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.

More of the Same

I think that I was a bit unfair to our resident oaks in my last blog. They can indeed look a muddy yellow, but in certain lights they are very far from that, more golden or perhaps bronze, and certainly glistening. Here they provide a marvellous backdrop to what I hope in time will be a kaleidoscope of autumn colour, though at the moment only my two ornamental pears - Pyrus calleryana Chanticleer and Py. Call. Red Spire - are really making a serious contrbution. In years to come I hope that they will be joined by various ornamental cherries. These seem to have rather gone out of favour, and are fairly difficult to get hold of in France, which is a pity since they seem to grow well in our region. For the moment I will just mention one, Prunus x subhitella Autumnalis. I suppose it is the flowers, coming a they do when most flowers have packed up for the winter - mine is just beginning now, and I hope will continue on and off until April - that is its main feature. Still autumn colour is a definite bonus, and it grows fast. Another tree with significant flowers but also significant autumn colour, and it should be added attractive seed pods, are the Koelreuterias, both bipinnata integrifolia and the more common, panniculata, sometimes called the Golden rain tree on account of its yellow flowers in early summer.  Incidentally if you are driving through Simorre on the Lombez road just before the roundabout on which the post office is situated, you will see some very fine specimens, exceptionally tall for what is normally quite a small tree.

Planted below our large oaks is also a Liquidamber orientalis.  This I acquired at la Coursianna, where as I have mentioned before you will also discover a fine collection of the more common L. styracifolia, of which there are now many hybrids, for which see the Adeline catalogue where twenty one are mentioned.  L.orientalis is smaller, indeed it is sometimes described as a bush, but it is recognizably a liquidamber with the usual outstanding autumn tints, but its leaves when rubbed should smell strongly of balsam. I may have planted mine in the wrong place, that is to say on a dry south facing bank, when it is supposed to like damp conditions. But if you read the books this is apparently true of all Liquidambers, and yet they seem to flourish in our region, but then of course at certain periods, as now, we can get plenty of rain.

Of the shrubs one needs to mention most of the deciduous viburnhams, though in the case of V. burkwoodii and its hybrids, more usually semi-persistent.Last year I acquired V. burk. Mohawk, and am delighted with it; the usual smelly flowers in the spring, very red in bud, but with very good autumn tints, tints being the right word  because some leaves remain greenish.  More in your face is the colour of the Hydrangea quercifolias, of which there are now, like the Liquidambers, many hybrids. If you can cope with the almost bling-bling effect of their large white flower heads, they are good news as they cope better with our summers than the more usual 'mopheads'. Their autumn colour is a very rich burgundy. But if you can grow other hydrangeas look out for the H. serrata group, all of which tend to have good autumn colour.

With us some of the best autumn colour is provided by two roses. I grow more and more of Rosa morlettii,unlike most roses attractive almost all the year round, since its bare and almost thornless stems are a deep red. Its flowers are for my way of thinking good enough, if only once flowering, though over a longish period, but the autumn colour is very intense.  Rosa virginiana's colour is perhaps even more intense, though not as dark a red. It is a smaller bush than R. morlettiii, rarely more than a metre, but it clumps up well, and in addition to the autumn colour has very good berries. My intention is plant it all over the wolder parts of the garden. Incidentally both these roses are very easy to progate, either by cuttings in the late autumn, or in the case of virginiana just by chopping bits off. Of course the rugosas colour up well, but as I may have mentined before I find them surprisngly difficult to grow with often significant die back. he problem is that though they can cope well with poor conditions, they do not seem to like our heavy clay, this unlike most roses. 

Finally to return to the family with which I started, the oaks.  The real autumn stars, are what are called the Red Oaks, mainly coming from America. Adeline list over seventy, and many other French nurseries have a very fine collection of them, including Florama and La Preille. But for a very useful list see the otherwise rather uninformative catalogue of Pep. bot. Armoricaines. I cannot pretend to be an expert, and have not stayed in any one garden long enough to make a proper assessment. One of the most commonly available is Quercus palustris, or Chene de marais. This has attractive leaves even without autumn colour, but as the names suggest it has a preference for dampish conditions, as sadly do many of the red oaks. Probably this difficulty can be exaggerated.  My absolute favourite, Q. schumardii, looking at its best about now,apparently likes dampish conditions, but of course not too damp! It prefers acid soil, and therefore does not like calcaire, and one is advised to avoid heavy clay.  I am not sure that I can provide any of these conditions, but it seems to grow like a bomb. So as always the best advice is to suck it and see!                                 

