Thursday 9 December 2010

'You say Mimosa; I say Mahonia'

Picking up on the theme of recent blogs I suppose the Mimosa might for some come into the star category. Its fern like foliage is attractive, its yellow flowers are harbingers of Spring, and moreover it has a lovely, if delicate, fragrance. What more could one want? Well, like everything else it is not perfect. It looks rather a mess after flowering, and this at a time of the year when messes rather stand out since everything else is looking so fresh. Moreover in many parts of the world it is almost a weed, so freely does it sucker and self seed. This is true of the Riviera, where it has found conditions entirely to its liking and now threatens to take over the countryside. In SW France it is less happy, though certainly growable: if cut down by very cold weather a well-established plant usually grows again from the base. But in a way this makes it here more desirable than say at Menton, where I believe there is a Mimosa festival each year. Incidentally for mimosa read Acacia dealbata, the most common, probably because one of the most hardy of the family. It is in fact a huge family, mainly I think with yellow flowers, but with very different and mostly very attractive foliage. I grew for a number of years quite successfully A. pravissima with triangular almost spiky foliage, less successfully A.baileyana Purpurea with, as the name suggests, very deep purple foliage, but there are many others, sadly all a bit frost tender but well worth a try, and perhaps I should add that they come quite easily from seed, and grow very fast, which for us 'Wrinklies' is an advantage. But that said, as Christopher Lloyd used to write of certain plants, on the whole I prefer to see mimosas in other people's gardens, especially if those people are willing from time to time to give me a bouquet.

Mahonias are another matter. Apart from a certain alliteration, they share with mimosas evergreen foliage, though holly-like rather than fern-like, and yellow flowers, often fragrant. What I suppose I like about them, and perhaps increasingly so, is their architectural quality - this a description often used, so that it has become a cliche, but it is difficult to think of an alternative. Mine are just coming into flower, this of course at a time when there are not too many flowers about, so that is another plus. Sadly I do not know what varieties they are. One is almost certainly M. Winter Sun. The others were bought as Gamm Vert rejects, these well worth looking out for, especially at the L'Isle Jourdain outlet, which in my experiance has the best selection of plants, though in recent years Gamm Vert has made a big effort to improve the quality and choice of their plants. I guess more often seen are M. Charity and M. Lionel Fortescue, but I am not sure that I can tell the difference between them. They lack the strong fragrance of M. Winter Sun, but the most fragrant is M.japonica, a plant that one used to see a lot of in England, but I am not sure that I have ever seen it here, which is a pity. It is perhaps less architectural than the others mentioned, perhaps too bushy to be so described. The most architectural - Hilliers calls it "very imposing" - is M.lomariifolia, but it is slightly more tender than the others, and I think the flowers lack fragrance. I have grown two from seed, but maybe I will never see them in flower. Meanwhile there are many other mahonias, M. bealei perhaps being the most common, but not one of my favourites. There are also a number of definitely tender varieties, such as M.freemonti, which I have tried without much success; they have not exactly died, but they have struggled to such an extent that in the end I have pulled them out.

Meanwhile I feel that our autumn has been disappointing; rather long drawn-out - there are still plenty of leaves on the trees, especially oaks but then they are always late to fall - and thus not so intense. But so far we have escaped the cold and snow of Northern France, and indeed of much of Northern Europe including England. Long may this last.


Wednesday 1 December 2010

Celebrities

Before attacking the subject of the title I want to return to my previous blog, since amongst the plants that I use rather a lot of are two non-stars that I failed to mention. The first is Viburnum tinus, a plant that I at one time I positively disliked. Evergreen yes, but a leaf that in my view is not nearly as attractive as cotoneaster lacteus which I wrote about last time; flowers that one might call winter flowering, or at least late autumn and early Spring - but do these come into the dingy white category? - and apparently in certain weather conditions it may give off an unpleasant smell, though I am not sure that I have ever noticed this. Why have I changed my mind, sufficiently so to plant not exactly a hedge, but rather a line of them ? One reason is the need to find something evergreen, if for different reasons, camellias, conifers and rhododendrons are not an option, this the same reason why I have become keener on the cotoneaster. One can also do more or less what you like with them, which is to say that they will take really quite hard pruning, and this has practical advantages. But the chief reason is that they by and large make more impact here than they did in the areas of England where I gardened. Curiously given its non-starring qualities Viburnhum tinus does not like cold weather, and indeed can be killed by heavy frosts. This meant that very often in Kent when the plant should be looking at its best, it could look rather ill. Here this is less likely, and perhaps even more importantly our hot summers significantly increase its flower power, as it does for quite a number of shrubs - for instance the chaenomeles, or as we used to call them the Japonicas. I first noticed this when in a garden near to the Prado in Madrid in March I saw these marvellous evergreen shrubs covered in dazzlingly white flowers, and wondered what the hell they were; none other than the humble Viburnham tinus. There are a number of hybrids, which I used to try in the hope that I would grow to like the family more - Eve Price and Gwenllian come to mind, but I am not now convinced that they are a great improvement on the bog-standard.

