More of the Same

I think that I was a bit unfair to our resident oaks in my last blog. They can indeed look a muddy yellow, but in certain lights they are very far from that, more golden or perhaps bronze, and certainly glistening. Here they provide a marvellous backdrop to what I hope in time will be a kaleidoscope of autumn colour, though at the moment only my two ornamental pears - Pyrus calleryana Chanticleer and Py. Call. Red Spire - are really making a serious contrbution. In years to come I hope that they will be joined by various ornamental cherries. These seem to have rather gone out of favour, and are fairly difficult to get hold of in France, which is a pity since they seem to grow well in our region. For the moment I will just mention one, Prunus x subhitella Autumnalis. I suppose it is the flowers, coming a they do when most flowers have packed up for the winter - mine is just beginning now, and I hope will continue on and off until April - that is its main feature. Still autumn colour is a definite bonus, and it grows fast. Another tree with significant flowers but also significant autumn colour, and it should be added attractive seed pods, are the Koelreuterias, both bipinnata integrifolia and the more common, panniculata, sometimes called the Golden rain tree on account of its yellow flowers in early summer.  Incidentally if you are driving through Simorre on the Lombez road just before the roundabout on which the post office is situated, you will see some very fine specimens, exceptionally tall for what is normally quite a small tree.

Planted below our large oaks is also a Liquidamber orientalis.  This I acquired at la Coursianna, where as I have mentioned before you will also discover a fine collection of the more common L. styracifolia, of which there are now many hybrids, for which see the Adeline catalogue where twenty one are mentioned.  L.orientalis is smaller, indeed it is sometimes described as a bush, but it is recognizably a liquidamber with the usual outstanding autumn tints, but its leaves when rubbed should smell strongly of balsam. I may have planted mine in the wrong place, that is to say on a dry south facing bank, when it is supposed to like damp conditions. But if you read the books this is apparently true of all Liquidambers, and yet they seem to flourish in our region, but then of course at certain periods, as now, we can get plenty of rain.

Of the shrubs one needs to mention most of the deciduous viburnhams, though in the case of V. burkwoodii and its hybrids, more usually semi-persistent.Last year I acquired V. burk. Mohawk, and am delighted with it; the usual smelly flowers in the spring, very red in bud, but with very good autumn tints, tints being the right word  because some leaves remain greenish.  More in your face is the colour of the Hydrangea quercifolias, of which there are now, like the Liquidambers, many hybrids. If you can cope with the almost bling-bling effect of their large white flower heads, they are good news as they cope better with our summers than the more usual 'mopheads'. Their autumn colour is a very rich burgundy. But if you can grow other hydrangeas look out for the H. serrata group, all of which tend to have good autumn colour.

With us some of the best autumn colour is provided by two roses. I grow more and more of Rosa morlettii,unlike most roses attractive almost all the year round, since its bare and almost thornless stems are a deep red. Its flowers are for my way of thinking good enough, if only once flowering, though over a longish period, but the autumn colour is very intense.  Rosa virginiana's colour is perhaps even more intense, though not as dark a red. It is a smaller bush than R. morlettiii, rarely more than a metre, but it clumps up well, and in addition to the autumn colour has very good berries. My intention is plant it all over the wolder parts of the garden. Incidentally both these roses are very easy to progate, either by cuttings in the late autumn, or in the case of virginiana just by chopping bits off. Of course the rugosas colour up well, but as I may have mentined before I find them surprisngly difficult to grow with often significant die back. he problem is that though they can cope well with poor conditions, they do not seem to like our heavy clay, this unlike most roses. 

Finally to return to the family with which I started, the oaks.  The real autumn stars, are what are called the Red Oaks, mainly coming from America. Adeline list over seventy, and many other French nurseries have a very fine collection of them, including Florama and La Preille. But for a very useful list see the otherwise rather uninformative catalogue of Pep. bot. Armoricaines. I cannot pretend to be an expert, and have not stayed in any one garden long enough to make a proper assessment. One of the most commonly available is Quercus palustris, or Chene de marais. This has attractive leaves even without autumn colour, but as the names suggest it has a preference for dampish conditions, as sadly do many of the red oaks. Probably this difficulty can be exaggerated.  My absolute favourite, Q. schumardii, looking at its best about now,apparently likes dampish conditions, but of course not too damp! It prefers acid soil, and therefore does not like calcaire, and one is advised to avoid heavy clay.  I am not sure that I can provide any of these conditions, but it seems to grow like a bomb. So as always the best advice is to suck it and see!                                 

Autumn Tints

I used to think that our autumns were a bit 'fade' as compared with those of other regions I know. For instance I started life in France in the Creuse. It is a very wooded area, with beech being the predominant tree, and famously the beech has marvellous autumn colour, as well as having the most delicate of greens in the Spring. The Creuse also has acid soil, which intensifies autumn colour, and what with a little bit more rain it is an area where many of the stars of Autumn colour  - Azaleas, Cornus, Hamamelis, but above all Acers - can flourish. Here our predominant oak goes a rather muddy yellow and this provides the backcloth for a rather more subdued display.

Nevertheless the more I see of our autumns the more I have come to like them.  We may lack the 'Gosh' factor, but the trouble with 'Gosh' is that it is all too quickly over. Here we have what might be called a 'slow burn', and there is a lot to be said for it.  Our stars would include the Field Acers (A.campestre) - usually a very bright yellow - the wild cornus (C.sanguinea) - a dark burgundy - and the Wayfaring tree (Viburnum lantana) - also a darkish red. Hawthorns are a bit iffy in this respect.  They can go quite a good colour, but a dry summer can make them go a little tatty too soon, though they do possess what is the other great autumn feature the bright berries. Having read about it in Pamela Harper's book I have acquired Crataegus viridis Winter King, which she thinks is unbeatable for berries, while Adeline from whom I acquired it, suggests that it has good autumn colour. Mine at this moment has got quite a few berries, but the tree, which I have planted in rather an exposed place, did not enjoythe summer drought, so is not looking quite as good as I had hoped. The same is true of Sorbus folgneri Lemon Drop, also acquired from Adeline (when funds were more plentiful!), but in theory it should have both berries - in this case yellow not red - and a 'très beau coloris' in the autumn.

Of the Crataegus family I would however recommend C. phaenopyrum, otherwise called the Washington Thorn. One of its qualities, which to my mind is a very important one, is that the change of colour happens over quite a long period, and is uneven, so that the reds mingle with the greens and yellows.  Famously this is true of Parrotia persica. I first fell in love with this tree when seen at Sissinghurst many years ago. I have had it in every garden that I have been associated with, and I have one here. But none of the my French ones have done particularly well, which is odd since none of the books suggest that it is a difficult tree, though it probably does prefer a dampish soil. This is even more true of one of the autumn, and indeed spring, stars, Cercidiphyllum japonicum, so if you can provide shelter from wind, as well as damp, this is a must. If you can  get to the Chateau de Rieucazé's garden, you will see a marvellous speciman of Cercidiphyllum jap: pendulum, a very smart tree indeed if you can find the right spot for it, that is to say dampish, and not too exposed, though with its weeping form it probably needs a formal setting.

If you like what might be called 'in your face' red the obvious choice for here is the Sumach family. It is in fact a large family which I probably should like more than I do. The red candles of the bog-standard S. glabra, rather put me off, and it also suckers  rather too much, but if you want bright autumn colour, and not unattractive leaves for spring and summer, look no further.  Almost as in your face, and for me a more interesting family are the many forms of Cotinus. In fact I seem only to have two, which is probably too few. I remain faithful to Cotinus Grace, but largely for nostalgic reasons. I first saw it some thirty years at Marwood Hill Gardens near Barnstaple, created by the late Dr Smart, and somehow it made a very big impression. Whether in the end it is much better than the readily available C. Royal Purple I rather doubt; the colour is perhaps a little more intense in spring and autmn, but less purple in high summer. I have also got a yellow leaved variety - perhaps C. Golden Spirit - but I have treated it badly and as a result it has not grown very much.  Incidentally C. obvatus is well worth thinking about.It has a tidier form than many of the others, though growing quite big, lots of the candy floss flowers characteristic of the family, less interesting leaf through most of the summer, but very good colour in the autumn.

Since I started ths blog, the autumn colours have really come on, and I would guess for my neck of the woods, at their best (18th Nov.) right now. The undoubted star is the Field acer. As mentioned above, its autumn colour is usually an intense yellow, but occasionally (I think) you come across one that goes red. I have put in the bracket because it is quite easy to mistake an Acer campestre for a Sorbus torminalis, or Wild Service tree, also to be found in our woods and hedgerows, but well worth putting in your garden. The leaf form is similar, i.e. palmate or maple like, but being a sorbus it has the bunches of white flowers, though the white is rather dinghy, followed by berries. It is perhaps not as reliable as regards its autmn colour, but the colour is red, and by and large red is what we miss here.  But Adeline list two Field maples with red autumn colour, A.camp: Postelense and A.Camp: Red Shine, and I have to say I am tempted.

