John Grimshaw's Garden Diary

A sprinkle of snow

2012-01-27T18:33:00.001Z

Crocus atticus (sieberi) 'Bowles White' and 'Firefly'

Galanthus 'James Backhouse'

The Avenue with Galanthus nivalis

Galanthus elwesii 'Green Brush'

Gardens Illustrated: Horticultural Who's Who

2012-01-25T22:16:00.000Z

I am honoured to be featured in the February issue of Gardens Illustrated as their 'Horticultural Who's Who' person for the month. The picture, taken inside the cottage, is by Charlie Hopkinson, while the article accompanying it is by Annie Gatti. The magazine should be available in the next day or so.

In a rush of publicity, Colesbourne Park is also featured in the February issue of The Garden, with photographs by Torie Chugg and article by Stephen Anderton, and the same issue contains an article by me on hepaticas - though most of the information was provided by John Massey.

'Green Tear' sets a new record

2012-01-24T22:29:00.000Z

Galanthus 'Green Tear'

Last March the beautiful Galanthus 'Green Tear' became the most expensive snowdrop ever sold, with a bidder paying £357 for a bulb on Ebay. Yesterday a bulb was sold by the same vendor (Ramonhoi) for £360, setting a new record price. One has to hope it will do well for its new owner...

Colesbourne featured in the Telegraph Magazine

2012-01-21T12:56:00.000Z

Colesbourne Park and the snowdrop display are featured in the Telegraph Magazine today, sharing its space (inter alia) with an article 'forensically' discussing David Beckham's underwear. Written by Stephen Lacey with photographs by Andrew Lawson, 'our' article is a well-written look at the history of the Elwes family and their connection with snowdrops, with commentary on a few good selections and the gardens themselves. It's available online.

Mellow afternoon light at Colesbourne Park

2012-01-19T18:08:00.000Z

Helleborus odorus

Juvenile foliage of Taiwania cryptomerioides - needle is a good word for these sharp leaves.

Offensively vicious: Rubus cockburnianus 'Goldenvale'

Cyclamen coum and Galanthus 'James Backhouse'

Galanthus 'James Backhouse' - just coming into bloom. The flowers haven't expanded and opened yet.

It's a boy!

2012-01-15T23:19:00.000Z

A friend in Ireland, who wishes to remain anonymous, has sent me a picture of this indubitably 'male' mandrake root lifted from his garden. In the past such strategically forked roots were particularly valued for their supposedly superior medical qualities, and it seems as if there was a quite an industry in the middle ages, fabricating little homunculi that were said to be mandrakes, complete with faces, hair and genitalia. It's now known that mandrakes (Mandragora autumnalis or M. officinarum), like many members of the Solanaceae, contain a diversity of potentially hallucinogenic alkaloids, which could have given an interesting experience in the hands of a competent herbalist - or been fatal in other cases.

No doubt to protect the trade, the ancient herbalists invented myths about the origins of the roots, and fabulous methods for harvesting them, needed because of their potency. The most famous is that when dug the mandrake shrieks, with fatal effect to all who hear it: in consequence it was necessary to very cautiously excavate the root and for the final tug tie it to a dog, while retreating out of earshot. As the dog responds to a call it yanks out the root, but in so doing hears the scream and dies. This legend dates back to classical times and is charmingly illustrated in this illustration in a Pflanzenbuch of about 1500, by an anonymous herbalist from northern Italy, now kept in Munich (from Blunt & Raphael, 1979, The Illustrated Herbal). I've only dug up one mandrake and was really quite disappointed when it didn't scream, but it re-established, which was more important.

Winter brightness

2012-01-13T17:35:00.000Z

Hamamelis 'Harry'

A few photographs from Colesbourne Park on a beautifully sunny but chilly day. The mild winter has brought many plants out earlier than usual, though the snowdrop display is still a long way off its peak and the colder weather over this weekend will gently apply the brakes.

Crocus atticus (sieberi) 'Firefly'

Galanthus 'Ophelia', picking itself up after overnight frost.

Teasels (Dipsacus fullonum)

Prunus x subhirtella 'Autumnalis Rosea'

Cyclamen coum

Cornus sericea 'Flaviramea' and C. alba 'Sibirica'

A hint of Spring

2012-01-08T23:28:00.000Z

Crocus atticus (sieberi) 'Bowles' White'

It has been a beautiful sunny and mild day, with the early flowers actually getting the chance to open and a diversity of insects on the wing. Too soon, perhaps, but very enjoyable.

Eranthis hyemalis 'Zitronenfalter'

Cyclamen coum 'Album'

Primula vulgaris subsp. sibthorpii

Galanthus plicatus 'Colossus'

Leonardo da Vinci, Painter at the Court of Milan

2012-01-07T17:22:00.001Z

Trafalgar Square at first light: the Keep out of London countdown clock at right.

Head and tail of the queue, c. 7.30 am.

Yesterday we went up to London to see the amazing exhibition Leonardo da Vinci, Painter at the Court of Milan at the National Gallery. Although long flagged-up as something not to be missed, we failed to book tickets (it was sold out by the time it opened) and thus had to queue for the daily allocation. Taking no chances, we drove into London allowing Adrian to be in place by 5.30 - but even then he was fifth in the queue. I went to park in the suburbs and returned by tube. The queue grew and grew and hopefuls kept coming until we got inside at 10 am, though we learnt later that nobody who had arrived after about 7 am got in.

The exhibition has brought together half of Leonardo's known paintings, all of them done, or started, while he was working in Milan between 1482-99, together with sketches by him, and a supporting cast of work by his contemporaries and pupils. These show not only his influence, but also that he was indeed the master. It is a unique gathering of remarkable pieces, of which the star is perhaps the radiant Portrait of Cecilia Gallerani, widely known as The Lady with an Ermine, borrowed from Cracow, and there is the chance to see the newly accredited Christ as Salvator Mundi, though damage has caused this to lose its lustre. It's also nice to be able to see Giampetrino's copy of The Last Supper at eye level, rather than 'skied' on the wall of the antechapel at Magdalen.

Detail from The Lady with an Ermine

This is an exhibition of Leonardo's works as a painter, and one has to put aside all thoughts of him in his various other guises; the architect and inventor appear only from doodles on the sketches, and there are none of the exquisite botanical drawings that place him still among the great botanical artists. In fact one has to look quite hard for any images of plants, and when found they are quite surprising. In the largest room of the exhibition two versions of The Virgin of the Rocks altarpiece face each other, brought together under one roof for the first time. The story of how they came about is complicated - see the catalogue - but the older one is the Louvre, and the younger, perhaps by about 15 years, is in the National Gallery's permanent collection. At first glance they look rather similar - a group of holy figures in a fantastic rocky landscape, but there are subtle differences in the imagery of the figures and their settings, and to me there is a surprising - if not shocking - difference in the plants in the landscape. In the French painting the plants are beautifully rendered, with the detail one expects from the great botanical artist that Leonardo was: an Iris, Polemonium and Aquilegia are clearly recognisable. Replacing the Iris in the London version is a clump of apparent Narcissus tazetta - but it is no normal daffodil. The flowers are good enough, but they arise on bracteose scapes, from a clump of plantain-like leaves. Next to this are two completely fantastical plants that cannot be identified, and there are other oddities elsewhere in the landscape. It seems that here Leonardo, the inveterate doodler and inventor, has invented his own flowers for Paradise, and in the evolution of the painting has translated the scene from an earthly to a heavenly location. It is nice to think that he envisaged daffodils there.

Detail of fantastic plants in the London version of The Virgin of the Rocks.

A very odd pair

2012-01-06T21:15:00.000Z

Helleborus niger and a red Pelargonium flowering together in a front garden at Kew today.

This season's crop

2012-01-04T18:45:00.000Z

John Gray Snowdrops by Anne Cotterill

Nice though it is to receive Christmas cards, there comes a point when they outstay their welcome and the house resumes its normal decoration of cobwebs. The selection of cards depicting snowdrops was slightly less diverse and numerous than last year, but with a similar mixture of charmers and horrors. Here they are, in no particular order.

Cancer Research UK (two of these)

An alternative design from Cancer Research UK

Galanthus nivalis and Crocus tommasinianus, for Avon Bulbs

The John Townsend Foundation

British Red Cross

from Tomoko Miyashita

from WH Smith (the glitter doesn't show)

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T13:55:00.000Z

Eranthis hyemalis - a double seedling from 'Lightning'

The mild weather has continued and plants are continuining to develop apace. Several more snowdrops can be added to the Christmas list and both Crocus atticus (sieberi) 'Firefly' and 'Bowles' White' are spangling the lawn. The earliest winter aconites are also out, the reliably early 'Zitronenfalter' and 'Lightning', plus some double-flowered seedlings from the latter, while many hellebores are also opening early flowers.

As well as being mild, December was by far the wettest month of a generally dry year, with 124 mm of rainfall recorded here. It brought the rainfall total for 2011 to 674.4 mm, surprisingly higher than in 2010, but still very low.

2006 (Jul-Dec) 547.2 mm

2007 1024.7 mm

2008 1079.0 mm

2009 774.7 mm

2010 630.0 mm

2011 674.4 mm

Mean rainfall for the past five full years is 836.6 mm (32.9 inches).

Plant of the Year 2011

2011-12-31T17:11:00.001Z

White Papaver somniferum

I grow thousands of different plants in this garden, so choosing one as plant of the year is quite invidious. However, looking back through the year's images there was one clear winner - the pure white Papaver somniferum. For impact and beauty it was outstanding, with its big white blooms floating above the new growth in the new border - elegant and refined yet absolutely simple. The seed came from Sibylle Kreutzberger, who told me the story of its origin earlier this year. When she and Pam Schwerdt were at Sissinghurst they wanted a white poppy for the White Garden, but could not locate any through the normal horticultural sources. They had seen pictures of fields of white poppies in Afghanistan, so knew they existed, but how to get seed? Eventually they obtained seed from the local baker, who would otherwise have sprinkled bread with it, and from it grew perfect white poppies, of which these are direct descendants.

Reminiscences of 2011: the cottage garden

2011-12-30T23:21:00.000Z

Jogoo and the crocus lawn

Viola, unnamed cultivar from Broughton, Peeblesshire

Ferula sp. from Turkey: an introduction made by Jim Archibald, perhaps the most interesting 'new' plant to flower in the garden this year.

Geranium 'Nimbus'

Geranium 'Nimbus', Euphorbia 'Excalibur' and Buphthalmum 'Dora'

Allium sphaerocephalum, Hyssopus officinalis, Sedum 'Red Cauli'

Begonia 'Ember Glow' with Solenostemon latifolius, Oxalis, etc, in pots by the door.

Up the garden path, October

Philip, the free-living Lady Amherst's Pheasant

Reminiscences of 2011: Colesbourne Park

2011-12-30T18:21:00.001Z

Primula rosea by the lake

Corydalis temulifolia 'Chocolate Stars' and Milium effusum 'Aureum'

Hosta 'Komodo Dragon'

Paeonia 'Duchess of Marlborough

Teasels (Dipsacus fullonum) in the herbaceous border

Verbascum blattaria

Cyclamen hederifolium

Haemanthus coccineus

Garden people 2011

2011-12-28T13:04:00.001Z

Galanthophile: Tomoko Miyashita and Buzz (Colesbourne Park, February).

