Euphorbia characias subsp. wulfenii has featured once already in Daily Flower Candy, but I couldn’t resist including a photograph taken this weekend in our local park, where it has formed rolling mounds of acid-green flowers almost as tall as I am. In bright sunlight the effect is dazzling; brighter and zestier than any host of golden daffodils.

My adoration of this Mediterranean marvel was swiftly curtailed by Him Indoors, who described it as triffid-like. At first I failed to appreciate the similarity to John Wyndham’s vegetative villain, but on closer inspection the flowers and bracts do have a slightly alien look. I’d liken them more, especially the twin green ‘buds’, to sinister Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors. Either way, I think I’ll give this Euphorbia a slightly wider berth in future. One can never be too careful.

Those of you who look in on The Frustrated Gardener regularly will know that I treasure my little jaunts from my place of work to the RHS London shows. I rarely break for lunch, let alone horticultural indulgence, so these occasions are indelibly inked into my diary with clear instructions to ‘KEEP CLEAR!’

This year’s RHS London Plant and Design show occupied both Lindley and Lawrence halls. As pieces of architecture both buildings are unusual and really rather fabulous. The light, airy Lindley Hall was the constructed at the behest of Edward VII, who encouraged the Royal Horticultural Society to build a bespoke exhibition space for their regular shows. The hall was designed by Edwin J. Stebbs with a brief to allow in as much natural light as possible. Delighted with the elegant architecture, the King opened the venue on 22 July 1904 alongside the Society’s patron Queen Alexandra. Whatever the weather outside, the diffuse light in the hall always makes the most of the exhibits, without baking the plants alive or dazzling the judges.

The Lawrence Hall (above) was constructed a little later to designs by Easton and Robertson. It was completed in 1928 using reinforced concrete, rather than the red brick and dressed stone used for the Lindley. The Art Deco interior played a part in the hall winning a gold medal from the Royal Institute of British Architects. The building is now listed Grade II* and the nets are there to protect the marvellous ceiling lamps from damage when the hall doubles as a school sports venue.

Both spaces have a wonderful atmosphere on show days. A pervading scent of floor polish and freshly cut greenery is discernible the moment one crosses the threshold. At lunchtimes especially the friendly crowd of visitors fills the space with a comforting hum.

For this show the more often used Lindley Hall was deployed for the faintly disappointing ‘design’ event. This principally constituted a central glasshouse which was filled with aloes, aeoniums and neon tubes nestling in a landscape of a what appeared to be baking beans. This was a ‘participatory installation’ designed by Cityscapes, which asked (/ begged) the questions: What is garden design? What is it for? What is the substance behind the style? I declined an invitation to write my answers on a pane of glass, but had a lovely chat about the weather with one of the volunteers, which I felt was a much more British response!  Representatives from the design school stands circling the perimeter of the hall had my sympathy; I am sure they’d have preferred to be across the road amongst the snowdrops and irises, which is where I headed, pretty swiftly.

The outstanding exhibits in the Lawrence Hall were strategically located at the front. Only the colour-blind could have failed to be dazzled by Jacques Amand’s ocean of Iris reticulata varieties, including navy blue I. ‘Eyecatcher’; Wedgwood blue I. ‘Alida’; and the stunning I. ‘Blue Note’ (above) with raven black tips to its petals. A gold medal rewarded great artistry in the design of the stand as well as A1 horticulture. Next door Avon Bulbs ably demonstrated why gardeners are fascinated by galanthus. Buxom G. ‘Melanie Broughton’ caught my eye with her fabulously broad leaves and pillowy petals – quite a lass.

Among Chris Ireland-Jones’ other temptations were quirky G. ‘Trymposter’, wide-leaved G. elwesii ‘Three Leaves’ and stately G. ‘Galatea’, which stole the show for me, set against a shock of copper coloured grasses. There’s an idea one could try at home.

Had I succumbed to snowdrops it might have been costly, so I moved on quickly to admire Christine Skelmersdale’s Broadleigh Gardens exhibit.  Cyclamen, primulas, snowdrops, narcissi and aconites mingled with lush moss to create an Alice in Wonderland carpet of flowers (see top of post). Resistance already low, I gave in to the simple appeal of a Broadleigh speciality, Primula vulgaris ‘Taigetos’, a relative of our native primrose which was collected in Greece. Milky white flowers are produced in abundance from Christmas onwards but are, alas, sterile. Mine will be planted amongst Galium odoratum, beneath a magnolia, flowering when little else in the garden is showing willing.

Hardy’s Cottage Garden Plants never fail to come up trumps, this time with adorable Pulmonaria longiflora ‘Bertram Anderson’, Helleborus x hybridus ‘Anemone Picotee’ and Euphorbia subsp. characias ‘Glacier Blue’.  P. ‘Bertram Anderson’ displays vivid blue flowers from the very dawn of the year, followed by lance-shaped, dark green leaves, boldly marked with silvery spots.

Colourful and coquettish, the plumes of E. ‘Glacier Blue’ emerge edged white on reddish stems. Stunning associations could be made with Tulipa ’Flaming Spring Green’ or T. ‘Redshine’ against a backdrop of Cornus alba ‘Sibirica’.

Whilst I could happily have done without the design element of this particular show, our leading nurseries maintained their customary high standards, sounding the starting pistol for the new gardening year. I came away laden with as many plants as I could carry, including rare and critically endangered Lobostemon belliformis from the lovely people at Trewidden. I hope to give this gorgeous South African a good home. If you missed this show and are within easy reach of London, make a date in your diary for the RHS Great London Plant Fair on April 1st and 2nd.  The show stays open until 9pm on April 1st, with lots of food and drink on offer.  See you there!

Just like snowdrops, hepaticas have recently developed something of a cult following in the UK. A fascination with these diminutive members of the buttercup family is nothing new; the Japanese have been coveting them since the early 18th century. Intense hybridisation since then means there are now over 650 named varieties displaying all manner of fabulous colours and flower structures. The leaves are not to be overlooked either, sporting a characteristic three-lobed shape which may be bronzed, marbled or lightly variegated.