In between I have planted Teucrium fruticans, another non-star, but in our neck of the woods a very useful one. Silvery leaves and pale blue flowers that appear rather at the same time as the Viburnum tinus, which is to say late autumn and early Spring with usually a lull in mid-winter, though much depends on the weather, it can grow really quite large, which is to say a good one and a half metres high, and the same as regards width, or perhaps even wider, as it has tendency to flop. But also like the viburnum it can be heavily pruned and indeed I have seen it quite seriously clipped to make slivery balls to go with box or yew topiary. Incidentally its close cousin, T. fruticans Azureum, in my view comes in the star category, being a much daintier plant, with much stronger blue flowers, but like all stars it needs more cosseting. Even better, but harder to find - Pep: Filippi is one source - is T. fruticans Ouarzazate (Moroccan town), which has even stronger blue, almost purple flowers. At this very moment it is in full bloom, as yet not affected by the current cold spell.

This diversion has not left much space for Celebrities, but at least I can provide a definition. They are plants, whether woody or herbaceous, that out of the blue hit the headlines, or at any rate are to be found on almost every stand at a Plant Fair. Some times they just last a year, perhaps two, and then they disappear, or at any rate just become part of the crowd. Some times they are revivals - about twenty five five years ago the penstemons were rediscovered - sometimes they are new discoveries - Corydalis flexuosa with the lovely blue flowers and fernlike leaves, that, alas, dislike our hot, dry summers, I think comes into this category. More frequently they are new hybrids such as Albizia Summer Chocolate. The latter I fell for about two years ago but then decided that I positively disliked it and gave my plant away. But that is the problem with celebrities. At the time they are 'must have' plants, but to become stars they have got to pass the test of time. Many don't.

Tuesday 16 November 2010

We can't all be Stars !

This reflection was prompted by the 'rediscovery' of my Cotoneaster lacteus. Of course they have been there all the time, but for most of the summer one hardly notices them. They do have flowers in the Spring, in some quantity indeed, but they are a rather dingy white, so nothing to write home about. But as the autumn progresses the plants become more and more noticeable. Mostly this is because of the berries which are a very good red, in large clusters, and appear to last a long time. But what sets the berries off is the colour of the leaves which become an increasingly deep, almost glossy green - very eye-catching. I suppose at this time of year they become stars, but unlike stars they are not expensive. They self seed easily - if anybody wants them I have plenty to give away - and they require absolutely no cosseting. In a previous blog I lamented the fact that I find hollies too difficult to grow, but Cotoneaster lacteus are a good substitute.

I am rather confidentally calling mine C.lacteus, but if somebody said that they were C. salicifolius I would not argue with them. C.salicifolius to my way of thinking has, as the name suggests, more willow-like leaves, which is to say longer and thinner, and Hilliers suggests that it has rather fewer berries, but it is clearly a good plant. I have two other cotoneasters - C. franchetii and C.simonsii. The former is much praised for its gracefulness, and it is true that it has a good form which I wrongly no doubt rather hide by growing through it a clematis. It also lacks the berry-power of C.lacteus. So does C.simonsii, though there are berries enough, and it can hardly be called elegant, with its rather rigid and upright growth, but it is that quality that makes it a useful shrub in a confined space. I have got my eye on C. bullatus. It is more of a tree than C.lacteus, but its leaf colouring is rather similar. The berries are a very good red, but bigger - cherries rather than red currants?

Meanwhile there are plenty of other cotoneasters, C. Exburiensis for example, but this shrub comes into the my 'out of kilter' category. Its berries are yellow, when I want my cotoneastar berries to be red, in the same way that I want my Rowan berries to be red, not pink (Sorbus vimorinii), or white (S.cashmirana). But I wish that I could grow rowans here- attractive leaves, flowers and berries, and often very good autumn colour; one could hardly ask for more, except a greater resistance to heat and drought. Some people manage to grow them, and I have even seen some municipal planting, but in the autumn when they should come into their own they appear to be under great stress, losing both leaves and berries. Moreover their berries appear rather too early for my liking - berries are for autumn, not summer.

But I seem to have strayed from my original purpose, a discussion of stars, or rather non-stars. Amongst the shrubs non-stars might include Forsythias, Philadelphus and Weigelas, while Magnolias and Rhododendrons for the most part have star quality. Amongst the herbaceous plants delphineums are obvious stars, nepetas (catmints) more humble folk, ditto many hardy gernaniums, though amongst these are to be found stars, even, like Geranium Rozanne, what I would call celebrities, but more of those another time.

Sunday 7 November 2010

Out of Kilter

Earlier in the year I recommended a tall bearded Iris called English Cottage; in fact I called it English Cottage Garden which was wrong. What especially attracted me to it was its floriferousness; there are so many buds on one stem that it appears to be in flower for a long time even if an individual flower hardly lasts more than a day. Its colour is attractive enough, being white with a lilac flush. It does have a sweet smell and, what I did not mention, it is remontant, with the result that at the beginning of November it is back in flower again. This is supposedly an advantage - most of us like a rose that repeats - but the more I look at it, the more it worries me, which is to say I find it out of kilter. I suppose that this is largely because I do not expect to have irises flowering at this time, but there is also the fact that the colour does not go with the autumn reds and yellows. Perhaps if it was red or yellow it would worry me less, but in fact I find something worrying about a yellow or red iris at whatever time it flowers. I prefer mine to be in the blue to purple range; ditto for my delphiniums though decidedly not so for my roses, or rather decidely not blue. Incidentally anything white I find acceptable, though do not ask me why. Does all this make me an old fogey. Probably, but I fear that at my advanced age there is little to be done about it. What I am not sure about is what to do about English Cottage. I suspect that I will leave it, but it is now not quite the favourite I thought that it was going to be.