Autumn colour is something that I am obsessed with, and will no doubt return to the subject many times. I have not for instance mentioned the Red Oaks, of which there are a great many, and most of which grow well here. But for the moment enough is enough. It only remains to enjoy the show.

Gaujacq - its Twentieth Anniversary

I was not there right at the start, but almost, since my first visit was in the October of 1991. In those days it only took place in the autumn. I think it was then,or perhaps it was the following year, that it poured with rain and the site became something of a mud bath which in some ways only added to the ambience, but apart from the fact that it now takes place in the Spring as well nothing very much has changed. I suspect that it still remains the most important plant fair in our region, though it has to be said that it is rather on the edge of it, since it is actually in the Landes (40), 18 km north of Orthez and 28 km south of Dax. Thus it is a long drive for me at any rate, but one that I have never regretted.  Its founder and current organiser is Jean Thoby, who set up his nursery there in 1985. Son of a famous nurseryman who specialized in camellias, he himelf seems to be passionate about most plants, though the passion tends to come in waves: hostas were one craze, clematis another. But my strongest memory of the garden, or as he calls it Le Planterium - in itself a curious mixture of French and English styles - are the Camellia sasanquas, which for the autumn fair are in full bloom, many of them with a strong and attractive scent.  For him they really flourish, not surprisingly given the family tradition - one thinks of the Williams family in Cornwall - but having been tempted by his, mine have never done particularly well, though not helped by the fact that I have moved about too often, so never really seen them develop. I guess that he probably has more rain than many of us, which must help, though the books say that they can take the sun, and like most camellias they can actually take quite a bit of frost, despite their exotic appearance. They also do not require quite such a acid soil, as for instance the rhododendrons do, so as with other camellias they must be worth a try, just as long as you can get some water to them in our many dry spells.

I am delighted to say that many of the exhibitors at Gaujacq go back as long ago as I do, and deaths have not been nearly so many as amongst the plants that I have bought there.  Many I consider almost as friends, and some of them have already been mentioned in these blogs. My absolute favourites remain Jean-François Giraud and his wife of Le Jardin de Rochvieille, and once again he persuaded me to add to my buddleja collection. In fact I bought two: B.longifolia and B.macrostachya. Both in theory flower throughout the summer, and certainly have a longer flowering season than the more common B. davidii, and as with all the species their foliage tends to be more interesting, in fact often most attractive.

Perhaps the most unusual plants, or rather plants, that I acquired came from Pep: Botaniques Armoricaines and Mr. Le Cam. Unlike Giraud, Le Cam cannot be said to come at you, and if he is aware of the fact that I have been buying his plants for nigh on twenty years he does not let on. But he has a very interesting selection. You might call him a 'poor man's Adeline'. Very few nurseries in the world can equal Adeline's list, and their catalogue, as I may have mentioned before, is well worth acquiring, but their prices are for the most part outside my range. Le Cam's are modest, and over the years I have bought some very good things from him. This year it was two Hollies, two because with hollies you need a male and female to get the berries, and without berries the ones I bought are not very interesting, in fact they do not really look very much like a holly, especially since they are deciduous. They are Ilex Sparkleberry, and the necessary male, Apollo.  You will find them in Hilliers, but it was my favourite garden writer Pamela Harper who put me on to them. Sparkleberry's alleged attraction  are its very prolific berries, that should last through the winter, and certainly in Harper's photos it looks terrific.  Its other attraction for me is the fact that it should cope well with our summers.  I have not had much luck with the European hollies, which  I much regret, since they possess a wonderful range of leaf colour.  I assume it is because for the most part my gardens have been too dry, though you do come across them in  our woods, though perhaps more often in woods nearer the mountains. Anyway I am hoping that I. Sparkleberry will fill the gap, at least as far as the berries are concerned.

My one criticism of Gaujacq is that as far as exhibitors are concerned it seems to be a rather exclusive club. I find that it is very strange that a nursery as important as La Roseraie du Desert with a collection of roses of  international importance is not invited to the feast. And why not Bernard Lacrouts  whom I have frequently mentioned in these blogs? He has got as good a list of vivaces as any, and apart from being extremely friendly he has got one of the best websites that I have come across - now incidentally www.unjardindevivaces.fr .  Still if there are any of you out there who have not been to Gaujacq do put it on your list. It is only twice a year - May and october - and it will give you great pleasure.

Postscript

On the 20/21st of September we had 21 mm of rain but since then nothing, so I am still pretty neurotic about the lack of water: in the last five months we have had 155 mm in lieu of the average 300 mm.  Still the days are shorter and not so hot, and most trees and shrubs will just go in to winter hibernation early if lack of rain remains, so should survive to fight another day. However looking round the garden following my last blog I have noticed survivors that I should have mentioned, most obviously the Fraxinus family.  We have not got any common or garden Ashes (F.excelsior), and I have always assumed this is because we are too dry, but that may be quite wrong. They are handsome enough trees, and grow quickly which can be an advantage. But it is a big family, and probably underused. I have sown with success Fraxinus ornus, the Manna Ash. It has quite spectacular flowers, rather similar to those of a sweet chestnut and at about the same time, i.e. early summer, but also quite smart leaves, which on my admittedly small plants have not wilted. I have also got Fraxinus bungeana and Fraxinus chinensis and am about to acquire Fraxinus sieboldiana, the latter with quite spectacular flowering, and all with promise of autumn tints.. The first two I have completely neglected, and they have received no watering, despite which they seem as right as rain!

I have also got many young specimens, not as yet planted out, of Alnus cordata, what we call the Italian Alder, but I see the French call Corsican.  I cannot speak for this year, but on past experience it resists the secheresse well, despite being an alder. It lacks autumn colour but it is a smart enough tree, especially so in winter when the catkins are attractive. Incidentally if anyone is interested in acquiring either this or Fraxinus ornus just get in touch (petergwyn@orange.fr) since I have got far too many for my own use.

Of the Acers, the only one alive - I exaggerate, but none look good - is A. oliverianum. This grows under oaks, so with some shade, but  on a south-facing bank so very dry. It is true that I have watered it a little, but I am still surprised how well it looks. I am sure that I have read some where that it resists dryness better than most acers, but I cannot find the reference. Still the proof of the pudding . . .

Other trees whose resistance to dryness seems to have been goodish this year would include the Koelreuterias. I have both K. bipinnata var. integrifolia and the more often seen K.panniculata, but have yet to see the former in flower. I would also include Diospyros virginiana, the American persimon/kaki, and Pistacia chinensis, both with good autumn colour, though mine are admittedly small, and have received some, though not a lot of water.

Meanwhile I am a little bit more optimistic about the garden here. I suppose what has pleased me most has been the so-called Prairie Garden behind the swimming pool. Amongst other things I am gradually getting it under control,  but what with the grasses and the gauras, along with at the moment, the Michaelmas daisies it has looked pretty good, at least from a distance. It still needs a bit more bulk, but I now feel that it is going to work. I am not so sure of my West-facing bed, sadly rather more south-west than west.  I thought that it was somewhere that I could have camellias, hydrangeas, and amongst the vivace, even phlox, i.e. I thought that it would remain dampish and reasonably shady and could take some moisture loving plants, because it is the only place in the garden  where it seemed possible. But this summer has rather destroyed this illusion, and it is time for a rethink. Rethinks are necessary from time to time, and as the season draws to an end, and with the big plant fairs such as Gaujac, will soon be upon us, perhaps now is a good moment to have them. 

Survivors!

I hope that I am not being too optimistic. I have just looked at the ten day forecast and there is not a hint of rain so the struggle to keep things alive will have to continue for some time. But looking around the wreck of my garden it is clear that some things are surviving much better than others. By and Large roses cope with the heat remarkably well. Admittedly those that repeat are not doing so as well as usual, but I do not get the impression that any of them are about to die, and for  that reason I keep watering to an absolute minimum.  R. Morletti, whose praises I have sung, has hardly turned a hair. Admittedly it does not repeat so presumably is  under less stress, but since one of its glories is its autumn colouring, the fact that it has not lost its leaves is clearly good news.

