In Praise of Phygelius

It has taken me over thirty years to come round to this family of subshrubs, but about a month ago I had what might be called an 'eureka moment'. There is an area in our garden which I have always found difficult. It is on the South-West corner of the house where the land falls away quite steeply, so that in order to descend from a southern terrace steps have been created. It is a difficult area to plant, partly because of the slope and partly because it gets too much afternoon sun and thus quickly becomes very dry. Anyway about six weeks ago  on passing this area I was stopped short by the sudden realisation that what I was looking at was really rather successful, something I should stress that happens rather too infrequently. On one side of the steps are two shrubs that have at last come into their own. One is a Clerodendrum trichotomum. These are not uncommon in our part of the world - a large shrub with quite impressive darkish green leaves, lots of fragrant white flower in late summer followed by bright blue berries. If you have not got it I recommend it, but with one caveat: like other members of its family its roots run all over the place, so that you can quite quickly have a forest of them. The other shrub, also with fragrant white flowers but without any inclination to run about is Heptacodium miconiodes. I guess that it less well-known than the clerodendrum but for me it is a must for gardens in Gascony, for along with the scented flowers, with  red calyxs that rest on the plant after the petals have fallen, it develops with age attractive peeling bark.  On the other side are a number of different shrubs including various viburnums and a Sambucus nigra Thundercloud, but also and most importantly the aforesaid phygelius. In fact I have two varieties in this area. The most prominent is what I call the bog standard one and which I first came across in England so many years ago, that is P.capensis. There are many reasons why it was not love at first sight.  Like all of the family, it is slightly tender, so that in a cold Kentish garden there was a danger that it might be lost. More importantly there is the colour of its flowers, which to my eye is coral with a hint of orange, and not really my favourite. It can also become rather untidy so that after a mild winter it  becomes rather tall and lanky; in a cold winter the growth will be cut back, though I doubt whether in Gascony the plant will ever be lost. But despite all this my present plant, which has developed over quite a large area is really rather eye catching, helped perhaps by the slope and the surrounding shrubs which have helped to keep the growths upright, and I am completely one over.






Since I first came across the family there has been quite a lot of hybridisation, particularly between P.capensis and P. aequalis. My second phygelius is in fact yellow, and probably P. aequalis Yellow Trumpet, though I have lost the label. It seems to be slightly more tender than P.capensis - two winters ago I thought that I had lost it but it has since made a good recovery - and this may be true of most of the new varieties. It also does not grow so tall which may be an advantage. Elsewhere I have got P.Devils Tears, P.Mme Aerts which I cannot find in either Hilliers or in my admittedly rather out of date RHS Plant Finder (2003-4), but it has significantly darker leaves, and most recently one whose name again I have lost - 'ruby' was part of the name - which I particularly like since its colour is a genuine deep red. The new 'Hilliers' lists quite a few others, amongst them the Somerford Funfair series, which includes a creamy white, a colour I think new to the family. They all look promising, and as a recent convert I am keen to spread the word.




Meanwhile do not forget those yellow autumn crocus, not in fact crocus, though they great resemble them, but Sternbergias, usually S.lutea.They can be planted more or less anywhere, though to see them at their best preferably alongside a path or Woodland edge. One minute there is nothing, another there is a yellow ribbon or carpet. And the great joy is that you have to do absolutely nothing in the way of looking after them. As with the colchicums some people find their quite prominent leaves that appear after flowering a slight worry, but I actually find them rather handsome, and certainly worth the pleasure to be derived from the flowers.