Plants – The Frustrated Gardener

Very little trumps the romanticism of a well-made woodland garden. Lush, informal and unbridled it will capture the heart in its quest to mimic nature. Every spring, plants which might never find themselves partnered in the wild mingle effortlessly in dappled shade, enjoying a fleeting glimpse of the heavens. To my mind the creation of a woodland garden is a much greater test of a gardener’s skill than a formal parterre or herbaceous border. A lack of structure, other than the strong verticals of tree trunks, means a dextrous hand and good eye are required to achieve rhythm and texture within the tapestry of plants. Patience is also a virtue. Many woodlanders such as anemones, trilliums and arisaemas are slow to make impressive clumps; their growing season is, after all, incredible short.

Trillium chloropetalum can take seven years to flower from seed

And then there’s the soil. If I had a pound for every plant that’s catalogue description noted a preference for well-drained, humus-rich soil I might actually be able to able to afford a garden that offered such rarified conditions. A great woodland garden requires the gardener to fashion deep, fertile planting pockets in the gaps between thirsty roots. Leaves blanketing the ground every autumn call for arduous sweeping and raking. The reward is rich leaf-mould, which will fuel the garden for seasons to come.

Epimediums are perfect woodland plants for counties with damp summers

In short, as with most things that look effortless (including ice skating, watercolour painting and Kate Middleton’s hair), woodland gardens take time, expertise and dedication to do well. One of my very favourites is the one at Knightshayes Court in Devon, as accomplished a composition as any great master ever achieved. In the humid West Country climate the verdure extends to every edging stone and fallen branch. And then at Sissinghurst the incomparable Nuttery is both deftly contrived and romantically naturalistic at the same time, guaranteed to make visitors stop in their tracks.

The Nuttery, Sissinghurst, March 2014

On a more intimate scale, but no less accomplished, is the woodland garden at Bosvigo, at its zenith in April (below). We visited early this month on a sunny morning and were fortunate to have the whole place to ourselves. Although not small by our own standards, it covers only half an acre under a canopy of beech and ash trees.

I’m in envy of that large clump of Astelia nervosa ‘Westland’

The scale of the planting is intricate, squeezing in a choice collection of plants without succumbing to bittiness. Certain plant groups abound. Quite apart from the hellebores, for which Bosvigo has become famous, there are large, well-curated collections of epimediums, erythroniums and anemones.

A few of Bosvigo’s beautiful erythroniums (dog’s tooth violets)

Bosvigo’s epimediums range from the diminutive to the exotic; varieties with jagged, red-splashed leaves and wildly spidery flowers such as E. ‘William Stearn’ share the same beds as tiny, delicate souls like Epimedium × youngianum ‘Niveum’. Clumps of peach, pink and white tulips are artfully positioned to bring out the best in the delicate, pastel-coloured flowers and coppery foliage.

Newly emerged epimedium foliage

In stark contrast to all this spring softness were the emerging leaves of an acer, uncompromisingly blood-red yet still frail, translucent and unaccustomed to the sun.

Fiery new acer foliage unfolds

On the fringe of the woodland garden is a steep grass bank peppered with snake’s head fritillaries (Fritillaria meleagris), presided over by a young Magnolia stellata; a dreamy combination for even the smallest meadow space. My own attempts at growing snake’s head fritillaries have been ill-fated, although this year I managed to coax into flower a handful of the white variant between the inky black leaves of Ophiopogon nigrescens.

Magnolia stellata

Fritillaria meleagris

One is guaranteed to spot something unusual at Bosvigo, usually in the raised borders, which appear to have been hewn from solid rock at the back of the house. I believe the beautiful stranger below to be a podophyllum, probably P. ‘Spotty Dotty’. The umbrella-shaped leaves emerge from the ground in spring with markings like pheasants’ feathers. Mature plants will produce red flowers and fleshy fruits. Again, it’s one of those woodlanders that appreciates rich, moist soil and minimal disturbance. Those unusual leaves are perfect for creating texture and excitement amongst the inevitable bright greens of early spring.

Podophyllum ‘Spotty Dotty’

At Bosvigo, owner Wendy Perry has created a garden for all seasons, appealing to connoisseurs and casual gardeners alike. Visitors are welcome from March until the end of September, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays from 11am until 6pm. Click here for more details and keep an eye out for the dates of Wendy’s special hellebore day in 2015.

Corydalis chelianthifolia

Over the next couple of weekends, two of Kent’s most beautiful and enigmatic gardens will be opening their gates to the curious public. Both reveal their secrets on just one day each year, so are a must if you are in the county and love to visit special places.

Kurume azaleas at Sandling Park

The first of our Kentish Belles is medieval Saltwood Castle near Hythe, home of the late Alan Clark MP, opening to raise funds for the NSPCC. This year’s date is Saturday May 3rd. Saltwood is everything one could want of an English castle; there’s a foreboding keep, crumbling walls wreathed in roses, dungeons and a ruined chapel. If you fancy going the whole hog, archery lessons are offered in the moat, which is thankfully now dry. There are always excellent plants on offer as well as art, pottery and artisan foods for sale. Shelter and other creature comforts are limited as this is a private home for 364 days of the year, so bring a coat, umbrella and an empty car boot for all your purchases. It’s a popular event come rain or shine. You can read more about last year’s open day here and get opening and entrance details from the NSPCC website.