Since all my trees are less than three years in situ it is perhaps not all that useful to single any out for praise, since all trees, and indeed shrubs need water in their early years.  But my decorative pears - Pyrus calleryana - are showing no signs of stress without having been watered at all, and the same is true of my winter flowering cherry.  My Lagerstroemias are not yet big enough to make much of an impact but clearly they resist the secheresse extremely well.  For some these trees/shrubs are a bit too much in their face, their flowers being almost fluorescent. They perhaps also suffer from the fact, rather like that lovely double pink flowering cherry - Prunus Kanzan - that they are favorites of the town authorities.  But I have come to the conclusion that they are a 'must'. They produce vibrant colour at a difficult time of the year, their leaves colour well in autumn, and older specimens can have attractive trunks

Yesterday I visited my favourite garden _ La Coursiana - and I am happy to say that it is resisting the conditions remarkably well. Of the trees that were still looking good, I especially noticed the Celtis family. I am not a great fan of Celtis australis, alias Micocoulier, finding it a trifle boring. Still the fact that it is being much planted in the Gers indicates that one of its advantages is precisely that it does not need much water - you can see a fine planting of them in the parking to the south of Auch cathedral.  The Celtis that particularly caught my eye yesterday on account of the glossiness of its leaves was C.jessoensis, while looking in Hilliers C. sinensis sounds rather promising. The fact that Adeline do not stock the former, suggests that it might be difficult to get hold of.

Most buddlejas resist the secheresse well, and that is certainly the case in my garden.  There is one that I would particularly like to recommend for this quality, but I am not at all sure that I have got the correct name. It was definitely bought from le Jardin de Rochvieille (http://jaroche.club.fr), I think as B.cordata 'FJ'.  The flowers in bud promise much but in fact are insignificant, but the foliage is excellent - largish, mat green on top and grey underneath, and my so-called shrub border would look pretty bare without it.  And while on the subject of buddlejas, I notice that my refound favourite B. Lochinch is having a very good second flowering having had the first flush removed. The removal of the dead flowers on all your buddlejas is perhaps a council of perfection, though they do look terrible, and in my previous experience any second flowering that resulted was pretty mediocre, but with B Lochinch it seems to be very worthwhile.

Of the shrubs, the pittospermums are surviving very well, and make me think that I should plant more. Like perhaps a number of you, I had a variegated 'period', which I have since grown out of, but the pittospermums are going to be an exception, as indeed is an old favourite of mine, Rhamnus alaternus variegata, clearly rock solid in the drought. I also had a 'silver period', and at that time I certainly grew Artemesia ludoviciana Valerie Finnis, but I had forgotten what a good plant it is, but particularly in this weather. By chance I stumbled across it earlier this year, I am not sure where, but it has been one of the best things in the garden. A.Powis Castle I find a bit iffy, not always surviving the winters, and becoming very quickly rather too leggy, but it can cope with drought.

As for other vivace, the absolute stars must be the Gauras in all their variety. Mine have flowered for literally months now without a drop and are still looking goodish. I have to say that I prefer the tall ones since the fact that their stems wave around in the wind is a great part of their charm. They can flop, though if grown in the open, in say an island bed, they are much less likely to do so. To my surprise my other great standby, verbena bonariensis has not weathered the drought so well, but this may be partly due to the fact that the new seedlings faced too much competition from weeds.  Most of my grasses are looking reasonably well including the miscanthus which I have always thought of as needing a reasonable amount of water.

Meanwhile we must all pray for rain, even if that does not please your English guests.  Bon courage!

The tyranny of Alain Baraton.

By chance the other day I happened to listen to one of Alain Baraton's interventions on France Inter ( roughly 7.45 am. Saturdays and Sundays). Some poor listener was wondering whether it was possible to plant oleanders outside in Northern France, and was firmly told that even if it were so it should not be done, since oleanders only belong to the south of France, just as I suppose camellias and magnolias should only be grown in China, and potatos in South America .  For those of you who  have not come across him, he has become the Mr Gardener of France rather in the same way as Geoff Hamilton used to be in England, which is to say that not only is he a gardener, but is also a 'celebrity'. Like Geoff Hamilton he is also a great advocate of everything 'Green', so that any French gardener who dares to use a weed killer or pesticide is very much in his bad books, so also it seems anyone whose garden is not full of 'indigenous' plants.

As I made clear in my first blog I am not a Green gardener, and even more criminally I am what I think is called a Climate Change denialist, and therefore should apparently be shot at sight, though for the moment I would rather avoid this fate. Instead I want to comment on the notion of a 'Natural Garden', full no doubt of indigenous plants.  For me no such thing exists. At the very best I suppose you could buy a plot of land, and then sit and contemplate it, though even your plot will have been affected by what man has previously done to it. And those of you who have attempted to create a wildflower meadow will know that nothing is less 'natural'. After all even the act of mowing, however infrequently done , is an intervention by man yet alone the removal of all that mown grass so essential to the creation of a wild flower meadow.  I hope that I have already mentioned somewhere Pamela J. Harper's 'Time-Tested Plants', for me the only outstanding book on gardening of recent years, but if I have not I can only strongly recommend it. She is very sound on all these matters taking for me the only logical view that gardening of any kind is an unnatural thing, involving a battle with nature. But it is a battle that should be waged with common sense. It is probably not very sensible to plant trees in the Gers that require a lot of water or dislike great heat. Acid loving plants are for most us dificult to cater for, I was going to say impossible, until I remembered one of the great English garden, Hidcote, where Lionel Johnson by importing huge amounts of acid soil, was able to grow plants that do not like the Cotswold limestone. The fact is that great gardeners take risks, and though most of us do not come into the category of 'great', we do on the whole like a bit of a challenge. Of course we could all grow buttercups and dandelions, but though they might look quite pretty , at least for a time, we would soon be bored stiff, and boredom is what I most associate with the indigenous school of gardening.

Of course questions of what I will call 'gout' do arrive. Ever since I arrived here I have been debating whether or not to plant eucalyptus. By and large they would like the site, though wind might be a problem. As those of you who use Blagnac airport will know, they grow fast, and they are  undoubtedly handsome. But would they look good on a Gersois hillside? The same would go for olive trees. So far I have avoided them, and I should add the importation of very old olive trees from Spain and elsewhere is one of Baraton's bugbears. I have some sympathy with this view, but not I think on what I would call ethical grounds. I am in fact against the planting of any large tree on the grounds that their upkeep – staking and watering – is very labour intensive, and even if you keep them alive, they will not move for at least three years, so you might as well plant small – though admittedly your newly planted olive will not in your life time take on the required 'dead' look. What I am worrying about here is taste, not some moral imperative to save the planet, which is largely Baraton's concern.

Still Baraton is obviously perfectedly entitled to his views, though it is slightly ironic that his day job is that of 'Head Gardener' of Versailles, which must be one of the most artificial gardens ever created, with hardly a 'vivace' in sight. What I object to is the amount of airtime that he is given, and the fact  that another point of view is seemingly not tolerated.  And if I were a specialist nurseyman I would feel very hardly done by. They depend for their living on growing unusual plants not to be found in the 'grandes surfaces', and these by definition are rarely indignenous. They need every kind of support, some of which ought to come from a garden 'celebrity', a little bit more interested than Baraton is in the amazing range of plants that the world provides, many of which can be grown in France.

Survival

After 'despair' 'survival!  Last night we had a little rain - about 4  mm - not nearly enough but better than nothing.  Since the beginning of May we have had about 100 mm when for the same period the average rainfall should be around 200 mm. Moreover it has been very hot, often over 30 C. so the result is we are very dry, and most plants, but especially any tree or shrub planted in the last three years is under stress.  I do not think that I have actually lost anything yet, but it is too early to tell. Moreover our solution to drought - a very large underground reservoir - has failed us,admittedly not helped by the fact that a hose pipe became unattached when a tap was open, and as a result a lot of water was pumped out to no good purpose. Still I am disappointed. I suppose it just goes to show how much water is needed if you are going to have serious garden in the Gers.

It is of course a good moment to go round your garden to see just what plants best resist the drought, though since all mine are fairly reently planted it is perhaps a bit early to arrive at any definitive conclusions. For instance my hibiscus droop terribly and are in no way a pretty sight. But most people's at this time look wonderful, and in gardens where I am sure that virtually no watering takes place. The answer I assume is that they need time to get their roots down at which point, I hope in the not too distant future, all will be well.  I am also hoping that the same will be true for the magnolias. Readers of earlier blogs may remember that I have planted mine in full sun on a southern bank, not altogether the recommended position. Unsurprisingly they are not looking too wonderful, but they are certainly surviving.  Looking well on that same bank, and perhaps of all the many trees that I have planted growing the fastest, are two decorative pear trees, Pyrus calleryana  Chanticleer and  Redspire. Also growing well in the same area, indeed almost too well to be true, is a Black mulberry.  Despite their large leaves the Paulownia family seem to cope surprisingly well with the heat.  These can be pruned to the ground to produce in the space of a year a very exotic shrub of up to 3 metres high, but if this is done you miss out on the lovely lilac coloured candelabras.

Other trees that are surviving well include various oaks but especially one of my favourites, Quercus schumardii. Good spring and autumn colour, and with a finely cut leaf, they look very smart throughout the year. Looking bad are members of acer and cornus family. I am so attracted to the latter family that I have planted a fair number, including Aurora,, capitata, kousa chinensis, Satomi, mas, Norman Hadden, officinalis, and Porlock. They are not I should add on my south-facing bank, but even so they seem to get too much sun, and they may prove to be an expensive mistake.