Autumn Tints

I used to think that our autumns were a bit 'fade' as compared with those of other regions I know. For instance I started life in France in the Creuse. It is a very wooded area, with beech being the predominant tree, and famously the beech has marvellous autumn colour, as well as having the most delicate of greens in the Spring. The Creuse also has acid soil, which intensifies autumn colour, and what with a little bit more rain it is an area where many of the stars of Autumn colour  - Azaleas, Cornus, Hamamelis, but above all Acers - can flourish. Here our predominant oak goes a rather muddy yellow and this provides the backcloth for a rather more subdued display.

Nevertheless the more I see of our autumns the more I have come to like them.  We may lack the 'Gosh' factor, but the trouble with 'Gosh' is that it is all too quickly over. Here we have what might be called a 'slow burn', and there is a lot to be said for it.  Our stars would include the Field Acers (A.campestre) - usually a very bright yellow - the wild cornus (C.sanguinea) - a dark burgundy - and the Wayfaring tree (Viburnum lantana) - also a darkish red. Hawthorns are a bit iffy in this respect.  They can go quite a good colour, but a dry summer can make them go a little tatty too soon, though they do possess what is the other great autumn feature the bright berries. Having read about it in Pamela Harper's book I have acquired Crataegus viridis Winter King, which she thinks is unbeatable for berries, while Adeline from whom I acquired it, suggests that it has good autumn colour. Mine at this moment has got quite a few berries, but the tree, which I have planted in rather an exposed place, did not enjoythe summer drought, so is not looking quite as good as I had hoped. The same is true of Sorbus folgneri Lemon Drop, also acquired from Adeline (when funds were more plentiful!), but in theory it should have both berries - in this case yellow not red - and a 'très beau coloris' in the autumn.

Of the Crataegus family I would however recommend C. phaenopyrum, otherwise called the Washington Thorn. One of its qualities, which to my mind is a very important one, is that the change of colour happens over quite a long period, and is uneven, so that the reds mingle with the greens and yellows.  Famously this is true of Parrotia persica. I first fell in love with this tree when seen at Sissinghurst many years ago. I have had it in every garden that I have been associated with, and I have one here. But none of the my French ones have done particularly well, which is odd since none of the books suggest that it is a difficult tree, though it probably does prefer a dampish soil. This is even more true of one of the autumn, and indeed spring, stars, Cercidiphyllum japonicum, so if you can provide shelter from wind, as well as damp, this is a must. If you can  get to the Chateau de Rieucazé's garden, you will see a marvellous speciman of Cercidiphyllum jap: pendulum, a very smart tree indeed if you can find the right spot for it, that is to say dampish, and not too exposed, though with its weeping form it probably needs a formal setting.

If you like what might be called 'in your face' red the obvious choice for here is the Sumach family. It is in fact a large family which I probably should like more than I do. The red candles of the bog-standard S. glabra, rather put me off, and it also suckers  rather too much, but if you want bright autumn colour, and not unattractive leaves for spring and summer, look no further.  Almost as in your face, and for me a more interesting family are the many forms of Cotinus. In fact I seem only to have two, which is probably too few. I remain faithful to Cotinus Grace, but largely for nostalgic reasons. I first saw it some thirty years at Marwood Hill Gardens near Barnstaple, created by the late Dr Smart, and somehow it made a very big impression. Whether in the end it is much better than the readily available C. Royal Purple I rather doubt; the colour is perhaps a little more intense in spring and autmn, but less purple in high summer. I have also got a yellow leaved variety - perhaps C. Golden Spirit - but I have treated it badly and as a result it has not grown very much.  Incidentally C. obvatus is well worth thinking about.It has a tidier form than many of the others, though growing quite big, lots of the candy floss flowers characteristic of the family, less interesting leaf through most of the summer, but very good colour in the autumn.