Plant sales at last year’s Saltwood Castle open day

Only a stone’s throw away is Sandling Park, which opens on Sunday May 11th for Pilgrims Hospices. This year promises to be a vintage year for blooms, following a mild start to spring. If, like me, you love the unashamed exuberance of rhododendrons and azaleas you will love Sandling Park. There are some very choice rhododendrons, grown to perfection amongst a remarkable number of champion trees, and a second-to-none collection of deciduous azaleas. Last year was so cold that they were barely in flower in early May, so this year should offer a very different experience. Find out more about my visit to Sandling Park last year and more details on Pilgrims Hospices own website.

More of Sandling Park’s incredible azaleas

The British Isles are defined by the colour green. It should really be represented on our national flag, or at the least extolled by our national anthem. Perhaps if Scotland goes its own way the country can adopt green in place of the white-on-blue cross of St Andrew. If green was the national colour, our London garden might be deemed especially patriotic at the moment. There are minor smudges of blue in the form of Camassia leichtlinii ssp suksdorfii caerulea (try pronouncing that after a stiff G&T) and Omphalodes cappadocica ‘Cherry Ingram’, but otherwise it’s emerald, lime, olive, chartreuse and jade all the way.

This year’s tulips are all Viridfloras: T. ‘Greenland’ (blush and green), T. ‘Flaming Spring Green’ (scarlet, white and green) and T. ‘Spring Green’ (plain old white and green). Together they make a lovely combination, packed into an assortment of large terracotta pots. It’s an annual expense I would never spare; more is more when it comes to tulips.

Whilst one really can’t go wrong with green, too much of the same tone can be monotonous. The trick is to vary the composition with different shades and textures. Right now I am absorbed by the development of a single, arching stem of Polygonatum x hybridum ‘Betberg’ (below), which has emerged effortlessly from our heavy soil bearing leaves of the most extraordinary purply jade. White flowers lay in waiting beneath, but will play second fiddle to the foliage. I suspect it may take many years for this dramatic beauty to make a big clump. It will be worth the wait.

Another very special plant which seems to tolerate our soggy London clay is Disporum megalanthum, which is supposedly very rare in cultivation. It appears routinely by our pond each spring with glossy olive-green leaves and white campanulate flowers, followed by blue-black fruits later in summer. I love it for its tolerance of our neglect far more than for its rarity.

Last year we planted several slower growing hostas including H. ‘St Paul’ and H. ‘Guardian Angel’, both of which I hope to take a decent snap of soon. They are living up to their reputation, emerging hardly any larger than they were last year. If it were not for their lovely foliage they might sorely test my patience, which I find is lessening with age. Less reluctant to get going is Hosta ‘June’, which is already forming pert clumps of neat, prettily marked, heart-shaped leaves. Mercifully unblemished, they look all the more attractive studded with drops of rain.

Yesterday, when putting up wires for a new clematis, I reminded myself how lucky we are to be surrounded on all sides by lovely golden brick walls. They afford the garden shelter and structure, allowing us to keep tender plants such as Dicksonia antarctica growing through even the coldest of winters. It is with much excitement that I observe the unfurling of the new fronds each spring. This year they are more plentiful than ever and promise to spread their filigree shade over a carpet of Galium odoratum which is gradually creeping up its trunk. Ferns represent green at its very best; fresh, vital and mossily aromatic. Far from bemoaning the current scarcity of flowers, I am revealing in this brief moment of green, soon to be eclipsed by the brightness of summer.

Yesterday the hedgerows were heavy with may flower and vital with leaf as we drove from Broadstairs to Saltwood Castle for the 2014 NSPCC plant fair. Despite a chill in the air we threw the soft-top down and turned our faces to the sun for warmth. The venerable castle provided a romantic setting for this unmissable event, which happens annually on the May Day Bank Holiday. Hard working volunteers fired up barbecues, baked cakes and brewed tea to sustain hundreds of people that turned out to enjoy a perfect spring day and spot of horticultural therapy.

Last year we encountered carpets of daffodils and anemones leading to the castle’s formidable bailey. Thanks to milder weather, early spring flowers had been superseded by meadows of cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris), interspersed with comfrey (Symphytum officinale) and Rembrandt tulips. A more Pre-Raphaelite scene it would be hard to imagine; we were just missing a flame-haired lady floating in the moat.

Saltwood Castle has a long and turbulent history, but during quieter times The Queen Mother visited to plant a tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) which now looks mature beyond its years. Sadly, as elsewhere in the country, the English bluebell population was heavily polluted by its Spanish cousin (Hyacinthoides hispanica, the Spanish bluebell) in shades of blue, white and pink.

Our native cowslips fought on, uncontaminated, relishing the well-drained conditions on top of low walls and surrounded by carpets of Cerastium (snow-in summer).

I encountered several plants for the first time, including Podophyllum ‘Kaleidoscope’ and Anemonella thalictroides ‘Oscar Schoaf’, grown by Amy Green and James Amery of Decoy Nursery at Pevensey, East Sussex. The pair, who tour a number of plant fairs around the South East, specialise in shade loving perennials suitable for woodland gardens. I succumbed to the sugary pink powder-puffs of the Anemonella, for which I will find a pot in a lightly shaded corner of our London garden. Although it appears delicate and precious, Amy finds it surprisingly tough and easy to grow.