Meanwhile autumn colour is very much the theme. As I have already made clear, it is something that I am especially fond of, so much so that any tree or shrub that does not perform in the autumn, has got to do something spectacularly good at other times to be acceptable. At the moment my two stars are Pyrus calleryana Red Spire and Pistacia chinensis, both I think musts for Gersois gardens.The former's better known relation, Pyrus call:Chanticleer, has only just begun to turn. It also appears to do so in a more uneven fashion, something I actually prefer - parrotias are good at doing this, though my specimen is looking so miserable that I do not think that it is going to have any autumn colour - I happened to see yesterday one I had planted some fifteen years ago in another garden and it was looking stunning. Of course acers are probably the best providers of autumn colour, but since most of them do not like our summer heat, and some do not like our non-acid soil, the decorative pears are a useful substitute, mine growing on a very dry bank without the slightest sign of stress. I have recently added Pyrus ussuriensis, a wild chinese pear, which I suspect will eventually be rather too big for the position that I have given it, but since mine is one of the Florama 'babies', that is to say essentially a seedling, it is a problem that I will not have to grapple with. But like all pears it flowers very early in the year, and has good autumn colour. Incidentally neither Chanticleer nor Red Spire is small - c.12m - but their shape is what I think is called fastigiate, which is to say that they are much taller than they are broad, with their branches being upright rather than horizontal, so do do not take up so much space.

Meanwhile there is nothing quite as red at this time of year as a Sumach tree (Rhus). I prefer to see the most commonly grown sumach, Rhus typhinia, in other people's garden as I do not like the red candelabra flowers, and it does spread itself around rather too vigourously. Instead the other day I acquired at La Coursiana, as always looking very beautiful, Rhus chinensis. It is going to have white candelabras, which I hope will be less of a worry, and it does not seem to spread. On verra!

Monday 4 October 2010

A touch of Optimism

I am not quite sure why this should be so as it is not clear that the garden deserves very many marks. One reason may be just relief that it has survived another summer without too much damage having been caused by secheresse. Probably a more important one, and this supported by the fact that in my garden diary for this time last year, there was also a note of optimism, is that by the end of a summer I have been able to claw back what I lose rather too spectacularly to the weed offensive in the Spring . The problem then is that because of our heavy soil it is very difficult to get on the ground quickly enough to check the offensive. As the ground dries out one can begin the counter-attack, primarily in my case with the mattock, with the result that by the end of the year one is under the illusion that order has been restored. However what may justify my present mood is the fact that slowly and in some case surely, the good things are getting bigger, so that there is less room for the bad things to prosper. In other words my policy of colonization seems to be bearing fruit.

Where this is most obvious is on my 'wild rose' bank, and since this is the first thing that you see when you get to the top of our drive, this is a considerable advance. 'Wild rose' is not in fact a very accurate description for amongst the roses to be found there are two famous classics, Fantin Latour and Madame Isaac Peirere. Both are in fact toughies, especially the former, which they have to be since the bank is exposed to every kind of weather and the soil is a mixture of clay and brick. But I call it wild because for the most part the roses there are single in flower, often white, have significant hips, and sometimes with the hips, good autumn colour. More importantly their foliage is good from the moment it appears in the Spring. Perhaps the best example is Rosa soulieana. This has very attractive glaucous foliage,though perhaps not quite as glaucous as R. glauca/rubrifolia, single white flowers in great profusuion, and then lots of orange hips. It can grow tall, up to at least 3 metres, puts up with all kinds of weather, and is never ill.

Also to be found there is Rosa carolina., apparently called in America the 'pasture rose', since it is to be found growing in pastures, presumably mainly in Carolina! But it grows equally well in the Gers. The flowers are single but of a good strong pink. Quest-Ritson says that it has a perfume that travels, but I have to admit that so far I have not had a whiff of it. What pleases me most is its attractive foliage and reddish stems, at least when young, and the fact that along with hips it turns a good autumn colour. No autumn colour but very good foliage are the feature of my last two recommendations, Rosa moschata and, apparently a hybrid of it, R. Darlow's Engima. The name of the latter intrigues. Apparently it is a quite recent chance discovery, but why Darlow? There was an Albert Darlow who bred cattle, but there is no mention of his liking of roses. Anyway both are not surprisingly very similar; simple white flowers that repeat well and are fragrant, they will grow to at least 3 metres high, and could be used as a smallish climber, though mine are kept as bushes. But as suggested already what first attracted me to them when first seen at La Roseriaie du Desert was the very fresh green of their leaves when many roses around them were suffering from excessive heat and drought.

Still roses are not the only thing that are beginning to make an impact. Suddenly for instance the cistus bought for the most part in very small godets are becoming quite large shrubs, shrubs that cope well with our hot summers, and being evergreen look good all the year round. They are the sort of plant that I buy in a rather promiscous way, without ever really mastering their differences, yet alone their names. If you want to know more about them consult the Filippi catalogue (www.jardin-sec.com); there is also a book,'Pour un Jardin sans arrosage', which is available in English. Also to be found in the catalogue are the three ceratostigmas - C.griffithii, C.plumbaginoides, and C. wilmottianum - but also in that of Les Senteurs du Quercy (www.senteursduquercy.com), which like Filippi's is full of useful information. In an earlier blog I confused the first two. C.griffithii was actually the one I was most anxious to have, it being a more imposing, not to say invasive shrub. Thinking it was C. plumbagnoides I was delighted to find a lot being sold cheaply in Gamm Vert only to be disappointed when they did not grow in the expected way, performing much more as a vivace than a shrub. Still both are extremely useful. They can virtually disappear during the winter, make a late start in the Spring but by this time of year are covered with strikingly blue flowers and increasingly with extremely vivid autumn colour, a feature which for me gives C.griffithii the edge just because it is a bigger subject. But what I appreciate about both is that they resist the secheresse, something that I more and more look out for. Happily, with over 60mm of rain in the last forty eight hours the secheresse is over, and we can sit back and enjoy the autumn 'fireworks', which are just getting underway.

