  On a whim, I bought a tree dahlia, Dahlia imperialis, on ebay last summer, and I have been nursing it through the winter with leaves on in our cold hallway near the back door.  It is only a sproglet, but look at what Louis the Plant Geek has managed to do with his.  I love his blog.  It manages to combine botanical accuracy and scientific advice with a loopy sense of humour and trenchant words on occasion.   So, that is my current plan, to be executed in May when I can really 100% confident of no frost, and once we have committed the dead thing to the wood heap.

On the plus side,  all my seedlings of Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Xanthos’ are up and away, on the sunny window ledge of our sitting room.  I have been rubbish with annuals in the past, but this time, eating humble pie, and instead of winging it, actually reading and using the excellent detailed instructions from one of my favourite seed sites, Seedaholic, I have had success.  ‘Nuff said.

Not an impatient project…

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Looking west over the first new planting area, Tostat, March 2016

This new project is, unusually for me, not the product of impatience.  I am creating a sweeping extension to the gravel area which will swoop round in to an existing path and then back out again to make a matching peninsular, around the olive tree, to link up with the original peninsular that I dug out four years ago. Sounds complicated? Never mind.  It’s the planting that’s the thing, and, truthfully, I have never drawn a single plan for my own garden, using instead the trusty hosepipe method and my eyes- and a lot of walking around, scratching the chin.

I had planned to do this maybe last year, but our huge summer fete kicked that into touch as I realised I needed all the grass space for tables and dancing.  But last year, I did start off a lot of seed.  So, outside, braving the wind and rain are some things that replace dwindling stocks, and others that are new to me, such as Patrinia scabiosifolia, Agastache ‘Tango’, Monarda fistula and Eriogonum grande var. Rubescens.  And, as a group of friends clubbed together to give me a plant fund, I lashed out at our local, and very good, nursery, Bernard Lacrouts at Sanous, and bought some good looking plants last autumn.

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Practicality in the garden, Tostat, March 2016

And now you can see where idealism meets practicality.  Clearly to be seen on the other side from the first photo, is our winter washing drier.  It is there because that spot gets the most sunshine in the winter, almost 6 hours if you are lucky, and so, actually, it will stay. Shock, horror, how can this be?  Well, drying clothes is a vital winter activity, and also when we are out in the garden least. So, it does make sense to leave the drier there, and then when the summer washing lines are back in action in another part of the garden, I can close up the winter drier and maybe even lift it out of it’s socket altogether.

The new area gives me some new extensions of planting conditions too.  It will have a bone dry, stony, very free draining, full sun patch near where the olive tree  is.  There will also be a heavier soil area, with more water retention and some dappled shade from the cherry tree, and quite a bit that will offer more gentle conditions that bridge the very dry and the heavier soil.  So this gives lots of room for variable planting.

So, for the bone dry, stony area, I am planning a sweep of Perovskia atriplicifola ‘Lacey Blue’ which I bought as small plants last autumn.   This is new to me, a compact form of Russian lavender, with a long flowering season and good grey-green foliage.  Together with this, I am going to try some Anchusa italica ‘Dropmore’, which I bought as seed from the totally excellent Seedaholic site.   Anchusa likes Mediterranean conditions so this should work well, and I have six good looking small plantlets grown from seed last summer waiting in the open barn.  The deeper blue of the Anchusa should really spice up the lavender blue of the Perovskia.

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Perovskia atriplicifolia ‘Lacey Blue’, Tostat, September 2015

And then, because I love yellow and blue together, I might mix in some Coreopsis ‘Crème Brûlée’, also bought as a small plant last autumn, now much bigger, so I can split it and have two for the price of one. The Coreopsis will want to be in a slightly moister place than the Perovskia and the Anchusa, so can come further over towards the cherry tree but still in full sun.

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Coreopsis ‘Crème Brûlée’, Tostat, September 2015

And last autumn, I was beguiled by the dusky charms of Salvia x jamensis ‘Nachtvlinder’.  This tough, bushy Salvia will love being planted at the hot edge of the gravel area, and, with it’s dark purple/blue flowers and bright green, glossy foliage, it will enjoy the dry, hot conditions.