Spurred on by my friend Beth’s success in cultivating auriculas at Trevoole, I was on the look out for a handful of plants to begin my own collection. I was recommended three cultivars, ‘Old Smokey’ (single, reddish brown with yellow centre), ‘Cinammon’ (lightly fragrant, double russet-orange) and ‘Shaun’ (perfumed, double golden-yellow). They’ll be transported back to London where I’ll need to find them a cool spot protected from the rain.

We enjoyed an impromptu picnic on the lawns, protected by the castle’s ancient walls. Roses were already in abundance, filling the air with scent, draping themselves carelessly over moss-covered urns and statues. There was a terrifying search for an illusive dragon with our friends’ young boys, and a not-so-fruitless hunt for Saltwood’s magnificent peacocks, which were lapping up the attention. We raced across the manicured lawns (I was beaten by a four-year-old), peered down murky wells and enjoyed watching the Castle Moat and Folkestone Bowmen teaching archery.

As well as a plant fair this was a super family day out and an opportunity to glimpse a very special part of England’s heritage. I will leave you with a collection of additional shots taken in Saltwood’s grounds, which would, of course, be incomplete without Him Indoors reclining on an attractive seat, resting his eyes.

For a while in the nineties, when television programmes such as Home Front and Ground Force ruled the air waves, tree ferns almost became a gardening cliché. They were saved from turning into the plant equivalent of prawn cocktail by their relative expense; a good quality, legally harvested specimen will set you back around £40 per foot. When one considers it might have taken a 4ft fern around 60 years to achieve that stature, the cost seems pretty modest. Once established, the hardiest of the tree ferns, Dicksonia antarctica, can produce fronds 6ft long, lending gardens a highly desirable, jungly look.

Until now we’ve grown just one specimen in our London garden, purchased from a garden centre when it was a mere 6″ tall. Five years later it’s not a lot taller, but consistently puts forth a glorious shuttlecock of lush new fronds in spring. Encouraged by the fledgling fern’s tolerance of our heavy London clay (the opposite of the conditions it prefers) we’ve taken the plunge and bought it a 5ft companion. They will henceforth be known as David and Goliath.

Carbon dating indicates that tree ferns were alive and kicking on our planet at least as long ago as the Jurassic period. Their arrival in UK gardens came considerably later and by accident. As the 19th century came to an end, ships returning to British ports from Australia would use tree fern trunks as packing to prevent cargo crashing around in the hold in heavy seas. On arrival the trunks were discarded on the quayside. Thanks to the South West’s mild climate, some of the abandoned trunks found conditions tolerable enough to start growing, much to the surprise of the dockers. It did not take long for the squires and aristocrats of Cornwall and Devon to catch on, and soon exotic tree ferns abounded in their gardens where they still flourish today. Trengwainton, Trewidden and The Lost Gardens of Heligan all have extensive collections of Dicksonia antarctica which have endured changing fashion, freezing winters, violent gales and long periods of neglect.

Today tree ferns are exported from Tasmania, Victoria and New South Wales in just the same way as they were in the 19th century. Although they are plentiful in their natural habitats, they must be harvested under license and should arrive from the nursery labelled with the place of origin and a traceable number. When collected in the wild the fronds are cut and the bottom is sawn, leaving a completely bare trunk. It’s in this enforced state of dormancy that they are transported, still by boat, to Europe and the USA where they continue to be highly valued.

David’s new leaves emerging above the old

Unlike a real tree which has a woody stem covered in bark, a tree fern has a ‘caudex’ composed of rhizomes which have adapted to grow vertically. The rhizomes carry nutrients to and from the fronds and roots. What we might call a trunk is actually a dense mass of decaying earlier growth through which the tree fern’s root grow. In Dicksonia antarctica‘s native habitat, and indeed some Cornish gardens, epiphytic plants will happily make their homes on the trunk’s surface. In our London garden, Galium odoratum (sweet woodruff) finds the hairy surface a perfect climbing frame.

The photograph below shows Goliath, newly planted and devoid of fronds after his long journey from Victoria, Australia, via Cornwall, following in the footsteps of his ancestors. He will need watering daily from the top of the trunk to encourage new foliage to unfurl. Tantalisingly, there’s already a cluster of fronds ready and waiting to extend into the light.

Goliath’s bare crown, sheltering a cluster of tightly furled fronds

The genus ‘Dicksonia‘ honours James Dickson (1738-1822), who was a prominent British nurseryman. It’s thought that James Dickson was linked with tree ferns as a result of his friendship with Sir Joseph Banks (1743 –1820) who took part in Captain James Cook’s first great voyage on HMS Endeavour. The species name ‘antarctica’ is misleading and merely suggests that the species hails from a southern or cooler location as opposed to the tropics. There is no fossil evidence that tree ferns ever populated Antarctica. Although established plants are hardy to around -10 degrees, they prefer frost free conditions and require winter protection in colder parts of the country.

The secret to successfully growing Dicksonia antarctica is to understand how it grows in the wild. Like many ferns, these jungle giants grow on the forest floor in dappled sunlight, seeking out damp areas where there is little air movement. These conditions create a humid microclimate where the ferns’ trunks can remain constantly moist and the fronds can extend without being damaged by strong winds. Tree ferns also appreciate a neutral to acid soil, rich in leafmould and not too heavy in texture.

