Snowdrops and Carrots

Realising after our Ireland visit year just how little we had used the campervan as a campervan last year, we decided to aim for at least a one night away most months. Over the winter that just didn’t happen, not because of the weather but because Life got in the way as it has a habit of doing. Even trying to find two ’empty’ days together is difficult at times, but we found a gap at the end of January and booked a campsite just outside Cambridge. As rumours of snow began circulating I kept an eye on the weather forecast and when heavy snow was forecast here on the day of our departure reluctantly cancelling became the sensible option. As it happened it didn’t snow here at all but it did in Cambridge and beyond, so it was a wise move.

Fortunately we were able to rebook about a fortnight later and headed off with an almost exclusively garden related itinerary (the Golfer is very amenable). Our first stop was Anglesey Abbey, and those of you have been there yourself will recognise those iconic birches shown above. Last time we went they had just planted a copse of new birches, in anticipation of the future demise of these beauties which have an expected life of about 25 years. We arrived early, soon after opening, but the place was already heaving and the car park was almost full – a combination of sunshine, Sunday, half term and, of course, snowdrops! Surprisingly neither the gardens nor the house seemed crowded once we were on site, but cars were queuing to get in when we left later in the day so it was as well we got there when we did.

Anglesey Abbey is a Jacobean-style house with gardens and a working watermill, owned by the National Trust, but it is famed for its winter gardens and especially its snowdrops. Galanthus ‘Anglesey Abbey’ is just one of many snowdrops that originated here, a beautiful often all-white poculiform variety, where both inner and outer perianth segments tend to be of equal length.

There are more than 300 different varieties of snowdrops here, but most of the named varieties can only be seen on a specialist guided tour as, sadly, it would be too risky to allow the general public loose amongst them. These tours are only available on weekdays so we had to content ourselves with the rest of the winter garden and the snowdrops on general view. With a mild and extraordinarily sunny day it was a most pleasurable experience to wander round the gardens, admiring the swathes of snowdrops and exclaiming over the winter shrubs.

I was amused by this tactful and prominent sign which accompanied all the Daphne bholua ‘Jacqueline Postill’ shrubs within the garden:

With its glorious scent and usually eyewatering price tag, the National Trust has clearly suffered from plant theft as thoughtless visitors try to bag themselves a bargain by snipping or breaking off Jacqueline’s limbs; hopefully potential thieves will now take note and not waste their time attempting to propagate it from cuttings.

Jacqueline’s fragrance was just one of many that assailed our senses, with various viburnum, sarcococca and daphne and Chimonanthus praecox adding to the olfactory cacophany, with foliage highlights of cornus and salix and evergreen grasses and the delicate colours of hellebores and striking ghostly white rubus punctuating the white of the snowdrops. All very lovely.

The Abbey was on the north side of Cambridge and headed south of the city after lunch to the Cambridge Botanical Gardens, also famed for its winter gardens. The pleasure here was more spread out, with swathes of grass between the different parts, as one would expect. What struck me here, even more so perhaps than at Anglesey Abbey, was how inclusive it was, with visitors of all ages, nationalities and abilities; many no doubt with no real interest in plants but enjoying the February sunshine and the relative peace away from the bustling city. People were here for picnics, relaxing, meeting friends and family, all within this calm oasis; even children playing and running and hiding did not detract from the mellowness. Perhaps even a half-conscious awareness of being surrounded by plants might have a lasting effect on the wellbeing of every visitor…

The winter garden contained many of the plants seen at Anglesey, but by concentring them in one area the effect was more marked. I was especially impressed with the combination of  a very shapely Hamamalis ‘Jelena’, underplanted with the winter aconite eranthis and glowing leaves of libertia in the foreground. The witch hazel had finished flowering but one could easily visualise  the whole montage glowing like hot coals, especially when the sun was shining as it was when we visited:

I was intrigued by the sign which gave visitors weather information, especially to learn that the ground temperature was only 1.7°C…food for thought. I do think, though, that the decimal point in the annual rainfall figuremust be in the wrong place!

A visit to the glasshouses was a must, and I enjoyed the immersive nature of many of the tropical zones:

I also took a lot of photos in the alpine house, picking up ideas for what might grow well in the Coop. I was especially intrigued by mounded plants of saxifraga which I don’t seem to have taken any photos of.