Delightfully, the Japanese name ‘Yukiwariso’, translates as ‘breaking snow plant’ and gives us clues as to hepaticas’ preferences in cultivation. The plants spend the winter dormant, often buried under several feet of snow. To grow and flower well they require water as spring approaches (like melting snow) and then copious sun in February. In their natural habitat hepaticas become shaded as overhead trees come into leaf, so require light shade and drier conditions in summer. They will tolerate heavier soil provided it’s free draining and has some leafmould incorporated. The plants also appreciate a little humidity around their leaves through the year. Hepatica transsilvanica, pictured above, hails from Romania and is considered slightly more tolerant in gardens than other species. This clump was photographed at the foot of a low wall in the Marnock Garden within Sheffield’s botanical gardens at the weekend. Although not a fancy hybrid, the petals and contrasting stamens sparkled in the sunshine. As so often, nature does things best.

Every day something new is happening in the garden. I’ve promised myself a five minute scout around each morning before work, bringing me closer to the action. I can see nature starting to accelerate, fueled by every ray of sunshine and extra degree of warmth. Even the plants that are not quite off the starting blocks are showing new vitality; buds fattening or leaves a more vibrant green. Violets, brunneras and candelabra primulas are sending their first puckered leaves up through the compacted earth. Hostas lag behind, perhaps hoping to fool the slugs into believing they won’t be on the menu this year.

The local fox is also on the move, disrespectful of my newly planted Narcissus ‘W.P. Milner’ and Primula vulgaris ‘Taigetos’ which he enjoys trampling, leaving behind bear-sized footprints. The goldfish are full of the joys of spring, gliding peacefully through the water one minute and splashing about skittishly the next. They are hungry too, hovering by the pond’s edge when they see me approaching and noisily vacuuming up their food.

Sweeping aside a protective heap of fallen leaves this morning I exposed the tightly furled croziers of Dicksonia antarctica (soft tree fern, above and top). Ours is a short specimen which for the last five years has received no tender loving care; it continues to reward every season with giant, fresh, green fronds. We plan to end its loneliness this spring and find it a tall, handsome companion. The Astelia chathamica ‘Silver Shadow’, planted just behind, were purchased for a song at an end of season last autumn and are proving appreciative of our heavy soil.

Although I could have planted many more narcissi last autumn, I am happy that I did at least plant in drifts of no fewer than 50 bulbs. Even in a small garden bigger drifts help avoid the bittiness to which I am prone. They balance nicely with the big splashes of colour delivered by Magnolia x soulangeana and Kerria japonica ‘Pleniflora’. I deliberately avoided taller varieties, selecting smaller ones such as N. ‘Jack Snipe’ ans ‘Sailboat’ that would not look out of proportion in an enclosed space. Camassias, fritillarias and tulips will continue the display later into the spring and are just beginning to emerge. Every day now there is a new bud, a first flower or a tender seedling to look out for….. and the weeds won’t be far behind them.

Like a juggernaut, spring is now on a roll. A few nights of cold weather may put the breaks on, but nothing can stop it now. In the space of a week our coastal garden has become flushed with flowers. The echium is a foot taller and will soon be in full bloom, but not before the main season tulips which are already colouring up. I am particularly looking forward to T. ‘Flaming Spring Green’ as it’s the first time I have grown this dashing variety.

These early spring weeks are dominated by colours which might otherwise be considered brash and tasteless; royal purple, candy pink and, gaudiest of all, golden yellow. We are so pleased greet our first flowers that we forgive them their coarseness, knowing that by the time our carefully devised ‘schemes’ come into being they will be long gone. I don’t normally opt for the bigger narcissi, but was tempted in autumn by a cheery portrait of N. ‘St Keverne’ above a mound of plump bulbs. These have emerged from their pots in rude health, sporting tens of classic yellow trumpets. Cheerful? Yes. Vulgar? Very probably, but they don’t half pack a punch on a dreary day.

Equally lurid are the waxy, improbably yellow flowers of Sophora microphylla ‘Sun King’. Possessing many attributes which make it superior to both forsythia and kerria, it’s surprising this shrub isn’t more widely grown. Seek it out and give it a try, especially if you have a dry, sunny spot at the foot of a wall. It can be trained or allowed to grow into an open shrub and is pleasingly evergreen and attractive to bees. Come rain or shine the flowers will come in March or April, hanging angular and golden like rays of sun.

Over the years I’ve gained mixed impressions of Sheffield. It was neighbouring Rotherham that I encountered first, so one might think the only way was up from there. Arriving at the city’s station for a university interview, the image which etched itself on my memory was of the Le Corbusier inspired Park Hill Estate and a shabby indoor market opposite the exit. It was a far cry from the Georgian splendours of Bath where I grew up.

The Sheffield of 2014 is quite unlike the one I experienced in the early nineteen-nineties. Civic areas have been spruced up, the covered market is gone and Europe’s largest urban glasshouse now graces the city centre, home to a collection of more than 2000 plants from around the world. Today’s Sheffield feels smart, clean and cosmopolitan, fitting back into the position it once held as one of Britain’s leading urban centres.

The city’s botanical gardens were laid out in 1836, when Sheffield was approaching its industrial heyday. Leading horticulturalist of the moment, Robert Marnock, was called on to design the 19 acre site in his trademark ‘Gardenesque’ style. (This vague term, coined by John Claudius Loudon, refers to a clearly contrived but non geometric layout of serpentine paths, garden features and clumps of trees.)  In the beginning the gardens were only opened to the general public on four days each year; otherwise admission was granted only to shareholders and annual subscribers. Like many other high maintenance Victorian pleasure grounds, the gardens were costly to maintain and suffered many periods of decline throughout the 20th century. By the early nineteen-nineties, when I was first introduced to Sheffield, they had become something of a no-go area. The elegant range of glasshouses and pavilions that preside over the gently sloping site were by now in a critical state of disrepair.

In 1996 a Heritage Lottery grant of over £5M, combined with local fundraising and labour in kind, was sufficient for an ambitious, full scale restoration to begin. It was an important moment for historic parks across the country, many of which were in a similar predicament and looking for inspiration. Sheffield Botanical Gardens were officially reopened on September 1st 2003 by HRH The Price of Wales. Pictured above is the magnificent Ionic entrance gate, designed by Benjamin Broomhead Taylor.

Apart from an unsightly but necessary preponderance of asphalt, Sheffield Botanical Gardens must now recall a standard that their Victorian creators would recognise. There’s eye-poppingly colourful carpet bedding in front of the main glasshouse range; carpets of jewel-like crocuses in the rolling lawns; an extensive collection of mature trees and a new, terraced Mediterranean area.  A Victorian bear pit, which until the 1870s housed two bears, can still be explored, rather more safely than when it was originally constructed.