Siting a tree fern in a UK garden can therefore be tricky, especially as they need space spread their gorgeous fronds and protection from winter cold. If you do have a spot beneath trees, or in the lee of a wall, then that’s a good start; my experience is that even the heaviest of soils can be improved with a bit of ericaceous compost, leafmould and bark chippings to create the right kind of growing medium. David was container grown and planted in the normal way, taking care to plant at the same depth as in the pot. Goliath came to us as 5ft trunk, of which around 8″ needed to be buried in the ground for stability. A reasonably tight planting hole, backfilled with nice organic matter and well firmed in, ensures the trunk will not topple over. It will take the rest of this season for roots to anchor the trunk to the ground. Now it’s a case of reviving Goliath after his voyage, with daily watering from the crown to re-wet the caudex and kick start the production of fronds. Hopefully he and David will become friends rather than adversaries. If not, the equally primitive magnolia under which they both shelter may have to step in and sort them out.

Goliath was purchased from Burncoose Nurseries in Cornwall, experts in mail order and part of the Caerhays estate, which would have been among the first Cornish gardens to cultivate tree ferns. Also worth a look in the UK are Amulree Exotics and The Palm Centre.

David and a thus far naked Goliath in our London garden.

A cool, wet start to May has been just what the hostas ordered. Plants in our London garden are emerging lush and leafy, so far untroubled by slugs and snails. The latter are notable by their absence, but I refrain from commenting too loudly lest they hear me and come slithering back. I believe it may be thanks to the increasing number of garden birds which we are attracting, including wrens, tits, robins, blackbirds, starlings, jays, magpies and wood pigeons.

After a minor spending spree with Bowdens Hostas at last year’s Chelsea Flower Show, we now have a total of fourteen different cultivars in our small garden. They are mostly planted in clumps of three in the ground or in large pots; go for larger drifts of five or seven if you have the space. Hostas are perfectly suited to the limited conditions we can offer: lightly shaded, sheltered and with permanently damp, fertile soil. Add lots of organic matter if you have dry or light soil conditions.

Here are some of my favourites:

Number one is Hosta ‘Patriot’ (above), a strong growing, white-margined variety which is hard to beat and good enough to eat (and the Japanese do, referring to it as Urui). New shoots emerge violet purple and are impressive in themselves. Planting in a pot top-dressed with grit helps to really show the young growth off and the leaves are relatively tough and nibble resistant.

In complete contrast, Hosta fortunei “Aurea” throws up its loosely ribbed, paper-thin leaves, which on more than one occasion have been torn irreparably by spring hail storms. The neon-yellow leaves are at their most vivid if kept out of direct sunlight. In my experience they hold onto their incredible inner light very well and I would not be without this hosta on a dull, rainy day.

Sturdy and compact, Hosta ‘Halcyon’ is a garden stalwart with gloriously glaucous leaves, exquisitely rolled at the base and elegantly ogee-curved at the tip. Raindrops bead like mercury on the surface after a shower and slowly roll down to quench the plant’s thirst. A superb hosta for the front of a border or a pot.

In its second year after planting, Hosta ‘June’ is settling in well, forming neat clumps of heart-shaped foliage. I am already impressed. The variegation is subtle and pretty but bright enough to light up a dark corner of the garden. Not too tall and so far quite similar in stature to H. ‘Halcyon’.

Last but not least, a variety which is going to require a little patience. Three plants of Hosta ‘Guardian Angel’ were planted out last June but have barely increased in size this year. The large leaves are every shade between mist and sage; long, ridged and lightly ruffled. ‘Guardian Angel’ may be a slow burner, but what a beauty she is. The best things come to those who wait.

For a great choice of hostas in the UK, check out Bowdens (royal warrant holder) and Mickfield Hostas, both offering a mind-blowing selection of top notch plants.

You may have picked up on my recent fascination with large, jungly-looking plants. I don’t really have room for such colossi in either garden, but I can still admire them when visiting others’. My first encounter with giant rhubarb, Gunnera manicata, was as a child at Glendurgan in Cornwall, where one can still walk beneath the roughly corrugated, spiny leaves and imagine being deep in the jungle. Standing in the eerie light beneath one of the elephantine leaves, one can either fantasize about hiding from a pterodactyl, or simply shelter from a passing rain shower.

A long way from the South West of England, giant rhubarb is native to the cloud forests of South America. Here the leaves can grow to as much as 10ft across, making it one of the world’s largest perennial plants. In the UK it finds itself at home in much the same conditions as the tree fern, Dicksonia antarctica: where there’s deep, damp, nutrient rich soil and shelter from wind and cold.

If the prodigious leaves are not impressive enough then the flower heads are more so – one metre tall, feathery cones of red and green that look distinctly primeval. They start to emerge early in spring, before the leaves really get going, and expand to look like giant fox tails. Close up, they are quite fascinating.

Gunnera manicata likes to grow in close proximity to water, whether bog garden or pond, and is not a plant to be forced into a pot or confined in a small space. Planted generously alongside other moisture lovers it will always draw gasps of delight, especially from anyone with a vivid imagination.

Where to see

Most of the great Cornish gardens have extensive clumps of giant rhubarb, but I can recommend Glendurgan and neighbouring Trebah especially. In Dorset, Abbotsbury Subtropical Gardens are famous for cultivating plants with some of the largest leaves in Britain. The Savill Gardens in Windsor Great Park and Logan Botanic Garden in South West Scotland are also great places to see Gunnera manicata in its element.