In my enthusiasm for Buddleya Lochinch I had forgotten that alas it shares in the great defect of almost all of this family, the fact that its flowers die badly, i.e. they leave a nasty brown mess at the end of each branch. These can of course be cut off, but if you have lots of them and they are big bushes this is easier said than done. Still I forgive them almost anything for the butterflies that they attract. Lavenders share both the same virtues - attract butterflies - and vices - nasty dead flower heads - but at least they are smaller so easier to manage. This year in particular I was struck by the large number of butterflies that sought them out - there was almost a plague of Painted Ladies. I am going to invest in more of them. Pep. Filippi has a marvellous selection.

Barack and Obama have launched a sustained attack on all my flowers, but are otherwise doing well.

Dahlias!

I am a little bit torn. It is clear that we are about to have a heat wave, and one's chief concern is how best to survive it.  We have installed at some expense, and a good deal of trouble since the first tank imploded, a vast underground reservoir. It takes all the rain water off our extensive roof, and by means of a pump and two taps, it should in theory provide us with enough water for the garden purposes throughout the year. On verra!

But my reason for writing about dahlias, plants that have great need of water, is that there is a connection with my previous blog. I think that I have bred the perfect dahlia. In writing thus I exaggerate my role in the process. Like many people I have long been an admirer of the 'Bishop of Landaff, a plant much loved and popularized by Vita Sackville-West. Two Springs ago I discovered at the foot of my existing plant - I had put some terreau round its base to give it some winter protection, which had I suppose helped germination - a number of seedlings. One of them in my view at any rate, has turned out to be a winner.  Its leaves are not so dark or indeed so finely cut as the parent plant, but the flower is a marvellous clear red, semi-double with a bright yellow centre, but what really makes it a winner is the way in which the flower displays itself, the secret being its reflexed petals. I failed to make cuttings this spring, or indeed to break up the corms, so at the moment it is unique. But next year I will try harder, and if I could only find a nurseryman who shared my enthusiasm for the plant, that would be even better.

That said I should emphasize that the Bishop of Landaff, which a number of nurserymen supply, including Bernard Lacrouts (http://vivacemonde.free.fr), remains an outstanding plant. Moreover, you could buy from, for instance Chilterns Seeds, seeds called the 'Bishop's Children'. These will flower the same year as sown, and share many of the characteristics of the parent plant, that is to say they have more less darkish leaves, some very finely cut, are usually semi-double and vary between very dark purple and bright red. One advantage of all these dahlias is that the plant is not too high - I would guess around 60-80 cms, so that usually they do not need staking, nor are their flowers too large.

I do grow other dahlias. I was taken by Tartarus,which I saw at La Cousiana. It is a large, single flowered  dahlia of a very dark red with a yellow centre, and so acquired along with it four other similar dahlias, though of different colours, from Ernest Turc, who appears to be the French dahlia specialist. I fear that they may be a bit unwieldy, but will report back.

Dahlias appear to do well here, liking our heavy soil, on condition that is that you can provide them with sufficient water. They provide flower power over a long period; mine have started already and will go on until the frosts in late October, though they can get a bit tatty.  Other flowers that share many of the dahlias characteristics - long flowering season, very bright colours - some would say too bright - are the zinnias. Since my beds are not sufficiently well-tended I cannot sow them direct which is the recommended procedure, but I have found that sowing them in seed trays, pricking them out, etc, works well enough, though water in the early stages is vital - afterwards they resist drought well enough, and certainly better than the dahlias. I would not be without them, and amongst other things they are good for picking, since the flowers last a long time in water.

Meanwhile the great excitement here has nothing to do with the garden, but with the discovery in our valley of Purple Emperors, providing me with my first sighting of these wonderful butterflies. Perhaps I should also mention the arrival of two kittens - Barrack and Obama - who have managed to dominate our three dogs, and myself in a very short space of time.

What makes a good plant?

It s a question I suppose that every gardener asks from time to time. My return to it was prompted by two things. The first a rather despairing look at my very sparse 'shrub border', and my wondering why it did not contain any Abelia grandifloras. No shrub could be easier in our climate. It is more or less evergreen, is almost constantly in flower, and is even said to have smell. What I do have is Abelia chinensis with whitish flowers and very definitely smell, and Abelia Edward Goucher, but no 'grandoflora'. Why?  It could be because I am a plant snob. A. Grandifloras are very common, indeed there are often whole hedges of it. Put more kindly it may be because I am a bit of a collector, attracted to the more out of the way, not so that I can show off, but just because I find them more interesting. I certainly used to be rather obsessional in this respect: once I had got one origanum I needed to search out the remaining fifty five - these figures incidentally just plucked out of the air.  I hope that having reached the trosième age I have become a little less obsessed, but I notice that particularly with roses I search for those that I have never grown before. This last fact reminds me to draw people's attention to a newish French gardening magazine, L'Art des Jardins, one of the best gardening mags that I have ever come across, with in the current edition some very good articles on unknown Normandy roses.

But to return to the original question, might my rejection of abelia grandiflora be because it is in fact an inferior plant to say abelia Edward Goucher, and if so why? This leads me on to the second event to occasion  the question, the appearance in flower of Buddleya Lochinch.  It is the first time that I have grown this plant in France, and I can't actually remember seeing a plant here, while my recollection is that it was common enough in England.  Anyway it looks absolutely stunning, and the reason I think is that all its aspects -  the colour of its flower, the colour of its foliage and indeed stalks, covered as they are with a greyish white pubescence, and the way in which the plants holds itself - combine to make it a perfect whole.  There are many plants that can do some of these things well. This is especially true of roses, where you often get a very beautiful flower but a lousy form. I now steer clear of those that in French are called 'érigé', that is to say those with ramrod like stems with one or two flowers at the end of them. Baroness Rothschild is a very good example, a marvellous rosy pink cabbagy flower on what Peter Beale calls 'an upright, tidy plant', but what I would call rather tired looking sticks, with the 'ample foliage' decimated by blackspot.

On my walk today I admired what I will call the herbaceous elder. It is a stauesque looking thing especially when its large 'umbels' (?) make their first appearance, and later with its fruits.  A good garden plant?  I in fact immediately go on the attack with the strongest poison that I can find if it appears in my garden, the reason being that it is an utter thug. So it may be beautiful but . . .  And what may be rare and exotic with us can be a weed elsewhere.  The agapanthus over which we spend so much time and trouble is I gather considered a weed in Australia and South Africa (from whence I believe it comes); similarly the oleander.

So one way and another it is very difficult deciding what is a good garden plant. Is there in fact an ideal that we should all be looking out for? It is not exactly a new question, but with Buddleya Lochinch I think that I have found the answer.

Garden Visits

Recently I have paid two garden visits, both in fact to gardens already mentioned, but both deserving fuller treatment.  It was my first visit to La Roseraie du Désert (www.frenchtearose.com), though I had already met John and Betty Hook at Gaujacq, where I purchased amongst other things one of my now favourite roses, the 'found Bermuda', Emmie Grey. Stupidly I left it too late for the tea roses, one of their specialities, but there was still plenty to admire. It is probably best to go to their site to understand better what they are about, but essentially their aim is to grow roses that can take the heat, thus the name of their rose nursery. These include certainly the tea, but also the China roses; not very well known perhaps because they  dislike a cold winter. They are often single and semi-double, often also an apricoty, pinky colour, which may not be everybody's favourite. On the other hand single they are usually very floriferous, and often with good perfume.  Whether they are ideal for the Gers is perhaps not certain. Certainly we can be hot and dry, which is the conditions they like. But we can also be wet, particularly in May, which is on average our wettest month. Moreover the owners admitted that many of their sales were too Italy and the South of France. But they are certainly worth a try here. I fell for Vicomtesse Pierrre de Fou, perhaps largely because of the name, though it was also strongly recommended; also Rosa moschata, one of its great features being its very green and healthy foilage. I have also got my eye on Darlow's Enigma and Sinowilsonii. Incidently a tea rose, which has been a favourite of mine for a long time, and which I grow here, is Lady Hillingdon (clg.), a marvellous yolk of egg colour, almost continuously in flower, and with smell.. I take my hat off to John and Betty Hook, especially now that I know that John has a day job. And what I find most exciting about their project is that I who consider myself a bit of an expert on Old Roses have never come across at least half of the roses to be found in their catalogue, nor are they to be found in the RHS rose encyclopedia (eds: Charles and Bridget Quest-Ritson).