Dendrologist: Jan De Langhe (Chevithorne Barton, June)

President and Chairman: Elizabeth Banks and Raymond Evison (Savill Garden, July)

Garden designer: Guy Jones (Colesbourne Park, January)

Photographer: Andrew Lawson. (Colesbourne Park, February)

Commemorated: Celia Sawyer with Galanthus 'Celia Sawyer' (RHS Show, February)

Plantsman: Eric Hsu (Pennsylvania)

Blogger: Matt Mattus (Massachusetts)

Intern: Josh with the poison ivy tattoo (JC Raulston Arboretum)

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T09:02:00.001Z

Cornus alba 'Sibirica', Abies cephalonica, Taiwania cryptomerioides, Thuja plicata 'Semperaurescens', Cotoneaster 'Cornubia', Quercus rysophylla 'Maya'

For the first time since starting this diary, we have an old-fashioned mild and green British Christmas - thank goodness! The mild weather - it has been up to 12^o on several days this week - has brought on a lot of flowers prematurely and there is quite a diversity to be seen. These have been flowering in the open garden at Colesbourne during the past week:

Galanthus plicatus ‘Three Ships’,‘Colossus’
G. elwesii var. elwesii
G. elwesii var. monostictus: numerous clones, of which ‘Mrs Macnamara’ and ‘J. Haydn’ are most conspicuous.
‘Galatea’
‘Faringdon Double’
‘Rosie’

Muscari armeniacum cv, M. aucheri ‘Christmas Beauty’
Cyclamen coum, C. pseudibericum
Helleborus argutifolius, H. foetidus, H. x hybridus
Prunus mume ‘Beni-chidori’
Prunus x subhirtella ‘Autumnalis Rosea’
Lonicera ‘Winter Beauty’
Viburnum farreri and x bodnantense – all clones, V. tinus
Daphne mezereum ‘Album’
Mahonia japonica
Hedera helix
Vinca minor
Antirrhinum majus
Scabiosa ochroleuca
Digitalis purpurea
Achillea 'Terracotta', A. filipendulina
Primula vulgaris, P. vulgaris subsp. sibthorpii, 'Gigha White'

May your festivities also be fun and floriferous!

Galanthus plicatus 'Colossus'

A tree at Christmas

2011-12-24T18:44:00.000Z

Ginkgo biloba in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, 23 December 2011 (img. B.J. Ward).

Two gardens in New Jersey

2011-12-23T19:21:00.000Z

Superb placement: Bismarckia nobilis

Among the many gardens I saw on my American tour in September one of the most captivating was that of Silas Mountsier in Nutley, New Jersey, an acre of fine design and solid structure, with the summer planting being almost entirely in shades of green. In creating the garden Silas has been assisted for nearly twenty years by Richard Hartlage - he of the wonderful Calycanthus x raulstonii 'Hartlage Wine', bred in his time at the then North Carolina State University Arboretumn (now JC Raulston Arboretum), and with a solid background in real gardening, but now a landscape architect based in Seattle. The collaborative result is delightful: exciting yet peaceful at the same time. The garden has been much written about, as a web search will show. Here are a few pictures that I hope capture something of its charm and the attention to detail that has gone into it.

Strong structure in shades of green: Silas Mountsier's garden, Nutley, New Jersey

The garden houses a large collection of sculptures and other artworks, carefully placed in the landscape - or the landscaping is carefully placed around them.

A broad bank planted entirely in clones of Hakonechloa macra, subtly different in both summer and when sere in winter. It is strimmed off in late winter before daffodils emerge from below it.

Dramatic foliage in Graham Hardie's garden.

Remarkably, however, the Mountsier garden is one of a pair. His partner, Graham Hardie, has his own house across the street, and here he and Richard Hartlage have created another remarkable and beautiful space. In this case, however, the planting is in vibrant colours and textures from flowers and foliage - though all combined with remarkable touch. Lushness there is, but it's not overwhelming and although bright it's not gaudy: the planting is controlled by strong lines and structural shapes that prevent it from becoming just a jungle. Though very different, the two gardens, like their owners, complement each other and make a great couple. I thank Silas and Graham for a lovely afternoon.

Contrasts in form, texture and colour in the Hardie garden: lush but controlled.

Roadside planting in Graham Hardie's garden: the standards are Euonymus.

Kim Blaxland 1941-2011

2011-12-20T21:53:00.002Z

Viola pedata, Carol Lim's garden, Pennsylvania, April 2009

Kim Blaxland, who has died aged 70, was one of the foremost experts on the genus Viola, developing her interest as an amateur to a high degree of competence, publishing technical papers as well as horticultural articles, and with her expertise sought-after by others. She travelled all over the world to see and study violas in their native habitats: one of the highlights of her botanical career was her discovery of a new species of Viola in Turkey and her publication of it as Viola dirimliensis Blaxland, in no less than the Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society (2004).

Kim Blaxland
(img. C. Blaxland)

I got to know Kim when she joined an Alpine Garden Society Tour of the Eastern Cape, led by Dave McDonald and myself. She had come out to South Africa early especially to see Viola decumbens, the only species in the Western Cape, which she saw at the Fernkloof Nature Reserve near Hermanus. Her quest attracted the attention of the local media, and an article about her visit is available online. On the tour she was huge fun and extremely enthusiastic about all sorts of plants. In the small town of Nieuwoudtville, where accommodation is limited (tourists only go there in flower season) she and I shared an apartment loaned by - we presumed - an elderly lady. It was a 'Marie Celeste'experience as it looked as if the owner had gone out by the back door as we came in. In common with others in similar situations we found that the toilet seat was covered by a knitted cover, an amenity we found rather repellant, so promptly took it off.

We met up once again, in Pennsylvania, where she lived with her husband Chris, a vet, having emigrated from Australia (Eucalyptus blaxlandii is named for a connection of the family) - they remained very much Aussies at heart, with their family living there. Sadly she developed pancreatic cancer and fought it for several years but lost the battle about ten days ago. She was one of those people I should have loved to have known better and seen more of, and regret that that opportunity has now passed.

Viola riviniana, Colesbourne, April 2011

Christmas chutney

2011-12-17T22:07:00.000Z

'in the cauldron boil and bubble'

Back in October, when I cleared away the tomato plants there was no time to turn the remaining fruit - reddish or still green - into chutney as I'd normally do. So I roasted them for a bit in the oven, then froze them away: now, needing freezer space, I've spent the evening realising their destiny. It's a long, hot process, reducing a pile of mixed fruit and veg into something that one hopes will be both tangy and semi-sweet. This is the recipe I usually use, with proportions expressed in parts:

A lachrymosity of onions

2 parts tomatoes (green and red)
1 part chopped cooking apple
1 part diced onion
0.5 part sultanas (didn't have any today, so I used chopped-up dates and dried figs)
1 part soft brown sugar
sufficient vinegar to boil it all in
a teaspooon or two of chili flakes
2 big garlic cloves
a lump of root ginger, grated
2 tablespoons of mustard seed
salt

Tonight I used, by mistake, equal parts of tomato, onion and a mix of rhubarb and apple - luckily the proportions are not really crucial. The pan needs a lot of stirring, and I hasten the reduction process by scooping out excess liquid from the surface with a gravy ladle - this liquor is also bottled and makes a tasty ketchup. The result is perhaps a tad too sweet, but it's very tasty and will be great with a strong cheddar or well-flavoured ham.

Just-filled jars

The most high and palmy state of Rome

2011-12-13T19:17:00.000Z

Washingtonia robusta at the Spanish steps

It's the time of year - especially on such a horrible cold, wet and windy day, with the first snowflakes of the season coming down - to reminisce about warmer times and happy days in the sun, so this is the first of a few posts, catching up with things I missed earlier.

Phoenix canariensis

When we were in Rome in August I thought that an interesting theme would be to photograph palms - Roman pines being somewhat overdone - and to see what species were grown outdoors there. The selection proved in fact to be quite limited, and no more than might have been tried by adventurous British gardeners in the early and mid 2000s (we didn't visit any botanical gardens, where there might have been a wider diversity). The difference is, however, that all these species were thriving rather than lingering, and in the hot sun and around fine buildings they are seen to their best advantage: a Phoenix shivering by the Thames does not have the same presence as one by the Tiber. Here are a selection of pictures, hopefully conveying something of this.

A fine old Chamaerops humilis on the Capitoline Hill.

Trachycarpus fortunei by the Villa Medici

Chamaerops seedling in the Forum

The title of this post is a quotation from Hamlet, and as I learnt from A.N. Wilson's engaging book, The Elizabethans (2011), it is an example of hendiadys, the coupling together of two words to make one sense. It was a usage that took root and flourished in 16th Century England, with Cranmer's prayer book ('erred and strayed', 'devices and desires', 'to have and to hold') and Shakespeare's plays ('slings and arrows', 'lean and hungry', 'wasteful and ridiculous') being particularly rich in hendiadys: they make for euphonious reading and the English language is greatly enriched by them. Hendiadys - when one looks for it - is everywhere. I see that, unconsciously, one has crept into the first paragraph ('wet and windy') and, more appositely, Kipling's 'dominion over palm and pine' is another.

Butia capitata, by the bus stop, Tivoli

Uhuru

2011-12-09T09:18:00.000Z

Today is the 50th anniversary of the independence of Tanganyika Territory from Britain - an event celebrated and commemorated as Uhuru, meaning freedom or emancipation in Swahili. Tanganyika united with Zanzibar in 1964 to become Tanzania, the country I regard as my second home. I wish its citizens well on this special day.

To mark the occasion I thought it would be interesting to think of two important horticultural plants originating in Tanzania, the African Violet Saintpaulia ionantha and Busy-lizzie, Impatiens walleriana. Most of the country is too low-lying and hot for its plants to be cultivable in anything but very specialised conditions, but the mountains rise to more temperate elevations. Although there are true alpines on the highest peaks they have also proved to be impossible to cultivate successfully, and these two species come from forested areas that are warm, but not too warm.

Saintpaulia ionantha

The story of the discovery of Saintpaulia ionantha is quite well known: it was discovered in the hills above the coastal town of Tanga in 1892 by Baron Walter von St Paul-Illaire, a German colonial administrator. He sent seeds to his father in Germany, who in turn supplied plants to the Herrenhausen botanical garden near Hanover. There they were recognised to belong to a new genus, which was named Saintpaulia. The modern view is that they are extremely closely related to Streptocarpus and could indeed be placed in that genus, but the flower shape is very distinct, making the continued separation useful.

Saintpaulia was soon recognised to be a useful ornamental plant, with the German nurseryman Ernst Benary offering plants in the 1890s, but the potential of African Violets as houseplants was not realised until the Californian nursery Armacost and Royston released a series of named and possibly hybrid cultivars in 1926, including the famous 'Blue Boy'. Its popularity increased after the Second World War, when African Violets became incredibly popular and breeding and selection took them to new levels. In Britain Rochfords, the great houseplant specialist, and the breeder Tony Clements popularised them, and with their ease of propagation (poking a leaf through tinfoil into a jar of water) they were easily passed around. These days their star has waned, though they are still ubiquitously available: I saw a pair of plants shivering on the pavement outside the Cirencester pet shop yesterday.

Saintpaulia 'Rana'

Their native forest habitat in the ancient mountains of eastern Tanzania is now greatly threatened and many populations have been lost, but it is the plants' adaptation to this habitat that makes them so successful as houseplants. They're tolerant of low light conditions, and seasonal rainfall and their habit of growing in thin soil over rock enables them to withstand erratic watering in the home, while the equable temperatures of the forest understorey are imitated by central heating.

Looking back it now seems very odd that in my youth Impatiens walleriana was still recommended as a houseplant for growing in pots, to be propagated in much the same was as Saintpaulia and, like it, passed around via plant stalls at church fetes. The development of the Busy-lizzie from a rather gawky potplant to a universal dumpy, floriferous bedding plant in the past three decades has not, to my knowledge, been properly explored and documented.

Busy-lizzies in the garden of Graham Hardie,
New Jersey

The wild species Impatiens walleriana is found in the mountains of a wide area of eastern Africa, from Kenya to Zimbabwe and Mozambique, but it was introduced from Zanzibar to Kew in 1896, supposedly by the British consul and keen botanist Sir John Kirk, though I think this story (related by the botanical historian Alice Coats) needs investigating. For a long time it was known as Impatiens sultani, in honour of the Sultan of Zanzibar. In the wild it is a plant of disturbed damp places - alongside pathways in the forest, for example, usually with flowers of magenta-pink, but they are variable in shade, giving breeders plenty to work with. And how the breeders have worked with it, making it the second most popular bedding plant in the world (after pansies) and a staple of the summer garden. Now its existence as a bedding plant is threatened by the disease Impatiens downy mildew, so its days of eminence are probably numbered - the snootily-derided Busy-lizzie will be much missed.