For the lucky few – journalists, celebrities and royalty – the Chelsea Flower Show starts today. The rest of must wait until 8am tomorrow when the show opens to members of the Royal Horticultural Society. With the temperature due to remain in the high twenties, HRH The Queen will need her sunscreen when she gives the show her seal of approval this afternoon.

Back in the less rarified environs of Highgate, my outdoor thermometer is already reading 26 degrees and it’s only just time for elevenses. I have abandoned the already delayed task of planting out my sweet peas, so as not to stress them further. The goldfish are basking shamelessly in the warm water at the edge of the pond, between pots of marginal plants. A fat wood pigeon is sunning itself on the paving, taking a refreshing drink and observing me cautiously. Thankfully the sun will soon move around to the other side of the building, leaving us all in the cool shade again.

Our London garden, like me, very much designed for cooler conditions.

As soon as Chelsea approaches I feel the need to ensure both gardens are ship-shape and Bristol fashion (which, my overseas readers, is an English way of saying ‘sorted out’). Whilst neither could hold a candle to any of Chelsea’s show gardens, it’s a task which means I can feel slightly less inadequate when I walk Main Avenue tomorrow. Late May is the junction at which spring gives way to summer. Pots of tulips and daffodils have come to an emergency stop and perennials have their feet firmly on the accelerator, trying to escape the infamous Chelsea chop.

In London green still dominates, with tiny pops of white in the form of Hydrangea anomala subsp. petiolaris (climbing hydrangea), Galium odoratum (sweet woodruff), Digitalis purpurea ‘Alba’ (white foxglove) and Polemonium caeruleum var. lacteum (white Jacob’s ladder). Chelsea plant of the year in 2011, Anemone ‘White Swan’, is tantalisingly close to producing the first of its pure white flowers, each petal sporting a violet-blue band on its reverse. Incredibly, Tulipa ‘Greenland’ is still fighting on, having graced the garden with its green-tinged pink flowers for weeks. Alongside Primula japonica ‘Apple Blossom’, they were as pretty as a picture for the brief time their flowering season overlapped.

Still beautiful in old age, Tulipa ‘Greenland’ resting on a bed of Ophiopogon nigrescens

A plant which I have been meaning to applaud for months is Nemesia ‘Lady Vanilla’. At the time I bought them I thought £6.95 for a single annual bedding plant was a bit steep, but I was utterly seduced by the rich vanilla scent. A year on, every plant has come through the winter without once halting a cavalcade of fragrant white flowers. They are now smothered, as if it were August, filling the garden with amazing aroma all day. A plant I couldn’t recommend highly enough and which I will hopefully nurse through a few more winters.

Scent is so important in a small garden, especially when one’s only at home to appreciate it in the evening. From seed sown in early February, I now have large, vigorous plants of three sweet pea varieties which I am planting in new lead-effect planters. The first is ‘April in Paris’, an exceptionally scented variety with primrose-coloured flowers, edged deep lilac. Next is ‘Sir Jimmy Shand’, a white exhibition hybrid with a lilac ripple across the backs and edges of the petals. Offsetting these paler blooms will be ‘Just Jenny’ which has long stems of deep, violet-blue flowers. Trained against a wall, warmed by the sun until midday, they should grow tall and strong, but I will be keeping my eye out for mildew, whilst tying in and watering regularly.

In our coastal garden, summer has been in evidence for weeks. I have taken the sort of risks that would make a textbook author wince, planting tender perennials out from Easter onwards. So far the gamble has paid off, with summer pots looking full and climbing plants already eyeing up the eaves. Only my dahlias remained cosseted indoors, but now that we have guests staying almost every weekend the dining table has to return to its intended function. At 2ft tall and well-branched after lots of nipping out, I planted Dahlia ‘Karma Choc’, D. ‘Amercian Girl’ and D. ‘Jescot Julie’ outside in large terracotta pots at the weekend.

Ready for summer, our coastal garden this week

This year’s planting scheme is all about orange and the hots pinks and purples that flatter the colour so well. In the centre of the garden table is a pot filled with blue Felicia amelloides, fiery Nemesia ‘Trailing Orange’ (clearly the breeder had run out of ideas when naming this new seedling) and Begonia ‘Glowing Embers’. The latter had better get its skates on before it’s completely eclipsed by its neighbours.

Felicia amelloides, Nemesia ‘Trailing Orange’ and a glimpse of Begonia ‘Glowing Embers’.

Finally, and I doubt we’ll be seeing many of these at Chelsea, it’s been a fine growing season for Echium pininana. Hailing from La Palma in the Canary Islands, this splendid plant tolerates frost but does not look better for it, so demands a sheltered position in a mild garden. Other than that it’s not especially picky and seeds prolifically. This plant is now 12ft tall and counting, smothered in bumble bees and dazzling our visitors. I may sound a little smug, but rest assured this is a defensive position and by 8.30am tomorrow morning Chelsea will have roundly put me back in my place.

If you are visiting the show this year I hope to see you there; if not, I look forward to bringing you a glimpse of the world’s greatest flower show, right here at The Frustrated Gardener.