Monday 6 September 2010

Alas, my Sparkleberry ne sparkle pas !

I miss the holly in all its various varieties and variegations. It may be a little artificial, and you can make it even more so by making it into topiary, but leaving aside the excitement, and associations of the berries, it adds a touch of smartness to a garden, and can lighten up a dark corner. I have seen the wild holly in various parts of the South West, and I suspect that if you are near the mountains you might have success with them, though in the only garden in that category that I know of they nevertheless struggle. I suppose that it is the usual problem of heat and drought. I thought that I had found the answer at least to the berries in Ilex Sparkleberry. It is much recommended by my gardening guru, Pamela J. Harper, and in her Virginia garden it sure does sparkle. Not here however,and since unlike the traditional holly, its leaves are not evergreen so far it has added not a lot to the beauty of the place. No doubt it is the aforesaid problem, though I would have thought that like us Virginia was pretty hot in summer. What it may need is shade, or perhaps I just need to be a bit more patient. Incidentally, like most hollies for there to be berries it requires a male plant to be somewhere around, so for the sparkle you will also need Ilex x Apollo. Both can, or at least could be, found at Pep Botaniques Armoricaines, which though situated in Brittany does come to the Gaujac plant Fairs.

As already indicated, Sparkleberry without its berries is a rather poor thing, in the same way that say a Forsythia or the Winter flowering honesuckle are poor things without their flowers - or to put it another way they are shrubs that lack shape and/or attractive foliage. This leads me on to a reflection that also connects with my recent visit to England. What sadly we do not seem to be able to do here is create an English woodland garden. One thinks of the great Cornish gardens, too many to name, or the ones in Sussex, which I know better, such as Borde Hill and Leonardslee. What of course these possess is acid soil and moisture, which most of us do not, so no azaleas and rhododendrons. Many acers, supremely a shrub/tree that has both good form and good foliage, do not require acid soil, so one is tempted to try them, but with what success? Most of mine are struggling, though admittedly they are all small. One that is not is Acer oliverianum. It is on a south facing bank, so very dry, but under a large oak, and thus in shade, which may be the secret. One of the acers I have great hopes for is Acer triflorum, which amongst other things has rather similar bark to the better known Acer griseum. Mine alive but struggling, as also is my specimen, of A. griseum. The same can be said of my magnolias. These I have mostly planted in full sun, backing my hunch that they can take more heat than is usually suggested, but perhaps I am wrong. They are all alive, and already quite a lot of flower buds are forming, but they are not putting on much growth. Similarly the rather too many dogwoods that I have planted. These are shrubs/trees that like the acers perform more or less all the year round in one way or another, though with more flower/bract power, so very desirable - if only they would grow. I was very distressed the other day to hear VĂ©ronique Delonnoy of La Coursiana, say that she had great difficulty in growing the dogwoods, since in that lovely garden there is some acid soil, which the dogwoods probably prefer -and if she cannot grow them what am I doing trying. All is not lost. In fact they have come through the recent heatwave reasonably well, but on verra.

Meanwhile at last the rain has come, just about in time. I knew that was tempting fate in writing in my last blog that we were greener than in England, since when ,of course, we have had zero rain and temperatures in the 40.cs. Still it looks as if we have just about survived, though given that we have still a long autumn ahead of us, perhaps I am tempting fate yet again.


Thursday 12 August 2010

This and That

It is raining, which is one reason why I have at last got around to writing a new blog. I suspect that it is not going to be much, enough perhaps to avoid having to water today. In fact this year has been pretty kind as regards water. We have had some very hot and dry weather, but interspersed with just enough rain to keep the garden looking unusually green for the time of year. I have just come back from a rare visit to England. This included visits to Richmond and Kew. The former what with the grazing 'antelope', and the real parrots looked rather as I imagine the African veldt is, that is to say very brown indeed; ditto Kew where even the largest trees looked under stress. So in that sense I was glad to return to our green lawn around the swimming pool. Of course lawn, in the English sense it is not, rather a clover patch, but just because of the clover it does resist our usually dry and hot summer reasonably well. I have also, really for almost the first time in my life, resisted the temptation to cut low with the result that the slightly longer 'grass' has better retained what moisture we have had.

What plants did I see that caught my eye? Perhaps not as many as I hoped to, but then I was not there for long. The outstanding tree was curiously was Ostrya carpinfolia, I say curiously because to the question frequently asked of me by a non-gardening friend, what does this or that plant 'do', the answer could be not very much. It is very similar to what around here is the extremely common hornbeam. When I saw it it had attractive seed heads, and apparently in winter it has attractive catkins. It has reasonably good autumn colour, though of the yellow variety. What it did have is great presence, but then, it being Kew, I was looking at a particularly well-established specimen. There seems no reason why it should not grow well here, and if you have space I would recommend it.