Worn out, we retired to our campsite for the rest of the day and had a good night’s sleep in preparation for the next exciting leg of our journey: visiting good blogging friend Chloris, about an hour’s journey further on in Suffolk.

I have visited Chloris before and after a further 4 years of online blogging acquaintance know each other even better, and I was SO excited to be meeting up again. For anyone who has never met any of their blogging friends in person I can highly recommend it, so do take advantage of any opportunity you get to do so. I think I must have met about 15+ blogging friends over the years and each time we have chatted amicably as if we have known each other for years, which of course in most cases we have, albeit online.

As well as meeting Chloris and Mr Chloris The Pianist again, it was a delight to see for real all the changes she has wrought since we last visited. I did take a few photos of them in their winter guise (the changes, not Chloris and The Pianist) but she would not thank me for sharing them! Even in their seasonal decay (again, the changes..), it was still pleasing to see the scale and structure – especially her astonishing Exotic Garden, which I would love to see in its full glory in September. The vision required for its creation is to be greatly admired…

I can’t even show you a photo of her chocabloc greenhouse, crammed to the gunwales with winter colour, as that would spoil the post she has promised to write – so that’s that then …garden visit accomplished, snowdrops swapped, carrot cake eaten (yes, snowdrops and carrots), lots of pleasantries and information exchanged, it was time for a parting of the ways, one half to a literary afternoon, another to a four and a half hour journey to a more familiar garden. What a lot one can cram into a night away, and we saved the best till last…thank you Chloris and The Pianist.

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Like Buses

I was just thinking yesterday that as yet there had been no requests for group visits to the garden when all of a sudden two, like buses, came along at the same time: one was from a local WI group, one member of which had visited last year, and one was an advance request from the group I went to give a talk to last night, but for next year (2020), when I shall be opening in February for the first time.

I don’t think I have mentioned other than in some comments that we plant to open for the NGS for snowdrops and witch hazels (and the rest!) from next year – as with the June openings, it just felt a shame to keep all that pleasure to ourselves. Having opened in the summer for two years, we now have a reasonable understanding of our potential visitor numbers, but a February opening is a Big Unknown… Having been starved of NGS garden openings for several months and with little competition from other openings this could bring out a larger number of people, aided and abetted by the almost unique magnetism of snowdrops, but our location may still be a disadvantage. There is just no way of guessing of course – nor of gauging the weather which could bring complete disaster in terms of visitor numbers and even the garden itself.

Having made the decision in summer to add a winter opening, these last few months have proved useful in establishing what seasonal tasks would need to be completed to ensure a reasonably tidy garden in February and, more importantly, what we can expect to be flowering at this time of year. The snowdrops were always going to be there, both native and specials (especially with some sunshine to perk them up), but I couldn’t remember when the crocus began blooming – perfect timing too, it seems, although the above photo doesn’t do them justice, nor the glorious witch hazel Hamamelis ‘Spanish Spider’ which has never looked as glorious as this with its multi-legged spidery amber coloured blooms:

In total, six of the witch hazels are still flowering although there are still remnants of blooms on the others. The crocus have multiplied over the years and will continue to do so, but I can see where there are gaps and had been planning on buying more to plant this autumn but in the meantime decided to have a go at splitting some of the clumps; this proved to be harder than I thought as those in the shrub border were buried quite deeply, the border originally having been grassed before the turf was removed and additional soil added. Sadly, this resulted in several trowelfuls of bulb-less blooms but there were at least a few new clumps.

Enjoying the clumps of hellebore in my own garden and those shown on other blogs or in bloggers’ vases, I suddenly felt the ‘need’ to add more here. In the early days I quickly built up a collection of them, but haven’t bought any for years so had no qualms about splashing out. Buying fairly cheaply from eBay, some of the plants were quite small but will build up nicely in a couple of years, and I am going to freshen up the woodland edge border by removing some of the ivy which creeps and crawls over everything and thinning out some of the Geraniums phaeum and sylvaticum, before adding some compost and bonemeal. The hellebores deserve a bit of TLC to help them settle in.