The gardens are now home to National Collections of Weigela, Diervilla and Sarcococca, whilst the Grade II* pavilions provide protection for an extensive selection of exotica from the warm temperate regions of the world. Below, the curvilinear roof of the central pavilion is seen through a haze of mimosa. I would like to go back to Sheffield Botanical Gardens again, to see the wide herbaceous borders in full bloom, or in autumn to witness the leaves changing colour. Whether the botanical gardens now have the city they deserve, or the other way around, it matters not; they are a great credit to the Sheffield Town Trust, the Friends of the Botanical Gardens (FOBS) and all those who work on their ongoing development.

Follow this link to the Sheffield Botanical Gardens website.

My Top Plants at Sheffield Botanical Gardens

Cupressus cashmeriana (Bhutan cypress) – a native of Bhutan and parts of Arunachal Pradesh in north eastern India. Not quite hardy in the UK, so living a languorous life in the warm shelter of the pavilions. The fine, draping, bluish foliage is exceptionally elegant.

Cardamine pentaphylla – Here today, gone tomorrow, the lilac pink flowers of the showy toothwort appear fleetingly in spring before dying away. Spreads to create a carpet of flowers in a woodland setting.

Primula elatior, the oxlip – rarely encountered in the wild beyond East Anglia, this pretty native primula likes nutrient-poor, calcium-rich damp woods and meadows. Broad carpets of these delicate flowers faced the sun in the Marnock Garden (K on plan below).

Chaenomeles x superba ’Jet Trail’ (Japanese quince) – bears pure white cup-shaped flowers from February to May. Edible golden fruit ripen in autumn and are suitable for making jelly. This one’s going on my list for the primrose garden at Trevoole.

Stachyurus praecox – one of my absolute favourite spring flowering shrubs. Racemes of sparking lemon-yellow flowers dangle elegantly from sparse stems. Plant in open space so the colour can be appreciated against a fine blue sky, or against a backdrop of dark evergreen foliage.

Paeonia obovata – I didn’t expect to encounter peonies in March, but the Japanese forest peony wastes no time in producing its lipstick pink blooms. Here they emerge from the skeletons of last years fallen foliage. Avoid deadheading after flowering to guarantee a colourful display of seedheads.

Hepatica transsilvanica (liverwort) – It’s easy to see why gardeners fall in love with this eye-catching perennial.  Hepaticas are tolerant of alkaline soils and will cope with a wide range of conditions, from shady deciduous woodland to scrub and grassland in full sun.

Sheffield Botanical Gardens Map:

I have been meaning to get better acquainted with the larger members of the plant world for some time. Being a ‘small’ gardener, my focus always seems to be on bulbs, perennials and compact shrubs which take up relatively little space. There’s nothing wrong in this, but one day I hope to expand my horizons and plant for the future, rather than just the next season or two. Walking home from work each day I pass two Liquidambar styraciflua (sweet gum), isolated in the pavement next to a busy road. I remember when they were planted there, maybe eight years ago. Then, they were young, weak and vulnerable. A third was vandalised within a year and never replaced. But the two that persevered in this unpromising spot are now tall, permanent and unassailable. I’m filled with awe as I witness them progressing towards majestic maturity. No perennial will ever give me that feeling.

Anyone wishing to educate themselves about trees and shrubs, especially rarer ones, would learn a lot from a visit to BlueBell Arboretum & Nursery in Derbyshire. We dropped by in early March which, in retrospect, was probably when this developing woodland garden was at its least compelling. The focus was very much on showcasing the full catalogue, with special, unusual plants packed in cheek-by-jowl. I felt the overall composition and flow of the nine acre garden suffered slightly as a result. Acknowledging it was unfair to judge a garden at its lowest ebb, and before it had truly reached maturity (which takes a long time when you’re cultivating trees), I focused instead on the dazzling array of choice specimens.

Bright, early spring days bring out the very best in birches. Fast growing, these are among the largest trees in the arboretum. The first to catch my eye was Betula ermanii ‘Grayswood Hill’ (above), an aristocrat amongst birches. This impressive tree is a native of North Eastern Asia, including Russia, Manchuria, Sakhalin and Hokkaido. BlueBell Nursery recommend selections from Hokkaido for their greater tolerance of our maritime climate. I adore the way the bark (below) is patterned with soft, blush-coloured lozenges (properly known as lenticels) which begin quite separate and then start to merge into one another.

With longer, narrower striations is Betula utilis var. jacquemontii ‘Jermyns’, an equally refined cultivar that originates from the Hillier Arboretum in Hampshire. This vigorous tree sports long catkins, up to 10cm long, in early spring. The mahogany coloured branches that bear them eventually turn bright white with age. To preserve the bark’s brilliance, BlueBell Nursery suggest scrubbing gently with a hand brush and water once every year. This removes any unsightly dirt or algae and does no harm to the tree.

Hailing from Afghanistan, Northern Pakistan, Bhutan and Western China, Betula utilis ‘Doorenbos’ (below) is a slim, fast growing birch with especially beautiful peeling white bark. Although vigorous, it makes an excellent multi-stemmed specimen tree in smaller gardens and is particularly striking when planted in groups against a dark backdrop. The bark is silky smooth, inviting a stroke as ones passes by.

As well as birches we admired a host of evergreens, including the Spanish fir (Abies pinsapo ‘Glauca’), giant redwoods (Sequoiadendron giganteum) and the strangely stooped and contorted weeping Serbian spruce (Picea omorika ‘Pendula’, below). I had my first introduction to choice shrub Illicium simonsii and pretty white Camellia japonica ‘Lovelight’. Naturally I succumbed to retail temptation and we struggled home with a lovely clematis, C. ‘Guernsey Cream’ which I hope will soon grace our London brick walls with an expanse of large, buff flowers.

BlueBell Arboretum and Nursery is somewhere connoisseurs and botanists will appreciate at any time of year. For a casual browse, spring through to autumn would be my recommended visiting period. Although the nursery doesn’t offer refreshments or toilet facilities, the local pub, The Smisby Arms, looks particularly inviting.