Also in Kew I saw Althea cannabina. By chance I had just bought a plant during my visit to one of my favourite nurserymen, Bernard Lacrouts just outside Vic-en-Bigorre. There it was in a pot,looking remarkably beautiful but rather delicate. At Kew it was in large clumps of certainly 1,5 metres high, and apparently not lifted during the winter,and this has radically changed what use I could make of the plant.

Finally at Kew I was able to see the newly created rose garden. July is not the best time to see a rose garden in England, especially one under stress from drought and only recently planted. Given all this it was not looking too bad. It consisted mainly of David Austin roses. Those that seemed to be doing best in these difficult conditions were two that I had not really picked up from the catalogues, both of a deepish pink, Benjamin Britten and Sir John Betjamin. Amongst the Austin roses that I grow, and I think so far not mentioned is Crown Princess Margereta. Strong growing, so that it could easily be grown as a small climber, it is a strong apricot, has a good fruity fragrance, and repeats well. Also doing well and this in very difficult conditions, with the same possibility of being a climber, is Jude the Obscure. But being yellow rather than apricot, it rather fades away to not very much in our hot sun, so I cannot recommend it so strongly.. The strongest apricot that I know of, in fact described in the catalogue as copper, is remains Pat Austin, another very good 'doer'. Frequently mentioned by me is the rather bling bling and rather unattractively named, unless you are a supporter of Wolverhampton Wanderers, Molineux, about which I think that one can truthfully say, which in my view is rare, though a remark often seen in the catalogues, that it is never without flower.

What else to say about England? My most abiding impression is just how good the average garden is, with practically every where something of interest to see. Here one misses that, not that there are not good gardens, but they are rare, and usually rather unimaginative. That said some of the town gardens are good. I have not really noticed what Lectoure has done this year, but in the past its colour schemes have been rather imaginative. And there is a very good small garden at Auch under the cathedral and close to the cinemas. Any news of other very welcome.

Monday 14 June 2010

June in the Gers

Wet apparently. I always tell myself not to complain about too much rain, since normally we do not have enough, but I have to say that it would be good to have a little bit of sunshine, or at least not such as heavy rain, which has left so much of the garden looking a bit battered. Funnily enough I am rather more optimistic about the garden than usual, though I am not very sure why, since much of it is out of control, encouraged to be so by the wet. But there is plenty in flower including the penstemons. These are surely a 'must have', though I know of some people who have had difficulties with them. I am not sure that they welcome too much competition around them, whether from bonnes ou mauvaises herbes, and I have a suspicion that their roots can be attacked by voles, of which most of us have rather too many. But here they have worked very well. I have grown some from seed - they propagate very easily, and this is a cheap way to renew them since they are not very long lived - or you can buy the named varieties, many of which are available. My favourite, and of the most easy to grow, remains what I call P. Garnet, but now more usually lurks under its German name, P. Andenken an Frederich Hahn.

Another plant family in full flower is the Alstroemeria. I remember a time when they were considered 'difficult', and it is true that like the paeony they have an exotic look that suggests difficulties. But here at least they seem to grow like weeds, the clumps getting bigger and bigger, and for instance they seem to have suffered no ill-effects from our severish winter, this incidentally true of almost all the dahlias, cannas, though perhaps they are a little later than usual, and more surprisingly the Hedychiums, or Ginger Plants. All these I leave in the ground having decided many years ago that I was just as likely to lose them out of the ground as in, in either case rot being the principal enemy. As for the Alstroemerias mine were a cheap lot whose names I have not recorded, but none of them are the more recent shorter variety, which I have to say I do not like nearly as much. I have a recollection Of Christopher Lloyd sounding off against all shorter, and supposedly more convenient - no staking - hybrids, and as always he was right. For instance the mini-snapdragon is a miserable specimen the giant varities - Chiltern Seeds stock them - very fine.

I am not sure how often I have praised the Salvia turkestanica, but in my view it cannot be praised too often. The appearance of its flowers is one of the most magical moments in the gardening calendar. It is hardly more than a biannual, but it is usually generous with its seeds, so once you have it you should never be without. A very wet winter is not good news of it, but then it is not for most plants.

As I mentioned last time, the roses have been exceptional this year, and in my last blog I promised some sort of assessment of some of the lesser known ones that I grow. In fact I think it is a bit too soon to make a judgement about many of them, particularly those bought from La Rosereraie du Desert, the reason being that most of these are eventually large specimens, and until the reach a certain size it is difficult to assess them. Still I am very pleased with Emmie Grey, and not just because it's origins are listed 'found Bermuda'. It is single red, quite similar to Sanguinea, incidentally another 'must have', but seemingly of more upright growth. Also very succeessful is the species rose, Rosa soulieana, a great favourite of Sir Roy Strong's, if that is a recommendation.. Again it is big, at this time of year covered with single white flowers with attractive yellow stamens, to be followed by orange hips. But its chief feature is its foliage, not quite as purplish blue as Rosa glauca, but I am not sure that grey, the description used by Peter Beales is quite adequate. But however you describe the colour it makes a wonderful shrub.

