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.

Unfair to Charlottae

Ever since I made some not very complimentary remarks about Malus coronaria Chalottae I have been feeling rather guilty. To prove me wrong she managed to remain in flower for almost a month. I have decided that the colour far from being a 'dingy white' is in fact a delicate pink, and that the flower power is considerable, and presumably can only get better with growth. The flowers themselves are large and worth looking at individually for the attractive stamens, if that is what they are - I am not good on the sex life of plants. The promised smell of violets is there, but I would have to say only just, but again with growth this may improve. Anyway the good news for me is that I do not think that I have made too great a mistake in planting four of her in front of the house. Meanwhile apropos of my last blog I feel I should give the name of the White with a violet tinge Iris I mentioned since it is an absolute winner, amongst other things havng so many buds that it remains in flower a very long time, even when picked, this not the case with most Iris I know, its name being English Cottage Garden.

It was to be found on sale at the La Coursiana open day, a lovely event with the garden itself looking at its best, and a good selection of plants on sale. A nursey woman whom I had not come across before was Gay Webster (fox-holmes@wanadoo.fr). She specializes in honeysuckles (loniceras), and seeing her selection made me think that I have not really taken them seriously enough. I have at this moment got a marvellous Lonicera etrustca in full flower. I have also got various extremely floriferous wild honeysuckle rather similar to 'Graham Thomas', that is to say palish yellow, and this I have managed to make cuttings of. One of the things that has put me off honeysuckles is my belief that they would like life a little wetter than I can normally provide; also shade, which in my garden is not altogether easy to find, or rather not that half shade, which so many plants prefer. I think that I am probably right in this, but I am planning to make a greater effort to accomodate them. L. etrustca, incidentally is happy in full sun, as indeed are one or two others, but you would need to consult Gay Webster for more information. And perhaps I should add that at this moment there seems to me to be a whole lot of new hybrids coming on to the market, notable for their smell and their flower power, so keep your eyes out for them.

Meanwhile almost every garden in Gascony will be smelling of roses, and in fact I cannot remember seeing a better display. Looking out of the window as I write this I have got Molineux full frontal so-to-speak, and nothing could be more more bling-bling, not even our President. And Moonlight behind it - first appearing nearly a hundred years ago and still one of the 'greats' - is hardly less showy. Quite different are the wild roses; the flowers are fleeting but unbeatably delicate, and again I have hardly ever seen them better. Here May sees the peak of the first flush of roses, rather than June as in England, though I suspect that this year we are a little bit later than usual. At this moment I have got three of my top ten in full flower: the Queen of Denmark, Fantin Latour and Complicata, interestingly all three only once flowering, which is not what the modern rose grower wants to provide us with. Looking at the Queen of Denmark last night I decided that it must go to the top. It has that centre of a deeper pink which then merges into the paler outer petals, in a way that I do not think that David Austin, for all his skill, has been able to match.. Nor in my view do his pinks of which there are many very good ones including my old favourite Mary Rose, quite live up to the magic of Fantin Latour, perhaps the quintessential 'rose ancienne'. Complicata is quite different, being single, the name presumably some sort of a joke. I am not sure why I rate it so high; it has no smell, is only once flowering, though does have good hips, but if one sees it in full fig it immediately suggests quality.

My one fear is that my 'top three' rather dates me. I first saw them at least forty years ago, and in a rather sacred place, which is to say Sissinghurst. I have not the slightest doubt that some sort of nostalgia creeps into my judgement. I do not apologize for this for nostalgia, together with some attempt to hold on to the future, which is to say that I hope that some things that I have planted will linger on well after I have gone, is a very important part of my gardening, but I am well aware that since the late fifties a lot of very good roses have been produced. In my next blog I will try and make an assessment of some tiny fraction of these, but perhaps even more so an assessment of roses, some very old but that are new to me, and I would guess not very well known to many others.

The Fight is on

I was going to start this blog with a moan about the very dry Spring, but events have rather overtaken me. In the last five days we have had 81 mm which is about the average for the whole month of May, incidentally, and perhaps to some people's surprise, our wettest month. I now have to say that all this rain is very welcome, which of course it is , especially for anything recently planted, but since I am a moaner by nature I can now complain that it will make the battle to control the onslaught of the weeds all the more difficult. I have already mentioned that my overall strategy is colonization; that is to say that rather than creating large areas of clean ground into which I plant the good things, I do my planting first and then and then try to clear round them. I hope that it is too early to tell whether this strategy is the right one because at the moment the bad greatly outnumber the good, but I certainly have not given up hope.