Away from these parts of the garden, I am thrilled to see that one of the additions to the new shady border at the side of the house has begun to flower – Clematis armandii ‘Snowdrift’. I have tried this form of early flowering clematis more than once without success, so am thrilled to see it thriving against the fence here. There must certainly have been an advantage in a new and relatively empty bed such as this, with little competition, as I suspect I just ‘shoved’ its predecessors in a hole near the hedge where chances of survival were inevitably slim. I am awaiting its promised fragrance, hopefully evident as more blooms open.

Another attraction for visitors to a 2020 February garden opening will be the Coop, which is currently a fragrant delight with hyacinths and narcissus assaulting the senses; by next year, as my experience of plants to grow in a cool greenhouse expands, I am hoping for a greenhouse crammed with scent and colour. Currently, though with no discernible fragrance but giving joy from their vivid splashes of colour are Tecophilaea cyanocrocus ‘Violacea’ and the saying-it-as-it-is Hardenbergia violacea ‘Happy Wanderer’ with its tiny antirrhinum style blooms:

The latter could grow up to 2m and doesn’t look anywhere near as impressive yet as the photo from the website I bought it from suggests, but it is merely an infant still and has a lot of growing to do; hopefully it will be happy in its wanderings. Meanwhile, the Tecophilaea look rather floppy and I perhaps need to check out their growing requirements to see if I am missing something. Even so, it is a joy to slide open the door of the Coop as I make my way round the garden on my rambles, immersing myself in the fragrance of the other bulbs and the distinctive ‘green’ smell that arrives in our greenhouses at this time of year and lingers well into the autumn…lovely!

Ah yes, then there was The Talk.

I was invited by one of the gardening groups that visited last year to give a talk at one of their monthly meetings, something I have never done before. It is a small group, and this month they were meeting in a member’s house as their usual venue is appropriated for a pantomime at this time of year. Rather than talk about my own garden, because the meeting was in February, often a lean month for gardeners, I gave my talk the tongue-in-cheek title ‘How to Enjoy Your Garden’. I hoped, of course, to enhance their presumably existing enjoyment further, and focussed on four main themes:

*Get to Know Your Garden
*Embrace the Season
*Make Your Life Easier
*Expand Your Horizons

I was asked to talk for about 45 minutes and just used the briefest of notes to prompt me, but in the informal and friendly group and through interactions with members I easily ran out of time and hope the end result wasn’t rushed and garbled. In the absence of the usual technology I had to pass photos around which wasn’t ideal but seemed to generate discussion between members so must have been helpful in at least some small way. Hoping that everyone took away just one idea from the evening, interest seemed to be generated most by the idea of plants for winter interest, a regular vase (in the style of IAVOM), and getting to know their own gardens more intimately. Indeed, the organiser emailed me the next day with a long list of what she had found in bloom when she had walked round her own garden this afternoon, which was good to read.

Did I enjoy it? Yes, I believe I did (and surprisingly found myself looking forward to doing it). Would I do it again? I would happily do this talk again, as I am passionate about all the points I was making, but I would need to feel similarly inspired for a different topic. I am certainly not going to publicise any willingness to speak at similar groups but if contacted I would definitely consider it (I like the odd challenge!). Small groups like this really struggle to find speakers they can afford and I was shocked when the organiser informed me of the typical fee that speakers requested; we were both happy with the sum I suggested…and I have a provisional visit from them booked for February 2020!

Wordless Wednesday: Hocus Crocus

In a Vase on Monday: Alternative

Some of you might remember this slim rectangular vase and the wild plum twigs from last week , but instead of red roses we have a red Hippeastrum. The alternative contents are, I suppose, a form of humble apology to some Unknown Persons – for there is an addendum to last week’s story…

The roses, you might recall, were found on a verge, seemingly abandoned in despair or anger by an unknown individual, and in true opportunist foraging style I retrieved them for the vase. Your comments, like my post, puzzled over the possible background to the abandonment but, unless you thought it but didn’t want to say it, no-one suggested as a friend did that they might have been left as a tribute… I was aghast, ashamed in fact, that I hadn’t even considered that as an option, so used am I to seeing sad cellophane wrapped bunches left on roadsides following a tragic accident. For someone who had lost a loved one this way, leaving a bunch of red roses close to Valentine’s Day would, of course, be entirely appropriate, and although I wasn’t aware of an accident having happened at that approximate spot this was no excuse for me not having considered it a possibility.

