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!