I had intended to make rather disparaging remarks about Kathleen - the hybrid musk, not the china - but the other day while weeding around a massif of roses my eye was caught by a mass of very delicate, single, pink roses, whose name I did not know. It turned out to be Kathleen, only confirming my view that all hybrid musks are good news. I have got old favourites such as Buff Beauty, Cornelia, Moonlight, and Penelope, but also, new to me the aforesaid Kathleen, but also Nur Mahal, semi-single, bright crimson, and Vanity, a bright pink, which I am finding particularly attractive. If you confined yourself to only hybrid musks you would not go far wrong. The individual flowers are not I suppose especially distinguished, but they repeat well, rarely suffer from the diseases that many roses are prone to, and for the most part have good scent. Many were developed in the 1920s by the Rev. Joseph Pemberton, one of those now virtually extinct breed of Anglican vicars who devoted a lot of their time to flora and fauna to the great benefit of mankind.

Friday 28 May 2010

Unfair to Charlottae

Ever since I made some not very complimentary remarks about Malus coronaria Chalottae I have been feeling rather guilty. To prove me wrong she managed to remain in flower for almost a month. I have decided that the colour far from being a 'dingy white' is in fact a delicate pink, and that the flower power is considerable, and presumably can only get better with growth. The flowers themselves are large and worth looking at individually for the attractive stamens, if that is what they are - I am not good on the sex life of plants. The promised smell of violets is there, but I would have to say only just, but again with growth this may improve. Anyway the good news for me is that I do not think that I have made too great a mistake in planting four of her in front of the house. Meanwhile apropos of my last blog I feel I should give the name of the White with a violet tinge Iris I mentioned since it is an absolute winner, amongst other things havng so many buds that it remains in flower a very long time, even when picked, this not the case with most Iris I know, its name being English Cottage Garden.

It was to be found on sale at the La Coursiana open day, a lovely event with the garden itself looking at its best, and a good selection of plants on sale. A nursey woman whom I had not come across before was Gay Webster (fox-holmes@wanadoo.fr). She specializes in honeysuckles (loniceras), and seeing her selection made me think that I have not really taken them seriously enough. I have at this moment got a marvellous Lonicera etrustca in full flower. I have also got various extremely floriferous wild honeysuckle rather similar to 'Graham Thomas', that is to say palish yellow, and this I have managed to make cuttings of. One of the things that has put me off honeysuckles is my belief that they would like life a little wetter than I can normally provide; also shade, which in my garden is not altogether easy to find, or rather not that half shade, which so many plants prefer. I think that I am probably right in this, but I am planning to make a greater effort to accomodate them. L. etrustca, incidentally is happy in full sun, as indeed are one or two others, but you would need to consult Gay Webster for more information. And perhaps I should add that at this moment there seems to me to be a whole lot of new hybrids coming on to the market, notable for their smell and their flower power, so keep your eyes out for them.

Meanwhile almost every garden in Gascony will be smelling of roses, and in fact I cannot remember seeing a better display. Looking out of the window as I write this I have got Molineux full frontal so-to-speak, and nothing could be more more bling-bling, not even our President. And Moonlight behind it - first appearing nearly a hundred years ago and still one of the 'greats' - is hardly less showy. Quite different are the wild roses; the flowers are fleeting but unbeatably delicate, and again I have hardly ever seen them better. Here May sees the peak of the first flush of roses, rather than June as in England, though I suspect that this year we are a little bit later than usual. At this moment I have got three of my top ten in full flower: the Queen of Denmark, Fantin Latour and Complicata, interestingly all three only once flowering, which is not what the modern rose grower wants to provide us with. Looking at the Queen of Denmark last night I decided that it must go to the top. It has that centre of a deeper pink which then merges into the paler outer petals, in a way that I do not think that David Austin, for all his skill, has been able to match.. Nor in my view do his pinks of which there are many very good ones including my old favourite Mary Rose, quite live up to the magic of Fantin Latour, perhaps the quintessential 'rose ancienne'. Complicata is quite different, being single, the name presumably some sort of a joke. I am not sure why I rate it so high; it has no smell, is only once flowering, though does have good hips, but if one sees it in full fig it immediately suggests quality.

My one fear is that my 'top three' rather dates me. I first saw them at least forty years ago, and in a rather sacred place, which is to say Sissinghurst. I have not the slightest doubt that some sort of nostalgia creeps into my judgement. I do not apologize for this for nostalgia, together with some attempt to hold on to the future, which is to say that I hope that some things that I have planted will linger on well after I have gone, is a very important part of my gardening, but I am well aware that since the late fifties a lot of very good roses have been produced. In my next blog I will try and make an assessment of some tiny fraction of these, but perhaps even more so an assessment of roses, some very old but that are new to me, and I would guess not very well known to many others.


Wednesday 5 May 2010

The Fight is on

I was going to start this blog with a moan about the very dry Spring, but events have rather overtaken me. In the last five days we have had 81 mm which is about the average for the whole month of May, incidentally, and perhaps to some people's surprise, our wettest month. I now have to say that all this rain is very welcome, which of course it is , especially for anything recently planted, but since I am a moaner by nature I can now complain that it will make the battle to control the onslaught of the weeds all the more difficult. I have already mentioned that my overall strategy is colonization; that is to say that rather than creating large areas of clean ground into which I plant the good things, I do my planting first and then and then try to clear round them. I hope that it is too early to tell whether this strategy is the right one because at the moment the bad greatly outnumber the good, but I certainly have not given up hope.