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I’ve been to Sissinghurst today, so am spoilt for choice when it comes to spring sweeties to feature as flower candy. Sorry to disappoint, but I am going to resist temptation and save Sissinghurst’s treats for another occasion. Instead let me introduce you to Tulipa ‘Czar Peter’, a gregii tulip that’s currently flowering in our coastal garden. The gregiis originate from Central Asia where they grow on mountain slopes, hence they are hardy, naturally compact and well suited to cultivation in containers. Mine are densely planted in a large, glazed stoneware bowl that sits in the middle of our garden table. Here’s how they started life in October:

The Czar, so far, is proving a little schizophrenic. His buds emerged pale and bosomy (please excuse my choice of adjective, but it’s an apt one), sitting proudly above the red striped foliage that all gregiis share. Given a spell in the sun the flowers have opened buttermilk yellow with painterly scarlet markings. The contrast is dramatic, highlighting the poor choice I made in matchmaking the Czar with ice white cyclamen, which have suddenly decided to turn candy pink. No matter, the Czar is definitely the star.

Tulipa ‘Czar Peter’ is available from Avon Bulbs from September.

Even for London it’s been a strange evening. The temperature in the city is not much below 20 degrees, which would be remarkable for a summer night, let alone the first in April. As I strolled home between the darkened mansion blocks of Victoria the air was filled with the heady aroma of cherry blossom and wallflowers; it reminded me of May.

The other unusual happening tonight was the RHS Spring Fair Late, an experimental ‘after hours’ extension of the Great London Plant Fair. Instead of the reverent hum of conferring show-goers, the Lindley Hall was filled with the strains of Mother Ukers and their four-string Ukuleles. Delicious botanical cocktails were served by Midnight Apothecary and scrumptious craft beers by The Real Ale Company. My favourite was Hiver Honey Beer, brewed by Hannah Rhodes using a mix of urban and rural honeys; splendidly smooth and eminently drinkable. Two bottles barely touched the sides.

I could wax lyrical about beer for hours, but let’s get back to the plants. The displays weren’t quite as magnificent as the earlier RHS London Plant and Design Show, but there were shopping and ogling opportunities aplenty. Cropping up everywhere this year is a new selection of bleeding heart, Dicentra spectabilis (now Lamprocapnos spectabilis if you care to be completely up to date, which I don’t) called ‘Valentine’. The choice of name is apt, given the elegant, cherry-red, heart-shaped flowers that drip from its arching burgundy stems. The fern-like foliage changes through the season from red-tinted to attractive powdery grey-green. All-in-all a tempting new plant for a damp border or woodland garden. From the same nursery, Hardy’s Cottage Garden Plants, was the superb Mathiasella bupleuroides ‘Green Dream’, here photographed against a backdrop of orange geums and mauve anemones.

From Fibrex nursery was Pelargonium cordifolium rubrocinctum which, apart from having an unnecessarily long name, was delicate, pretty and beautifully bushy. Without any of the stiff formality of hybrid pelargoniums, this would make a marvellous summer patio plant, perhaps combined with dark, velvety petunias or silver foliage.

An inevitable consequence of making merry whilst at a plant fair was that unplanned purchases were made. The damage was as follows:

1 x Ipomea indica AGM (blue dawn flower) from Fibrex Nurseries

3 x Hyacinthoidies non-scripta, white form, (English bluebell) from W & S Lockyer

3 x Primula ‘McWatt’s Cream’ from Primrose Bank

That’s quite enough to be struggling home with on the London Underground, believe me! Overall I’d say the RHS Spring Fair Late was a great success. At times the Lindley Hall was packed to the gunnels. The atmosphere was jovial and not the least reverent; everyone seemingly having a great time. If a risk was taken with this deviation from the normal weekday, daytime programme then I hope very much that it paid off and we’ll get to enjoy more of these occasions in future.

The RHS Great London Plant Fair concludes tomorrow, April 2nd 2014.  Click here for more information.

Green walls are cropping everywhere in London at the moment; indoors, outdoors, in restaurant, bars, hotels and shops, it seems no establishment is complete without one. One of the city’s most visually pleasing can be found inside our only branch of American retailer West Elm. Yes, it is glossy, contrived and almost too perfect, but it certainly packs a punch. West Elm’s wall was designed by Debbie Kotalic and installed by GSky Plant Systems, who used Sansevieria trifasciata (mother-in-law’s tongue), Epipremnum aureum (neon pothos), Syngonium podophyllum (pixie nephthytis), dwarf Schefflera, Peperomia ‘Silver Goddess’, pink Fittonia (mosaic plant) and Ficus elastica ‘Burgundy’ (rubber plant) to complete the scheme.

With London suffering extreme levels of pollution this week, we need all the carbon dioxide gobbling plants we can get. Well done to West Elm for this refreshingly green approach to store design.

Find out more about how the wall was constructed and how it is maintained on GSky’s website.

We’ve spent the last two days on the Isles of Scilly, a tiny archipelago of islands off the southwestern tip of England. The climate is famously mild but occasionally wild. This suits plants that like to bask frost-free in the sun, but which have tough hides when the salt laden winds blow in off the Atlantic. Succulents such as aloes, aeoniums, echeverias and sempervivums treat the Scillies as home from home. The hardiest have naturalised and can be found adorning walls and rocky banks with their fleshy rosettes. Some, like Aeonium cuneatum, even survive on the front line, just above the high tide mark. Echeveria lilacina is a little more choice. The silvery-lilac bloom on the leaves would be damaged by salt spray and windborne sand, but dazzles when planted outside in the Scillies provided the plants are found a sheltered, bone-dry spot. As if the leaves are not attractive enough, Echeveria lilacina also produces coral pink flowers in spring. The icing on the cake is a few drops of rain – all too plentiful, even in this island paradise.

This lovely specimen was shown by Calamazag Nursery, based in East Taphouse, Liskeard, at the Cornwall Spring Flower Show last weekend.

It’s all go at Trevoole as the team prepare for tomorrow’s opening. The gardens are full of camellias, primulas and early tulips, intermingled with slowly unfurling fern fronds and the emerging foliage of artichokes and summer perennials. There’s an Easter egg hunt for visitors that arrive early, which the kids on the farm have been preparing since the weekend. What’s more, the birds are in fine voice, rehearsing the soundtrack to what promises to be a lovely day.