Tower of jewels and beacon for bumblebees, Echium pininana.

I was right about some things concerning this year’s Chelsea Flower Show; the weather was better; most designers defaulted to the tried and tested formula of multi-stemmed trees underplanted with tight-knit perennials; and Alan Titchmarsh’s garden was far from cutting edge – more of a blunt axe one might say.

However I was wrong about one thing, and that was The Telegraph Garden. Having suggested the garden might be a little suburban, I now have to eat my hat. I’d happily eat two if the designers Tommaso del Buono and Paul Gazerwitz asked me to, so far adrift was my assessment. Any similarity to a suburban garden ended with the rectangular-shaped plot, the rest was pure, carefully considered, contemporary genius.

Tommaso grew up in Florence, which explains something about the strength and structure of the duo’s second design for a Chelsea garden. References to the gardens of the Italian lakes and Renaissance palaces run throughout, without ever surfacing in an overt or crass way. Common limes (Tilia x europaea ‘Pallida’) are trained and pruned to create a tabletop of foliage, giving shade to the seating area and lemon trees arranged beneath. Then there is clipped box, not shaped like giant exercise balls, but soft, wide and flattened, like beautiful emerald pincushions. Another Mediterranean shrub Phillyrea angustifolia, which sports darker foliage than box, is clipped into similar forms along the boundary of the garden. Tuscan terracotta pots planted with Gardenia augusta ‘Florida’ welcome visitors entering from the side axis.

The designers’ choice of hard landscaping materials is also resolutely Italian. Half way down the garden the boundary is punctuated by a panel of nougat-coloured travertine limestone, characterised by its watermarked patterning. The brass band above the bench is a refined, glamorous, understated touch; it’s clever details like this that separate exceptional designers from the rest. I found myself completely in love with the white mesh chairs selected for the garden by Tommaso and Paul, designed by Eero Saarinen and Harry Bertoia in the 1950s and still in production today.

Behind the shady lime trees a second vertical panel, this time fashioned from grey-green, white-veined verde issorie marble from the Italian Alps, was turned into a water feature. Gardens of the Italian Renaissance celebrated, indeed flaunted water, and this was a nod to those extravagant statements of wealth, power and control over nature. The recessed band of brass was repeated here, adding sparkle and shine to the gently falling water.

It was the planting for me that most clearly demonstrated Tomasso and Paul’s restraint. There was an immaculate lawn which, despite being the pinnacle of ambition for many British gardeners, is barely ever seen at Chelsea these days. My Australian companion was dazzled; I was reminded of what an incredible backdrop a well maintained greensward can be for a good planting scheme. Let’s see more lawns at Chelsea next year please.

In yesterday’s diffused sunlight the planting sparkled. The colours the designers had chosen were those of gemstones – peridot, citrine, emerald, sapphire and opal – vital, saturated and so redolent of May. Thankfully there was no homogenous mix of wispy, meadowy things here, but the sort of generous clumps one would plant at home. Stand out plants were Iris ‘Jane Phillips’ (an absolute classic, below), acid-yellow Euphorbia ceratocarpa, royal-blue Anchusa azurea ‘Loddon Royalist’ and magenta Gladiolus byzantinus, rising above misty cloudy of Nigella damascena ‘Miss Jekyll’ and Foeniculum vulgare.

Paul Gazerwitz is quoted in The Telegraph as saying ‘There is always the temptation at Chelsea to show off and put in lots of stuff. We wanted to go for something simple, bold and punchy’. It was a good move which earned them a gold medal and had them firmly in contention for Best in Show. Sadly the pair missed out on that accolade to Luciano Giubbilei and Laurent Perrier, but to them I award my own prize for best show garden. Now, where are those hats…..?

Tommaso and Paul’s international design practice del Buono Gazerwitz Landscape Architecture is based in Shoreditch, east London.

In my next post I’ll be writing about my runner-up Chelsea show garden, The Garden for First Touch at St George’s by Patrick Collins.

Plant list

Trees

Tilia x europaea ‘Pallida’

Hedges

Laurus nobilis
Magnolia grandiflora

Topiary

Buxus sempervirens
Osmanthus x burkwoodii
Phillyrea angustifolia

Herbaceous plants

Amsonia tabernaemontana
Anchusa azurea ‘Loddon Royalist’
Borago officinalis
Camassia quamash
Campanula persicifolia
Cenolophium denudatum
Centaurea cyanus ‘Blue Boy’
Dianthus carthusianorum
Euphorbia ceratocarpa
Euphorbia palustris
Euphorbia amygdaloides var. robbiae
Euphorbia wallichii
Foeniculum vulgare
Geranium himalayense ‘Gravetye’
Gladiolus byzantinus
Hyssopus officinalis
Iris germanica ‘Blue Rhythm’
Iris germanica ‘Jane Philips’
Linum perenne
Lithodora diffusa ‘Heavenly Blue’
Nigella damascena ‘Miss Jekyll’
Phlox paniculata ‘Blue Paradise’
Sesleria autumnalis
Silene dioica
Veronica spp.
Viola cornuta ‘Belmont Blue’

Over the years the rock bank site at Chelsea has provided the setting for some of the show’s most exciting gardens. Last year it was occupied by The Australian Garden created by Flemings for Trailfinders, a stunning garden that will linger long in the memory and which marked their end of their eight year long association with the show.