Also strongly recommended is a visit to La Coursiana, where roses are also a great feature, though in this case one of many. The choice of roses is I suppose in one sense more ordinary including many recent hybrids from French rose breeders, but also a good many from David Austin. But what is exceptional about the roses is their placing whether in the borders, or on the many pergolas; not many, now I come to think of it, climbing up trees, but is that a particularly English habit? The more likely explanation is that a good many of the trees are rare, and a climbing rose up them could only be a distraction. For any gardener a visit here is a must, and that at different times of the year, as there is so much to enjoy and learn. The Tea room is excellent and offers amongst other things marvellous sorbets, and the accueil

is très chaleureuse.

Meanwhile with the help of better weather and some hard work things are looking a little better chez moi.  To continue the rose theme, I have been reminded, since I have one in full bloom, how beautiful R. Queen of Denmark (Königin von Dänemark) is. Its great feature is the suffused pin at the centre of the flower as the bud opens. It is magical and I do not think that even David Austin has been able to reproduce the effect. Its Alba origins means that it does not repeat, but also that it is an attractive enough bush when not in flower, and I forgot to mention; it does have smell!

My other excitement has been the flowering of Romneya coulteri, and not only is it flowering, but it is looking happy, and thus spreading. It is a first for me in France. Good drainage is the key, but as I have often remarked in our neck of the woods that is not always easy to provide.

Despair !

Ever since I started gardening here, now almost three years ago, friends have either stated outright or implied, that I have been mad to be so ambitious. I have never been very good at measurements, but there are five large areas that in theory need serious weeding, and plenty of other areas where it is necessary to keep at bay by one means or another nature's onslaughts in order to give a chance to the many newly planted, and for the most part, small trees. And as regards weeding it is I who does it all At the beginning of last November I vaguely thought that I was winning. Since then it has hardly ever stopped rain, and at this point in time I am definitely losing. No bed is weed free, and some have been virtually taken over by them. Are the doubting Thomases going to be proved right? Probably, but I do not intend to surrender quite yet.          

My strategy has been not to strive for an immediate out and out conquest, but to aim for what might be called a colonisation of the ground. Or to put it another way I have planted as many things as I could possibly afford, knowing that the ground was not remotely clean. These have then become the colonies which I have then striven to protect, not only of course from weeds, but also from my extremely active rabbit population. I guess that this is not the recommended strategy, but given my age, the means at my disposal, and no doubt my impatience, it is the one I thought the best. Moreover, I do not believe that on this ground there could ever  bee such a thing as clean ground. As I made clear in my first blog I am not against the use of weedkillers, but my use of them has not prevented the return of weeds, and as I contemplate the new so-called lawn around the swimming pool, which was seriously 'poisoned' by a professional, my view is rather too clearly confirmed. As for double digging . . .

But there is weeding and weeding. When I was in England I was a very strong believer in the 'on your knees' school of weeding with ones face close to the ground. I still prefer this method as it is by far and away the best method of getting to know ones plants, and the only way of saving all those self sown plants that would otherwise be destroyed. I have however given up the trowel for anything that can penetrate more easily our heavy clay. This includes what I think is called a planting trowel, but also a heavy screwdriver, and more recently a largish penknife with a slightly hooked blade - Opinel would call it a 'serpette'. The great advantage of the last of these is that it can cut off, as well as dig out the weeds, and thus you can progress a little faster. 

It is this notion of cutting off weeds that may possibly save my garden, not however with a little knife but with the mattock. It is of course rather heavy but the secret is to use its heaviness to do the work for you. No need to bring it crashing down, unless you have got something very resistant; just gently scrap away, and you will find that you can cover a lot of ground in reasonably quick time. Moreover, with a little practice you can become really quite skilled with it, so that unless things are very closely packed together, in which case there are probably not very many weeds, you can work around plants without causing damage. Of course, many of the roots remain, though it is surprising how much comes out. Nor does it produce a fine tilth, or that finished look that you will find in the best English gardens. But what I am hoping is that it will do is give my 'colonies' a chance to expand, so that next year that won't be the space for so many weeds. On verra!

Meanwhile it is of course a very exciting time in the garden with new things appearing every day. One thing that is doing particularly well for me at this moment is a rose, Emmie Grey. It is a single deep red, no scent but almost continuously in flower, even during the winter months, which is especially strange since it comes from Bermuda where it was discovered by John and Becky Hook of La Roseraie du Desert (www.frenchtearose.com). it is very similar I suppose to Sanguinea, so you might not want both in your garden, but if I had to chose between them I would now go with the lady.

Hardy Geraniums

I never thought that there would come a time when I complained about the rain, but with 133mm since the beginning of the month we really have had enough. With our  heavy soil it has made any gardening virtually impossible, so that one gets that sinking feeling that already things are out of control.  Still it is not only the weeds that are growing. I have already roses in flower - Marechal Niel, in fact one of my great disappointments, since I find its colour rather 'fade', and one of my favourites, Stanwell Perpetual. Also showing well are the hardy geraniums.

Most of us use them a lot. They are entirely benign, many of them flowering for long periods, and happy to put up with almost anything that the weather might throw at them.  What some of you may not have picked up on is the arrival in recent years of a great number of hybrids, and while new is not necessarily better, in the case of hardy geraniums it often is.  I am mainly concerned with those that can put up with our heat. What I would call the meadow and woodland varieties have not done so well for me, and that includes, alas, G. Spinners, which is a most marvellous blue. Moreover I am not so keen on the pink flowering varieties, that is to say the G. endressi types, though they are very easy to grow. But that still leaves the blues and the purples of which there are legion.

The most ground hugging of these are the G. sanguineums, though some of these can be pink. Indeed just to be contrary I am particularly fond of G.sang; lancastriense, which is  a lovely light pink with crimson veins, but there is nothing very new about it. Of the many new ones I can personally recommend 'Cedric Morris', Elspeth' and 'Glenluce', not that I find a huge difference between them. Related to sanguineum is G. Dilys, which is given very good marks by Thierry Denis, one of the many good suppliers of hardy geraniums in France (info@jardindumorvan.com) but also by Cristopher Lloyd. One of its alleged attractions is its 'résistance gaullienne à la secheresse'. I grow it but I cannot say that it really makes a great impression. It is supposed to like every sort of soil, but I sometimes wonder whether it really finds our heavy clay to its liking.

I have no reservations on the other hand about G. Nimbus, Jolly Bee, Orion, Rozanne, and Tiny Monster. Jolly Bee and Rozanne are very similar. Both are reminiscent of G.wallichianumBuxton's Blue that some of you may have grown in England, with their lovely clear blue flowers that starting a little later in the year than some varieties go on flowering until November, and unlike Buxton's Blue they can both take our full sun. Nimbus and Orion are bigger animals, or certainly taller, and are what I would call genuine border plants. They do not flower for quite so long as the two just mentioned, but long enough to earn their place in any garden. I have found that cutting them back does not produce a second flush of flowers, but the new growth is more attractive than the old. Similar, and often strongly recommended is G. Brookside, but in my experience it does not do so well, perhaps because of not liking our heat. Still it is fair to say that all three should be preferred to the old favourite, G.Johnson's Blue, on account of their longer flowering period.

G.Tiny Monster is a cross between sanguineum and psilostemon. Its colour,purple, it derives from both its parents, though lacking the dark centre of psilostemon. Its sanguineum genes mean that it does not grow too tall, and therefore does not need staking, which is a great advantages But it has the vigour of a psilostemon,  also a great advantage, and makes in every way a marvellous groundcover plant.

There are of course plenty of other hardy geraniums. I have not mentioned the many new varietes with purple leaves - G. Midnight Reiter strains - since dappled shade and a bit more humidty than I normally possess is their thing. An old favourite would be G. Bressingham Flair derived from psilostemon, but a much shorter plant, and therefore easier to deal with. Also in the purple flowered range is G.Sandrine. It is rather similar to two other geraniums that I should perhaps have mentioned, G.Ann Folkard, and Anne Thompson. Both these are purple, and both trail from a central base rather than clumping up; indeed you could almost call the former a climbing plant since if happy it will take over a small shrub, in the same way as a clematis. But they are both outshone in flower colour by Sandrine, though perhaps she is less vigourous than they are. Incidentally I came across G.Sandrine at Bernard Lacrouts, an excellent supplier of vivace near to Vic en Bigorre (http://vivacemonde.free.fr), and the same could equally be said of Jane Phillips at her Le Jardin Anglais (www.lejardinanglais.com) at Montgaillard, who I see also stocks G.Sandrine.

Smells!

I was recently taken to task for not emphasizing enough the importance of smell when writing about the rose. Fair enough, for the perfume of a rose is clearly a delight, and moreover there is a perfume for every nose, which is in fact one of the problems in writing about smells in a garden. How often have you been asked to put your nose in a rose,or indeed other flowers, with the expectation that you will comment favourably when the truth is that you cannot smell a thing? And not only is everybody's ability to smell different, but weather conditions and time of day play a very big role.  Scent as Peter Beales, one of England's leading rose experts, states in his catalogue is a very subjective matter, and it is for this reason  he provides no code on the subject.