At this moment the four Malus coronaria Charlottae planted as a screen in front of the facade of the house, are in full flower. They are probably the most important planting decision that I have made here, and the worrying thing is that I am not sure that it was a good one. In theory they should do everything - flowers, smell, decorative leaves, decoratve fruit and autumn colour - so what is the problem? My chief worry are the flowers. Hilliers describe them as "large, semi-double, shell-pink and violet scented". Well so far I have not smelt anything, though the heavy rain of recent days is one reason for this. The flowers themselves come out with the leaves which is a mixed blessing, and shell-pink could be described as a dingy white. Funnily enough the same criticisms could be made of the Quince, the flower colour being especially similar, but with the quince the effect is for me increasingly desirable, perhaps because the downy texture of the new leaves goes so well with the flowers. Most people will have inherited a quince, though they come in various shapes and sizes, about which I am not competent to comment. The fruit as it increasingly turns a golden colour is attractive enough, but there is no autumn colour, and indeed by the end of the year the general appearance can be rather grotty, which is the moment when Charlotte definitely has more to offer. I am still hoping that when my trees are bigger, the flower power will have increased, which in turn may result in the promised violet scent and I will be entirely satisfied. Meanwhile for that magical moment in Spring the Quince is a 'must'.

Last time I mentioned Syringa reticulata subsp pekinensis to give it its full name. It is still not in flower, but looking very elegant. Meanwhile another species lilac, S. wolfii, is. The flowers are nothing very special being a pale lilac in colour, but the general effect is not unpleasing, and will be more so, as with all my planting, when a bit bigger. This time round I want to mention a common enough 'vivace', Achillea Moonshine, but for me one worthy of a Michelin three star rating. As with say , Buddleja Lochinch, I am not entirely sure what makes me like it so much, but it has something to do with the combination of flower , in Moonshine's case, a luminous pale yellow, and foliage, which as with the buddleja is silvery. It is not difficult to grow, though at c.60 cms a big plant probably benefits from staking, which for some may be a bore, but for me it is a 'must have'.

Meanwhile it is very much Iris time. In a rather haphazard way I have acquired quite a number including a rather bling bling orangy yellow and chocolate variey, and a much more subtle white suffused with violet one, which also smells well. I used to very much like the dark purples, but find myself admiring more and more the light blues - there used to be one called Jane Phillips, though alas I do not think that I have her. They grow extremely well in our region, liking the baking of our hot summers - never plant them too deep, and remember to split them up after a certain period or they will cease to flower well. They are a little difficult to place because for much of the year they can look tatty, but I am entirely in favour of them. What I am not prepared to do is to remember their multitude of names, and they are a genus, rather like the Hemerocallis, or day lily, for which new varieties seem to be produced by the minute, or at least by the year. There will be suppliers of them at every plant fair and the choice will be enormous.

This reminds me that the Gaujacq Plant Fair is this coming weekend. Sadly 'la crise', or at least my 'crise' means that I will not be going, but if you have your cheque book to hand it is strongly to be recommended. I am consoling myself by going to my favourite garden's, La Coursiana's, open day on the Saturday, where I hope to be tempted less, while enjoying all the delights of that marvellous garden.

Friday 16 April 2010

Rabbits encore - and other matters

I am feeling rather guilty that I have gone a whole month without being able to think of anything to write, this at a time when any gardner worthy of the name is totally obsessed with gardening matters. Partly it is that being obsessed I have had no time to sit in front of the computer, and now that one can work until at last 8 pm I end the day too tired to think of much else than getting to bed. I have also been rather depressed. The rapid change from Winter to Spring always catches me unprepared. One minute the ground is too wet and heavy to get on to, and the next minute the weeds are up to one's waist, and one has to get the pickaxe out to eradicate them. At this moment quite frankly my garden is out of control, so it seems rather hypocritical to be offering any comments on gardening matters.

I have however been thinking a little bit about my rabbit problem. This remains - there are hundreds on site - despite the appearance of our very willing head huntsman and his sons - various shots were fired but no injuries to rabbits were reported. For Christmas a friend very thoughtfully gave me a book entitled 'Gardening with the Enemy; a Guide to Rabbit-proof Gardening' by Janet Thomson (ISBN 0 9530013 0X) . It is quite amusing, though in the end not quite as helpful as I had hoped. The problem is that, like humans, rabbits are not entirely predictable so that a plant that might not be eaten in one garden, seems to go down very well in another. For instance, they are not supposed to like aromatic plants, which would include rosemary and fennel, but in my garden both these plants have been attacked, though the former at least not systematically. The truth is that nothing is safe, but especially just after planting. Rabbits, like most of us, are very curious, so whether they actually like the flavour or not, they are eager to give a new plant a try. The result is often a half-eaten plant which has been dug out of the ground and left to die, this very easy for a rabbit to achieve if what has been planted has come out of what is called here a godet, which is to say anything small. So I suppose one bit of advice would be; plant big if at all possible.

In my experience none of what one might call the 'green solutions' work: smells and noises are not in the end an effective deterrent. Serious hunting with ferrets, etc is probably the best solution, though I have so far failed to organize this. Instead I have resorted to a lot of chicken wire, in my view less unsightly than any form of plastic, but not a thing of beauty. Plants that have survived well in my garden would include, among the bulbs the narcissus family, to my great surprise dahlias, which of course slugs adore, and peonies, which incidentally are more or less resistant to every thing, including cold and wind, despite their exotic appearance, and penstemons. It is probably also true that once settled in, leaves with strong flavours are not their favourite fodder. On the other hand all young trees and shrubs, including roses, are possible targets, but especially when first planted.