Reader, I went out under cover of darkness and replaced the roses near to where I had found them, leaving with them a reverent and abject apology…

The whole confession is of course added to the original post and in future I will be more circumspect when my vase involves foraging. In the meantime, the wild plum twigs lived on alone in the vase, the buds breaking open to reveal the tiny white flowers, yet another of the signs that spring is trimming its bonnet for a new season. To make up for their lonely week I have retained and added to their number for this week’s vase, adding one of the two stems on Hippeastrum ‘Red Lion’ which have been gracing the Coop for a number of weeks, as you might have read in a recent post. Keeping potted bulbs cool, as this has been in the lean-to greenhouse, adds weeks to their longevity but does require a degree of patience. I was intrigued when I zoomed in on the photographs and could clearly see how the anthers had split open, thus releasing the pollen.

Having retained the full height of the stem and incorporating some relatively tall twigs, creating a suitably bland background for outside photos was not going to be easy, so I trialled shots against a dark green wall in our back sitting room; hmm, still not brilliant… Oh, and the prop, symbolising the alternative, is the travel version of Othello, a simple strategy game with reversible black and white counters – do you know it? Its tagline is ‘A minute to learn…a lifetime to master’. Having ‘rediscovered’ it for this post (and I had forgotten its name, recalling it possibly as Reverso, which may indeed have been its original name), I am itching to play it again! There is a full size version  around somewhere too although I suspect it might be in the ex-marital home…

You don’t need to include any sort of story with your Monday vase, but it can add extra interest and I know there are times when it also adds to our store of knowledge, whether useful or not; just see what you can find in your garden or carefully forage locally and pop the result in a vase or other receptacle or present it naked (ahem, not you), linking to and from this post so we can share in the pleasure it brings. I shall be late responding to your comments and viewing your vases this week, but I shall dutifully catch up during the week, I promise.

 

Glorious February Days

We have had some gloriously sunny days recently, with temperatures up to 14°C, a definite awareness of warmth from the sun, greenhouse vents opening and the sound of bees enjoying the benefits offered by these almost unseasonal days. On days like this, the Crocus tommasinianus shown above unbuttoned their shirts and bared their chests with little restraint, whilst this bee was absolutely smothered in pollen and moving so slowly as if drowning happily in the unexpected indulgence:

Looking back over the crocus you can see witch hazels Diane (foreground) and Spanish Spider are now at their peak, as are nearby Zuccariniana and Ruby Glow:

Witch hazel Arnold Promise has a reliable fragrance which is noticeable for several feet away, boosting the pleasure to be had from the native snowdrops in the woodland edge border. This border was created in 2002 and the first snowdrops, perhaps a couple of hundred, would have been planted within a year or two. I suspect my now regular division of them did not begin till I finished work, which was seven years ago, so it shows how quickly you can build up a colony – there must be thousands there now. The first picture was taken before the sun reached them:

Adding to the pleasure of a ramble through the woodland edge border are numerous hellebores, not at their peak yet, but nevertheless a joy to see. These are just a sample of them:

Even the new area under the holly tree that I began adding snowdrops to earlier this year is looking relatively established. To spread them further, they have been planted in groups of two or three bulbs rather than bigger clumps, but will bulk up quickly if they settle in happily.

Meanwhile, the specials in the snowdrop border are also bobbing about like boats on the beautiful briny sea, enjoying the glory days of February as much as everything else. I have assessed my losses, added a few more preciouses, and come to the conclusion that when the bed reaches maximum capacity as it may do in the next year or two then I may have to curtail my purchases, only buying to make up any losses to maintain that maximum. It’s just a thought, of course, and I don’t suppose I will promise never to buy another snowdrop! Of course one hopes not to lose any snowdrops at all and build every single bulb up into a healthy clump, but sadly that does not seem to be the case.

