Gardens

I’m very lucky here because I have a choice of several famous local gardens to visit. When we moved to Essex I knew I wanted to visit Beth Chatto’s garden because we used to live on heavy clay soil and I wasn’t used to gardening on gravel. I’d seen magazine articles about Beth Chatto’s gravel garden, had been smitten at the time, and thought it would be a good place to visit. I bought a season ticket and spent the whole year (and the next) visiting frequently, even in the winter. I like gardens in winter because you can see the bare bones, and Beth Chatto’s garden has very fine bones indeed. I particularly liked the silver birch which lights up the garden in winter.

I found a booklet about Hyde Hall in a charity shop, which described the place as it was when the Robinsons owned it. It sounded lovely so visited on my birthday one year. Matthew Wilson was curator at the time, and perhaps it was his influence I admired so much. There was a field of sunflowers, and a wild flower meadow and cornfield ablaze with colour because this was June. The garden was still redolent of the owners, still had a personal feel to it. I loved the Alpine House, but also loved the dry garden with its massive boulders... a Matthew Wilson project, I believe. So I joined the RHS so I could enjoy it in the same way as I enjoyed Beth Chatto’s. But things have changed. The Alpine House was deemed unsafe for the public and was removed. Hermione’s garden was also deemed unsafe and was out of bounds. That suited its air of mystery. Now it also has fallen victim to this “Improvement” or Doing-things-the-RHS-Way, with gabions of stone. All very architectural, but I fear Hermione has fled. I don’t like it, and I don’t feel so comfortable in Hyde Hall garden now. It has lost the personal touch, and the Matthew Wilson Effect is fading, to the garden’s detriment.

Glen Chantry is another superb garden, but has now closed to the public. I enjoyed that very much when it was open, particularly the rockery.

Wickham Place Farm is somewhere I should visit more often. In the spring it’s famous for its wisteria, and in the autumn there are masses of cyclamen in the woods. I used to work on Fridays when it’s open, and found it hard to get to, but this year I’ve managed to get there a couple of times, once to photograph the wisteria and bluebells, and once to photograph the paeonies, which were late due to the cold spring. Alas, that cold spring also ruined the wisteria flowers this year, which was a real shame. But hopefully next year the display will be of its usual stunning standard.



Paeonies at Wickham Place Farm





Rose at Wickham Place farm. This rose is growing on a wall and over an archway through that wall, so it's possible to look up at the roses. They are delightfully scented.



This April I went to Harrogate for a friend’s book launch, and while I was there I visited Harlow Carr for the first time. This was where Matthew Wilson had gone to when he left Hyde hall (lucky Harlow Carr) and I was amused to see his fingerprints on the garden. One item was a gazebo with an overcoat of cut logs, and another with dry stone cladding and a green roof. I just knew that was his handiwork. I think he has a creative and somewhat maverick genius for these things, and I really like his influence. Perhaps it’s just because his way of doing things vindicates my own approach and my own eccentric ways. Or maybe it’s a childlike pleasure of dens in the woods.








It was early in a late-starting season, so the garden was just burgeoning. The most spectacular plants, to my mind, were the skunk cabbages (Lysichiton americana). I have seen these at Beth Chatto’s (I even tried to grown one in my tiny garden.) But they need to be seen en masse and in context, ie waterside, to really appreciate them. And even then, I’m not sure the word “beautiful” can be applied.




My visits to Beth Chatto’s petered out because of lack of time, especially in the summer, and until this year I restricted my visits to the winter months when she allows RHS members in for free. I nearly cried when I found that the foxglove tree (Paulonia tormentosa) had had to be felled as it had become unstable. I loved that tree. That was a couple of years ago now.

I decided to make more effort to visit Beth Chatto's gardens again this year, and rejoined for the year in June. Not only was this for the gardens, but I wanted to do some photography, and since she runs a competition for photographs taken in her garden, I thought I would feel welcome with my camera. I am acutely aware that photographers can be a pain in gardens, especially with tripod and other paraphernalia, so I asked if it was OK to use the tripod. In fact, I find the monopod of great value because it’s easier to get in close with just one foot to place carefully, though it has its drawbacks too.


Beth's island beds are bigger than my entire garden.