Since I started ths blog, the autumn colours have really come on, and I would guess for my neck of the woods, at their best (18th Nov.) right now. The undoubted star is the Field acer. As mentioned above, its autumn colour is usually an intense yellow, but occasionally (I think) you come across one that goes red. I have put in the bracket because it is quite easy to mistake an Acer campestre for a Sorbus torminalis, or Wild Service tree, also to be found in our woods and hedgerows, but well worth putting in your garden. The leaf form is similar, i.e. palmate or maple like, but being a sorbus it has the bunches of white flowers, though the white is rather dinghy, followed by berries. It is perhaps not as reliable as regards its autmn colour, but the colour is red, and by and large red is what we miss here.  But Adeline list two Field maples with red autumn colour, A.camp: Postelense and A.Camp: Red Shine, and I have to say I am tempted.

Autumn colour is something that I am obsessed with, and will no doubt return to the subject many times. I have not for instance mentioned the Red Oaks, of which there are a great many, and most of which grow well here. But for the moment enough is enough. It only remains to enjoy the show.

Gaujacq - its Twentieth Anniversary

I was not there right at the start, but almost, since my first visit was in the October of 1991. In those days it only took place in the autumn. I think it was then,or perhaps it was the following year, that it poured with rain and the site became something of a mud bath which in some ways only added to the ambience, but apart from the fact that it now takes place in the Spring as well nothing very much has changed. I suspect that it still remains the most important plant fair in our region, though it has to be said that it is rather on the edge of it, since it is actually in the Landes (40), 18 km north of Orthez and 28 km south of Dax. Thus it is a long drive for me at any rate, but one that I have never regretted.  Its founder and current organiser is Jean Thoby, who set up his nursery there in 1985. Son of a famous nurseryman who specialized in camellias, he himelf seems to be passionate about most plants, though the passion tends to come in waves: hostas were one craze, clematis another. But my strongest memory of the garden, or as he calls it Le Planterium - in itself a curious mixture of French and English styles - are the Camellia sasanquas, which for the autumn fair are in full bloom, many of them with a strong and attractive scent.  For him they really flourish, not surprisingly given the family tradition - one thinks of the Williams family in Cornwall - but having been tempted by his, mine have never done particularly well, though not helped by the fact that I have moved about too often, so never really seen them develop. I guess that he probably has more rain than many of us, which must help, though the books say that they can take the sun, and like most camellias they can actually take quite a bit of frost, despite their exotic appearance. They also do not require quite such a acid soil, as for instance the rhododendrons do, so as with other camellias they must be worth a try, just as long as you can get some water to them in our many dry spells.

I am delighted to say that many of the exhibitors at Gaujacq go back as long ago as I do, and deaths have not been nearly so many as amongst the plants that I have bought there.  Many I consider almost as friends, and some of them have already been mentioned in these blogs. My absolute favourites remain Jean-François Giraud and his wife of Le Jardin de Rochvieille, and once again he persuaded me to add to my buddleja collection. In fact I bought two: B.longifolia and B.macrostachya. Both in theory flower throughout the summer, and certainly have a longer flowering season than the more common B. davidii, and as with all the species their foliage tends to be more interesting, in fact often most attractive.

Perhaps the most unusual plants, or rather plants, that I acquired came from Pep: Botaniques Armoricaines and Mr. Le Cam. Unlike Giraud, Le Cam cannot be said to come at you, and if he is aware of the fact that I have been buying his plants for nigh on twenty years he does not let on. But he has a very interesting selection. You might call him a 'poor man's Adeline'. Very few nurseries in the world can equal Adeline's list, and their catalogue, as I may have mentioned before, is well worth acquiring, but their prices are for the most part outside my range. Le Cam's are modest, and over the years I have bought some very good things from him. This year it was two Hollies, two because with hollies you need a male and female to get the berries, and without berries the ones I bought are not very interesting, in fact they do not really look very much like a holly, especially since they are deciduous. They are Ilex Sparkleberry, and the necessary male, Apollo.  You will find them in Hilliers, but it was my favourite garden writer Pamela Harper who put me on to them. Sparkleberry's alleged attraction  are its very prolific berries, that should last through the winter, and certainly in Harper's photos it looks terrific.  Its other attraction for me is the fact that it should cope well with our summers.  I have not had much luck with the European hollies, which  I much regret, since they possess a wonderful range of leaf colour.  I assume it is because for the most part my gardens have been too dry, though you do come across them in  our woods, though perhaps more often in woods nearer the mountains. Anyway I am hoping that I. Sparkleberry will fill the gap, at least as far as the berries are concerned.

