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.