Some readers wonder just how different snowdrops can be, but amongst my collection (overlooked by more hellebores, all on the white spectrum) are fat ones and thin ones:

Magnet and Wasp

Tall ones and short ones:

Washfield Colesbourne and Headbourne

Scruffy and neat ones:

Blewberry Tart and St Anne’s

Single and double ones:

Washfield Warham and Lady Beatrix Stanley

White, ‘green’ and ‘yellow’ ones:

Cowhouse Green, Henry’s White Lady, Wendy’s Gold

Ones with subtle and not-so-subtle differences in markings:

Trumps, Midwinter and Lapwing

In the Coop, the benefits of keeping spring bulbs here rather than in a relatively warm house mean that blooms last so much longer. The basket of white hyacinths were gifted to me with just-opening buds five weeks ago, the red hippeastrum was featured on Wordless Wednesday a month ago, when it was just opening , and the pots of hyacinths were kept in the house until the buds emerged and then moved into the Coop around the same time, where they are beginning to colour up. Similarly, narcissi were moved here when shoots first emerged and buds are now swelling and ready to break out at any time. The reward for my patience, it seems, is having blooms that last for weeks.

Whilst writing this post it has occurred to me that it would be opportune to link to Chloris’ blog, as it is unlikely that February can get much better in the blooms department. Chloris encourages us to celebrate around ten of our best blooms each month, so mine are a little earlier than usual – do check out her post and others in due course. I may of course be surprised by some other star before the month is out, as I was yesterday when I discovered that my little clump of Iris ‘Katharine Hodgkin’ is both thriving and blooming. I must track down her pretty near-relation ‘Katherine’s Gold’, shown in Karen’s blog recently, but in the meantime I shall continue to enjoy February and all its sunny delights.

Holy Moses, Lots of Roses!

At the end of June last year I sat on a chair near this bench (please excuse the tools and netting in the photo – evidence of reconstruction of the fruit cage is distributed throughout the garden!), talking to visitors during one of our NGS openings. A gentleman asked if I had any changes planned for the next year; “Not yet,” I told him, “but I  shall definitely have to find somewhere to plant more roses”. I was unable to elaborate at the time as it was a totally spontaneous thought, arising no doubt from the glorious performance of the existing roses last year, and I had no clue whatsoever where and how I was going to find new planting opportunities.

However, the seed was sown and within a couple of weeks a scheme was hatched and by early August the paving adjacent to the bench had been adjusted to create a small bed on either side, a new pergola had been built linking the left hand side of the sitooterie, and the first of the new roses were in situ, ‘Lady Emma Hamilton’ (as enthused over by Ali) next to the bench and climbing rose ‘Claire Austin’ on the pergola. These came as container grown plants and I was able to enjoy a few blooms on Lady Em but have not yet had the pleasure of Claire’s company.

roses Claire Austin and Lady Emma Hamilton

During the same period, The Golfer had constructed another pergola to my design, this time between  the two of main herbaceous beds, and climbing rose ‘Strawberry Hill’ came to stay at the same time as Claire and Em. Again, there were a handful of blooms on the Hill but, like Claire, climbing won’t begin till later this year. (I will mention Wollerton Old Hall shortly: this is a story with several chapters!).

climbing roses Strawberry Hill and Wollerton Old Hall

Before August was out, I had created further planting opportunities, this time against the ‘gallery fence’, ousting the smallest of the herbaceous borders which had never been especially successful but which was now benefitting from more light following the removal of two large hazel trees. The bed has been replanted with ‘England’s Rose’ and ‘The Mayflower’, and as container roses there was a sprinkling of flowers courtesy of the latter, right up till December (since they were planted, the gallery fence has been reconstructed and is temporarily without its pictures).

roses The Mayflower and England’s Rose

It doesn’t end there, as existing plans to build low retaining walls around the beds at the foot of the clematis colonnade to improve moisture retention were ‘hijacked’ to incorporate…guess what?… roses! The beds had been planted with hardy geranium but, despite frequent additions to try to bulk out the planting, the intended blocks of colour underplanting the clematis had just not materialised. The evicted geranium and likewise the contents of the gallery bed are being replanted around the garden so will not be wasted. The colonnade itself has been reconstructed and slightly modified to coincide with all these plans.

