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.

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.

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!

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.

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 Véronique 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.

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.

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.