But there are some scents that are almost impossible to miss. You are walking round a garden and suddenly on the air a lovely perfume arrives, and you wonder where it is coming from - and not only in a garden. Many of you will have driven into Toulouse in early summer, and suddenly a lovely scent - I am not good at describing scents, but a sweetish vanilla comes to mind - will enter the car. It derives from the much planted Eleagnus angustifolia. The flower producing this scent is an insignificant yellow, as with others in the family, but the plant has nice enough silvery leaves, and is well worth a place in any garden. Some prefer E. Quicksilver, which is definitely more impressive, that is to say more silvery, in the Spring, but increasingly I find that E. angustifolia wears better as the summer progresses, though neither is good in the autumn. A variety I do not care for much is E.x  ebbingei, often sold as part of a mixed hedge. Its dull silvery green  does not do anything for me, but it does have the lovely smell, this time in the autumn.

 What other plants are generous with their scent? Daphnes come to mind, though I find them difficult plants to grow well in our region; indeed in my opinion they are always a bit difficult, having a tendency to die for no good reason, though in our neck of the woods mostly through lack of water. Still D. x burkwoodii and its variegated clones, and D odora with its variegated clones are all worth a try, and I know of one garden that for many years had a marvellous D. bhola Jacqueline Postill whose scent very early in the year was almost overpowering, but then this garden was much closer into the Pyrenees than most of ours are, which since the plant comes originally from the Himalayas, may be the reason for its success.

Honeysuckles are not altogether easy with us, not wanting to be too dry, and on a hot wall they can be savagely attacked by greenfly.  The most smelly, with a scent that does carry, is probably the Lonicera japonica group, especially L. jap. Halliana, but beware: they are very thuggish and can very quickly look a complete mess, so certainly not for small garden. Also bear in mind that not all honeysuckles do have smell, though in the case of L. x tellmanniana and L. tragophylla this is compensated by the fact that the flower power is excellent. Both of these require some shade, as indeed do most honeysuckles.

However the best climbing plants for scent for us are probably the trachelospermums, usually T. jasminoides: smartish evergreen leaves, though a cold winter can make them look a little bit dingy, and as the name suggests white jasmine like flowers in great profusion over quite a long period in early summer. In my view they are a must, smarter and easier than many actual jasmines, though obviously jasmines are worth considering. One of the most smelly jasmines is Jasminum sambac, but it is definitely tender, though I am hoping that mine may survive outside in a very protected spot. It did last year.  Other very smelly ones include J. officinale var. grandiflorum, the so-called Jasmine de Grasse, and J. polyanthum, often sold as an indoor plant, but both these two are fairly tender, and can be severely hit by a cold winter.

A lot of the viburnums have excellent scent, and scent that carries, but since they are such a useful shrub for us in so many ways they deserve a blog to themselves. Already mentioned in an earlier blog, as a wonderful winter shrub on account of its smell, is Lonicera fragrantissima, and the very similar L. x purpusii,and L. standishii. All these will scent a winter garden - slightly lemony - if there is the slightest hint of sun, and this for more than a month. So do plant one or two, even if for the rest of year they do not do very much.

Finally a return to the rose, and where we started. For me the most reliably smelly remains Mme Isaac Perere, and though I do not really like its rather dull deep red colour, and it is slightly inclined to blackspot, it is rose that I have always had in any garden that I have been associated with. My most favourite rose, Fantin Latour, has very good smell - Yan Surguet, newly set up as rose grower in the Ariege, calls the smell 'ennivrant' which I cannot find in any of my dictionaries, but it sounds exciting.  Most of the hybrid musks, that include Felicia and Penelope, still some of the most useful roses, especially for mixed planting, have goodish scent, while David Austin, with some justification, takes great pride in the fact that many of his roses are highly scented, and those that he particularly signals out for this  are Jude the Obscure, Gertrude Jekyll, Claire Austin, Strawberry Hill and Tea Clipper.

Gardeners Friends

When in doubt plant Cosmos.  It is particularly good advice for someone like myself still at the pygmy stage: seemingly acres of bare ground all set for the weeds to colonize, so get in first with the Cosmos. I do not know why it is so acceptable. One could call it a weed, and it can certainly be invasive. Moreover now that Gersois farmers are planting fields of it, it may become rather too much of a good thing. But for me it is saved from almost all criticism by its delicacy of leaf and indeed of flower. It is an annual, but normally it reseeds freely, though our heavy ground is not ideal for any reseeding, and a late frost might do for it.

Another very generous reseeder is Verbena bonariensis. It was Christopher Lloyd who first sang its praises for me, I think in what for many years was my gardening bible, his 'The Well-tempered Garden'. Maddeningly I cannot put my hands on my copy to confirm that, and this may be indicative of the fact that I now have a new bible which many of you may not have come across: Pamela J. Harper's, 'Time-tested Plants', tested over thirty years in her garden in Virginia. Her soil is acid, which most of ours is not, but curiously the weather she describes seems very similar - hot summers with possibilities of drought, winter frosts but not enough to do great damage. Most of the plants she writes about grow very happily here, and how well she writes about them. I do not know of any other gardening book which has provided me with so much useful information, let alone inspiration. If Pamela J. Harper approves of a plant I am sure that I will!

But back to Verbena bonariensis. Its great virtue, as Christopher Lloyd pointed out, is that it is a see-through plant, that is to say that it does not block out from sight what is behind it, so that though tallish it can be planted anywhere in a border, and provide colur and interest over a very long period. Like Cosmos it is easy from seed, and a generous, sometimes too generous reseeder, but easy enough to pull out if not wanted. In fact in theory it is a short-lived perennial, but an old plant soon gets rather tatty, and one might as well consider it as an annual.

The same might be said of Salvia turkestanica. The purplish blue haze that it creates in early summer always gives me a thrill, and even though the bluish petals fall quite quickly the bracts continue to provide colour for a long time, provided that the heat is not too intense. Some people do not like the smell. This only emerges if you make contact with the plant, but if you do it is strong, and for me rather Proustian, evocative of happy hours weeding in a Guildford garden of close friends, now some thirty years ago.

Another bible for me is Graham Stuart Thomas'   'Perennial Garden Plants', the most satisfactory descriptive list of plants with advice on cultivation that I have ever come across. He gives Gaura lindheimeri  only medium marks - 'not in the first flight' - and I have just seen that Christopher Lloyd in his 'Garden Flowers' is a bit sniffy as well. But it does exceptionally well in our climate providing in this case a whitish haze of flower which like the grasses moves in the wind, over a long period.  Some time ago a pink version was produced, and like so many novelties, rather took over from its predecessor.  But as time passes my choice turns back to the white, though in fact I have both in the garden. The more dumpy varieties which you can also find, especially in pink seem to me to be an 'erreur' since the great attraction of the plant rests in its gracefulness.  Again I would call it a short-lived perennial, but again also it reseeds itself freely, so once you have got it you should never be without, and apart from pulling out the unwanted ones, it should never cause you problems.

There are other 'gardeners friends' that I shall return to no doubt - the common Fennel, Foeniculum vulgare, especially for me the purple leaved variety, comes to mind, though its propensity to reseed can be a bit more of a nuisance than with the above. But for the moment I want to mention what might be called my 'new best friend', Viola bertolonii.  I have always been an admirer of the violas, and in England at one moment considered myself almost a collector. Since living in France I have not had nearly so much success despite the fact that Viola cornuta is a Pyrenean plant, I assume because the conditions have been too hot and dry.  Looking through the Chilterns seed catalogue - another 'bible', though some may find its descriptions a bit OTT - I came across the aforesaid V. bertolonni. What caught my attention was the fact that it welcomed ' a sunny position', and came from Italy, so I felt that it ought to be able to put up with our summers, and somewhat to my surprise it has. It is a good blue with a well-whiskered face, and a reasonably long stem. It seems to be in flower from February to October, and it reseeds. What more could you wants? Perhaps smell, but then you can't have everything!