Good reads

2011-12-07T23:46:00.000Z

The long winter evenings have given me a chance to try to catch up with the piles of reading-matter that have developed over the past few months and as it's the season when pundits come forth with their recommendations for books for Christmas, I thought I'd give brief reviews of some of the noteworthy horticultural books I've been reading.

Seamus O'Brien signing books at the
London launch in June

First must come Seamus O'Brien's magnificent In the footsteps of Augustine Henry, which is undoubtedly the book of the year for me. It's a large, heavy tome (367 pp) published by Garden Art Press, who have done Seamus proud with their layout and generosity of images (both in number and size). The text tells the lifestory of Augustine Henry, the Irish botanist, who, while a customs official in China in the 1880-90s, made immense collections of herbarium specimens that revealed the botanical wealth of central China more fully than ever before, and paved the way for the influx of western plant hunters a decade or so later. But it is also the story of Seamus's own journeys in China, following Henry's travels and seeking the same plants on behalf of the Irish National Botanic Gardens at Glasnevin and Kilmacurragh, where Seamus is curator. In addition it sets Augustine Henry's work in the perspective of his times and his contemporaries. The three strands are skilfully woven together in superb narrative, and illustrated by appropriately contemporary images. I think this must rate among the best plant-hunting books of all time and absolutely essential for anyone interested in the flora of China and the history of its exploration.

Taking shelter ftrom the rain in the conservatory of the US National Botanic Garden in Washington D.C. in September I came across a display of large prints of parts of trees - a leaf bud unfurling, flowers, fruits, etc, all reproduced at huge size in the most perfect detail: plant photography of a sort I had never seen before. They were reproductions of images used in the book Seeing Trees with text by Nancy Ross Hugo, the photography by Robert Llewellyn (Timber Press). The book sets out to get one to look at trees in detail, rather than as objects in the landscape, and this is done by vivacious text and the images. The images are in fact composites of numerous shots of the subject, taken at different points of focus and then assembled into one perfectly sharp image by software designed originally for piecing together pictures taken by microscopes. The results are stunning and it's unfortunate that the book is relatively small in size, as they were mind-blowing when printed large - but even so they are gorgeous.

Another book with superb photographs is Bob Gibbons' Wildflower Wonders of the World (New Holland), a celebration of dramatically floriferous landscapes across the world from the machair of the Outer Hebrides to the Tien Shan and the Californian desert. The only significant omission is that there are no images of the Peruvian or Chilean deserts flowering after rain, but this is unimportant when presented with such delights as a meadow of Cypripedium in Estonia or the earliest spring flush of Tussilago and Petasites in Georgia. Each full-page plate is matched with opposite text on the area and its plants, with hints to the best time to go to see the sights for oneself

I have only just got The Smallest Kingdom (Kew Publishing), a book about the Cape flora and its introduction to cultivation. The text is by Mike Fraser, and many beautiful watercolour illustrations of plants and wildlife are by his wife Liz, done while they lived in South Africa for twelve years. (The blurb says that they now live in the Scottish borders, "but have yet to acclimatise." Funny, that.) To add to Liz's paintings the resources of Kew's art collection (and other sources) have been ransacked for historical images, to add great richness to this beautifully designed book. Wit is apparent in, for example, the inclusion of Beatrix Potter's picture of Peter Rabbit knocking over pots of pelargoniums as he flees Mr. McGregor's impending boot, and the love of the Frasers for the Cape flora shines through the book.

I am currently reading Margaret Willes' The Making of the English Gardener (Yale University Press), a serious historical study of horticulture in Tudor and early Stuart (1560-1660) England. Its subtitle Plants, Books and Inspiration says a lot about its subject matter as the author delves into all aspects of gardening at this time, considering both the grandest and lowliest of gardeners, their plots and their plants. As a period of great innovation in garden design and architecture, as well as wonderfully rich in plant introductions, it is an era well-worthy of such a fine review and the book should be read by anyone with an interest in garden history or the origins of our garden flora.

Lighter stuff, but very thought-provoking - or chuckle-inducing - is Anne Wareham's The Bad-Tempered Gardener. Based around her experiences of creating, with her husband Charles Hawes, a contemporary garden (the Veddw) in the Welsh borders, it challenges accepted practice, the idiocies of gardening 'experts' who voice their nonsense in the press, and generally has a pop at any target that presents itself. Here's one sentence, answering the question of what the image of gardeners is in the public mind: "We are either eccentric middle-aged ladies, getting off on the excitement of watching Toby Buckland with his spade, or hoary-handed sons of toil (who on earth were they?)." I do hope the 'expert' ladies of the press have absorbed its message.

The only book in this selection not published this year is Gardeners, by Diana Ross (Frances Lincoln, 2008), which I have belatedly acquired. It is a series of pen-portraits of gardening folk first written for the journal Hortus, shrewdly but kindly catching their characters in a few pages of prose. There are no illustrations: one must imagine the subjects. Some of them are friends and colleagues and I have to say that they come across in these pages as they do in person, which is surely an indication of how well they are portrayed. If you need one small present for a good friend, give them this.

Last, but not least, is an impulse buy from the Wisley bookshop, Stewart McPherson and Donald Schnell's Sarraceniaceae of North America (Redfern Natural History Productions). It is a fat doorstop of a book (809 pages) covering in great detail the remarkable diversity found in the pitcher plant genera Sarracenia and Darlingtonia. The latter is one of my favourite plants, and I've had an interest in carnivorous plants from my days at Oxford when the Botanic Garden grew a good collection well, and Barrie Juniper was researching their morphology, but I don't grow many now (except Darlingtonia). So buying this book was a whimsy, but such research and effort needs to be supported, and it is a great example of what a hortico-botanical monograph should be. A bit more copy-editing wouldn't have gone amiss, but for less than £40 it is a triumph. In the series, also with Stewart McPherson as principal author are Pitcher Plants of the Old World (i.e. Nepenthes and Cephalotus) in two volumes, and Sarraceniaceae of South America (i.e. Heliamphora). I suspect that these tomes will all be regarded as classic references and will soon be snapped-up by carnivorous plant enthusiasts, so it is probably wise to acquire them now.

I cannot afford all the books I fancy, so there are a few titles I would be happy to find under the tree on Christmas morning. Among them are The RHS Encyclopedia of Conifers, by Aris Auders and Derek Spicer in 2 volumes, evidently a must-have reference; Christopher Grey-Wilson's Guide to the flowers of Western China - the first (just about) portable fieldguide to the area and, not to forget an old love, The Amboseli Elephants: a Long-term Perspective on a Long-lived Mammal by Cynthia Moss, leader for forty years of the Amboseli Elephant Research Project in which every elephant in the Amboseli ecosystem (Kenya) has been monitored as an individual, as part of a family and as part of its population: spending time with Cynthia watching the Amboseli elephants was a huge privilege and one of my most memorable experiences.

Cutting-back hellebores

2011-12-03T18:31:00.000Z

The 'woodland' path earlier today.

Developing hellebore buds.

Cutting-off the old leaves of the hellebores, which I've been doing today, is an important winter task - it tidies up the plants, enabling emerging flowers to be seen easily and it is said to help control fungal disease, but there are two other important considerations. Firstly, big hellebore leaves are very smothering of smaller plants below them, and in wind they move around, flattening anything in their radius. In a garden like this, crammed with small bulbs betwen larger plants, that can be quite damaging. Secondly, while hidden under the protective layer of old leaves the buds are particularly vulnerable to being eaten by mice or voles. Removing the leaves denies them this shelter from predators (mostly owls here) and the buds are usually left unmolested thereafter.

When asked about defoliating hellebores, I usually say that it's a good job to do around Christmas, really just as a peg to hang the task to: you don't want to cut the leaves off too early, when the plant is still benefitting from them, or too late, when the new shoots are coming up and have to be carefully avoided. In most seasons Christmas is about the ideal time, but with the mild autumn and early winter there is too much movement in the garden to wait until then. The hellebore buds are developing, and snowdrop noses are emerging fast. In some corners here there are masses of Cyclamen coum seedlings under the hellebores, and these also need exposure to light. I try to snip the petioles as close to the base as possible, cutting them individually with secateurs. To reduce the risk - I hope - of transmitting the transmission of Helleborus net necrosis virus ("black death"), I wipe the secateur blades with methylated spirits between each plant. It may just be ju-ju and a waste of time, but one feels to be doing the right thing!

A swarm of Cyclamen coum seedlings - an excellent reason to defoliate the hellebores above them..

The path later: hellebore leaves all gone and Galanthus plicatus 'Three Ships' visible.

A new website for Colesbourne Park - and the snowdrop availability list

2011-11-30T22:50:00.003Z

For the past few days Tim Poulter of ComputaCare, based here in Colesbourne, and I have been busy preparing the new website for Colesbourne Park. It has just been launched, enabling us to present both it and the new snowdrop availability list together. We like it - see what you think!

Erica gracilis (and other Cape heaths)

2011-11-29T20:15:00.000Z

Erica gracilis

For the past couple of weeks I've been enjoying a generously-sized pot of Erica gracilis, one of the South African Cape heaths, which I bought for the princely sum of £2.99 from our greengrocer in Cirencester. It's about 30 cm high and wide, and is absolutely smothered by thousands of small richly-coloured flowers. In the batch were white-flowered plants too, and I suspect this is a selected clone with particularly reddish-hued flowers as the species is usually a slightly duller purplish pink. As a wild plant Erica gracilis is found at lower elevations between Swellendam and Humansdorp on the Garden Route east of Cape Town, and is not particularly abundant, it seems.

As the authors of Ericas of Southern Africa (Schumann et al. 1992) remark, however, 'it is nowadays grown more prolifically under artificial conditions in Europe than it it occurs naturally in South Africa.' But the odd thing is that this heath is the only one of the almost 700 South African species to have become an item of mass cultivation in Europe - and it is an important item. I've always understood that the cultivation of Erica gracilis is a German speciality, and an internet search reveals that this does indeed sem to be the case. Several large German nurseries specialise in heathers, and each has a range of different Erica gracilis cultivars. Among them are Eurofleurs, Gartenbau Holz, and Silber Gartenbau. The plant (actually there are several individuals in the pot) I bought was grown in a clay pot - a great rarity in itself these days - that looks as if it had been plunged in sand, and was potted in a very light compost of peat and silver sand. This all suggests that the cultivation of E. gracilis is a very specialist skill, which makes it all the more a pity that it is sold mostly as a short-lived throw-away plant. I suspect that most get planted in the garden, in fact, where they must have a very short life: the rest probably dry up quickly in a centrally-heated home.

Erica gracilis, as bought in a dirty clay pot.

I fear the same fate will befall my plant, but it doews make me think, why should this species be so successful in cultivation 9when conditions are right)? I don't know, but it seems that in the past Cape heaths were rather popular in cultivation and that we have lost the knack - or tradition - of growing them. It seems to me that here is a frontier to be rediscovered. Below are a few representatives of the diversity of Cape Erica, photographed at Kirstenbosch in September 2010.

Erica brachialis

Erica coryiifolia

Erica discolor subsp. speciosa

Erica baueri subsp. baueri

Erica 'Glengold' - a truly showy hybrid cultivar.

Botanical art by Christine Battle

2011-11-25T21:54:00.000Z

Eucalyptus leucoxylon subsp. megalocarpa

This evening saw the preview of an exhibition of botanical art by Christine Battle, held at The Backyard Gallery, in Tetbury, Gloucestershire. This is her first solo exhibition and is all the more remarkable for the fact that she only started painting plants in 2006. Her progress has been rapid!

I first met Christine when, while researching New Trees, I visited her remarkable young arboretum at Congrove in South Gloucestershire (see my post of 20 March 2011 for more on this). Shortly afterwards she asked me for advice on her portfolio for completing the Diploma in Botanical Illustration from the English Gardening School, and said she'd like to do a series of paintings of rare trees. In the end she chose a selection of unusual species from New Trees, and prepared plates of them as though they would appear in the book. This series won an RHS Gold Medal when exhibited at the Malvern Flower Show last year, and the plate of Eucalyptus leucoxylon subsp. megalocarpa (above) was awarded an Honourable Mention in the show of the American Society of Botanical Artists show that has just finished in New York.