Work on the new library and cart house is nearing an end. Fine work has been done on the library, now crowned by an immaculate Cornish Scantle roof. This vernacular style of roofing is one where slates are laid in diminishing courses on a lime mortar bed, hung from battens with an oak peg or copper nail. The original idea was to use up smaller, inexpensive slates from the quarry. They are sorted according to length, and laid on the roof with the longest slate first, diminishing towards the shortest at the ridge. The term ‘Scantle’ actually belongs to the stick which would once have been used to gauge the size of the different slates. The new roof is nothing short of a work of art and is sure to be much admired.

The interior of the cart house is being decorated with fabrics designed by Duncan Grant (1885-1979), a member of the Bloomsbury Group of artists, writers and philosophers. The prints include ‘West Winds’, which features nubile ladies and puffing cherubs; ‘Grapes’, a lovely combination of stylised fruits, leaves and flowers; and ‘Queen Mary’, which resembles conch shells interspersed with wheat and flowers. As fabric designs they’re an aquired taste but, as always at Trevoole, they play a part in an artful decorative scheme, inspired by the mid 20th century. From early summer, textile artist Sue Dove will use the cart house as a studio during Trevoole’s charity open days; already some of her lovely works are installed, ready to inspire visitors.

There’s plenty to delight keen gardeners, from fizzing clumps of pulmonaria (above) to dancing tufts of summer snowflake, Leucojum aestivum (below). Occasionally but incorrectly confused with the snowdrop, leucojum is a terrific bulbous plant for heavier, wetter soils in which it will multiply quickly. The camellias in the farmhouse garden are nearing their end, but still look wonderful underplanted with primroses.

Trevoole Farm flings open its gates tomorrow at 10am and welcomes well-behaved adults, children and dogs.  There will be scones and home-made cakes aplenty, lunches and lashings of tea. Gary will be on hand with lots of lovely country furniture and irresistible vintage garden tools and pots. If you search really hard you might also spot The Frustrated Gardener planting up the Primrose Border at the back of Primrose Cottage. Do stop by and say hello, and feel free to ply me with tea and cake in return for gardening advice!

I am falling ever further behind with my list of posts to write, which on balance is a lot better than having nothing to say for myself. My last visit to Sissinghurst remains in draft, as does a report on the Cornwall Spring Flower Show. This week we’ve been to Tresco in the Isles of Scilly, taking in the fabulous Abbey Gardens and the island’s unique wildlife. I’ve also returned to see the superb woodland garden at Bosvigo at the height of its glories. All this whilst staying at Trevoole, which is fabulously photogenic as always.

Trevoole’s auriculas (Primula auricula) spend their year unmolested and unpampered, displayed in a purpose-built outdoor auricula theatre. They are not A list stars, their names long forgotten, but they are troupers, performing year after year with no fuss or demanding riders. The flowers, sometimes dusted with a fine ‘farina’ (as in the photograph below), come in a profusion of colours from rusty brown to royal purple, with every shade and combination in between.

To cultivate the perfect specimen, The National Auricula and Primula Society recommend protecting plants from rain in winter and taking care, when watering in spring and summer, not to splash the leaves. Auriculas grow best when potted in four parts John Innes No.2 to two parts horticultural grit in three to four-inch pots. A top dressing of the same grit discourages vine weevils, and a good feed in early spring with a high-potash fertiliser will set auriculas up for the year. Ideally plants should be protected from bright sunlight through the summer months. I am not sure Trevoole’s auriculas receive any such cosseting, demonstrating the rich rewards that can be achieved for minimal fuss.

What name would you give my unknown auricula?

Twenty eight miles from mainland Britain, the Isles of Scilly offer migrant birds first landfall on their arduous journeys across the Atlantic. The Isles have been divorced from the rest of Cornwall since the last Ice Age, and from one another since Roman times. Of the 145 islands and islets only five are currently inhabited, leaving the rest to nesting birds, shaggy lichens and grey seals. Even the settled islands appear pristine to eyes accustomed to mainland living. Pastures grow improbably emerald green; the hedgerows are abundant with a unique blend of wild and exotic flora; and the beaches glitter with white, crystalline sand, free from unsightly flotsam and jetsam. The human population numbers around 2,200 and vehicles are limited to a handful of cars, tractors and golf buggies. The air is sweet, clean and often blown vigorously up one’s nostrils!

Responsibility for the wildlife occupying 60% of the Scillies’ land area lies with The Isles of Scilly Wildlife Trust. A team of six work to conserve and restore natural and marine habitats, landscapes and archaeological sites for the enjoyment of residents and visitors. The Wildlife Trust is the second smallest in the UK, but has a challenging remit in terms of accessing the rugged islands it cares for. In good weather working outdoors on the Scillies might appear to be a dream job, but on rough days wildlife wardens need to be made of stern stuff.

Tresco, leased in its entirety by the Dorrien-Smith family since 1834, is one of the islands that is not within the trust’s stewardship. However as part of the Tresco’s Easter events programme Darren Hart, Conservation Warden, was invited to lead a wildlife walk around the rugged northern part of the island.

Tresco is an island of three parts. At the southern end there are dunes, fresh water lagoons, pine woods and crescents of sparkling sand. The middle section is covered by luxuriant farmland, famed for its beef herds and daffodil fields; it also shelters the tiny settlements of New Grimsby and Old Grimsby. The scene changes radically at the unpopulated northern end of the island, where King Charles’ and Cromwell’s ruined castles preside over a bleak, closely shaved landscape of heather, gorse and lichen-covered boulders.

Our walk began at the Ruin Beach Cafe, close to Old Grimsby Quay, and took us around to the lovely curve of sand that is Gimble Porth (above). Here we stopped to admire spreading clumps of heath dog violet (Viola canina), the three-cornered leek (Allium triquetrum) and the flight of a heavy, buff-tailed bumble bee, probably a queen. Darren explained the challenges of managing a flora where there are so many introduced species. Some, such as Echium candicans (below), cause little bother and are attractive to both bees and butterflies. Others, such as Rhododendron ponticum, pittosporum and olearia, are more problematic, finding their way onto the uninhabited ‘off islands’ and crowding out native heath. A policy of judicious management, rather than eradication, is employed, recognising that alien species are unlikely to be stamped out completely.

One creature that does face eviction from the Scillies is the brown rat. Rats create havoc for nesting birds, stealing their eggs and chicks. Over winter a project was undertaken to exterminate rats completely from the inhabited island of St Agnes, which at 1.4km from its nearest neighbour is beyond the limit at which new rat populations can swim over. It is hoped that the absence of rats will also benefit the nearby island of Annet, where many rare, migrating birds choose to nest.