Roses

Today it is snowing and they are promising us at least more rain, if not more snow.  I should not complain since I have spent so much of my time in France praying for rain, but the wet weather is beginning to be a bit of a bore. It also tempts me to make some sarcastic remarks about global warming, only I know that the 'fundamentalists' amongst you will riposte that bad weather is also evidence of this phenomenon. Donc, we agnostics cannot win.  Meanwhile it may be a good moment before one is overwhelmed by the onrush of Spring, to think about roses.  Fortunately I am extremely fond of them, I say fortunately because if there is one plant that does like our often heavy clay it is the rose. Not all of them in fact. For what it is worth I have found that the rugosas do not do well here, in particular they are prone to constant die back. This has always worried me since they are supposed to cope with anything, and moreover they contain one of my favourite roses, the wonderfully scented Roserie de l'Hay. The conclusion that I have arrived at is that while they cope happily with poor soil, what they do not like is too rich, or in winter too damp a soil. And while on the subject of disappointments, two roses that grew very well for me in England, Nevada, covered early in the year in large single white, sometimes touched with pink,flowers, and its sister, Marguerite Hilling, have not performed down here, I guess for the same reasons that the rugosas have not. If one can produce good drainage perhaps the problem would disappear. Still for the most part the problem is not under-performance, but an embarras de richesses. I am of the generation that has grown up with the revival of what I will call the old-fashioned rose, or in French Les roses anciennes, which somehow sounds better.  It was a reaction against the perhaps over-colourful and over-artificial hybrid tea rose - how many of you remember Super Star? - a reaction led by people like Graham Stuart Thomas and Vita Sackville West. One of the most important moments in my life was my first visit to Sissinghurrst, just a year or two before Vita Sackville West died. I was overcome by many aspects of that marvellous garden, and on subsequent visits have never been disappointed, but of course one of its great features are the old-fashioned roses. Two roses that I first saw then, Complicata, in fact a once flowering single deep pink, and Fantin Latour, for me the quintessential old-fashioned rose, have been in every garden that I have ever been associated with.

But that visit to Sissinghurst was over forty years ago, and old-fashioned roses are not only old-fashioned but old hat. They also have obvious disadvantages. Many are prone to disease, especially blackspot. Many of them are only once-flowering, a criticism which is a little bit hard, since most shrubs are only once-flowering, but since many roses can be almost continuously in flower outside the winter months,one may field with those that do not that one is being sold a bit short. One of the developments in say the last twenty years has been precisely to overcome this criticism by producing roses that are in the style of the old-fashioned, but which repeat flower, and are also by and large healthy. The man who has been responsible for all this is of course David Austin, and his English Roses are now to be discovered wherever roses are to be found, and very much in France. Moreover the French breeders, of which there are many distinguished ones, have followed his example; I am thinking of Guillot's Generosa and Meilland's Romantica series.  I for instance have fallen for Meilland's Alain Suchon, largely because I am a great fan of the French singer, but in theory it is lovely deep red, very smelly rose rather in the style of Austin's William Shakespeare, which incidentally is one of roses that is not free of blackspot.

David Austin roses are almost certainly deserve a blog to themselves, so popular are they, and for the most part rightly so.  In fact so many new ones appear each year that it is very difficult to keep up with them, so that my favourites such as Heritage and Mary Rose date from twenty years ago. Slightly more recent, and one that I had doubts about because I was not quite sure of the colour. It name, Molineux, after a football ground, is a bit of a worry to start with, and colour, which changes from yellow through to apricot according to the weather, is almost fluorescent. But so healthy is it, and so continuously in flower, with good scent, and finally so cheerful is the colour, that it has won me over. A very new one that I have got my eye on is Munstead Wood. In this case with its reference to the great Gertrude Jekyll, the names pleases as does the colour, a deep velvety crimson according to the catalogue, the rose colour I particularly like. I just hope that it has got enough red in it to avoid the burning that roses with a lot of purple in them tend to suffer from in our climate. One of my absolute favourites, Souvenir du Dr Jamain, suffers from this problem, and finding the right balance of sunshine and shade to overcome it is very difficult.

There have been plenty of other developments in the last forty years, including patio roses, and groundcover roses, these always a worry for me, since prickly groundcover does not seem a good idea, but my own development has been towards the so-called wild, or species roses. They are usually only once flowering, and the flowers are single, that is to say normally just five petals. Of course the best known of these is the Dog rose, but in fact there are many others from all parts of the world. What I like about them, apart from their simplicity is their all the year round intere"st, which includes hips, and less often, but not uncommonly, very good autumn colour - Rosa virgiiana would be a very good example. Still a fuller discussion of these, and many other roses no doubt, will have to wait for another occasion

Trees encore!

Given that the rain continues to fall, and no gardening is possible it seems a good moment to return to the subject of trees, especially as someone has written to me giving the thumbs down to oaks - too big and too slow - and suggesting instead Liquidambers, Planes and Tulip trees. All three  are lovely, but all  are pretty big, especially the last two.Plane trees (usually Platanus orientalis) often to be seen lining are roads, are not only majestic, have reasonably good autumn colour, attractive bark, and as far as I know are trouble free, putting up with most conditions including drought. What they need is space. This is less true of the tulip tree (Liriodendron); L. tulipifera is large but tall rather than broad, so to that extent it takes up less space, but it is not for a small garden.  The flowers that give it its common name I find curious rather than atttractive, and you have to wait for them, but the autumn colour - butter yellow - is much to desired. The reason that it does not so-to-speak get into my top ten is that it likes both humidity and shelter from winds which makes it a difficult tree for me and no doubt many others. I have planted one, since I could not resist a Gamm Vert promo - these very much to be looked out for. It was immediately attacked by rabbits, so for the moment it is multi-stemmed, and I have given it as protected and as damp a site as I can find, but I am not too hopeful.  Meanwhile there is everything to be said for Liquidambers. With its smart maple like leaves and at least when young, regular almost triangular growth, its moment of gory is the autumn when its leaves turn a dazzlingly mix of reds and yellows, depending on your variety and cultivar. There is now a good deal of choice. I suspect all are good. Many of them can be seen at La Cousiana,  an absolutely must of a garden, roughly between Lectoure and Condom. It started life as private arboretum in which the collecting bug overrode more aesthetic considerations, but in recent years it has been turned by the Delannoys into an outstanding garden, with particularly around the house a very English feel. Meanwhile,Adeline,mentioned in my last blog, have a national collection, and if you want special Liquidambers consult their catalogue.

My daily walk usually takes me alongside our local 'rivière', stream would be the English term for it. It is attractive at all times, but especially so at this time of year when the catkins of the alders begin to colour. Alders are big and they lack autumn colour, which for me is a big minus. They also like damp, less so Alnus cordata, the so-called Italian alder, which is a tree well worth knowing about. It seems to put up with most conditions, grows quickly, and is always smart, but particularly so in Winter and early Spring. I have planted A.rubra, which gets a good right up in Hilliers. Unfortunately it was strimmed, so it is now smaller than when I bought it. It is also multi-stemmed, but that with an alder can be an advantage. On verra.

For something much more showy what about a magnolia?  I have a bee in my bonnet about them though I am not referring here to the evergreen Magnolia grandifloras, which are not amongst my favourites - overpowering in their evergreenness, and though having lots of flowers, somehow lacking in flower power, since often too high to be seen, and flowering in dribs and drabs. They are also fragrant, but you tend to have to put your nose quite near to the flower to appreciate this, and since they are often rather high, this is usually impossible.  But I love the deciduous variety, of which there are many hundreds, and increasingly so, as new cultivars appear every year. I also think that they do well in this region, but are underused. People seem frightened by them, perhaps because they look so exotic, and at the same time fragile. Also do they demand acid soil which most of us have not got, though the nearer you are to the Atlantic the more likely you are to have it? My answer to the last question is on the whole not, though some species - M.salicifolia for example, probably do. I also think that they withstand drought much more readily than most people think. I first noticed this in England in the very hot summer of I think 1979. when all around azaleas, hydrangeas, magnolias, etc were clearly under great stress, the magnolias looked as fresh as ever, but I have noticed the same phenomenon here.  I have planted rather a mixed bunch here, including M. soulangeana Brozzoni, M.Peppermint Stick, M.Star Wars, a very good strong pink, which seems to grow fast, and M. soul. San Jose. I hope to plant more. Most of them are on a south facing bank, so my belief that they withstand drought will be truly tested, but so far so good.  In other gardens in the region I have planted M. Manchu Fan, with very large creammy white flowers which last a little longer than most, and M. Wada's Memory, whose flowers do not last any length of time, but a tree in full flower is a breath-taking sight. In fact magnolia flowers are often short lived, but then most intense experiences are brief.  Partial shade might help to prolong them, though I notice that Adeline do not recommend this.  There is also the threat of frosts which will not hurt the plant, but will spoil the look of the flowers, but this seems to be less of a problem here than in England, though of course we can have late frosts.

I shall now doubt return to magnolias, but meanwhile we have had the 'tempête', my second since I have been in France. Here not too much damage: a few tiles off the roof, and a great oak, which unfortunately has fallen into others, and how we disentangle them is going to be a problem.  But there are advantages in not having park land and cedars. Where I was in 1999 the devastation was enormous. More exciting for me was the discovery by chance in our local nursery at Lombez - for the moment his details escape me, but he is on the main Toulouse road, on the left going to Toulouse, just before you hit the long straight stretch - of Cornus officinalis. It appears to be an upmarket Cornus mas, with the very early yellow flowers, and not much else, though there are some pretty variegated ones. Indeed I think of Cornus mas as a being a poorman's witch hazel, above all lacking the smell, though in my view only Hamamelis Pallida has fragrance that really travels. Cornus officinalis is a rather bigger animal growing up 10 metres. The flowers may be bigger as well. They are certainly earlier, that is to say they are out now. It has attractive bark, good autumn colour, and is not fussy about where it lives. What more could you ask for.