Christine Battle (L) and Harriet Tupper, Chairman-Designate of the International Dendrology Society, with some of Christine's New Trees paintings.

The Backyard Gallery, home-base of Ken and Elisabeth Hancock, has done Christine's work proud in this exhibition, hanging her originals and prints very crisply against red walls, where they look stunning: if passing through Tetbury between now and 8 December it is well worth a visit. More images of Christine's art can be found on her website.

Preview at The Backyard Gallery, Tetbury, fortified by the remarkably good Jenkyn Place sparkling wine.

Betula maximowiczianum leaf, painted on vellum
© Christine Battle 2010

Wild Turkeys for Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T12:06:00.000Z

Wild Turkeys in Simon Thompson's bird-encouraging garden, Asheville, North Carolina, Sept. 2011

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends, followers and readers.

Frosty but kindly

2011-11-23T08:56:00.000Z

Echinacea cv.

Dianthus barbatus 'Monksilver Black'

Papaver triniifolium

Rudbeckia triloba 'Prairie Glow'

Anemone fanninii

An unusual seed crop

2011-11-22T18:51:00.000Z

Fruiting head of Nerine bowdenii 'Marnie Rogerson'

The remarkably mild autumn has had several unusual horticultural consequences - the prolonged blooming of many summer plants being one, and the early flowering of several winter ones being another, though less desirable. One of the positive results has been the development of abundant seed on Nerine bowdenii in the open garden, which usually doesn't happen as the flowers or incipient fruits are destroyed by frost. I've harvested seed from five distinct clones today and will sow it tomorrow in a light and gritty compost. The seedlings should emerge in spring and will then take several years to reach flowering size - at which point it will be possible to evaluate how they differ from their mothers.

The fleshy seeds of Nerine bowdenii vary in colour between clones.
These are on an unnamed clone derived from Stanley Smee.

New Plants: An American revolution

2011-11-20T14:42:00.002Z

Tony Avent surveys a sumptuous new Colocasia in his trial ground at Plant Delights Nursery, North Carolina, September 2011.

Opening my mailbox this morning I found a message from that indefatigable horticultural news-hound, Bobby Ward of Raleigh, North Carolina, alerting me to an article in today's Sunday Telegraph, available online. It's by Jenny Andrews, and is entitled New Plants: An American revolution. I think it's rather an important article, really emphasising how many important new garden selections are coming from the powerhouse that is modern American commercial horticulture, and it's well worth reading.

The majority of American home gardens may still be very dull and uninteresting, but over the past few years I have come to find American horticulture extremely exciting. Part of this is, no doubt, seeing a range of plants that we can't grow easily or well thriving in a different climate, but the activities of the best gardeners, whether it is with innovative landscaping and planting combinations, or in the nursery, is invigorating and inspiring. I've been fortunate enough to meet and get to know some of those involved in this revolution, notably Tony Avent of Plant Delights Nursery, where he is experimenting with a vast range of new material, both wild and highly bred, and is encouraging others to do the same. A visit there, such as I made in September, is mind-blowing.

Tom Ranney with his creation

×Gordlinia grandiflora, a hybrid between Franklinia alatamaha and Gordonia lasianthus.

Further west in North Carolina is another hotbed of activity - the North Carolina State University's Mountain Horticultural Crops Research and Extension Center, near Asheville, where Dr Tom Ranney leads a team investigating new potential in a range of woody plant genera, in search of good garden plants. One of his team's notable successes was breeding the first pink-flowered Hydrangea arborescens, sold as Invincibelle Spirit, and a major breakthrough in this very important landscaping plant in North America. Now the race is on to develop further pink cultivars with better habit and richer colour: in September Tom showed me a whole field of seedlings under assessment, although all their flowers had been removed to prevent snooping eyes getting a preview at an open day for viewing other crops. As Jenny Andrews explains in her article, there is potentially considerable money in a successful cultivar finding widespread usage, so such precautions are sadly necessary.

Hydrangea arborescens Invincibelle Spirit, at NCSU Mountain Horticultural Crops Research Center.

Chopping and changing

2011-11-19T19:01:00.000Z

Debris from the border.

The autumn clear-up of the cottage garden has started in earnest, with a good session this afternoon cutting down the standing growth of the perennials. It's a very satisfactory process, although it does reveal the multitude of weeds growing below them and some areas are quite mossy: a good mulch is needed. In the process I'm also removing plants that don't justify their space for whatever reason. In a small garden there's no space to keep passengers: everything must justify its existence in some way and any garden needs to be constantly refreshed with new plants and new ideas. Today's casualties were a very dull and unpleasantly sticky Salvia, a Stachys whose name I've also forgotten, being a very unmemorable plant (though I have a lurking suspicion that it's rather unusual), and Clematis heracleifolia 'Wyevale', a leafy brute that certainly doesn't warrant houseroom here. In my sights are a big bush of Sambucus 'Black Lace' - a lovely plant but in the wrong place, and a clump of Rodgersia pinnata that is not 'Superba', and there are a lot of things that need 'lessening' as I go. It's good to get it done at this time of year, as its's all too easy to forget in the rush of spring and then you're left with the same old things taking up even more room than before.

The ousted Stachys.

'Three Ships' and a Beech

2011-11-15T13:49:00.001Z

Galanthus plicatus subsp. byzantinus 'Three Ships'

Last year I reported on the unwontedly early blooming of Galanthus plicatus subsp. byzantinus 'Three Ships', on 18 November. This year they are even earlier, presumably 'popping' over the weekend, perhaps in Sunday's lovely sunshine. These are part of the Colesbourne Park clump, in a cosy south-facing spot, but they are also at a similar stage here in the cottage garden, facing north and under old hellebore leaves. (They are no longer under old hellebore leaves.) As the weather forecast promised, today is also bright and sunny, but much cooler - though there is no indication of any significant cold to come for the week ahead.

Beech, Fagus sylvatica, at Colesbourne Park.

A busy week

2011-11-12T16:44:00.000Z

Argyanthemum 'Jamaica Primrose' is still flowering profusely, despite the generally dingy weather and the frost a month ago. It is one of the very best plants I grow.

I've had a rather busy but interesting week, with meetings at Wisley on Monday afternoon and Tuesday (the annual specialist societies and RHS colloquium) and then at the RHS offices at Vincent Square for a meeting of the Gardens Committee. In between we have been active at Colesbourne, continuing the preparations for winter.

My purchases from Kevock Garden Plants.

On Wednesday evening we had the busiest ever meeting - at least in living memory - of the Oxford & District AGS Group, with almost 50 attendees present to hear Prof. David Rankin of Kevock Garden Plants give a fascinating talk about the plant introductions of George Forrest. Illustrated with pictures of plants both in the wild and in gardens, he discussed the plants Forrest brought in and the ones he missed, or didn't persist, and made ther point very clear that we must do our utmost to keep viable populations of plants going in cultivation whenever possible. It was a great talk and I can recommend him as a speaker. Perhaps what really attracted the crowd, however, was the opportunity to buy plants (and pick up pre-orders) from a very tempting selection he and his wife Stella had brought along from the nursery. 'Feeding frenzy' is a mild description of the activity around the stall.

Another batch of goodies arrived in the post, in the form of a selection of succulents sent by Stephen Anderton. They'll make a nice addition to the display next summer.

A nice day today has meant it's been possible to get outside and start the auitumn tidying in the garden here, and to enjoy the flowers left on many plants. Now we await the arrival of The Bishop on a pastoral visit, though spirits rather spirituality are more the order of the day.

The curious dwarf Acer platanoides 'Marit' - always a conversation piece.

11/11/11

2011-11-11T13:33:00.000Z

Papaver paucifoliatum

A really good day in the garden

2011-11-07T05:22:00.001Z

Rudbeckia triloba 'Prairie Glow' - a new release from Jelitto seeds, with orange tints in the flowers. Nice, but late to flower, and the plants are a bit sparse: hopefully the biennials among the batch will make bigger, bushier plants next year.

Bulbs set out for planting: Allium cristophii and Tulipa 'Spring Green'

The Silver Sebrights arrive to invesitigate the activity in the gravel border: Chrysanthemum 'Mei kyo' in centre, and 100 Allium 'Purple Sensation' in the yellow net.

With bright, warm sunshine throughout, yesterday was perfect for getting on in the garden. I took the opportunity to plant some big batches of bulbs in the gravel border - alliums and tulips mostly, and a few elsewhere, and then to give the lawn and meadow area their final cut for the year. The grass was rather wet and the meadow especially looks a bit mangled, but the likelihood of a better day to do it this year seemed slim and it will soon look fine.

Chrysanthemum 'Action Bronze' - welcome rich colour in a broad dome.

'For Galanthophiles', and the 'Daffodil, Snowdrop and Tulip Yearbook 2011'

2011-11-03T22:59:00.000Z

I was recently sent a copy of For Galanthophiles, a beautiful collection of photographs of snowdrops by Josh Westrich with text by Clemens Heidger, gathered into a substantial book. As in the earlier book 'Helen Ballard, the Hellebore Queen' by Gisela Schmiemann, Josh Westrich's photographs are displayed on a white background and gain great vivacity from this. A selection was exhibited at the RHS Harvest Show last year and was curiously given only a Silver Medal, as they are the most striking images of snowdrops I have yet seen, and deserve recognition as such. The text, which is presented in columns in no less than four languages (German, English, French and Dutch) is idiosyncratic and personal; its statements should be treated with caution in places, and nomenclatural convention has gone astray. But this is not a book to obtain for the text - just enjoy the superb photography.

Far more valuable as a long-term reference will be the content of the Daffodil, Snowdrop and Tulip Yearbook 2011, just published by the RHS. This is one of the most useful of annual publications, always packed with interesting articles on its three subject groups - though it's interesting to see how very much to the fore snowdrops have become in its pages. This issue contains a particularly important article by Matt Bishop, establishing the concept of the 'inverse poculiform' snowdrop - illustrated with his characteristic photographs of flowers against a black background, precision-poised to show off the vital features of each flower's markings, but losing nothing of their beauty thereby.

I hear the cries, 'What is an 'inverse poculiform' snowdrop?' and why is it important? Poculiform snowdrops have been known since the Nineteenth Century, when the name 'Poculiformis' was coined for a form of Galanthus nivalis in which the flower was composed of six equal, all white segments, equating to a replacement of the normal inner segments by another set of outer segments. I posted about them in March 2010. In recent decades, starting with the famous G. plicatus 'Trym' a whole series of snowdrops - in several species and hybrids - have arisen in which the flowers are composed of six equal segments showing green marks and often an apical notch: in this case the outer segments are effectively replaced by a whorl of inner segments. This inversion of the traditional poculiform flower form has never been recognised by a formal name, until now: the concept of an 'inverse poculiform' will enable us to communicate much more effectively about these often very charming plants.

This is an 'inverse poculiform' in Galanthus elwesii:
the outer whorl of segments is marked exactly like the inner whorl.

For galanthophiles, the 'Daff Yearbook' (as it is often called) also contains a piece by Hanneke van Dijk on her classification scheme for snowdrops, a review of her book Galanthomania by Alan Leslie, Joze Bavcon on Slovenian snowdrops and a nice article by John Blanchard on Leucojum and Acis, as well as reports on plants exhibited at shows around Britain in 2010-11. Daffodil matters are well covered too, ranging from considerations of the wild species and miniature hybrids to the latest exhibition bloms, including the remarkably greenish 'Mesa Verde' illustrated on the cover. The Daffodil, Snowdrop and Tulip Yearbook is an important annual work, published at a loss by the RHS and therefore constantly under threat (its parent Daffodil and Tulip Committee is indeed being terminated in the near future, though it will be resurrected in a new guise). It deserves support and I urge anyone interested in any of (though I hope it will be all) the three genera concerned to buy a copy - at a cover price of £11.95 it is excellent value.

Three gardens in one weekend

2011-11-02T09:14:00.000Z

Hydrangea macrophylla 'Pfau' - a well-named peacock of a plant.