Curiously for such a prominent location the rock bank has been carved in two this year, one half occupied by the kind of water features that mercifully most of us are unable to afford, the other by Patrick Collins’ design for charity First Touch. Being gently elevated towards the back, the plot offers its designer opportunities that Main Avenue does not. Philip has taken full advantage with a scheme composed of intricate terracing and falling water. Like The Telegraph Garden, which receives my ‘Best in Show’ accolade, Patrick eschewed prairie-esque planting and limpid pools for a design which I felt had genuine stand-out.

The garden is a celebration of the amazing work carried out by the neonatal unit at St George’s Hospital in Tooting, London, which cares for some of the sickest and most premature babies born in the South East. Patrick’s own daughter, Isabel, now 13, was born at 27 weeks and spent the first three months of her life in St George’s, so his commitment to this garden is a very personal one. First Touch is a charity which supports the hospital, raising money for vital equipment, specialist nurses and support for the families of sick babies. They have their own WordPress blog where you can find out more. Patrick’s design for the First Touch garden is symbolic of the strength and determination shown by premature babies and their families on their journeys, which can be long, distressing and painful.

The garden has two central features, the first an asymmetric flight of steps crafted from rust-coated steel (a finish repeated in several show gardens this year) and buff-coloured gravel. This is a lovely contrast, the sharp angles of the chestnut metal against the lightness of the stone. The tone of both materials is cleverly echoed in the papery bark of Chinese red birch, Betula albosinensis, its new foliage fluttering cool and luminous above the terraces. Without this dramatic juxtaposition the garden might have been dense and heavy, but both gravel and water reflect light pleasingly into all corners of the scheme.

A second key feature, the watercourse, starts its journey in the form of a narrow, dramatic waterfall almost hidden amongst foliage at the back of the plot. It makes its way through a series of stepped pools and small cascades to the front of the garden. This is intended to symbolise the difficult time families experience when a baby is born prematurely, followed by greater calm as the journey (hopefully a positive one) unfolds. The water’s course ends in a slightly larger pool where a pale, abstract sculpture in loosely human form marks the centre.

The plants that tumble down the banks of the stream could have come from my own garden - a typical waterside combination of astilbes, Hosta fortunei var. hyacinthina, ferns, irises, Tradescantia ‘Purwell Giant’ and Primula pulverulenta. Patrick’s contemporary use of these plants was a nice reminder of the country’s great stream-side gardens, such as those at Trengwainton, Cornwall and Harlow Carr, Yorkshire.

The other side of the terraced steps was devoted to lovers of drier, sunnier conditions such as thyme, Alchemilla mollis, Nepeta x fraassenii, Tulbaghia violacea, Armeria maritima and Erodium × variabile ‘Roseum’. Against the cool greens at the stream side, the sharp blues and candy pinks really popped.

This was a show garden that many gardeners might glean inspiration from. Sloping sites, either at the front or back of a house, are not easy to resolve. This treatment could be a great solution for a partly shaded situation, perhaps with the inclusion of a more extensive level space for entertaining and sitting out. If I had any criticism it would be that very little information about the garden and the idea behind it is given in the accompanying brochure, and that the plant list misses out several key plants, such as the astilbes, irises, dwarf pines and regal fern (Osmunda regalis). This oversight won’t have spoilt anyone’s appreciation of this charming garden, which gets my runner up award for Best in Show and my vote for People’s Choice.

(Patrick Collins is a landscape architect and garden designer. This is his sixth Chelsea garden, four of which won gold medals. Inexplicably, this scheme was only awarded a Silver Gilt medal.)

Despite the inevitable fuss over the show gardens, the highlight of my visit to Chelsea Flower Show is always the Great Pavilion. At 12,000 square metres, about the same size as two football pitches, it dominates the show ground. It’s here that many of the greatest nurserymen and horticultural organisations showcase their latest discoveries and cutting-edge projects; and they are not just from the UK, but as far afield as Japan, Grenada, Thailand and South Africa.

The standards are always incredibly high with 54 exhibits, more than half of those housed under the Pavilion’s taught tarpaulin, awarded gold medals this year. The stand-out result had to be that achieved by Hilliers, celebrating their 150th year in the nursery business. The family firm was awarded its 69th consecutive gold medal for its stunning display of trees, flowering shrubs and perennials around the central monument. Congratulations to them on their record-breaking achievement.

Hosta ‘Firn Line’, a new introduction for Brookfield Plants

The Hilliers exhibit features around 4,000 plants, so choosing just 10 from the show to feature in this post is a challenge. My selection this year is a little eclectic and reflects what caught my eye on the day rather than what’s new. So many of the plants launched at the show have that ‘trying too hard’ look about them, so I tend to steer well clear. There was a definite fashion for dark coloured flowers, not all of them attractive, and foxgloves abounded to the point of excess. None of them made into my list.

I love a good hosta; grown well there’s no foliage plant to rival its beauty and variety. Brookfields’ gold medal winning display caught my eye this year, brimming over with beasts as large as H. ‘Sum and Substance’ and H. ‘Empress Wu’ and as diminutive as H. ‘Cracker Crumbs’. A new introduction called H. ‘Firn Line’ was my favourite. Its striking heart-shaped foliage is blue-tinted with a broad cream margin which fades to white during the growing season. Lavender blooms (alas unscented) appear in midsummer, but are simply gilding the plantain lily.