Sadly we didn’t encounter any grey seals, although the Scillies have a healthy population, mainly around the Eastern Isles and Western Rocks. Darren talked to us about oyster catchers, so plentiful on Pentle Beach the day before, but taking their distinctive squeaks elsewhere on the day of our walk. We learned that oyster catchers display some of the same behaviour as cuckoos, planting spare eggs in the nests of other species for incubation. Darren also explained the differences between the Scillies’ four different gulls, including the lesser black-backed gull, pictured below.

At the northern-most tip of Tresco we stopped to admire mounds of thrift (Armeria maritima), English stonecrop (Sedum anglicum) and a patchwork of lichen covering weathered boulders. Looking closely we could see that barely any of the granite’s surface was free of lichen cover; even the black patches were living organisms. In this harshest of environments, soaked by salt spray and baked by the sun, it amazes me that these fascinating organisms can survive here.

Darren shared his knowledge with great enthusiasm and passion. Originally from mainland Cornwall he’s now settled on St Mary’s, the archipelago’s largest island. He clearly enjoys his important work, caring for and protecting some of Britain’s most unique and beautiful landscapes. After two hours of nicely paced plodding we adjourned to The New Inn with a greater appreciation of our beautiful surroundings and lots of fascinating facts to share with our friends on our return to the mainland.

Click here to learn more about The Isles of Scilly Wildlife Trust and watch the short video below to find out more about the beautiful island of Tresco.

All photographs are my own and were taken earlier this week – I am feeling rather proud of them and hope you enjoy them too!

Next post: Triumph Over Adversity – Tresco Abbey Gardens

When, in 1834, the handsome Augustus Smith secured the lease for the Isles of Scilly, I wonder if he was aware of the legacy he was to leave behind? The son of a wealthy Hertfordshire family he had the resources and energy required of the newly styled Lord Proprietor. He set about improving employment and education on the impoverished islands and generally put the Scillies back on the map. In time he chose Tresco for the kind of baronial pile he was accustomed to back in the home counties. Although sheltered from the worst of the Atlantic gales, Tresco offered little more than waist high to protect his proposed garden. An audacious plan was required. Augustus built a huge, 12’ high wall around the remains of a deserted Benedictine priory, and the Abbey Gardens were born. With ambitions beyond these limited confines, Augustus soon realised that a substantial shelter belt of mature trees would be needed. Trial and error revealed Pinus radiata (Monterey pine) and Cupressus macrocarpa (Monterey cypress) from California were best suited to life on the Scillies. They were duly planted, in their hundreds, on the rising ground behind his newly built granite castle.

Tresco Abbey, home of the Dorrien-Smiths since 1834, from the sea

Augustus died in 1872, leaving the Scillies and his estate to his nephew, Thomas Algernon Dorrien-Smith. With ship building in decline and the islands’ economy in poor shape, Thomas came up with the idea of growing and exporting cut daffodils to the English mainland, an industry that still thrives today. Every Christmas I send boxes of daffodils from neighbouring St Martins to my mother and grandmother, all thanks to one man’s vision for his precious islands. The cultivars he found most successful, N. ‘Soleil d’Or’ and N. ‘Scilly White’, are both tazetta types and are still grown today; both have a wonderful fragrance and flower from October onwards.

Agave americana from Mexico, Texas and Arizona

Thomas’ son Arthur took the reins on his father’s death in 1918 and developed the garden further. Already packed with exotica that would never survive the frosty mainland, he filled the terraces with new discoveries from New Zealand, Australia and South Africa, sharing plants with Edinburgh Botanical Gardens and Kew. However it was not all plain sailing. The First World War intervened, decimating the gardening staff. The commercial viability of island’s farms started to dwindle and Arthur found the financial burden of the Scillies too great to bear. With what must have been great reluctance, he handed back the lease of all the islands except Tresco to the Duchy of Cornwall in 1922. However, the pain was not over. For five days in December 1929 the garden was battered by winds up to 110 miles per hour. Hundreds of trees were uprooted, crushing precious plants beneath them. It must have been utterly devastating. Arthur was not thwarted and by 1935 the garden could again boast 3,500 species of plants.

Spectacular golden pheasants patrol the gardens

Inevitably, the Second World War caused more heartbreak. Arthur and his wife Eleanor lost three of their four sons, including the eldest, and doubtless many experienced gardening staff. Fortunately the remaining son, Thomas Mervyn, quickly developed an enthusiasm for horticulture and began to develop Tresco as a tourism destination. He retraced his father and mother’s steps through Australia and South Africa, bringing back yet more bounty for the garden.

Detail of Dasylirion acrotrichum from Mexico

Tresco’s current custodian, Robert Dorrien-Smith, has undoubtedly had to deal with the two greatest catastrophes in the gardens’ 180 year long history. The first was a freak spell of freezing weather in January 1987 which, as garden curator Mike Nelhams describes it, reduced 80% of the garden to a substance ‘like stewed rhubarb that smelt like something a lot worse’. Mike paints a vivid picture of the devastation in his book, ‘Tresco Abbey Gardens – A Personal and Pictorial History’, which makes a riveting read. One can only imagine the pain at the loss of 150 years of hard graft and unrivalled horticulture. At the age of fourteen I can recall watching footage of the garden on the television, utterly destroyed, literally frozen to death.

Protea longifolia, the South African “suikerbossie” (sugarbush)

Tragically the nightmare was not over for Tresco’s gardens. Three years of intensive plant collecting followed the freeze, with Mike Nelhams and Andrew Lawson travelling the country in a quest to replace the island’s unique collection. As that process drew to an end, and with new plantings beginning to mature, disaster struck once again. No-one over five years of age in 1990 will forget the hurricane that swept southern England in January 1990; Tresco did not escape. Winds up to 127mph tore through the garden’s windbreaks, wiping out over 800 trees and turning the site into a death-trap. Much of the new planting was crushed or torn out of the ground as the rootplates of giant trees hurtled into the air. For the second time in three years the garden had been laid to waste.