On Saturday I gave a talk for the Lakeland Horticultural Society in Windermere, which provided the opportunity to see their gardens at Holehird. This is a remarkable place, with 17 acres of garden surrounding the former estate mansion (now a Cheshire Home), entirely curated and worked by volunteers of the society: there are no paid positions. The site is nicely varied in terrain, with what should be spectacular views across Windermere to the mountains beyond, and has great diversity in its plantings. Three National Plant Collections are held there: Astilbe, Hydrangea and Polystichum, all seeming to be well maintained and labelled.. Though none is at its prime at the end of October, the standing stems of the astilbes were rather attractive, and many of the hydrangeas were showing pleasant tints in their senescent flower heads - in fact 'Pfau' (picture above) was really very spectacular at this stage.

Holehird Gardens in the rain.

Unfortunately it started to rain as we arrived in the Lake District and it just got heavier through the day, so although it didn't stop me carefully going round the garden, it wasn't showing its best face. Even so, the autumn colours were looking good and I very much want to see it at another time of year.

Austwick Hall

On Saturday evening we stayed with our friends Michael Person and Eric Culley at Austwick Hall, their beautiful boutique hotel in the Yorkshire Dales, and had a wonderfully pleasant evening of comfort, great food and excellent company. One really can't recommend it too highly. In the morning we took a tour of the ever-changing garden, where the borders are to undergo a major makeover this winter, and through the wood above the house where a trail leads to a series of carefully chosen and aptly sited contemporary sculptures. The woodland is also planted with snowdrops and the garden is open in season for visitors to enjoy these - dates are on their website, as well as at other times during the year.

Woodland steps at Austwick Hall

Crozier sculpture in the Austwick sculpture walk.

The Italian Garden at Trentham, designed by Tom Stuart-Smith on Sir Charles Barry's plan.

Returning southwards on the M6 and frustrated by the crawling traffic, tempting signs led us to make the snap decision to visit the gardens at Trentham. Once the property of the Dukes of Sutherland, the estate was acquired in 1996 by St Modwen Properties Plc, who have unashamedly turned it to profitable purpose. Only being familiar with images of the garden, we were not prepared for the vast carpark and behorded retail village through which one passes, but once over the bridge into the garden that all seems very far off.

The gardens were laid out in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries to accompany successive incaranations of the great house, Trentham Hall: first (1759-1780) with a 'Capability' Brown landscape of lake and wooded vistas, which remains magnificent, and the formal Italian gardens adjacent to the house, created by Sir Charles Barry in the 1830-40s. The house fell into disuse and was demolished in 1911, but the landscape survived and has been magnificently, and justly famously, restored by St Modwen. The centre piece remains the vast Italian garden, whose parterre beds have been filled with grasses and perennials in the modern style by Tom Stuart-Smith, but adjacent to it are areas designed by Piet Oudolf (the 'Floral Labyrinth' and 'Rivers of Grass'), a Victorian trellis walk, and areas of lawns and trees.

We arrived with just half-an-hour off sunlight left, in the unpleasantly and suddenly shortened winter afternoon, but the low sun showed the plantings at their most beautiful and radiant - a really lovely sight. It was interesting to compare the styles of the two designers: Oudolf's big bold blocks, and the subtle diversity of Stuart-Smith's plantings, so skilfully worked into a true parterre with formal box edging. Once again, this is a place to return to and really explore and study.

Artichoke heads embedded in grasses.

Miscanthus plumes catching the last of the sunshine.

Amsonia hubrichtii

Piet Oudolf's Labyrinth of Flowers.

Sunshine after rain

2011-10-28T17:05:00.000+01:00

Darmera peltata

Chrysanthemum, lost label...

Serratula seoanei and Helictotrichon sempervirens

Morina longifolia

Helichrysum foetidum, Yemeni form.

Nerine display at Wisley

2011-10-27T22:38:00.001+01:00

Nerine 'Honourable Mrs Wynn' illuminated from above.

Nerine display theatre at Wisley.

In the display area of the glasshouse at Wisley at present is a fine display of Nerine sarniensis and hybrids - a pleasant surprise when I wandered in there today. The majority of the plants are arranged in a colourful display on staging and in various containers, but a nice feature was the use special 'theatres' in which to display individual specimens. In these a spotlight shines onto the flowers, causing their colours to glow and sparkle more richly. On the walls hang a selection of reproductions of images in the RHS collection, among which are a couple of the paintings done by Lilian Snelling for Henry John Elwes of nerines he had bred here at Colesbourne - always nice to see them, even if many of the plants they picture are no longer extant.

Reproduction of a painting by Lilian Snelling of nerines raised at Colesbourne by H.J. Elwes.

Nerine 'Lavandu'

Nerine 'Jill'

Bernard Verdcourt, 1925-2011

2011-10-26T23:34:00.001+01:00

The 85 family acounts of the Flora of Tropical East Africa written wholly or in part by Bernard Verdcourt will remain his greatest memorial.

The name Bernard Verdcourt will be unfamiliar to most, but for decades he was the doyen of East African botany. He was almost synonymous with the great Flora of Tropical East Africa, of which he wrote more parts than anyone else, spanning the period 1956 and 2005, from his bases first at the then East African Herbarium in Nairobi and later (and principally) at Kew, where he occupied an obscure and deliberately out of the way space. A generalist, he tackled families from Adiantaceae to Vitaceae, and as such his advice and commentary on specimens was greatly valued by all working in the FTEA area (Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda), including myself.

Zehneria ridens Verdc., on Mt Meru, Tanzania in 2009.

While going through my specimens from Kilimanjaro in the mid-1990s there were several that I could not place, and it was to Bernard I turned. One odd little thing he quickly recognised as a Muraltia, a principally Southern African genus with the nearest known sites being hundreds of kilometres to the south: this specimen of Muraltia flanaganii remains the only record for Kilimanjaro and the most northern in its genus. Another puzzle was a scruffy-looking cucurbit of the bryony persuasion: in many ways it resembled the well-known Zehneria scandens, but differed in having enlarged sepals, making it appear as if the flower had ten lobes, instead of five in Z. scandens. I pointed-out the differences to Bernard and after due consideration he agreed that it was indeed a new species, and named it Zehneria ridens Verdc., with my specimen as holotype. The epithet ridens means grinning or laughing, as Bernard said he could see a toothily grinning face in the arrangement of the floral parts, but this similarity has eluded me.

Bernard Verdcourt's other area of great expertise was in snails, particularly those of East Africa and he cajoled his botanist colleagues into collecting them along with their plants: in my case, a particular species of high altitude snail was wanted from Kilimanjaro. I found a selection and somewhere have his determinations list, but don't know if they included his desiderata. He wrote a great series of papers on snail collectors in East Africa, which, being typically thorough, are an excellent reference source for information on many explorers and naturalists. They are among over 1000 publications in botany, malacology, entomology and the Peugeot marque.

Bernard Verdcourt in old age
(img: Henk Beentje)

Long after he retired he made the journey from his home in Maidenhead to Kew each day, in a very elderly 2CV, and was generally the first to sign in each day. The last time I saw him he was in the Kew library, complaining loudly about the activities of a noted Swiss botanist, 'Bloody Greuter!' Sadly he suffered a stroke not long afterwards and for the past few years has been too incapacitated to work. He died on Tuesday and thus did not live to see the completion of FTEA, on which work started in 1949, but of which only a sparse handful of parts remain unpublished. (Thanks to Henk Beentje, Editor of FTEA, for passing on the sad news, and for a short obituary, information from which is used here).

Seeds and services: vegetable breeding at Rijk Zwaan

2011-10-25T07:51:00.000+01:00

Salanova lettuce varieties on the Rijk Zwaan demonstration field.

In previous posts I have sung the praises of the beautiful and tasty Salanova® lettuce varieties from the Dutch vegetable seed company Rijk Zwaan: on Friday I had the chance to visit a couple of the company's sites and learn more about the extraordinary ways in which they are pushing forward the development of new vegetable varieties. Although it is still hands-on breeders who place pollen on stigma, the whole process is driven by lab-based geneticists using innovative techniques to maximise the potential of the existing genes - Rijk Zwaan is absolutely against genetic modification using genes from other organisms. The scale of the operation is extraordinary. For example, every lettuce seedling in the breeding programme has its DNA checked for the genes of interest, using tissue from the cotyledon: if not present the seedling is simply discarded.

Michiel Zwaan

My guide for the day was my old friend and colleague Michiel Zwaan, who works in product development for the company (founded by his grandfather in 1924). First stop was the Rijk Zwaan tomato demonstration greenhouse in Kwintsheul, where the current tomato lines are grown under ideal conditions and where all aspects of their cultivation and yield are monitored, providing growers with the information needed to enable them to maximise their crops. All Rijk Zwaan facilities have strict biosecurity measures in place, so we had to dress in overalls - not fetching, but important.

Tomato plants at the Rijk Zwaan demonstration greenhouse: grown hydroponically, with two stems grafted onto one rootstock, they are trained on wires until they are 9-10 m long, over an 11 month period.

Freshly picked samples of each variety are displayed for easy comparison.

The Rijk Zwaan demonstration field at Fijnaart: how field trials should look.

We then travelled further south, to the Rijk Zwaan centre at Fijnaart, where the laboratories are situated and all work on breeding leaf and field crops is done. After a tour of the lab facilities, which would put those of most universities to shame, we moved out onto the demonstration field where the various crop varieties are grown for evaluation and consideration by potential customers. Immaculate and astonishing in the diversity of varieties of e.g. lettuce and spinach being grown, it was also a beautiful sight.

The rather spooky effect of lettuce isolation bags, preventing undesirable pollination.

A new crisped red Salanova lettuce.

Red Cabbage Rexoma RZ F1: it's difficult to imagine a more ornamental foliage plant.

Autumn at Arboretum Wespelaar

2011-10-23T23:37:00.000+01:00

Lindera obtusiloba (l), Halesia carolina Monticola Group (r).

View of the pond at Arboretum Wespelaar, a garden planned for autumn colour.

I've spent the weekend at Arboretum Wespelaar, not far from Brussels, where the Maple Society has held its triennial symposium. We had a highly enjoyable programme of talks from an international selection of experts and enthusiasts, plus the usual good conversation and company that one gets at such events, but the real highlight was to walk round the magnificent arboretum on a golden autumn afternoon. Started by Philippe de Spoelberch in the 1980s, when the garden at his home was getting to be overcrowded, it is now one of the most interesting and attractive relatively young arboreta around, thriving under the care of the ever-enthusiastic Koen Camelbeke and his team. A primary interest is the genus Magnolia, but the planting has also been done with an eye to autumn colour, with results that are apparent even in a year like this when autumn colours are poor.

Acer triflorum

Acer palmatum 'Beni Kagami'

Magnolia 'Dude's Brother' - Arboretum Wespelaar has an outstanding collection of magnolias.

'Sorbus' folgneri 'Emiel' - a lovely combination of richly coloured fruit and silver-backed leaves.

A mulch of acorns.

Safely gathered in

2011-10-20T06:17:00.000+01:00

The Colesbourne Park greenhouse: filled almost to capacity.

With the first touch of ground frost yesterday it is a relief to have got all the tender plants tucked away into shelter, either in their pots, or with a next generation propagated by cuttings. As a result, all available space is packed full. The autumn migration indoors is always a much more hasty affair than the leisurely placement outside in early summer, impelled by the threat of frost but postponed as long as possible by the enjoyment of the plants. The garden looks suddenly bereft by the removal of the large pots, though there is still much colour - for a few more days.

Tender perennials for next year, propagated from cuttings in August, potted into 7 cm pots in Sepember. I wish they could be in this state when it's time to pot them up in April!

'still more later flowers for the bees'

Self-adjusting snowdrops

2011-10-18T19:59:00.000+01:00

Galanthus 'S. Arnott' bulbs with elongated stems to adjust their position in the soil.