Golden Hop



In my own garden I can deadhead, tweak, push and prod things around to get the shot the way I want it (though sometimes I don’t notice that ugly dead leaf until afterwards. I couldn’t possibly do this in someone else’s garden. It can be frustrating not being able to get in close, but respecting someone else’s garden is paramount.



I love the eryngiums as a family, they look so metalic. Beth has some really interesting plants... look at this bud. Pity it's quite a sprawling plant because I would love this in my garden. I just don't have the room.






I had such a good day’s photography when I went, I returned the next day to take more shots of the flowers which I knew would be over before the week’s end. The weather forecast had promised some cloud cover, but it was rather sunny and the shadows harsh. However, the clouds came over from time to time, softening the light… I must have been the only one hoping for cloud.

I must go again. But then, I ought to photograph some of the flowers in my own garden. I have some super anthemis and jasione which are rapidly going over in this heat.

Photogallery

All rights reserved. Please do not copy these images without contacting me first.

These are some photographs taken in my garden.



Spider on Foxglove






Medusa Pulsatilla





Opium Poppy




Opium Bud Burst






Poppy Petals






Geranium Bud





Elsa Spath






Star and Stripes





Shadows





Damsel

A Summary to Date

It's too hot to work outside just now, and housework, as ever, holds no appeal, so I thought I'd try and summarise my work over the spring.

Spring is my most frantic time in the garden, exacerbated this year by the need to catch up with all the jobs I neglected since I started writing. The raised beds I made with supposedly preserved timber ten years ago had rotted, so I replaced some with old slate tiles , some with excess breezeblocks from the greenhouse project, and some with bits of feather-board from a previous project.

I planted the greenhouse bed up, and plants are growing reasonably well. My misgivings about the light levels due to shading have been confirmed, though, and everything looks a little wan and etiolated. One melon died, which was annoying. I have had some beans and some courgettes.

The Balcony Yellow tomatoes are the right size for pots and baskets, being compact and sturdy plants. The Maskota are supposed to be suitable for tubs, but are laxer and tend to sprawl. They do have the advantage over many tomatoes of being bush rather than cordon. This means I don't have to pick out sideshoots, a job I often neglect.

I have had a few mangetout peas from a tub. The courgettes are doing well enough in the tubs, but we’ll see low long the season lasts. I have had one or two wild strawberries (ie wild British native, not alpine). These produce runners and look rather dainty when trailing down.





I had a problem with the banana plants. There were encroaching on the miniature railway, and there would have been serious sulks if they had broken up the track bed, so I had to move them. I won’t go into detail as I might try an article about them, moving them etc. Suffice to say it was very, very hard work.


I decided the Spanish Bluebells have to go, the thugs. I much prefer the English bluebell anyway, and these invaders have been quietly taking over my garden. I had intended to plant some of my agapanthus in their stead, but they proved so awkward to dig up I’m not entirely sure I’ve got them all. So I put membrane down and put the agapanthus in pots on top. Agapanthus do well in pots, some say they flower better, but here they do well in the soil as well. A major advantage of pots in colder areas is you can move them into shelter.

A serious problem with Spanish Bluebells is they readily hybridise with English bluyebells, causing crosses and genetic contamination. I boutght some English bulbs once, but when they came up they were obviously hybrids. I wasn’t best pleased because I already had Spanish plus hybrids.

English bluebells are a darker, inky colour, and flop over daintily at the top. Spanish bluebells are very pretty but don’t have the delicacy or that wonderful blue haze. I remember seeing Scottish hillsides covered in them, and in Wales the hedgerows are dotted with that intense blue. I don’t trust any bluebells local to me to not be contaminated, which is a shame. I will leave the “English types” in my garden, knowing they’re probably not pure.

Here are a couple of photographs comparing the two (Not my best photos, but please don’t steal them. If you want to use them please ask.)




Note the colour of the anthers.






I had intended to go to the woods to capture some bluebell images. I went to Wickham Place Farm instead, because I wanted to photograph Judith’s amazing wisterias. Alas, a late frost had done for the wisteria blooms, but the bluebells were lovely.




The parts of my olive tree which had leaves on in the winter have died, but it’s sprouting further down. So much for my careful cultivation of a pompom shape. Another ball which I lost was the myrtle, which burned in the heavy frosts and snow. I cut it hard back and then nothing happened. I thought I had lost it, but it has started to sprout. Hopefully it will be hardened off come winter.