My one criticism of Gaujacq is that as far as exhibitors are concerned it seems to be a rather exclusive club. I find that it is very strange that a nursery as important as La Roseraie du Desert with a collection of roses of  international importance is not invited to the feast. And why not Bernard Lacrouts  whom I have frequently mentioned in these blogs? He has got as good a list of vivaces as any, and apart from being extremely friendly he has got one of the best websites that I have come across - now incidentally www.unjardindevivaces.fr .  Still if there are any of you out there who have not been to Gaujacq do put it on your list. It is only twice a year - May and october - and it will give you great pleasure.

Postscript

On the 20/21st of September we had 21 mm of rain but since then nothing, so I am still pretty neurotic about the lack of water: in the last five months we have had 155 mm in lieu of the average 300 mm.  Still the days are shorter and not so hot, and most trees and shrubs will just go in to winter hibernation early if lack of rain remains, so should survive to fight another day. However looking round the garden following my last blog I have noticed survivors that I should have mentioned, most obviously the Fraxinus family.  We have not got any common or garden Ashes (F.excelsior), and I have always assumed this is because we are too dry, but that may be quite wrong. They are handsome enough trees, and grow quickly which can be an advantage. But it is a big family, and probably underused. I have sown with success Fraxinus ornus, the Manna Ash. It has quite spectacular flowers, rather similar to those of a sweet chestnut and at about the same time, i.e. early summer, but also quite smart leaves, which on my admittedly small plants have not wilted. I have also got Fraxinus bungeana and Fraxinus chinensis and am about to acquire Fraxinus sieboldiana, the latter with quite spectacular flowering, and all with promise of autumn tints.. The first two I have completely neglected, and they have received no watering, despite which they seem as right as rain!

I have also got many young specimens, not as yet planted out, of Alnus cordata, what we call the Italian Alder, but I see the French call Corsican.  I cannot speak for this year, but on past experience it resists the secheresse well, despite being an alder. It lacks autumn colour but it is a smart enough tree, especially so in winter when the catkins are attractive. Incidentally if anyone is interested in acquiring either this or Fraxinus ornus just get in touch (petergwyn@orange.fr) since I have got far too many for my own use.

Of the Acers, the only one alive - I exaggerate, but none look good - is A. oliverianum. This grows under oaks, so with some shade, but  on a south-facing bank so very dry. It is true that I have watered it a little, but I am still surprised how well it looks. I am sure that I have read some where that it resists dryness better than most acers, but I cannot find the reference. Still the proof of the pudding . . .

Other trees whose resistance to dryness seems to have been goodish this year would include the Koelreuterias. I have both K. bipinnata var. integrifolia and the more often seen K.panniculata, but have yet to see the former in flower. I would also include Diospyros virginiana, the American persimon/kaki, and Pistacia chinensis, both with good autumn colour, though mine are admittedly small, and have received some, though not a lot of water.

Meanwhile I am a little bit more optimistic about the garden here. I suppose what has pleased me most has been the so-called Prairie Garden behind the swimming pool. Amongst other things I am gradually getting it under control,  but what with the grasses and the gauras, along with at the moment, the Michaelmas daisies it has looked pretty good, at least from a distance. It still needs a bit more bulk, but I now feel that it is going to work. I am not so sure of my West-facing bed, sadly rather more south-west than west.  I thought that it was somewhere that I could have camellias, hydrangeas, and amongst the vivace, even phlox, i.e. I thought that it would remain dampish and reasonably shady and could take some moisture loving plants, because it is the only place in the garden  where it seemed possible. But this summer has rather destroyed this illusion, and it is time for a rethink. Rethinks are necessary from time to time, and as the season draws to an end, and with the big plant fairs such as Gaujac, will soon be upon us, perhaps now is a good moment to have them. 