When I was in Washington D.C. last month, I was asked to comment on how bulbs adjust their depth in the soil. It is quite well known that some 'bulbs', including Scilla and Crocus, can form contractile roots that can pull the bulb deeper, and in tulips and Erythronium 'droppers' are formed, with the new bulb forming on the end of a shorter or longer stem or stolon. The phenomenon of bulbs pulling themselves upwards seems to be less well-documented, and it was this that stimulated the discussion, as some Lycoris bulbs had been observed to be doing so. Back home, with alot of snowdrop bulbs to prepare for potting and replanting I found, as expected, some bulbs showing evidence of having done just this.

As a snowdrop (in this case) clump develops, a mass of superimposed bulbs is formed, some of which, at the lower edge of the clump, or packed in the middle, may need to 'escape' to a more suitable depth. Unfortunately the clumps were already broken up by the time I looked for examples, so I can't illustrate this. Also, sometimes bulbs become buried too deep by mechanical means, and must also readjust their position in the soil.

On the left is the new bulb formed in the current season, large enough to flower in this case. The new basal plate is visible as a yellowish patch at its base, above the extended stem (now withering) that started at a basal plate at the right of the image. The stem is surrounded by the withered bulb scales from the previous season's growth.

What seems to happen is this: in the previous season (year 1) the bulb must somehow 'recognise' that it is buried deeply, and either while still in growth or shortly after it becomes 'dormant', extends the normal short and compact stem (basal plate) to which the bulb scales and roots are attached into an elongated structure potentially several centimetres long. This can only happen at these stages, because the growth in the current season (year 2), starts at the end of the extended stem. It's the only place a main snowdrop shoot can start from. As expected, a bulb develops from the shoot and is thus attached to a long, now redundant and soon withering stem. The old bulb scales, from year 1 (and possibly earlier) wither away in year 2 and form a sheath around the elongated stem, not around the new bulb as they would if it had formed in its normal position (further proof that the stem elongates at an early stage of shoot development). The new (year 2) bulb lacks these protective scales and thus always appears white (and is prone to desiccation). The result is the very curious morphology shown here, in which a long narrow stem bears a normal bulb at its tip, a few centimetres higher in the soil than in the previous season- the reverse of the 'droppers' mentioned above, but essentially by the same means.

No doubt this process is well-known to plant morphologists, but it has been fun to dissect some bulbs and deduce the situation for myself. Now I must attempt some controlled experiments to study the process as it happens.

A glorious sunny day

2011-10-14T21:07:00.000+01:00

Nerine bowdenii 'Marnie Rogerson'

Morning light on Salvia 'Indigo Spires', Dahlia 'Mount Noddy' and Miscanthus sinensis 'Yakushima Dwarf'

After a long gloomy period the weather has changed, giving us a warm and glowing autumn day in which the autumnal flowers really sang. We are just hoping that the clear starry skies that are following it do not bring a frost.

Crocus banaticus 'Snowdrift'

Symphyotrichum novae-angliae 'Rosa Sieger'

Kniphofia 'Cool Knip'

Grasses with Argyranthemum 'Jamaica Primrose' and Dahlia 'Bishop of Llandaff'

Pelargonium 'Bright Red Blizzard'

The neighbours.

Mists and mellow fruitfulness at Hergest Croft

2011-10-13T23:12:00.000+01:00

Acer pseudosieboldianum: the only maple showing really good colour at present.

A shaft of sunshine (for about two minutes) over Hergest Croft.

I've spent the day at Hergest Croft, near Kington at the western extremity of Herefordshire, as the guest of Lawrence and Elizabeth Banks, principally to look at how specimens mentioned in New Trees have developed. Hergest Croft has one of the finest private arboreta in the country and is full of good trees acquired and planted by successive generations of the Banks family over the past 160 years. In consequence it is always a pleasure and education to go round the grounds; unfortunately it was another rather gloomy day, but at least it had stopped raining.

It seems as if it is not going to be a very good autumn for leaf colour, but berries and fruits are abundant and many are looking good now, as seen here. Preparations were under way for the annual Plant Fair and 'Celebration of Apples' at the weekend, which should be an event well-worth attending.

A very pretty small-fruited Cornus kousa (BSWJ 1230)

Sorbus pseudohupehensis

"Sorbus" megalocarpa - the generic status of these Asian entire-leaved species is far from clear.

Raindrops on Tropaeolum speciosum.

Good plants on a grey weekend

2011-10-09T22:33:00.000+01:00

Vitis vinifera 'Spetchley Red' at Cotswold Garden Flowers: a superbly coloured vine.

Despite dingy, grey weather I've been taking my friend Jim Fox from Seattle around to visit gardens and nurseries. It's been a great opportunity to look at a range of plants that perform well late in the season - and there are plenty of them. Here are a few.

Chrysanthemum 'Posie' at Cotswold Garden Flowers.

Tanacetum parthenium 'Rowallane' at the Garden House, Condicote. Sibylle Kreutzberger told us it should be propagated by cuttings in spring.

Various Salvias and Hydrangea paniculata at Condicote.

The outstandingly floriferous Dahlia 'Oreti Bliss' at John Massey's garden, Ashwood Nurseries.

The herbaceous border in John Massey's garden, with Argyranthemum 'Jamaica Primrose' in the foreground.

Hydrangea paniculata cleverly paired with Nerine bowdenii by John Massey.

Melianthus major 'Antonow's Blue' and Rehmannia piasezkii, at John Massey's.

Big apples

2011-10-06T19:23:00.000+01:00

'Bushey Grove' with a comparison 'Cox's Orange Pippin'

The two huge apples shown above were grown by my father, and with another pair formed part of his winning entry in the village flower show in early September. They are a cultivar called 'Bushey Grove', which was raised by a Mrs Good in Bushey Grove, Hertfordshire, and introduced in 1897. It is now a rare cultivar, but is maintained in a few collections. How it came to be in my parents' garden is an interesting story.

Prior to his retirement my father was a minister in Bushey and in his flock was an elderly couple, Peggy and Lionel Hamilton. Peggy (b. 1914) lived in the same house all her life, with her husband moving in when they married in 1935. When she was a very young girl her father planted a tree of 'Bushey Grove' in the garden - it was presumably a well-known local cultivar at that time: she grew up with it and it was cherished all her life. The huge fruits were an annual feature at the harvest festival.

In their later years Peggy and Lionel worried about what would happen to their tree; as well as its sentimental value they knew it was by then a rarity. They mentioned this to my father, who told the story to me. I made enquiries about getting it grafted and one very grey and wet day in 2004 went to Bushey and took scionwood from the tree. It was sent to Sarah Juniper, daughter of the apple expert Barry Juniper (one of my former tutors) and a specialist shoemaker - see her fascinating website here. Sarah used a couple of different rootstocks, and sent the newly grafted trees back by post.

The Hamiltons celebrated their diamond wedding in 2005, shortly before Lionel's death: Peggy died in the following year. They knew the tree had been successfully propagated, and when large enough one of the young specimens was presented to Reveley Manor, part of the Bushey Museum and Heritage Centre to maintain the cultivar's presence in the area. It's not known what happened to the old tree after new owners moved into the house.

'Bushey Grove' is classified as a cooker: my mother says it makes excellent pulp. I found it to be on the pleasant side of bland when I tried it this afternoon, but I think the fruits are past their peak. They're very waxy, and very aromatic, which is always a nice feature in an apple, and with their size and rich colouring they're extremely decorative. These two weighed 708 g (25 oz).

Tradition and innovation at the RHS London Harvest Show

2011-10-04T22:40:00.000+01:00

The RHS London Harvest Show - always a great day in the horticultural calendar.

The Duke of Marlborough's 'Muscat of Alexandria': the Blenheim grapes comprehensively outdid those from Chatsworth in this year's ducal competition.

Apples in the Lindley (Old) Hall.

Len Stebbings of the National Vegetable Society dispenses advice.

'Herbarium Poetry' readings in the Harvest Hangout

The American grass Setaria macrostachya shown by the LOndon Group of Plant Heritage in their excellent display from members' gardens.

A laced pink seedling shown in the National Carnation Society competition.

Michaelmas daisies at Old Court Nurseries

2011-10-01T23:36:00.000+01:00

Symphyotrichum novi-belgii in the Picton Garden - a reminder of the wonderful diversity of Michaelmas daisies.

This afternoon, in glorious weather (the hottest October day recorded in England), we visited Old Court Nurseries in Colwall, near Malvern, which has been associated with the selection and promotion of Michaelmas daisies for over a century. Started by Ernest Ballard in 1906 it has been run since the 1950s by the Picton family, now on their third generation. The history of the nursery, and full online catalogue is available from their website.

Although one visits the nursery, it's really the adjacent Picton garden one goes to see - a small entry fee is payable - where there is a magnificent display of daisies, arranged largely by type, but there's also an interesting assortment of woody plants and shade-tolerant species including some good ferns. The nursery majors on Michaelmas daisies, but has a few 'supporting cast' in the form of Aconitum, Rudbeckia etc.

The Picton Garden is adjacent to the nursery - a view over the S. novi-belgii display, just at its peak.

The issue of what to call these plants arises, however. Traditionally all Michaelmas daisies - itself a broad term - have been called Aster, but in recent years genetic analysis has shown the group to form two very distinct lineages, one from Eurasia and Africa, and the other American in origin. In consequence the huge genus Aster has been subdivided into numerous small genera, each with distinct ancestry. In this scheme the genus Aster is European or Eurasian, with A. amellus being the type species, while the familiar American Michaelmas daisies are placed into Symphyotrichum. British gardeners, and indeed botanists, have been very reluctant to accept these clearly demonstrated genetic differences, with the result that Aster is still in use for the whole lot, but in the American gardens I've visited in the past few weeks the change has been made and the plants are labelled Symphyotrichum. My preference is always to recognise a classification based upon repeatable, scientific methods, in which shared single ancestry is demonstrated, so although it's quite difficult to make the change mentally, I'm adopting Symphyotrichum and the other genera into which the old broad Aster was split.

Aster amellus 'Gründer'; this European species remains in Aster.
I had not seen this cultivar before - it's superb, with strong stiff stems. Unfortunately the stock was all sold out.

Another true Aster: A. trinervius var. ageratoides 'Starshine' - a good, short plant.

Symphyotrichum novi-belgii 'Melbourne Magnet'.

Symphyotrichum novae-angliae 'Colwall Galaxy' - a fine selection from Old Court Nurseries.

S. novi-belgii (or is it a hybrid) 'Beechwood Charm', with small, single, intensely pink flowers: a pot of this accompanied us home. It will be planted next to Aconitum 'Royal Flush' next year.

Coruscating coleus

2011-09-29T19:17:00.001+01:00

in Graham Blunt's garden, Nutley, New Jersey

In my so far quick look at the October issue of The Garden I notice that Nigel Colborn's opinion piece discusses his liking for coleus and the issues of taste in gardening that they raise. Travelling around the eastern states this month I was astonished by the wonderful array of coleus cultivars that are available there and widely used to add great richness to the garden display. As with many sumptuous foliage plants they clearly thrive in the pseudo-tropical heat, humidity and (at least latterly) wetness of the east coast summer and make stunning combinations possible. Such richness and diversity in summer bedding may not be a viable option for us in England, with our cooler summers, but there's no problem growing coleus here. Tasteless? I don't think so.
Coleus is the English name for plants derived from what has been known as Solenostemon scutellarioides, a southeast Asian plant with variably coloured and marked foliage. The cultivars are still often known as Coleus blumei, but botanists now place Solenostemon in the genus Plectranthus, so Plectranthus scutellarioides is the correct name for all these fabulous forms. I was not able to ascertain the cultivar names of most of the clones I saw, so here I've only indicated the garden in which I saw them growing.

around the fountain, Bartholdi Park, Washington D.C.

'Alabama Sunset' in Graham Blunt's garden, Nutley, New Jersey

'Religious Radish', at Wave Hill, New York

at Wave Hill, New York

'Inky Fingers' in Graham Blunt's garden, Nutley, New Jersey

'Red Velvet', at Wave Hill, New York

at Frelinghuysen Arboretum, New Jersey

Home to an autumnal garden

2011-09-27T19:50:00.000+01:00

View over the garden from the new border: Coreopsis 'Incredible, Incredible' at the front.