One of the problems with the past winter was that everything was still growing in the mild autumn and when it suddenly turned cold a lot of growth was too soft to cope.

Feeling Guilty

I'm feeling a bit guilty over starting this blog, then failing to post anything recently. I have been very busy in the garden, and any writing time has been spent on Womag and novels.

I have also been doing a lot more photography. I went to the IGPOTY competition feedback day at Kew Gardens 8th May, and had my enthusiasm rekindled. I still have problems coping with the actual technology of the camera, but am getting better at taking the photographs I want to take rather than pointing the camera and hoping for the best.

I would post some of my photos here, but I an always worried about them being stolen, whiich is why I don't (generally) post my best photos.

I will try and post more frequently, but first I have some other jobs to do.

Post for Old Kitty re mystery plant

This is agapanthus, an photo I took in Madeira last year.



These grow along the sides of the road and look stunning. I might not leave this post up for long because I may want to use this photo in an article which I'm about to write.

These broader leaved agapanthus are more susceptible to frost in this country. Kitty, you say your mystery plants were bulbs, so I'm not totally convinced they are agapanthus, though they look like agapanthus, and the blooming time is right. Agapanthus have thick fleshy roots rather than bulbs like daffodils.

I don't think they are alliums because their leaves tend to be going over by the time they flower.

Hope this helps.

Looks Like Spring

Sunday 11th April.

The weather is warming up at last, and with it, the need for watering. I have six water butts hidden about my garden, which is necessary in this dry part of the country. But even so, watering takes time. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were up to date with the things I need to do, but I’m not. I’m still rescuing my garden from the last few years’ neglect. One thing I should have done last year was replace the felt on my wendyshed roof (by wendyshed, I mean a wendyhouse which functions as a shed), but someone told me I should use bitumen… two people actually, so it became one of those jobs I meant to get round to and never did, because the cold weather and illness caught up with me. Never mind that it lasted 10 years without bitumen last time. The problem now is that the planks have curled slightly, which makes sharp edges… not good under felt. As I have plans for that bed beside the wendyshed, I have decided to try a different approach. I’ll maybe show some photos when I’ve done it. The big problem is dong it without Hubby noticing and nay-saying, as he often does with my more eccentric ideas. But since he’s barely stepped into the garden recently, I don’t really care (He works away from home a lot, and is an indoor boy, except when it comes to playing trains… but that’s another article, I hope.)

Monday 12th April.

Having said that, Hubby spent some time in the garden yesterday sorting out his track-laying on the new bit of the railway. (another potential article.) We had a bicker over the track bed which I had laid last year. Suddenly there are two sets of points required in a certain extension, which makes the layout trickier as points are straight and that affects the curve. The curves need a 4’ 6” radius or 4’ at an absolute minimum, and in our garden this is a problem becase of lack of space. Last year, when I was working from the plans, I made 4’ 6” radius guides which I could lay out to get the curve, I made a 4’ 6” jig which I could peg into the ground to ensure this radius was followed on every curve, and I laid extra breeze blocks either side of where the plans said the track was to go, to give some flexibility as to exactly where the track went down.

Well, yesterday, the engineer told me that he’s decided he’ll only make do with one set of points—sniff—and not have the siding, because—sniff—it just won’t fit in the way I’ve built it. I was perplexed because on my plans there were no sidings. I was told, rather haughtily, that the sidings have been on the plans for quite a long time. I told my dear engineer that they were not on the plans he gave me, and I would find the plans to show him. He didn’t believe me, but guess what…I have just found the plans, and guess what… no signs of sidings or double points. So he can’t blame the navigator.

I have had to move an aquilegia thanks to this change in plans, just as it was about to flower. It was a huge old wild type, and I’m sure it’s going to suffer or die as a result. However, I have lots of seedlings, and it’s just toooo bad. But I am somewhat vexed.

I’m very glad I didn’t throw the plans away. And I shall be glad when he’s laid the track. I told him that it was his fault anyway. The logic goes like this: Any job which goes wrong, which ought to be his job but which I have to do because he won’t get round to it, is all his fault because he should have done the job in the first place. So any wonky shelves which I put up are his fault, etc. And that includes laying of track bed. It’s his railway after all.