Trees for a Gersois Garden

The good news is that I have never had such a good opportunity to plant trees. The bad is that I am of an age when it is impossible for me to live long enough fully to enjoy the choices that I have made, and continue to do so. What this also means is that I am not in a good position to say whether my choices have been successful, especially as I am a great believer in planting small. All I can do is to share some of my choices, and particularly for those who are new to the area indicate where these trees can be found.

For most of this area the oak is the dominant tree, and we are lucky to have half a dozen very fine examples, one of which has become the central focus of the garden. The only reservation I would make of this tree is that it lacks the spectacular autumn colour, which some oaks possess, especially those from North America. They also grow into very large trees, which can be a disadvantage, but then most oaks trees are large! One that apparently is not is Quercus schumardii, though having written that I see that one of my reference books mentions 35 m. - though only 20m. in France. I like it because it grows quickly, this true of many North American oaks, but especially the most common Q.rubra. Its young foliage is pink, its old foliage is red, and its middle aged foliage is a very healthy dark green.

Oaks are a subject I shall undoubtedly return to. The choice is vast and there are a number of very good suppliers of them in France. One of them is Les Pepinières Botaniques de La Preille, and I mention them in particular because the owners have produced one of the essential reference books for a Gersois gardener - Arbres et Arbustes by Myriam & Vincent Grellier (www.lapreille.fr). They specialize in oaks and acers, but their book in fact is a descriptive list of every tree and shrub that they think will grow well in West and South West France - their nursery is near Potiers, but they are faithful exhibitors at the Gaujacq twice yearly plant fairs. What I like about the book is that it gives very specific information about cultivation, especially concerning what I think is the most vital consideration for Gersois gardening, resistance to lack of water. Q.schumardii, for instance, according to them, does not require too much water. A lot of Red Oaks do, including Q.alba and Q.bicolor, both of which I have tried to grow without much success.

A problem arises when reference books give contrary advice. The Pepinières Adeline is I would guess the best nursery for trees and shrubs in France, and certainly it is as good as anything to be found in Great Britain, at least as regards it catalogue. This is probably not as complete as Hilliers, if for instance you compare their lists of magnolias, though Adeline mentions over fifty, but in other areas it is very strong. Moreover it attempts to give considerable detail concerning cultivation, something that Hillier's catalogue hardly does. But if you turn to Q.schumardii Adeline's suggests that it needs a lot of water. Whom to believe? In this case I believe La Preille, only because I know that Q. schumardii has come through some very dry summers with flying colours. Can I trust them as regards Ptelia trifoliata ? For a long time I have been tempted to try this, a smallish tree with not very conspicuous greenish yellow flowers, which are however are extremely fragrant, moreover with a fragrance that travels.  I have been put off doing so because most books suggest that it prefers a certain dampness, which I would find difficult to provide. No however La Preille who state that it resists the secheresse. I hope they are right,because I am going to give it a go.

I cannot say that Adeline is the easiest nursery to deal with; their pricing is complicated,and you can easily end up spending in my view rather too much, though to be fair to them they provide a devis before you have to make up your mind. Still probably the most important decision that I have made here concerns the choice of four trees that line the South South East facade of the house, one of their functions being to provide some much needed shade without growing too tall.  In the end I went for Malus coronaria Charlotte, smallish trees that in theory do everything - scented flowers, fruits and autumn colour. So far reasonably good, though one has decided to grow a little less well than the others, always a problem when you want regularity.  These in fact came from Adeline, as did Crataegus viridis Winter King,another tree that scores points in those three important areas.

The Crab Apple (Malus) and Hawthorn (Crataegus) families contain many species and cultivars that should do well in the Gers, and they are families that I will return to from time to time. My last suggestion on this occasion is Pistacia chinensis, a smallish tree or small bush with rather delicate ash-like (pinnate) leaves that go a marvellous colour and with luck have red, turning to blue berries in autumn. This I acquired from Florama, another very good source for trees, in this case not at all expensive, though rather small and no cultivars since the owner works entirely from seeds- but more about Florama and other trees on another occasion.

Winter thoughts

It snowed all morning, though as so often no sooner than it has fallen it begins to disappear. Still it is fair to say that we are having what one might call a proper winter: it is only the 6th of January and we have already had two falls of snow. Now they are promising us temperatures of -5 C., and it is at that temperatue that I begin to worry. I do not take up either cannas or dahlias, since in the past I have lost more from rotting off in the garage, than leaving them in the ground, but of course there comes a moment when one could lose them from freezing ground. Most sages are potentially under threat, pentstemons also, and no doubt other things that I have forgotten, so it is worrying times.Last year I succeeded in getting through the winter a plant that I have set my heart on growing for many years, without knowing quite why, and so far without great success.  It is an Isoplexis, in my case I. isabelliana, which one might describe as a shrubby foxglove, or even shrubby pentstemon, but  with orange/rusty flowers. According to Philips & Rix it can take down to -3 C., so -5 C. is serious worry. I do protect it, as I do the various hedychiums, about which more in a later blog. But there is a worry about protection, especially perhaps of a vegetable variety - this year I have used shredded bark. Slugs and snails find it an ideal wintering up place, and they are often up and about in the Spring before you. It can also enourage moulds of various kinds, so that the protected plant is killed by rot rather than frost. All the books stress that winter damp can be as dangerous as winter cold, and talk alot about good drainage, but in our heavy soil good drainage is difficult to provide. Moreover the plants I have mentioned including the dahlias and the cannas rather like our heavy soil, so as always in gardening you are confronted with a choice of evils, and can only hope for the best.

As regards winter colour there is little of it to be found for the moment in my garden. We are still so very much in what some one once said of a previous garden, the 'pygmy stage'; with nothing very much making an impact,so one has to use one's imagination.  Winter, or more accurately early spring flowering trees and shrubs already in include Hamamelis x intermedia Diane; Lonicera fragrantissima; Mahonia x media Lionel Fortescue; ditto Winter Sun; Prunus Hally Jolivette; P. Okame, and P. x subhirtella Autumnalis Rosea. I am not convinced that the Hamamelis will turn out to be a good choice. It is not so much the lack of acid soil, though the more westerly you are the more likely you are to have such  soil, but the dry summers.  They are essentially woodland shrubs, but dampish woodland, not our dry oak woods. Moreover my plant was a Gamm Vert 'promo', i.e. well past its sell by date,and therefore half the price - and very pricey they more usually are, but it has just about survived its first summer, and it is in a spot where I can easily get water to it, so on verra.  The 'Cherries' are getting away well, as they normally do in our area - my feeling s that local nurserymen do not think enough about them. Mahonia Winter Sun nearly died its first summer; it is no doubt wrongly placed on a south facing bank - but I failed to get round to moving it, and as a result at this very moment it is probably the star of the garden.  The Winter honeysuckle is a must in this region because though it is a rather dowdy shrub for most of the year, its flower power and therefore scent in the winter months is outstanding, and moreover it is trouble free. This reminds me to say that I find quite a lot of shrubs which in England I found a little boring, out here flower and/or fruit so intensely, that they go up in my estimation. Amongst these I would include Chaenomeles, or Ornamental quinces, which here flower very early, and Pyracanthas. 

Bulbs do their thing more or less immediately, or at any rate they flower immediately, so they in this sense avoid the pygmy stage. Of course, as with all things, they come with problems. The number of my snowdrops is  rapidly decreasing, even though planted on a north woodland slope. Crocus would flourish but for the mice and voles, tulips ditto, and this to my surprise since I thought they would not take to the heavy clay. Unfortunately for me the rabbits appear to like them, it seems to me more out of curiousity than any gastronomic pleasure. The good news is that they do not seem to like daffodils. I some times think that we are a bit dry for them, and they appear to hold their own rather than flourish, but I have planted a lot of them, mainly of the smaller varieties such N. February Gold, but more of this another time.  Of the even smaller bulbs, cyclamen are a must, including the winter flowering 'Coums'; also the small iris such as I. histriodes and reticulata.Unlike in England where they tended to die out, here they seem to multiply, though again alas for me the rabbits are quite interested in them. This is also true of my final recommendations, the Ipheions. My impression is that they are underrated, and admittedly the most common example, I. uniflorum, is a rather washy blue. But Wisley Blue is stronger, and Alberto Castillo a very good white. I. Rolf Fielder is a slightly different animal, with a smaller, ground hugging leaves, but with a flower of an almost flourescent blue. They disappear from view after early flowering, but do not seem to mind being accidently disturbed; in fact it is probably good for them, as they soon become very congested. But that is the good news. They appear to like us, and over quite a long period provide carefree colour.