At this moment the four Malus coronaria Charlottae planted as a screen in front of the facade of the house, are in full flower. They are probably the most important planting decision that I have made here, and the worrying thing is that I am not sure that it was a good one. In theory they should do everything - flowers, smell, decorative leaves, decoratve fruit and autumn colour - so what is the problem? My chief worry are the flowers. Hilliers describe them as "large, semi-double, shell-pink and violet scented". Well so far I have not smelt anything, though the heavy rain of recent days is one reason for this. The flowers themselves come out with the leaves which is a mixed blessing, and shell-pink could be described as a dingy white. Funnily enough the same criticisms could be made of the Quince, the flower colour being especially similar, but with the quince the effect is for me increasingly desirable, perhaps because the downy texture of the new leaves goes so well with the flowers. Most people will have inherited a quince, though they come in various shapes and sizes, about which I am not competent to comment. The fruit as it increasingly turns a golden colour is attractive enough, but there is no autumn colour, and indeed by the end of the year the general appearance can be rather grotty, which is the moment when Charlotte definitely has more to offer. I am still hoping that when my trees are bigger, the flower power will have increased, which in turn may result in the promised violet scent and I will be entirely satisfied. Meanwhile for that magical moment in Spring the Quince is a 'must'.

Last time I mentioned Syringa reticulata subsp pekinensis to give it its full name. It is still not in flower, but looking very elegant. Meanwhile another species lilac, S. wolfii, is. The flowers are nothing very special being a pale lilac in colour, but the general effect is not unpleasing, and will be more so, as with all my planting, when a bit bigger. This time round I want to mention a common enough 'vivace', Achillea Moonshine, but for me one worthy of a Michelin three star rating. As with say , Buddleja Lochinch, I am not entirely sure what makes me like it so much, but it has something to do with the combination of flower , in Moonshine's case, a luminous pale yellow, and foliage, which as with the buddleja is silvery. It is not difficult to grow, though at c.60 cms a big plant probably benefits from staking, which for some may be a bore, but for me it is a 'must have'.

Meanwhile it is very much Iris time. In a rather haphazard way I have acquired quite a number including a rather bling bling orangy yellow and chocolate variey, and a much more subtle white suffused with violet one, which also smells well. I used to very much like the dark purples, but find myself admiring more and more the light blues - there used to be one called Jane Phillips, though alas I do not think that I have her. They grow extremely well in our region, liking the baking of our hot summers - never plant them too deep, and remember to split them up after a certain period or they will cease to flower well. They are a little difficult to place because for much of the year they can look tatty, but I am entirely in favour of them. What I am not prepared to do is to remember their multitude of names, and they are a genus, rather like the Hemerocallis, or day lily, for which new varieties seem to be produced by the minute, or at least by the year. There will be suppliers of them at every plant fair and the choice will be enormous.

This reminds me that the Gaujacq Plant Fair is this coming weekend. Sadly 'la crise', or at least my 'crise' means that I will not be going, but if you have your cheque book to hand it is strongly to be recommended. I am consoling myself by going to my favourite garden's, La Coursiana's, open day on the Saturday, where I hope to be tempted less, while enjoying all the delights of that marvellous garden.

Rabbits encore - and other matters

I am feeling rather guilty that I have gone a whole month without being able to think of anything to write, this at a time when any gardner worthy of the name is totally obsessed with gardening matters. Partly it is that being obsessed I have had no time to sit in front of the computer, and now that one can work until at last 8 pm I end the day too tired to think of much else than getting to bed. I have also been rather depressed. The rapid change from Winter to Spring always catches me unprepared. One minute the ground is too wet and heavy to get on to, and the next minute the weeds are up to one's waist, and one has to get the pickaxe out to eradicate them. At this moment quite frankly my garden is out of control, so it seems rather hypocritical to be offering any comments on gardening matters.

I have however been thinking a little bit about my rabbit problem. This remains - there are hundreds on site - despite the appearance of our very willing head huntsman and his sons - various shots were fired but no injuries to rabbits were reported. For Christmas a friend very thoughtfully gave me a book entitled 'Gardening with the Enemy; a Guide to Rabbit-proof Gardening' by Janet Thomson (ISBN 0 9530013 0X) . It is quite amusing, though in the end not quite as helpful as I had hoped. The problem is that, like humans, rabbits are not entirely predictable so that a plant that might not be eaten in one garden, seems to go down very well in another. For instance, they are not supposed to like aromatic plants, which would include rosemary and fennel, but in my garden both these plants have been attacked, though the former at least not systematically. The truth is that nothing is safe, but especially just after planting. Rabbits, like most of us, are very curious, so whether they actually like the flavour or not, they are eager to give a new plant a try. The result is often a half-eaten plant which has been dug out of the ground and left to die, this very easy for a rabbit to achieve if what has been planted has come out of what is called here a godet, which is to say anything small. So I suppose one bit of advice would be; plant big if at all possible.

In my experience none of what one might call the 'green solutions' work: smells and noises are not in the end an effective deterrent. Serious hunting with ferrets, etc is probably the best solution, though I have so far failed to organize this. Instead I have resorted to a lot of chicken wire, in my view less unsightly than any form of plastic, but not a thing of beauty. Plants that have survived well in my garden would include, among the bulbs the narcissus family, to my great surprise dahlias, which of course slugs adore, and peonies, which incidentally are more or less resistant to every thing, including cold and wind, despite their exotic appearance, and penstemons. It is probably also true that once settled in, leaves with strong flavours are not their favourite fodder. On the other hand all young trees and shrubs, including roses, are possible targets, but especially when first planted.