Back to the jobs which need doing. The question is what to do first… and the problem then becomes so huge I don’t want to do any of it. The wendyshed is urgent. My neighbours are getting snotty about my plum tree overhanging their garden, so I need to cut some large branches off while the sap is rising to reduce the risk of silver-leaf disease. It’s a lovely tree and it seems a shame to maim it like this. It wasn’t the Victoria Plum as stated on the label when we moved here though. It’s a huge tree, and the plums, now it’s finally producing, are rather nice, but not, definitely not, Victoria plums.

There’s a lot of stuff in my garden that is junk, but saved because junk is valuable. Some of that needs throwing… there’s a limit to the number of pots I need, surely?

I have decided to move the tropical part of the garden to next to the wendyshed, because the banana roots are in danger of undermining the railway, and that would be a disaster. But that’s where I dumped some of the rubble from the greenhouse bed-building. So that needs moving first.

I need to tidy up the vegetable beds because things are going to need to go out soon.

I need to rearrange some things in the greenhouse because I want to get the membrane down and some things planted in the greenhouse bed.

Aaaagghhh. I sometimes wonder why I do this.

Easter Sunday. Some thoughts.

I’m glad I did try chitting so many beans, now, because only about a third of them, or maybe even fewer, sprouted. They also sprouted over a long time, which would make sowing directly in the soil a risky business. The rest are beginning to rot and need to go into the compost bin. They stink, but the protein is good for nitrogen in the compost, and since my compost is mainly tea bags and coffee grounds, added nitrogen is always welcome.

I will have enough plants to put in my cramped garden this year, but either I must save seeds for next year, or buy some more. I was delighted to find that Lily’s Nursery behind Tom’s Farm Shop on the B1022 between Tiptree and Maldon is selling “Seeds of Italy”. I met the owner of Seeds of Italy, Paolo Arrigo, at Hampton Court Flower Show a few years ago, and bought some Squash seeds from him. He had just started importing to Britain, if I recall correctly (though I may have that wrong.) They were the most delicious squash, but the last couple of years have been too dull for them to do well (Remember what I said about curcurbits needing sunshine to make female flowers). In my shady garden this is something of a problem. But the taste…

Anyway, back to the seeds. The owner of Lily’s Nursery has told me she can order in seeds from Seeds of Italy for customers, and she has a stock of the more commonly grown seeds, including the climbing purple beans (rampicant). So even if I fail to collect my own seeds this year, I can still easily get hold of these delicious beans in future. I took home a catalogue, and of course, that means I will be tempted to buy some unusual seeds, even though I have no space to grow them. What I really need is an allotment, and the time to tend it. I had an allotment where I used to live, conveniently two hundred yards from my front door. I never really had the time to make the best use of it, and regret trying to be organic from the start, but it was lovely and I really miss it, especially as I put fruit trees on it and they have matured now. A friend took it over, and I am grateful because it makes me feel all the effort was worth it.

I’m trying to remember which year it was we went to Tuscany, and it must be three or four years ago, maybe more. We stayed in a villa outside a small town called Regello. We used to walk into the town to do the shopping, and it was great being able to snoop into people’s gardens on the walk down. People seem to have a permaculture or cottage garden approach, with food growing nestled up to ornamental plants, such that alimentary considerations come first, and ornamentals are a luxury added in as and where the space allows. Many gardens have an outdoor grill, not the formalised charcoal-guzzling barbies we have in this country, but a stone-built permanent outdoor cooking facility burning local wood, such as chestnut. On an evening or on Sunday we would smell delicious smoke and cooking smells arising from these. The family would be gathered round, doing things together. We noticed that families behave as families in restaurants too, with everyone accommodated round the tables, from ancient Great-Granny to babbling infant, all enjoying food, all enjoying company, wine, and the ambience of the evening. We seem to have lost that habit in this country, if we ever had it. It might have something to do with our climate where eating outdoors is only pleasant when it’s really warm, which happens infrequently so is an effort to do. In Italy, eating outdoors seems to be the default situation, certainly in the summer.

Many of the dwellings had their own vines growing over sheep-netting pinned to wooden stakes (possibly chestnut) which made shady areas for sitting, for growing other crops, or for their chickens to enjoy a bit of shade. This looked rustic and rickety, but it did the job.