Survivors!

I hope that I am not being too optimistic. I have just looked at the ten day forecast and there is not a hint of rain so the struggle to keep things alive will have to continue for some time. But looking around the wreck of my garden it is clear that some things are surviving much better than others. By and Large roses cope with the heat remarkably well. Admittedly those that repeat are not doing so as well as usual, but I do not get the impression that any of them are about to die, and for  that reason I keep watering to an absolute minimum.  R. Morletti, whose praises I have sung, has hardly turned a hair. Admittedly it does not repeat so presumably is  under less stress, but since one of its glories is its autumn colouring, the fact that it has not lost its leaves is clearly good news.

Since all my trees are less than three years in situ it is perhaps not all that useful to single any out for praise, since all trees, and indeed shrubs need water in their early years.  But my decorative pears - Pyrus calleryana - are showing no signs of stress without having been watered at all, and the same is true of my winter flowering cherry.  My Lagerstroemias are not yet big enough to make much of an impact but clearly they resist the secheresse extremely well.  For some these trees/shrubs are a bit too much in their face, their flowers being almost fluorescent. They perhaps also suffer from the fact, rather like that lovely double pink flowering cherry - Prunus Kanzan - that they are favorites of the town authorities.  But I have come to the conclusion that they are a 'must'. They produce vibrant colour at a difficult time of the year, their leaves colour well in autumn, and older specimens can have attractive trunks

Yesterday I visited my favourite garden _ La Coursiana - and I am happy to say that it is resisting the conditions remarkably well. Of the trees that were still looking good, I especially noticed the Celtis family. I am not a great fan of Celtis australis, alias Micocoulier, finding it a trifle boring. Still the fact that it is being much planted in the Gers indicates that one of its advantages is precisely that it does not need much water - you can see a fine planting of them in the parking to the south of Auch cathedral.  The Celtis that particularly caught my eye yesterday on account of the glossiness of its leaves was C.jessoensis, while looking in Hilliers C. sinensis sounds rather promising. The fact that Adeline do not stock the former, suggests that it might be difficult to get hold of.

Most buddlejas resist the secheresse well, and that is certainly the case in my garden.  There is one that I would particularly like to recommend for this quality, but I am not at all sure that I have got the correct name. It was definitely bought from le Jardin de Rochvieille (http://jaroche.club.fr), I think as B.cordata 'FJ'.  The flowers in bud promise much but in fact are insignificant, but the foliage is excellent - largish, mat green on top and grey underneath, and my so-called shrub border would look pretty bare without it.  And while on the subject of buddlejas, I notice that my refound favourite B. Lochinch is having a very good second flowering having had the first flush removed. The removal of the dead flowers on all your buddlejas is perhaps a council of perfection, though they do look terrible, and in my previous experience any second flowering that resulted was pretty mediocre, but with B Lochinch it seems to be very worthwhile.

Of the shrubs, the pittospermums are surviving very well, and make me think that I should plant more. Like perhaps a number of you, I had a variegated 'period', which I have since grown out of, but the pittospermums are going to be an exception, as indeed is an old favourite of mine, Rhamnus alaternus variegata, clearly rock solid in the drought. I also had a 'silver period', and at that time I certainly grew Artemesia ludoviciana Valerie Finnis, but I had forgotten what a good plant it is, but particularly in this weather. By chance I stumbled across it earlier this year, I am not sure where, but it has been one of the best things in the garden. A.Powis Castle I find a bit iffy, not always surviving the winters, and becoming very quickly rather too leggy, but it can cope with drought.

As for other vivace, the absolute stars must be the Gauras in all their variety. Mine have flowered for literally months now without a drop and are still looking goodish. I have to say that I prefer the tall ones since the fact that their stems wave around in the wind is a great part of their charm. They can flop, though if grown in the open, in say an island bed, they are much less likely to do so. To my surprise my other great standby, verbena bonariensis has not weathered the drought so well, but this may be partly due to the fact that the new seedlings faced too much competition from weeds.  Most of my grasses are looking reasonably well including the miscanthus which I have always thought of as needing a reasonable amount of water.