An overnight flight from Philadelphia brought me home this morning, after three weeks away, to a garden that has changed from summery to autumnal, but is still full of colour and interest. Here are a few snaps, taken on a glorious sunny but fresh day.

Achillea cv, Aster x frikartii 'Wunder von Stafa', Aster 'Freda Ballard' in the new border.

Crocus pulchellus x speciosus

Aster 'Little Carlow'

Colchicum 'Dick Trotter'

Zauschneria californica 'Dublin' and Lespedeza bicolor 'Gibraltar'

Up the garden path in the late afternoon.

Wet on the way from Washington to Wilmington

2011-09-23T19:35:00.000+01:00

The US Capitol from the US National Botanic Garden

After a few fun and interesting days in and around Washington DC I'm sitting on the Amtrak Acela service to Wilmington, Delaware - though as I type we're at Baltimore station. It's pouring down, a warm and very wetting rain, and my attempt to see the sights of the National Mall this morning have left me very damp. Unfortunately this train is air-conditioned. The horticultural highlight of the Mall is the US National Botanic Garden, in its prime location just below the Capitol. There is a great native plants garden, some very welcome conservatories and the Bartholdi garden (above) has some excellent lush tropical planting.

News from a far country

2011-09-20T17:42:00.000+01:00

Sitting in Bradley International Airport, Hartford, Connecticut, on my way to Washington DC: news comes in an email from my mother that Galanthus reginae-olgae is in flower in their garden. The season has started!

Galanthus reginae-olgae (at Colesbourne Park)

Horticultural postcards from New York

2011-09-13T13:10:00.001+01:00

The High Line - Manhattan's linear aerial park, built on the bed of the former freight train line running through the city, and now a hugely popular public space.

The Empire State Building from the High Line. Oudolfian grasses and perennials are a major feature of the planting.

In other areas the High Line is planted with woodland plants, but perhaps Magnolia macrophylla was not so wise a choice.

Ludwigia sedoides, aptly named the mosaic plant, at Wave Hill.

Lilies at the farmers' market, Columbus Ave.

and heirloom tomatoes...

Apartment gardening: Michael Riley and Francisco Correa's green wall of tropical epiphytes.

Fresh Forsythia at Chelsea Market: how?

Delightful plants in North Carolina

2011-09-09T15:00:00.000+01:00

Lycoris straminea 'Buttermint'

I am currently on a lecture tour for the North American Rock Garden Society, which will take me up and down the East Coast of the United States. Opportunities for posting may be erratic and infrequent.

For the past few days I've been based in Raleigh, North Carolina, enjoying the horticultural pleasures of this area. On Wednesday a visit to AJ Bullard, of Mt Olive, introduced me to several interesting new fruits and was followed by an afternoon at the remarkable JC Raulston Arboretum in Raleigh, whose eponymous founder set it up as a trialling and distribution centre for new plants for North Carolinan gardens, a role in which it continues. Yesterday brought a visit to a garden and plant collection that never fails to thrill, Tony Avent's Plant Delights Nursery and Juniper Level Botanical Gardens. It is packed with treasures, both new and familiar, and the focus of extraordinary efforts to bred and select new plants. A fuller post about 'PDN' will follow, but today is Friday, so I must go to New Jersey.


Pueraria trilobata 'Sherman's Revenge' - a splendid variegated form of the dreaded kudzu, scourge of the South.

Some early colchicums

2011-09-05T21:08:00.001+01:00

Colchicum agrippinum has been in flower since mid-August. It is a ancient sterile hybrid between Colchicum autumnale and C. variegatum and is immediately recognizable among hardy colchicums through its strong tessellation, narrow segments and purple styles. A superb garden plant.

Colchicum variegatum at Wisley: the most beautifully tessellated of all, but it requires alpine house or bulb frame cultivation in this country.

Colchicum autumnale is a native of much of Europe and in most forms not a particularly special plant for the garden. This is a very pallid clone known as 'Oxford Pale' among enthusiasts, having come from the Oxford Botanic Garden many years ago. C. autumnale is distinguished by having white styles.

Colchicum autumnale 'Nancy Lindsay' has the pale styles of the species it's attributed to, but the rich pink flowers and coloured floral tube make it very dissimilar to most forms.

'Nancy Lindsay' is an excellent plant for planting in grass as here at Colesbourne Park: vigorous and showy but not too large.

Colchicum guadarremense is one of the darker -flowered Spanish members of the C. autumnale alliance, a small and pretty plant.

Colchicum tenorei is reputedly an Italian plant, clearly allied to C. autumnale, but with slight tessellation and purple-tipped styles. This stock has persisted at Colesbourne Park since the time of H.J. Elwes, who supplied the material for its description in J.G. Baker's Synopsis of Colchicaceae (1879).

Colchicum byzantinum is another ancient hybrid, probably between C. autumnale and C. cilicicum: it was sent from Constantinople to Vienna in 1588 and has been a feature of gardens ever since, producing masses of soft pink flowers with broad segments. It has a crooked, purple stigma and the faintest hint of tessellation.

A white-flowered mutation of C. byzantinum, 'Innocence' (sen here at Wisley) was first offered for sale in the early 1980s. It is a splendid plant, being the most floriferous of all white colchicums. It retains the purple-tipped stigma.

A surreptitious snowdrop killer

2011-09-03T08:37:00.001+01:00

Large Narcissus Fly larva in a Galanthus bulb

Over the years, in the process of handling large numbers of dormant snowdrop bulbs I have become very sensitive to the feel of a good bulb and a wrong 'un. A good bulb feels heavy and plump, but when there is something amiss it feels different, either light, dry and scaly in the case of fungal disease, or soft and light for other reasons. The most common of these - and it is quite common - is caused by the presence in the bulb of a larva of the Large Narcissus Fly, Merodon equestris. This species, a hoverfly with colouring mimcing a bee, is on the wing in late spring, and lays its eggs around the dying foliage bases of Narcissus and Galanthus (or any other amaryllid). The young larva makes its way into the soil and enters the bulb, not through the neck as often said, but either through the basal plate or through the side of the bulb.

A typically damaged bulb, soft and discoloured, showing the lateral entry hole.

It then proceeds to eat its way through the central portion of the bulb, consuming the basal plate and embryonic shoot, then working through the remaining scales, until it is completely hollowed out. The larva is plumply cylindrical, with vestigial legs, and has a thick skin that makes it quite difficult to squish it when found. If undetected it will pupate in the remains of the bulb and emerge the following spring. Detection is actually impossible, unless the bulbs happen to be lifted in summer, as all the action is below ground and the first sign is of trouble is the non-emergence of the plant next spring.

The same bulb, almost
completely hollowed out.

Where clumps are large and snowdrops (or daffodils) abundant it does little significant damage, but it is most irritating when it settles on prized a bulb of some rarity. Controlling the problem on a large scale is difficult, though fine gauze netting can be used to protect individual clumps, and perhaps a prophylactic spray of systemic insecticide aplied to the clumps before they die-down would work, if you wish to use such things, but we really just have to live with it and get our revenge when possible.

The adult Large Narcissus Fly, Merodon equestris (Img: Wikicommons)

Dahlia Trials at Wisley

2011-09-01T19:14:00.000+01:00

Dahlia 'Oakwood Firelight'

Some of the superb dahlias in the trials on the Portsmouth Field at the RHS Garden Wisley: well worth going to see if you're in the vicinity.

Dahlia 'Honour Francis'

Dahlia 'Hillcrest Jessica J'

Dahlia Tiptoe'

Dahlia 'Karma Choc'

Dahlia 'Josie Gott'

Dahlia 'Happy Single Flame'

Dahlia 'Shadow Play'

Dahlia 'Rockliffe Billy'

Cornfield annuals

2011-08-28T19:15:00.000+01:00

To fill an awkward patch of ground outside the Colesbourne Motor Garage we've usually sown a mixture of hardy annuals to give a bright sumer show. This year we used Kings Cornfield Annuals, a mixture of once-common cornfield weeds, now almost totally eradicated by intensive agriculture. It's a reminder of how European cornfields must once have looked, full of annuals competing with the crop. The diversity in the mix is quite limited, but the result is spectacular, the only criticism being that poppies are rather sparse. These are the principal components, and some views of the mixture.

Corn Marigold, Glebionis segetum

Corncockle, Agrostemma githago

Cornflower, Centaurea cyanus

Scented Mayweed, Matricaria chamomilla

Corn Poppy, Papaver rhoeas

Succulents

2011-08-24T21:51:00.000+01:00

Sedum × rubrotinctum 'Aurora'

Agave parryi var. truncata

Agave or (×Mangave) 'Macha Mocha'

Cotyledon orbiculatum

Aeonium 'Sunburst'

A recommendation for 'New Trees'

2011-08-24T21:30:00.000+01:00

In an online article published by The Browser.com ("Writing Worth Reading"), the well-known garden designer Arabella Lennox-Boyd recommends her top five books for inspiring gardening reading. They are The Education of a Gardener, by Russell Page; New Trees; In Your Garden by Vita Sackville-West; The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, and Gardens from the Air, by Franco Migliorini and Luigi Latini. I'm not familiar with the latter, but its a very interesting and original concept, and one to look into. It is an honour, however, to have my own book linked to those of Russell Page and Vita Sackville-West, and The Hillier Manual is an essential. Thank you, Arabella!

A new look for 'The Garden'

2011-08-23T22:22:00.000+01:00

The September issue of the RHS magazine The Garden sees a makeover in appearance and content, although it remains the same dimensions as before. It was last subtitled Journal of the Royal Horticultural Society in 2008 and the transition from being the journal of a learned society to popular magazine is now complete. While I regret the loss of continuity in the title, I don't think it is a bad thing if a more contemporary look makes aspects of gardening more approachable: there is certainly a lot of useful information and some solid articles in this issue (I should say, including one by me, on autumn-flowering bulbs). I regret the sprinkling of advertisements through the body of the magazine, however, but understand the commercial imperative that is deemed to make this necessary (nobody looks at solid blocks of ads fore and aft), and perhaps in consequence many of the spreads seem rather 'busy.' No doubt we'll soon get used to it.

One of the snippets in the 'News' section concerns the proposed new RHS plant hardiness ratings, intended to be introduced in their final form in 2013, following consultation, but this is their first public airing. The former RHS system, H1-4, was pretty hopeless and generally ignored, and this scheme, ranging from H1 (tropical) to H7 (the very hardiest), is intended to be more widely applicable. UK gardeners are invited to comment on it.

A real innovation is the section 'RHS Life', extending (in this issue) over 16 pages. It aims to bring news of RHS activities together, and to promote garden openings, shows and special events. The RHS has not always done very well at promoting its own activities, so this will create a space where this can happen, though one hopes there will also be some larger articles too. There is a strong focus on partnership gardens open free to RHS members, an aspect of the membership benefits that is often overlooked, but giving access to a huge range of wonderful gardens including, I learn, those of Isola Madre and Isola Bella in Italy. Must remember to take my ticket...

One man went to mow

2011-08-21T22:10:00.000+01:00

The 'long' meadow this afternoon

Cowslip (Primula veris) capsules.

One of the most important decisions to be made each year is when to cut the 'long' meadow ('long' as in long grass) It gives so much pleasure, from the first crocuses and snowdrops in February, through to now when there were still of flowers of Geranium pratense, Malva moschata, Centaurea nigra and Astrantia major. But they were comparatively sparse and had all set plenty of seed already, and the seed of other important species was ripe or had already been shed, including from the Iris latifolia that flowered so beautifully in June. As it was a bright and breezy day it wasn't difficult to decide to get it done this afternoon.

A few years ago, while visiting Levens Hall in Cumbria, we watched the gardening staff mowing long grass with scythes and were very impressed by the cleanliness and quietness of the process. Intending to copy their example I acquired a scythe a few weeks ago, and this was its first proper outing. I got the mowing done, at the cost of three blisters and a stiff back, but it was distinctly haggled - I need practice! It probably took a little longer than doing it with the mower, but without the noise or hassle of restarting every few minutes, or clearing the blades, and the mowings fell as hay rather than mush, so there are definite advantages.

Mowing.

The mown meadow.