Curcurbits rambled over the gardens, and there were small olive groves, the sand- coloured soil in between the trees recently turned over by small plough or rotavator (I didn’t see what had made the furrows). Some of the grape vines were a startling blue from Bordeaux mixture applied against mildew. Irises were nestled in vacant spots. One thing I did wonder about was the lack of mulch in such sandy looking soil. I presume what the ploughing does is make the top layer of soil act as a dry mulch. The moisture is kept in the soil because the capillary action to the surface is broken by the layer of dust. Hoeing does the same job. I prefer using mulches at home as our soil is so stony it’s like gardening on ballast. I’m also lazy and cutting down on weeding is a big plus for me.

Food from the garden seems imbedded in the Italian psyche, or perhaps it’s that good food of any description is embedded in the Italian psyche. There is nothing fresher than your own crops picked and eaten within hours. Certainly where we stayed the supermarkets were full of good quality food, and the corner shops sold the local pressed olive oil (which is delicious). I got the feeling that synthetic food as found in our supermarkets would have found short shrift there. (That's not to say that all food in supermarkets is synthetic, far from it, but the cheap stuff is. By synthetic I mean plumped up and flavoured with chemicals and other water-binding additives.)

The other thing that interested me was the Italian obsession with culture. No sense there, that art was somehow a highbrow activity to be spurned by the ordinary man. It was embraced by all, enjoyed and rejoiced in by all. We went to a peripatetic art exhibition in one of the churches and saw some really famous modern pieces… mostly not my taste, but worth seeing. And the amazing thing was this was in a small church hall in a small town in Tuscany, not in the city of Florence. People were proud of their heritage and culture. I compare this with our country where the population worship Celebs and TV tripe suffused into unthinking brains through uncaring eyes. Maybe I’m being unfair and I saw the best of Italian country culture and they too have their Soma-TV Celeb worshippers. But I get the feeling that to Italians their culture is too ingrained and too beloved to abandon.

Of course when I came home I wanted to reproduce what I’d seen here (this is the hazard of going on holiday and happens often.) The squashes I grew were not very productive but were very tasty. However, the following year was disastrously gloomy, which is why last year I decided to track down some Gelber zentner squash seeds. I bought a packet of these in Iceland many years ago. I figured if they grew them in Iceland’s grow-light systems then these might not be as sun-demanding for forming female flowers, and certainly I got two good pumpkins last year (in someone else’s garden, which I borrowed a bit of space in.) They have grown in my garden very well in previous years, though. I’ll see how they do this year. I am tempted to squeeze in some of the Italian ones, up a trellis, perhaps. I’ll see.





Over the last couple of years there has been a great resurgence of growing your own veg, which is great, but gardens have grown smaller and smaller until many new-build properties have a garden which is literally an “out-door room”. So I’m quite lucky to have some space for a greenhouse and a few veg, as well as the ornamental part of the back garden. During and after the last War, growing your own became a necessity to keep the nation fed. We lost that skill and passion, gradually, over the Seventies and Eighties, with more leisure time taken up with TV and more modern pastimes. At the same time, foreign holidays introduced us to many more varied foods. I remember when olive oil was something you bought at the chemist’s, and I don’t think it was Extra Virgin, somehow. The only melons available were Honeydew, which seems a bit of a misnomer, because the only way they were really palatable was by sprinkling cinnamon on them. It was considered dead posh to have a slice of melon as a starter (or prawn salad… remember that?) One thing supermarkets have done is import exotic fruit and vegetables at a price we can all afford. But at the same time they have demanded long-life tomatoes, strawberries, peaches and other fruits, which producers have developed, so now we have crunchy fruit which should be soft and succulent. Tomatoes have lost that acid/sweet balance and lusciousness in favour of uniformity and transportability. And we have let it happen because it makes food cheap, affordable, when so much of our income goes on providing a roof over our head.

We might envy the Italians their lifestyle, yet I saw real monetary poverty there. There were people from the hills well down-at-heel, though the supermarket owners took care that they had the rinds from grinding Parmesan for free, and off cuts of meat very cheaply. The town looked after its own. I got the impression that there wasn’t a lot of extra cash to fritter away on new clothes or trivia. But they haven’t sold out to the supermarket and small gods of commerce in the same was as we have. They have retained pleasure in the fundamentals of life, such as sharing good food with your loved ones.

It’s time this country had a backlash against the inane drivel which makes up our daily lives, and got back to some of these basic values. There is a groundswell rising, and I think we can all feel it.