Meanwhile we must all pray for rain, even if that does not please your English guests.  Bon courage!

The tyranny of Alain Baraton.

By chance the other day I happened to listen to one of Alain Baraton's interventions on France Inter ( roughly 7.45 am. Saturdays and Sundays). Some poor listener was wondering whether it was possible to plant oleanders outside in Northern France, and was firmly told that even if it were so it should not be done, since oleanders only belong to the south of France, just as I suppose camellias and magnolias should only be grown in China, and potatos in South America .  For those of you who  have not come across him, he has become the Mr Gardener of France rather in the same way as Geoff Hamilton used to be in England, which is to say that not only is he a gardener, but is also a 'celebrity'. Like Geoff Hamilton he is also a great advocate of everything 'Green', so that any French gardener who dares to use a weed killer or pesticide is very much in his bad books, so also it seems anyone whose garden is not full of 'indigenous' plants.

As I made clear in my first blog I am not a Green gardener, and even more criminally I am what I think is called a Climate Change denialist, and therefore should apparently be shot at sight, though for the moment I would rather avoid this fate. Instead I want to comment on the notion of a 'Natural Garden', full no doubt of indigenous plants.  For me no such thing exists. At the very best I suppose you could buy a plot of land, and then sit and contemplate it, though even your plot will have been affected by what man has previously done to it. And those of you who have attempted to create a wildflower meadow will know that nothing is less 'natural'. After all even the act of mowing, however infrequently done , is an intervention by man yet alone the removal of all that mown grass so essential to the creation of a wild flower meadow.  I hope that I have already mentioned somewhere Pamela J. Harper's 'Time-Tested Plants', for me the only outstanding book on gardening of recent years, but if I have not I can only strongly recommend it. She is very sound on all these matters taking for me the only logical view that gardening of any kind is an unnatural thing, involving a battle with nature. But it is a battle that should be waged with common sense. It is probably not very sensible to plant trees in the Gers that require a lot of water or dislike great heat. Acid loving plants are for most us dificult to cater for, I was going to say impossible, until I remembered one of the great English garden, Hidcote, where Lionel Johnson by importing huge amounts of acid soil, was able to grow plants that do not like the Cotswold limestone. The fact is that great gardeners take risks, and though most of us do not come into the category of 'great', we do on the whole like a bit of a challenge. Of course we could all grow buttercups and dandelions, but though they might look quite pretty , at least for a time, we would soon be bored stiff, and boredom is what I most associate with the indigenous school of gardening.

Of course questions of what I will call 'gout' do arrive. Ever since I arrived here I have been debating whether or not to plant eucalyptus. By and large they would like the site, though wind might be a problem. As those of you who use Blagnac airport will know, they grow fast, and they are  undoubtedly handsome. But would they look good on a Gersois hillside? The same would go for olive trees. So far I have avoided them, and I should add the importation of very old olive trees from Spain and elsewhere is one of Baraton's bugbears. I have some sympathy with this view, but not I think on what I would call ethical grounds. I am in fact against the planting of any large tree on the grounds that their upkeep – staking and watering – is very labour intensive, and even if you keep them alive, they will not move for at least three years, so you might as well plant small – though admittedly your newly planted olive will not in your life time take on the required 'dead' look. What I am worrying about here is taste, not some moral imperative to save the planet, which is largely Baraton's concern.

Still Baraton is obviously perfectedly entitled to his views, though it is slightly ironic that his day job is that of 'Head Gardener' of Versailles, which must be one of the most artificial gardens ever created, with hardly a 'vivace' in sight. What I object to is the amount of airtime that he is given, and the fact  that another point of view is seemingly not tolerated.  And if I were a specialist nurseyman I would feel very hardly done by. They depend for their living on growing unusual plants not to be found in the 'grandes surfaces', and these by definition are rarely indignenous. They need every kind of support, some of which ought to come from a garden 'celebrity', a little bit more interested than Baraton is in the amazing range of plants that the world provides, many of which can be grown in France.