Neptune stares out to sea from the top of the Neptune Steps

Fortunately the Dorrien-Smiths and the Abbey’s gardeners have learnt how to triumph over adversity. Twenty four years later the garden is once again a showstopper, one of the most blessed in terms of climate in Britain and home to a collection of plants that would survive nowhere else in the country. Every New Year the gardening team publish a list of plants in bloom that would make many of the world’s botanical gardens green with envy. When we visited in early April the compilation of a list would have been thankless. A company of proteas, banksias, aloes, aeoniums, mimosas, sophoras, sparmannias, leptospermums, to name a few, were staging a riot of colour. If I could post a scent, it would be of the Greek islands, a warm, herbal fragrance that is most unexpected in a English garden. I think Augustus Smith would feel very much at home if he were to walk though the modern-day entrance and into the subtropical paradise he envisioned.

Aloe speciosa x ferox coming into bloom

From now on, each time we experience a mediocre gale or unexpected cold snap I shall recall The Abbey Gardens’ story and take strength from their incredible resilience. I can rest assured that I’m unlikely to experience anything like these traumas in my gardening lifetime. For all the risks Augustus took in cultivating such exposed spot, Tresco triumphs because of its unique position, not in spite of it.

Him Indoors, reading the guide book (yes, really!) and surrounded by Aeonium arboreum ‘Zwartkop’

My Top 5 Tresco Plants in April

Silver Tree – Leucandendron argenteum. This exceptional tree positively sparkles come fair weather or foul, thanks to the tiny, light-reflective hairs on its leaves. Leucadendrons abhor phosphates, to such an extent that they will kill plants stone dead, so most fertilisers can’t be applied near them. Tresco’s soil is low in phosphates and these wonderful trees revel in the sun and brisk wind, which reminds them of their South African home. As well as mature specimens, there are many new plantings around the garden.

Lobster Claw – Clianthus puniceus. I have toyed with growing this exotic climber in Broadstairs for many years, and am inspired once again to give it a go. Hailing from New Zealand’s North Island it requires full sun, and the support and protection of a warm wall. The flowers appear in April and are a gorgeous cardinal red.

Pride of Madeira - Echium candicans. No doubt this Canary Islands native found its way to Tresco via the Abbey Gardens, but it was not content to stop there. Forming a neatly branched bush it can be found in cottage gardens, hedgerows and patches of disturbed ground all around the island. The cobalt-blue flowers are hugely appealing to bees and butterflies as well as visitors. This species is not biennial, unlike lofty Echium pininana which we grow at home by the sea, although the two will hybridise.

Madeiran Geranium – Geranium maderense. One of my favourite plants and occasionally a success in Broadstairs when we have a succession of milder winters. It can be grown in a container and brought indoors for winter, but to my mind potted plants never achieve the lushness and scale of those grown in the open grown. On Tresco they self seed and appear to gravitate towards shade, however the Scillies enjoy longer winter days and bright conditions overall, so on the mainland they might appreciate a little more exposure to the sun.

Fire Heath – Erica cerinthoides – A South African gem that I’ve only ever seen on show stands until visiting Tresco. It’s one of those plants that I know instantly I would kill if I so much as attempted to grow it. The tubular flowers are vivid coral and held aloft in generous bunches. Available from the lovely people at Trewidden Nursery, where I have so often admired it – if you are feeling brave and have a sunny, well drained spot on acidic soil, give it a whirl.

A Map of the Garden

Acknowedgements – ‘Tresco Abbey Gardens – A Personal and Pictorial History’ by Mike Nelhams, Curator of Tresco Abbey Gardens.

I am not a born Londoner, and for much of the time I like to believe I’d prefer living elsewhere. That is until I make the effort to deviate from my normal home-to-work route and experience the city anew. It has been my personal challenge for the last month to change my daily journey between Highgate and Victoria, taking in a new open space or urban village each time. Today’s departure took me to Regent’s Park, which I am ashamed to say I have barely set foot in during thirteen years working in the capital. This is, in a word, unforgivable.

I always feel that if any place – city, village or garden – doesn’t look its best in spring it’s got a problem. London this April has no such worries. The comparison with 2013, when spring remained stymied until May, is incredible. Regent’s Park is already filled with May’s flowers: low mists of forget-me-nots pierced by arrow-straight tulips, cumulus clouds of lilac and ceanothus; fluttering showers of virginal cherry blossom. Horse chestnuts and lime trees are already in leaf, their delicate tissue still so gossamer-thin that the evening sun shines straight through; a precious, fleeting moment in time. William Nestfield’s Avenue Gardens are bright and beautiful, the backdrop for many a happy, smiling snapper. Regent’s Park this evening was enough to restore anyone’s faith in human nature; a melting pot of nations, classes and ages, all enjoying this most elegant and democratic of spaces after a long day in the city. On days like today I do not feel content to live in London, but proud and priviledged.

Unlike our London garden, which is having an unscheduled green moment, our coastal garden is a riot of colour this Easter. For the first time this year I feel that everything is coming good, the investment in all that arduous autumn bulb planting finally paying dividends. A mild winter and even milder start to spring has ensured that plants normally battered and bruised by the cold have barely stopped growing for twelve months. Agapanthus africanus (in the background below) and Zantedeschia aethiopica are rudely luxuriant, whilst tender plants such as Melianthus major and Echium pininana are already coming into flower. No such luck with Beschorneria yuccoides, which is apparently biding its time, saving its phallic flower stems for a more appropriate occasion.

The backdrop to this barnstorming floral bonanza is a seven year old Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’ which, despite being stripped of its leaves during the winter storms, is now plastered in posies of custard yellow flowers. They carry a light aroma, but it’s nothing to write home about. Last year we saw no blooms until late May / early June but, happily, this year we can celebrate Easter surrounded by these pretty, fleeting flowers.

Much of the colour in the garden is thanks to tulips, all planted in pots and arranged carefully around the terrace to maintain a succession of blooms. A new discovery for me this season is T. ‘Exotic Emperor’, a Fosteriana type which emerges early and lasts for weeks. Plump buds were in evidence at the end of March and the petals are only just starting to drop now. They leave behind curiously contorted seed heads which are almost as enthralling as the flowers. I’d plant T. ‘Exotic Emperor’ again alongside late daffodils, emerging ferns or other white tulips, but the combination of yellow, green and white ensures it looks fabulous with just about anything.