Choosing roses for these beds was fraught with indecision and fortunately I saw sense before choosing the prettiest and smelliest of David Austin’s shrub roses – although clematis and roses make good partners I did not want the pillars completely obscured by roses, and sensibly put a height restriction on my choices.  With heights of no more than 24″ and fragrance and continuous flowering being important factors too, this really limited my choices to dwarf polyanthus and patio roses. Ordered in October and arriving in November came several barerooted ‘Baby Faurax’ front left, ‘Regensberg’ front right, ‘Katharina Zeimet’ back left and ‘Nathalie Nypels’ back right. I have no real experience of these types of roses  and look forward to seeing how the closely planted beds work out. ‘Wollerton Old Hall’, admired at the Old Hall itself and frequently on Amy ‘s blog, has been planted on a further new pergola at the back of the colonnade.

roses Regensberg and Baby Faurax

roses Katharina Zeimet and Nathalie Nypels

Let’s move on to what we call ‘the rose garden’, but which is now no longer the main focus as far as roses are concerned! If you are confused about where all these areas are there is a map under The Garden tab above, which should help, as it is the content and not the layout that is undergoing transformation. I have shown recent photographs  of the new terracing here either side of the ‘bus shelter’ and these have now been planted with roses; in doing so we have come almost full circle because for a time I had ground cover rose ‘The Fairy’ here, planted through slate chippings, followed for a couple of years by the huge urns with ground cover rose ‘Magic Carpet’.

Neither of these proved satisfactory, and when I was building the terraces I realised that the soil had never been improved and was probably fairly compacted after so many years covered in membrane and slate chippings. Improving the fertility was a priority before anything new was planted, and as this area will also benefit from more light with the removal of those shadowy trees I am hopeful of success this time. Again time was taken for the rose choice was made and I looked beyond the featured roses in the delectable David Austin catalogue, choosing ‘Spirit of Freedom’ for the lower tiers and ‘Princess Alexandra of Kent’ for the second tiers. The upper tiers have two mature ‘Madame Alfred Carrière’ which already flower magnificently but will benefit further from being released from the membrane and slate and given ready access to soil improvement.

roses Spirit of Freedom and Princess Alexandra of Kent

These were ordered and arrived in January, along with other barerooted roses that indirectly came from blogging friends. Let me explain…. Some time at the end of last year Christina, knowing I was planning more roses, suggested I might consider planting some old roses, especially for their fragrance. I think some of the shorter rose varieties that have been planted under the colonnade have some age to them, but I must confess to never having really looked at the ‘old rose’ section of the catalogues, heading straight for David Austin’s English roses, and never having knowingly experienced their fragrance either. I am aware that many of them flower only once and, having not taken this into account in my earliest choices of roses, recent purchase have all involved repeat flowering varieties.

Around a similar time Chloris generously gifted me a delightful book to whet my rose appetite and together their interventions triggered some lateral thinking as I pondered the possibility of other locations where I could branch out and expand my horizons with old roses….and thus it is that there are now three old roses planted in the woodland edge border: ‘Felicia’, ‘Jacques Cartier’, and ‘Rose de Rescht’. And OK, they are all old roses but the temptation is hard to let go of and they are all in fact repeat flowering old roses! I am SO looking forward to experiencing their distinctive old rose fragrance and am exceedingly grateful to Christina and Chloris for pointing me in this direction.

old roses Felicia, Jacques Cartier, and Rose de Rescht

I think I can safely say that 2019 should be a floriferous year… but wait, could there be more?! Yes indeed, but we are nearly there, honest! Almost as an afterthought I ousted the underperforming and variable ornamental quince from the shrub border and replaced it with…yes, you have guessed it… a rose, this time ‘Boscobel’, but that really IS the last of the rose purchases for the time being! At this precise moment in time, that is…

Thank you for your patience in sharing the planning and pleasure of these new additions. I am of course eagerly looking forward to seeing these plans come to fruition and enjoying the colour and fragrance of all the new roses, although I suppose they will barely get into their stride in a single season. In the meantime, if you are wondering about my seemingly bottomless pockets, let me just say that I have had an unexpected financial boost in the last year which has more than justified the apparently gay abandon with which I have ordered whatever rose takes my fancy. Thank you Uncle Douglas!

 

Wordless Wednesday: Just a Little Bit More Sun Will Do It