Meanwhile it is of course an exciting time in the garden, even if much of my planting is hidden by weeds. I saw today a marvellous Exochorda, almost 3 metres high and covered in white blossom. Mine, alas, is about 30cms! What is looking very good at this moment is Buddleja officinalis. I have praised it before, but will do so again, since it is plant that I believe everybody should possess. Reputedly a little tender mine has come through the winter very happily. Less happy is Buddleja agathosma (farreri), also in flower now, and like B officinalis, in the the lilac range, but I suspect that this is due more to summer drought than winter cold. Still well grown it is a beautiful plant. About to flower, this a first for me, is Syringa pekinensis, but what excites me about it is not the flowers which I have yet to see, or indeed to smell - they should be white and smelly - but the form, which is very elegant, unlike the bog standard S. vulgaris with all its many hybrids, which is a pretty dreary shrub when not in flower. Incidentally mine has grown fast, and appears to be problem free.

Do not forget the Plant Fairs, some of which have already happened, but Gaujacq (May 8/9) is yet to happen,while Fources is not this but next weekend. And good luck in your fight against our terrible weeds, and indeed rabbits, if you suffer from them.

Mistakes

One of the few areas of my garden that I can actually get on to during the winter is my so-called gravel garden. It has not been as successful as I had hoped and may even turn out to be a major mistake, though I have not quite got to that conclusion as yet. The rabbits have not helped in that their presence has required that I surround the garden with chicken wire. This is not quite as ghastly as it might seem; chicken wire is far less visible than for instance plastic, which is why I use it to protect newly planted trees, but it clearly does not help to set off the gravel. I was also lazy, or perhaps just a little defeatist: the gravel is placed on top of heavy clay soil in an area which is more or less flat, and it would have been much better to have heavily rotavated or even dug out the area to at least 60 cms before putting down the gravel and in my case peat - and if you want to know how the professionals do it you need to consult Beth Chatto's 'Gravel Garden'. But I do not possess 'subsoilers' or tractors, am of a certain age, and lack the necessary manpower to do what Beth Chatto recommends.My biggest mistake was to my surprise and annoyance the peat. I used it because I did not want anything too rich, since that is what most gravel garden plants dislike. What I did not allow for is that it came with a most obnoxious weeds that runs all over the place and is thus very difficult to eliminate. Almost as obnoxious however is a plant that is very popular in our region and when in full flower is admittedly attractive, the plant being Oenothera speciosa in its various forms ('rosea': 'siskiyou'). I have fallen for it on a number of occasions, but am now busy eliminating it. It is very invasive, for much of the year rather untidy, but perhaps most worryingly it is also a killer, it's prey being the lovely Humming bird moth, whose long tongue gets caught in the flower's throat and cannot escape. I am not as you know very environmentally correct but I do like the Humming bird moth and hate to see it trapped in this way.

Another popular if not to say fashionable plant is the grass, Stipa tenuissima/tenuifolia, what the French call 'cheveux d'ange'. There is much to be said for it, but in my experience it is better in the photographs than in reality where it can, to quote Christopher Lloyd, 'quickly subside into a depressing mush' . It is also quite invasive, though much easier to eliminate that the oenothera. It may be that I have got it in the wrong place. I increasingly think that I want to keep my gravel garden full of much lower and what one might call tidier plants - the small dianthus for instance - and anything bigger needs to be attractive for a long period, with perhaps some shape to it. On my wilder banks the stipa might be just thing, because if it does turn to mush, and of course it does not always, it would not be too noticeable.

Meanwhile one or two plants are making an appearance. In my last blog I sung the praises of Iris unguicularis. Now I would like to mention other species Iris usually grouped under the heading 'reticulata'; In fact my favourite is Iris histrioides George, a marvellous deep purple with yellow markings. I have also got I. reticulata Harmony, attractive enough, but so similar to 'George' that I now see no point in having them both. In previous gardens I have had Iris danfordiae which is yellow, and there are plenty of others to choose from. In England one used to worry abut their survival from year to year, or any rate the probability that they would not clump up. Here there seems to be no worry about this. Mine are definitely on the increase and are a very welcome sight. I have also got the odd crocus out, especially C. tommasinianus, but they are far too rabbit friendly to make much of showing here - in England I seem to remember it was the squirrels that were the danger, and while there is the occasional Red squirrel about, they do not seem to be a danger to gardens in quite the same way as the Grey.

Also out are the Cyclamen coums. I wish I had more. They come in various shades of purple and white, and their leaves, which are round rather than in the case of C. hederifolium heart shaped, come with various patterns, including some that are almost entirely silver. I have said it before but will say it again, if one could only choose one family of bulbs/corms for our region it would surely be the cyclamens.

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.