Another tulip I would not be without is T. ‘White Triumphator’. This is one of the most regal tulips; tall, statuesque and purest white. The flower stems are strong and upright, making it ideal for the back of the border or to cover for earlier, shorter varieties. T. ‘White Triumphator’ has been around since the 1940s and was an essential part of the original white gardens at Sissinghurst and Hidcote. I plant the bulbs, ten to a large black plastic pot, in October and keep them as back-up for any gaps that emerge in spring. Should gaps not emerge, they make a superb cut flower, so much more elegant than anything that’s available in the shops.

Quite by accident, as I rescued them from the bargain bin at our local garden centre, I have several pots of cheerful, white and yellow, highly scented violas. They are brilliant to have around for their profuse flowers and wonderful sweet fragrance. I find them very therapeutic to deadhead when I should be attending to more important tasks.

I shall leave you, on this Easter Saturday evening, with my favourite of all spring bulbs Fritillaria imperialis ‘William Rex’. He’s not grown as tall this year (it surely can’t be for lack of water?) but the baby snails, which are rife this spring, are finding every part of him utterly delectable. If it’s not lily beetle it’s snails, I can’t win! Between wafts of scent coming from the violas I catch the odd whiff of old William. It’s a foxy aroma, but it certainly keeps the neighbours pesky cats at arms length.

I hope the Easter bunny is generous when he visits you in the morning. In the meantime I’ll wish you a very Happy Easter – may your garden grow bountifully!

It has been an almost perfect Easter weekend. There’s been sunshine for outdoor DIY, rain for the plants (they needed it) and sufficient time to actually get things done. We’ve seen friends, taken our new car for a spin in the countryside, been to the beach, played hide-and-seek and supped a fair few pints of ale. Our little town of Broadstairs, which Charles Dickens dubbed ‘our English watering hole’, put on a great show with sailing regattas and an Easter incarnation of the popular food festival. Shame on the local parks department, who left last year’s summer bedding in situ over winter, for letting the side down. I suspect council funding cuts are behind the poor show, which is very sad for a town which prides itself on its appearance.

Someone’s not impressed! Easter bonnet competition at Broadstairs Food Festival

In the garden I grubbed-up a large, shrubby rosemary and replaced it with Rosmarinus officinalis ‘Fota Blue’ which is semi-prostrate with deep blue flowers. The plants were purchased from local specialist herb grower Susan Gollins of Invicta Herbs. I am hoping they grow up quickly to fill the gap, but a neighbouring Astelia nervosa ‘Westland’ will be glad of the extra elbow room. Honey bees and bumble bees are flocking to the fresh new flowers of Echium pininana, which started to open on Thursday. They will be a magnet for pollinators from now until the first frosts.

Echium pininana, a magnet for bees and butterflies

The food festival, held in the grounds of Piermont Park, was a great success. My top two stalls belonged to Dine Thyme, who make sausage rolls, scotch eggs and pies I’d walk across hot coals for, and The Four Candles, Broadstairs’ smallest pub, serving wonderful local ales. It was great to see so many truly local businesses, many not just from Kent, but from the Isle of Thanet, which has such a rich heritage of food production. The organisers should be congratulated for taking what was a very low key event and turning it into a real tour de force. We dined like kings all weekend, on food and drink bought exclusively from the festival. Best of all, there was hardly any washing up to be done.

Fresh, fresh, fresh! Broadstairs Food Festival

I described it as an almost perfect Easter because we suffered two minor tragedies over the weekend. First, our collared doves, Daphne and Dudley, lost both eggs from their nest on Saturday night. It was entirely their own fault as their jerry-built nest, high up in a tree outside our bedroom window, was so shoddily constructed that even the slightest breeze was going to dislodge it. Nevertheless the smashed eggs were a sad sight to wake up to on Easter Sunday. Happily the lovebirds seem to be starting again, so hopefully we can still look forward to a clutch of chicks before spring is out. The second tragedy, if one can call it that, was of my own making: I stood on a garden chair to dig one of our raised borders and fell backwards, ending up in a most undignified position, fork still in hand. The bruises are blacker than Tulipa ‘Queen of the Night’ which is flowering nearby, but not nearly as pretty!

In a changing of guard the reign of Tulipa “Exotic Emperor’ is now at an end. Taking the throne is magnificent T. ‘Red Shine’, which is proving every bit as spectacular as its predecessor. ‘Red Shine’ is a fitting consort for equally well-bred T. ‘White Triumphator’, both with similar flower shape and regal stature. The blooms are rich, glossy vermillion with a dark centre; pure class. What will be left to bloom in May I don’t know; it seems spring may turn into summer before we know it.

I have been out working in our London garden this evening. With a gentle rain falling the air is filled with the scent of fern and box, both wonderful, unmistakable fragrances. Glowing in the fading light are two equally unmistakable tulips, T. ‘Spring Green’ and its red-streaked sport, T. ‘Flaming Spring Green’. Both are classified as Viridiflora tulips because of their distinctive green markings. They look exquisite together, or alongside plain white or red varieties.

I planted them closely in large terracotta pots on the terrace by the pond, where they promise to give us a supercharged display for several weeks. Positioned in light shade they will last just that little bit longer. I don’t know about you, but I am completely beguiled by these lovely tulip varieties and will be growing them again next year, alongside T. ‘White Triumphator’ and T. ‘Red Shine’.

Nestled deep in the Ashdown Forest, East Sussex, was the location for one of our Christmas photo shoots. It may sound strange, but I live and breath Christmas all year round; it’s my job. Somehow I’ve become immune to the absurdity of untangling fairy lights in warm spring sunshine and to trimming trees in sweltering heat. Fortunately it doesn’t tarnish the genuine article when it comes around; I can separate the reality from the insanity.

The property where we did our shoot, complete with snow machine, was situated in an idyllic forest glade. The gardens were cursorily contemporary and I wasn’t sure I liked them especially much. As usual my gaze was caught by the plants the landscapers had chosen; lots of predictable box, birch and miscanthus. Rather incongruous in this naturalistic setting was a slightly unkempt bush covered in small, scorching pink daisies. After a bit of research I discovered this to be Olearia phloggopappa ‘Combers Pink’, all the way from Tasmania. Quite what, apart from its amazing flower power, lead to the choice of this sun loving antipodean beauty I will never know, but it lent character to an otherwise photo-fit, low-maintenance scheme.

Olearia phloggopappa ‘Combers Pink’ is available in a 3L pot from Burncoose Nurseries at £13.50. Order online or risk having to pronounce it over the phone – hard to do without unnecessary phlegm being involved. Go on, I dare you!