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Salvia x jamensis ‘Nachtvlinder’, Tostat, September 2015

And to weave in and out, while my small plants are bulking up, I am going to plant some  drifts of Liatris spicata.  I have this liatris elsewhere in the garden, and I love the feathery foliage and loobrush shaped flowers.  It is a very tolerant plant, growing from walnut-sized bulbs in a matter of weeks.  I wouldn’t ever bother buying it as a potted plant.  The bulbs are really cheap, and they come through to flowering in a season, and will last for several years, but probably not for ever.  I got 120 bulbs from Lidl for less than 3 euros, so even if some are duffers,  there will still be plenty to plant.  Here it is, in the gravel area in 2013.

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Liatris spicata, Tostat, July 2013

It is also pretty gorgeous in white, too.  Now, I just have to wait for the very cold rain and wind to stop, so that I can get planting.  Now, this is where impatience does come into it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seedaholic? Who, moi?

This is one of the times of the year when I experience a terrible yearning to be growing something new.  I suppose it’s the New Year talking to me, and usually, I have seed ready to go which I have bought earlier and kept, probably because it was recommended to sow it in the Spring more insistently than usual.  Last year was a bit of a horror story seed-wise. The weather was way too hot for too long, and despite copious watering and care, most seeds just don’t want to perform in those conditions.  So, returns were pretty poor. I had boasted in an earlier blog of how easy it was to grow Echinacea ‘White Swan’ from seed. Well, it is normally, if that’s a word that can be used anymore about weather.

Last year, I ate my hat time and time again.  And then again, we had a housesitter with clearly homicidal tendencies as far as seedlings go, who strenuously did not water them, maybe even at all for five weeks.   I was the one doing the Jack Nicholson ‘Here’s Johnny’ impression when I got home.

But, despite all that, and I am taking a risk here, it being only the second week in January, I think some toughies have pulled through.  I have tried once before to grow ‘Patrinia scabiosifolia’ from seed and come a cropper.  Out there, right now, are some pretty promising and doughty looking small plants with good root systems.   Patrinia is a veiling kind of tall, willowy perennial, yellow and see-through, both admirable qualities in my book.  So, I am hoping I will have a good clump of them in the new bit of the garden I am planning. It will be a rounded extension of an existing planting area which will link up with a curvy bed from the other side of the garden, making a narrowish passage way between the two.  So, more opportunity to dig up a bit more of the ho-ho lawn and plant it up, care of a plant fund set up by lovely friends who visited last summer.   So, this is not my photograph, but the photograph from ‘Special Plants’, where I bought the seed last year.

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Patrinia scabiosifolia from Special Plants credit: http://www.specialplants.net

I also love ‘Morina longifolia’ and had a good clump that just fizzled after a few years after some wet springs.  I love its candy-ice whorled flowers and the eryngium like, thistle-imitation base of spikey leaves.  Morina longifolia will take it really hard, and so this time, with 7 or 8 good looking babies in pots, I will put it in a tougher spot and see if that helps it get through periods of rain.

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Morina longifolia from Special Plants credit: http://www.specialplants.net

And I am really thrilled to say that I have managed not to kill something I have read about, and really wanted to have a go at, ‘Erogonium grande var.rubescens’.  This is a form of red buckwheat which Annie’s Annuals in Richmond, California raves about as ‘goof-proof’ and ‘deer-proof’. I don’t have a deer problem but goof-proof sounds good to me.  I have no real idea how it will do here, but it clearly likes sun and dry, so that’s good for some bits of the garden, and if it’s survival skills through this past six months are anything to go by, it will be just fine.  The baby plants look very happy and, are indeed, evergreen, another plus.