Meanwhile it is of course an exciting time in the garden, even if much of my planting is hidden by weeds. I saw today a marvellous Exochorda, almost 3 metres high and covered in white blossom. Mine, alas, is about 30cms! What is looking very good at this moment is Buddleja officinalis. I have praised it before, but will do so again, since it is plant that I believe everybody should possess. Reputedly a little tender mine has come through the winter very happily. Less happy is Buddleja agathosma (farreri), also in flower now, and like B officinalis, in the the lilac range, but I suspect that this is due more to summer drought than winter cold. Still well grown it is a beautiful plant. About to flower, this a first for me, is Syringa pekinensis, but what excites me about it is not the flowers which I have yet to see, or indeed to smell - they should be white and smelly - but the form, which is very elegant, unlike the bog standard S. vulgaris with all its many hybrids, which is a pretty dreary shrub when not in flower. Incidentally mine has grown fast, and appears to be problem free.

Do not forget the Plant Fairs, some of which have already happened, but Gaujacq (May 8/9) is yet to happen,while Fources is not this but next weekend. And good luck in your fight against our terrible weeds, and indeed rabbits, if you suffer from them.

Friday 19 February 2010

Mistakes

One of the few areas of my garden that I can actually get on to during the winter is my so-called gravel garden. It has not been as successful as I had hoped and may even turn out to be a major mistake, though I have not quite got to that conclusion as yet. The rabbits have not helped in that their presence has required that I surround the garden with chicken wire. This is not quite as ghastly as it might seem; chicken wire is far less visible than for instance plastic, which is why I use it to protect newly planted trees, but it clearly does not help to set off the gravel. I was also lazy, or perhaps just a little defeatist: the gravel is placed on top of heavy clay soil in an area which is more or less flat, and it would have been much better to have heavily rotavated or even dug out the area to at least 60 cms before putting down the gravel and in my case peat - and if you want to know how the professionals do it you need to consult Beth Chatto's 'Gravel Garden'. But I do not possess 'subsoilers' or tractors, am of a certain age, and lack the necessary manpower to do what Beth Chatto recommends.My biggest mistake was to my surprise and annoyance the peat. I used it because I did not want anything too rich, since that is what most gravel garden plants dislike. What I did not allow for is that it came with a most obnoxious weeds that runs all over the place and is thus very difficult to eliminate. Almost as obnoxious however is a plant that is very popular in our region and when in full flower is admittedly attractive, the plant being Oenothera speciosa in its various forms ('rosea': 'siskiyou'). I have fallen for it on a number of occasions, but am now busy eliminating it. It is very invasive, for much of the year rather untidy, but perhaps most worryingly it is also a killer, it's prey being the lovely Humming bird moth, whose long tongue gets caught in the flower's throat and cannot escape. I am not as you know very environmentally correct but I do like the Humming bird moth and hate to see it trapped in this way.

Another popular if not to say fashionable plant is the grass, Stipa tenuissima/tenuifolia, what the French call 'cheveux d'ange'. There is much to be said for it, but in my experience it is better in the photographs than in reality where it can, to quote Christopher Lloyd, 'quickly subside into a depressing mush' . It is also quite invasive, though much easier to eliminate that the oenothera. It may be that I have got it in the wrong place. I increasingly think that I want to keep my gravel garden full of much lower and what one might call tidier plants - the small dianthus for instance - and anything bigger needs to be attractive for a long period, with perhaps some shape to it. On my wilder banks the stipa might be just thing, because if it does turn to mush, and of course it does not always, it would not be too noticeable.

Meanwhile one or two plants are making an appearance. In my last blog I sung the praises of Iris unguicularis. Now I would like to mention other species Iris usually grouped under the heading 'reticulata'; In fact my favourite is Iris histrioides George, a marvellous deep purple with yellow markings. I have also got I. reticulata Harmony, attractive enough, but so similar to 'George' that I now see no point in having them both. In previous gardens I have had Iris danfordiae which is yellow, and there are plenty of others to choose from. In England one used to worry abut their survival from year to year, or any rate the probability that they would not clump up. Here there seems to be no worry about this. Mine are definitely on the increase and are a very welcome sight. I have also got the odd crocus out, especially C. tommasinianus, but they are far too rabbit friendly to make much of showing here - in England I seem to remember it was the squirrels that were the danger, and while there is the occasional Red squirrel about, they do not seem to be a danger to gardens in quite the same way as the Grey.

Also out are the Cyclamen coums. I wish I had more. They come in various shades of purple and white, and their leaves, which are round rather than in the case of C. hederifolium heart shaped, come with various patterns, including some that are almost entirely silver. I have said it before but will say it again, if one could only choose one family of bulbs/corms for our region it would surely be the cyclamens.


Sunday 17 January 2010

P.S.

Predictably I found the relevant issue of 'Mon Jardin; ma maison" almost immediately I posted the blog. It is the current (Janvier) issue. The garden I referred to with the oaks is the Arboretum des Pouyouleix. It can be visited sur rendez vous (05 53 62 13 53). The visit will cost you 10€ but for this you get a guided tour of between 2 to 3 hours, which seems very reasonable. Looking again at this issue I am reminded that I must try to acquire Euodia danleillii, which looks an ideal smallish tree for region, and that I ought to look again at the Zanthoxylum - pronunciation? - family.