John Gerard - an upcoming biography

A chance meeting in the street with Mark Griffiths in Oxford today revealed that he is working on a biography of John Gerard, author of  The Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes, of 1597, and a major figure in the development of British (and European) horticulture. I have long felt that he has been treated unfairly by garden historians, regarded as little more than a plagiarist, and it seems that Mark agrees. It is also good to know that Gerard will get the scholarly treatment he deserves, with the resources of the Oxford libraries behind it (unlike the very unsatisfactory life of his near-contemporary John Parkinson, published recently), and I can't wait to read it.

For if delight may provoke mens labor, what greater delight is there than to behold the earth apparelled with plants, as with a robe of embroidered worke, set with Orient pearles, and garnished with great diversity of rare and costly jewels?

John Gerard, dedication, The Herball, 1597

Plants on Facebook

Two friends on Facebook - not necessarily the same as Facebook friends - have recently posted interesting pictures of plants, and given permission to use them here.

Jim Murrain, of Kansas City, Missouri, posted this image of a red-leaved Ailanthus altissima, which is said to have red inflorescences too (originally at http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/photo.php?pid=1194543&id=1190461654). I first heard of its existence from his partner Jim Waddick a few years ago, when it was but a fable out of China: now they've obtained material from Jim W's authorial colleague (Iris of China) Zhao Yu-Tang. It apparently has no cultivar name as yet, though 'Prince of Darkness' might be appropriate for a plant with dangerous ways. Despite this, it looks like a really interesting addition to the roster of red-leaved trees and has huge potential for stunning effects when coppiced to produce vigorous new shoots.

Dan Heims and his colleagues at Terra Nova Nurseries in Oregon are famous for their development of Heuchera and its allies (as well as many other plants) into a Joseph's coat of colours, the likes of which could not have been imagined ten or so years ago. This is an image of the Heuchera greenhouse at Terra Nova (originally at http://www.facebook.com/l/486fa;www.terranovanurseries.com).

Gardens on a golden afternoon

We took the afternoon off to seek inspiration from Gloucestershire's two most famous gardens, Kiftsgate Court and Hidcote Manor, so conveniently adjacent on the northern escarpment of the Cotswolds. Adjacent, but dissimilar: Kiftsgate like a villa on the Cap d'Antibes, rising above its Monterey Pines; Hidcote the classic Cotswold house, surrounded by its famous garden rooms. Hidcote maintained, but not unduly trammelled, by the might of the National Trust; Kiftsgate privately owned and now, as its fine new guidebook proudly announces, maintained by the third generation of women gardeners of the same family. Two great gardens and inspirational indeed.

Afterwards home, and to dinner by the pond, with the sun catching the ripening seed heads of the pulsatillas.

Kiftsgate

Kiftsgate Court

Rhododendron 'Fastuosum Flore Plenum' and Embothrium coccineum. The presence of calcifuge plants in the Cotswolds is always a surprise, but there are areas of clay on the highest ground above the limestone where such plants can thrive, and the thriftiness of the Embothrium here demonstrates that it does not necessarily need the mild dampness of the west to prosper. The combination of these two shrubs is bold, but seems to work!

Male Trachycarpus fortunei - as handsome a flowering specimen as I have seen. The yellow infloresecnces of tiny flowers were truly striking.

Polystichum setiferum cultivar

Hidcote

Peony Garden: Paeonia officinalis 'Rosea Plena' with alliums and Aquilegia

Digitalis canariensis (formerly Isoplexis)

waterlilies

Wisteria floribunda 'Alba'

Hidcote Manor

Three yellow lilies

Lilium pyrenaicum

The first three lilies of the year have opened almost simultaneously in my garden and fortuitously link together the yellows of two shrubby peonies in flower in the same border. Two of these lilies are rather unusual; the third, Lilium pyrenaicum, is, or was, a familiar cottage garden plant and is even naturalized in a few places in Britain. It was in the garden here when I moved in, several clumps competing with the weeds: it is a moot point whether I would grow it if I'd had to acquire it from elsewhere. I like the many narrow leaves densely set around the stems, giving a very lush effect as it emerges, but the flowers always seem too small for the plant, and they stink - true festering lilies. But it is an amenable plant, will grow in the meadow (where it is not yet in flower, though only a couple of yards from the plants in the border) and is never untidy, so I'm happy to give it its place.

There are a number of related, turkscap-shaped lilies in Europe, including the red L. pomponium in the Alpes Maritimes and L. chalcedonicum in northern Greece. Elsewhere in the Balkans different mountain ranges harbour different species or subspecies allied to L. pyrenaicum; L. carniolicum (or L. pyrenaicum subsp. carniolicum) and L. bosniacum are two from the 'former Yugoslavia'. Perhaps the most distinctive is L. rhodopaeum from the Rhodope Mountains of Bulgaria, with unspotted deep yellow flowers and vermilion pollen. As in L. pyrenaicum its leaf margins and the veins underneath are picked out in fine white hairs, which gives the foliage a certain elegance. One of my plants has one misshapen bud, possibly from a nip of frost, but the larger has two beautiful flowers open. I am not now sure of their source, but the seedlings accompanied me back from the Netherlands in 2003, as did those of L. kesselringianum, the third of the trio.

As with the L. pyrenaicum alliance in Europe, in eastern  Turkey and the Caucasus there is a complex of obviously related lilies centred on the relatively well-known L. monadelphum. That is nowhere near blooming here yet. Lilium kesselringianum is one of these, shorter and slighter in stature than L. monadelphum, with more slender flowers in pale creamy yellow. They are adorned with a few spots in their centre and have strong scent, sweet but mixed with the fetor of the clan. All these lilies seem very happy in light calcareous soil, but apart from L. pyrenaicum do not multiply vegetatively, so I must make sure they're pollinated, and try some scales later.

Lilium kesselringianum

Colesbourne Park - a 'dream garden of England'

Somewhat to our surprise, a couple of months ago we learned that Colesbourne Park was to be featured in a book called Dream gardens of England with a pretitle (if that is the opposite of subtitle) 100 inspirational gardens. Although we have been in the Good Gardens Guide for several years, it is a nice accolade to be included in a book featuring so few of this country's fine gardens.

Dream gardens of England, by Barbara Baker with photography (mostly) by Jerry and Marcus Harpur, has now been published by Merrell, at the RRP of £24.95. It is a large, solid well-produced tome, copiously illustrated: each garden selected has a spread or two for itself, with a short introductory text and an abundance of photographs. For example, Colesbourne has seven photos, apparently taken several years ago on a particularly drab February day, which is unfortunate.

Choosing just a century of great gardens to feature in such a book is not easy, and while it is good to see many lesser-known ones appearing, the choice is a little odd. Most are privately-owned, and although a few of the great National Trust properties (Sissinghurst and Petworth, for example) appear, gardens run by institutions generally do not. One can understand Wisley or Kew being outside the remit, but Rosemoor or the Oxford Botanic Garden are as dreamy and inspirational as many. The exclusion of Great Dixter, The Garden House (the Buckland Monachorum one, at least - there are others), Pettifers, East Ruston Old Vicarage, etc, is strange, unless they appear in the preceding work, Dream Gardens, which I have not seen. The choice, however, is a personal one, and there are many here I must go to see for myself.