Orange

2011-08-19T17:53:00.000+01:00

Begonia 'Glowing Embers'

Kniphofia 'Molten Lava'

Lilium lancifolium 'Splendens'

Two great villas

2011-08-17T22:25:00.000+01:00

The Island Villa or 'Maritime Theatre' at Hadrian's Villa: probably the Emperor's private quarters.

One of our aims while in Rome was to get to Tivoli to see Hadrian's Villa and the Villa d'Este, so on Sunday, foolishly believing that public transport was unreliable, we booked a tour that would take us to both. It did, but that was the best that could be said of it.

Hadrian, 76-138 AD, Emperor 117-138
(Capitoline Museum)

Hadrian's Villa, now on the outskirts of Tivoli, must once have been among the greatest 'country retreats' the world has ever seen, a magnificent expanse of fine buildings and landscaping that in some ways can be seen as as a microcosm of the Roman Empire. Hadrian had a passion for art and architecture and here at his private villa he could indulge these with the resources of the empire behind him. Incredibly, the majority of the villa complex, stretching over almost a kilometre, was built within a decade of his accession, mostly while he was on tour of the empire, but evidently all to a single vision that must have been largely his own. With the buildings clad in marble it must have been an extraordinary place: even today, in ruins and stripped to the brick in all but a few corners, it is monumentally grand.

The Canopus, an area said to have been inspired by Egypt, with a half-domed dining hall at the end of a long reflecting pool, once lined by sculptures and a colonnade. The current statues are all replicas.

The massive remnants of Hadrian's Villa are still an imposing sight, in a wonderful setting.

After Hadrian's death the villa was maintained as an imperial residence for a while, but became neglected and eventually lapsed into obscurity, although forming a convenient source of building materials for the local populace. Its significance was recognised again in the Renaissance, when various prelates undertook excavations that unearthed a wealth of wonderful statuary and other objects, now scattered through the world's museums. Among these excavators was Pirro Ligorio, working for Cardinal Ippolito II d'Este (1509-1572), Governor of Tivoli from 1550, and then in the process of building his own remarkable and villa and garden that Hadrian's statues were to adorn. Among them was the statue of an Amazon seen to the right, a copy of an original by Pheidias that is now in the Capitoline Museum.

Only fragments remain on site to show how magnificent Hadrian's Villa must have been: an intricately carved column base.

The timeless Italian combination of olive trees and cypresses in the grounds of Hadrian's Villa.

The Organ Fountain, Villa d'Este

Tivoli from Villa d'Este

The gardens of the Villa d'Este are one of the greatest of Renaissance landscape creations, and have been admired and copied since they were built, principally between 1560-1575. Sited on a steep west-facing slope below the massive presence of the villa itself, they are a fantasy creation of fountains and pools, light and shade, formality and farce, warmth and coolth. With the exception of two unfortunate patches of bedding in Italian colours, there is little in flower at this time of year, but there doesn't need to be: the contrast in shades of green and the light from the stone and water is quite sufficient.

Despite the formality and beauty of the layout and architecture, water is the thing at Villa d'Este, providing light, movement and sound. Its provision required the creation of an aqueduct from the mountains and a conduit from the River Aniene which runs through the town, but this constant supply at constant pressure enabled the Cardinal's fountaineers to develop dozens of water features, many of which are sadly no longer extant (including the water jokes, but the water organ has recently been restored). The statuary is long-gone, alas, and the garden and its features fell into disrepair from the late 17th Century. Now a World Heritage site and owned by the Italian state they seemed to be well kept, with crisply trimmed hedges of Bay, Box and Myrtle, and most of the important fountains are working well (though others need attention).

All the elements of Villa d'Este are encompassed in the setting of the Fontane dell'Ovata.

The famous Pathway of the Hundred Fountains - a beautiful combination of sound and light.

The water features are all draped in a lush coating of Maidenhair Fern, Adiantum capillus-veneris, a nice sight for a pteridologist.

The Organ Fountain is at the head of the main cross-axis of the garden, with its water flowing into the first of three fish ponds placed along the terrace.

Having been whisked round Hadrian's villa in an hour flat, and about to get the same treatment at Villa d'Este, we decided to abandon the tour and go back to Rome by bus and metro, an arrangement that worked smoothly and efficiently. It gave us the opportunity to explore Tivoli and the grounds of the Villa Gregoriana, where the gorge of the Aniene, with the river rushing through tufa grottos suggested where, perhaps, some of the inspiration for Villa d'Este, and almost certainly some of its tufa features, had come from.

The Aniene gorge, below Tivoli.

A lily among the acanthus: a capital at the Temple of Vesta, Tivoli.

A gardener's glimpses of Rome

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The Forum from the west

Bougainvillea and a random column.

We have been in Rome for the weekend. These are a few more or less plant-related pictures, more to follow in the next few days.

Capparis spinosa, in the wall of Castel Sant'Angelo:
this is the source of culinary capers.

The courtyard of Palazzo Doria-Pamphilj

Dasylirion (sp. ?) as a container plant

Giolitti's wonderful ice cream: a biodiverse selection of more, myrtilli and fichi d'India (Morus nigra, Vaccinium myrtillus, Opuntia ficus-indica: thank goodness for Latin names!)

grass?

A splendid Lantana cultivar

A single plant of Parthenocissus tricuspidata in Via S. Teodoro

Plumbago capensis

Pinus pinea in the gardens of the Villa Borghese.

Champion Trees of Britain and Ireland

2011-08-11T14:39:00.000+01:00

Back in May I attended the launch of Owen Johnson's book Champion Trees of Britain and Ireland, held on a rather grey evening at Kew. Owen is probably the champion tree-measureer in the country, travelling prodigiously by public transport to reach target trees, and has a remarkable knowledge of trees. This is a review of the book I wrote for The Plantsman, a shortened version of which will appear in the September 2011 issue.

Champion Trees of Britain & Ireland, The Tree Register Handbook,
by Owen Johnson, 368 pp, 2011, Kew Publishing, £22, ISBN 9781842464526

In its previous incarnation, published by Whittet Books in 2001, Owen Johnson’s Champion Trees was essentially a library reference work, tall and slim. The current version, however, is, if not quite pocket-sized, at least handy for keeping in the car and is a much more useful book than its predecessor.

The Champion Quercus castaneifolia, planted at the Royal Botanic Garden, Kew, in about 1846. It is 31 m tall, with a diameter at breast height of 245 cm.

Once again, Owen Johnson has produced a remarkable compilation of facts and figures about the champion trees of these islands, a champion being defined as the tallest, the thickest, or occasionally oldest, most spreading or exceptionally beautiful example of its kind. Each entry contains a brief note about the species (not a description) and the appropriate record-holding individuals. It’s not a list to read through, but to browse in, and although quite terse, many contain some very useful points about the taxon or individual tree concerned. It is sad to note among them, occasionally, the shameful comment ‘this estate does not welcome tree-recorders.’ In general, I suspect, the book will stimulate some healthy rivalry between owners and counties, and lead to a lot more interest being shown in our uniquely rich range of large trees.

Thuja plicata 'Semperaurescens' - one of several champions at Colesbourne Park, measured by Owen Johnson at 23 m tall;, 100 cm dbh in 2004. A beautiful tree in all seasons.

The records section also sets out to be a complete list of trees in cultivation in the British Isles, which is very helpful, though this is an ever-shifting position. There is also a list of all native trees, including, perhaps controversially, Sycamore Acer pseudoplatanus. There is an index of synonyms, of common names, and to location, making the guide easy to navigate. Navigation is also implied in the valuable gazetteer of sites with good trees, which takes a circuitously non-alphabetical course through counties around Ireland before heading through Scotland and anticlockwise through England to Wales – an interesting approach but irritating when trying to find a particular location in a hurry. It’s also very unfortunate that no key is provided to the symbols used, although a crown clearly indicates a champion and a blue leaf a noteworthy specimen.

The ex-Champion Quercus candicans,
which reached 9.5 m before being
killed by last winter's cold.
Any survivor could be the current Champion...

Two points are important. Firstly, most champions are destined to hold that status for a comparatively short time: it’s rather like being the oldest inhabitant. Death or discovery of a larger specimen causes their supercession, and several mentioned here are already dead. The champion Quercus candicans, in Devon, was killed in last winter, for example, and the fastest-growing specimen recorded, a Eucalyptus nitens at Harcourt Arboretum, Oxford, met the same fate after achieving 20 m in six years during the balmy period 2002-2008. Living or dead, this book records important baseline data. Secondly, a large number of taxa are described as ‘rare’ or ‘in a few collections’ so it is to be hoped that this will spur appropriate replacement plantings and conservation efforts.

This is a useful, well-illustrated book that all tree enthusiasts need, and I congratulate the author and the Tree Register on its production.

Strong colours

2011-08-09T22:01:00.000+01:00

Monardella macrantha subsp. hallii - a brilliant western American alpine, pollinated by hummingbirds

All in the cottage garden this evening.

Achillea 'Pomegranate' - I think this is a splendid plant, just hope it's going to perennate well.

Calceolaria 'Kentish Hero': a tender shrublet, but well worth the trouble of propagating and keeping through the winter.

Allium wallichii is supposed to be tender but is thriving here.

Hemerocallis 'Broadway Night': I think this is not quite the right colour, but it's a nice dusky red.

Aeonium 'Zwartkop' - a Grimshaw signature plant

2011-08-06T19:12:00.000+01:00

As grown by:

Rachel

Susan

Tom

John

Galtonia

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Galtonia candicans at Colesbourne Park

A friend recently asked me how to tell apart the different species of Galtonia, a South African genus of four species in the Hyacinthaceae, closely related to and sometimes included in Ornithogalum. Of these, G. princeps is extremely rare in cultivation, and can effectively be knocked off the list of possibilities. The most familiar by far is Galtonia candicans, with abundant, large, pure white flowers: a magnificent hardy bulb for the summer garden. It needs to be seen en masse for its quality to be appreciated, and I have never seen it better than yesterday at the Savill Garden, where it fills all the gaps between big clumps of Agapanthus in a wide border. The effect is magnificent. G. candicans is native to eastern South Africa, at mid-altitudes (1350-2150 m), higher than the less hardy G. princeps, in which the flowers are less pure white, having a green band on each of the segments.

Galtonia candicans and Agapanthus at the Savill Garden

Galtonia regalis

G. regalis

The other two species both have green flowers, but are easily distinguished. Both are from the Drakensberg, but whereas G. viridiflora has quite a wide distribution in the drier areas of the Eastern Cape and Lesotho, G. regalis has a narrow range on the wet, east-facing escarpment of the Berg in the area where Kwa-Zulu Natal meets the Free State and Lesotho, centred on Mont-aux-Sources. Its specific epithet, regalis, records its discovery in the Royal Natal National Park, where it is common on the cliffs of the Sentinel and Amphitheatre. To my mind it is the more attractive of the two, being shorter in stature and having more open flowers of a soft pale creamy green. The foliage is shining bright green, and tends to arch outwards.

G. viridiflora

The flowering times overlap, but G. viridiflora starts a week or 10 days earlier than G. regalis, but the flowers do not open widely and form a rather narrow tube of darker green with a hint of glaucous wax. They're also more numerous and more closely-spaced, and held on a much taller inflorescence. The leaves are more stiffly upright, and are also somewhat glaucous. It doesn't stand out in the garden as well as G. regalis does, but both are quite subtle in their charms and effect, so it's not surprising that the showy G. candicans is by far the best known member of the genus. All are easily grown from seed sown in spring, and these three at least are hardy in Britain.

The rather tubular, clustered flowers of Galtonia viridiflora

The genus commemorates the polymath Sir Francis Galton (1822-1911), a noted traveller in his youth (and author of The Art of Travel, a wonderful insight into Victorian travel), but he does not seem to have visited anywhere that Galtonia would grow naturally. He quickly accepted his cousin Charles Darwin's views on evolution, and investigated heritability and variation in human character (especially intelligence) and morphology (pioneering the use of fingerprinting in criminology, for example), advocating eugenic marriages for the production of brighter children.

Francis Galton in the 1850s (Wikicommons)