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Eriogonum grande var. rubescens from Annie’s Annuals credit: http://www.anniesannuals.com

But, as I rummage through my seed store from the fridge, I also realise that my seedaholic tendencies are in danger of running away with themselves.  There are packets and packets and packets of seed, and, yes, this week I ordered more from one of my most favourite seedsites, aptly called Seedaholic.  Go to their site, and be amazed by the generosity of their information about the seeds and their cultivation, not to mention very reasonable prices.  But just before I close, this is one of my purchases from Seedaholic only this week, a new Cosmos, ‘Cosmos bipinnatus Xanthos’.  Cosmos is another plants that everyone, bar me, grows from seed.  So, I am hoping this lovely cream-coloured one will break my curse.

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Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Xanthos’ from Seedaholic credit: http://www.seedaholic.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In praise of the Hardy Plant Society…

This January I joined the Hardy Plant Society. Really quickly, they sent me a couple of journals and special issues magazines, and then, about a month later, I received packets of seed through the post with a very kind note saying that as I joined at the beginning of the year, I had missed the seed catalogue, and so they had made a selection for me and were enclosing them. I was really surprised and very delighted.

I had decided to join pretty much once I had made my mind up that I was not going to let the automatic renewal for the RHS go through again in the summer. To be honest, although I am sure the readership is immensely complex to serve, I find the magazine irritating and oldfashioned, and as I am here and not in the UK, the other obvious ‘gardens open’ opportunities don’t really work for me. And the HPS is a very modest £17- so there’s more dosh to put towards plants!  So, this year, my Seed Central is half filled with the HPS seeds that they sent me.

Seed Central, Tostat, May 2015
Seed Central, Tostat, May 2015

Seed Central is located in our open barn, along with the cars, the gubbins for the swimming pool, and masses of junk. It is open at one end so sometimes the seedlings do a lot of leaning, but it is a good place, cool, gets the sun in the morning, and the only downside is that if we have a West wind, it tends to whistle through the door from the back garden over the seed trays. So, you need to pick calm days for seed sowing.

An old shutter tastefully mounted on concrete blocks holds the seedlings to the right, and an nearly-dead table was revived to form the seed germination side to the left. So, though it might not meet the most exacting requirements, it works fine for me.  So, front right, you can see Lychnis chalcedonica ‘Salmonea’ or Salmonella, as the great Bob Brown (good piece by Sarah Raven introducing him) of Cotswold Garden Flowers calls it. I haven’t grown this before, and it is a risk as it is clearly salmon-y ( not always my favourite) but HPS sent me the seed and so I am trying it.  Here is a photo from HPS of this Lychnis.

Lychnis chalcedonica 'Salmonea' credit: www.hardy-plant.org.uk
Lychnis chalcedonica ‘Salmonea’
credit: http://www.hardy-plant.org.uk

It is salmon-y but not too much and sounds like a ‘doer’ as long as butchered.

Further in, front right, are the fingery seedlings of Calandrinia umbellata ‘Ruby Tuesday’, a Californian purslane, that I am trying. I saw a calandrinia on Annies’s Annuals a while back, and then found this variety available as seed, and it has all germinated and made good happy plantlets. It is a small, romping groundcover for hot, dry spots, and is usually treated as an annual because it may not make it through a damp winter, but I have so many that I will try it outside and also keep a few in pots indoors. it looks fabulous, tough and shocking pink…The link above takes you to Chiltern Seeds, where I bought mine, a great seed catalogue and a splendid winter read. Here is how I hope it will look…

Calandrinia umbellata 'Ruby Tuesday' credit: www.chilternseeds.co.uk
Calandrinia umbellata ‘Ruby Tuesday’
credit: http://www.chilternseeds.co.uk

And what you can’t see, because they are tiny, are nearly 80 seedlings of Panicum virgatum ‘Emerald Chief’. Great success to have succesfully got 80 thus far, but that success masks a not-so-good picture.  I am growing them because I ripped out a long lavender hedge, yes, I know, it was lovely but I had failed to prune it properly and it was in a sorry state. So, I will have a modernist tall standing row of Panicum, which I can’t possibly mess up, instead of my lavender. Cruel, but practical.  And I think it will look great, if no scent. Great seed once again from Seedaholic.

Panicum virgatum 'Emerald Chief' credit:  www.seedaholic.com
Panicum virgatum ‘Emerald Chief’
credit: http://www.seedaholic.com