Convallaria majalis ‘Verwood Golden Slippers’ from Avon Bulbs

Staying with the foliage theme for the moment, no-one could pass by the luminous lily of the valley, Convallaria majalis ‘Verwood Golden Slippers’ without lingering to admire its vitality. From Avon Bulbs, this is a plant that requires some patience to get going, but will reward you with startling golden leaves in early spring. Who would not wait with baited breath to see this emerge from the soil each year?

Rosa ‘Simple Peach’ from Harkness Roses

My Australian friend and I were both agreed that Britain’s rose breeders need a kick up the backside when it comes to staging their exhibits, which look increasingly old fashioned and uninspiring. Even David Austin Roses, which have done so much to move the industry forward, have not done anything exciting at Chelsea for years. Most of the new rose introductions were not worthy of my list, if indeed one could identify them at all. However Rosa ‘Simple Peach’ from Harkness Roses was undeniably pretty. The single flowers are attractive to bees, making it a great choice for anyone looking to encourage wildlife into their garden.

Mystery Zantedeschia

It’s generally considered something of a faux pas to make spelling errors on plant labels at Chelsea and this one did not go undetected. Not only was this lovely Zantedetia (sic) misspelt, but the variety, ‘Queen of Dominica’ also appears not to exist, in the UK at least. Despite its uncertain identity, I felt this lovely flamingo-coloured flower deserved a mention. If you are as taken by it as I am, Zantedeschia aethiopica ‘Marshmallow’ has a similar stature and colouring.

Leucospermum glabrum x tottum ‘Volkano’ from Trewidden Nursery

Before I move away from the coral theme, two plants shown by Claire and Jeff at Trewidden Nursery in Cornwall. Their meticulous display of hardy (ish) exotics earned them a well deserved gold medal, a brilliant achievement after the trials and tribulations of the wild winter they experienced in the South West. The first is Leucospermum glabrum x tottum ‘Volkano’, a spring flowering South African shrub which is best suited to coastal gardens, where it requires very little water or routine maintenance. The flower heads are nothing short of spectacular and earn it the common name ‘pincushion protea’.

Aloe polyphylla from Trewidden Nursery

Taking centre stage amongst a superb array of succulents was Aloe polyphylla, the spiral aloe, so called because of the way its leaves spiral out from the centre of the plant. Aloe polyphylla is endemic to the Kingdom of Lesotho in the Drakensberg mountains where it grows on high slopes and in rocky crevices. Summers here are cool, and in winter the plants might even be covered by snow. It is considered particularly tricky to grow, so hats off to Trewidden for coaxing this magnificent specimen into flower right on cue for Chelsea.

Celmsia semicordata from Kevock Garden Plants

One of my favourite exhibits at Chelsea is staged by Kevock Garden Plants from Midlothian, Scotland. This year’s island site provided new opportunities and as always the array of rare and interesting alpines was second to none. The stand-out plant for me, occupying centre stage, was a magnificent Celmsia semicordata, a plant hailing from New Zealand’s South Island. Here the Maoris used to peel the silvery underside from the leaves and attach it in rows to create a rain cape. The leaves were also packed into leggings and shin protectors for warmth and to guard against thorny plants. A plant as useful as it is beautiful.

Saxifraga ‘Brynhyfryd Hybrid’ from Kevock Garden Plants

Staying with Kevock for another of my top ten, this divine saxifrage, producing delicate veils of pure white flowers, is Saxifraga ‘Brynhyfryd Hybrid’. It was shown alongside another hybrid cultivated by Matthew Ruane at Brynhyfryd Nursery called S. ‘Nicholas’. Two wonderful plants for an alpine garden and just crying out to be admired.

Polygonatum stenanthum from Tale Valley Nursery

My big discovery at this year’s Chelsea was Tale Valley Nursery, a small specialist nursery in Devon offering a range of alpines, bulbs, herbaceous woodland plants and ferns. I was bowled over by the variety and quality of the display, which rightfully won proprietors Chris and Lorraine Birchall a gold medal. I noted down treasures such as Beesia calthifolia, Disporopsis ‘Min Shan’, Carex siderosticha ‘Shima-Nishiki’, Vancouveria hexandra, Coptis omiensis ….. I could go on but any more dribble on the laptop keyboard and it might fuse. I had to choose just one plant to feature in my top ten and that is Polygonatum stenanthum, a towering giant of a polgonatum that can grow up to 2m tall. Absolutely wonderful and a nursery I have a feeling I will be patronising in future.

Pelargonium ‘Australian Mystery’ from Fibrex Nurseries

Finally, and in honour of my fabulous friend and flower show companion ‘Helen of Oz’, a pelargonium named ‘Australian Mystery’. Unlike some other pelargoniums the flowers are simple and nicely spaced apart, the top petals stained and feathered berry red and the lower petals pure white. Shown by Fibrex Nurseries, this would make a super infill plant for borders after early bulbs and perennials have died down, or planted to cascade out of a pot or urn.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my somewhat random but considered selection from Chelsea’s finest. Do let me know which is your favourite or if, indeed, any turn you off completely.

Away from the hype and hubbub of Chelsea’s Main Avenue, two categories of show garden highlight the newest talent and the most innovative ideas in garden design. These are the Artisan and Fresh gardens. Many famous designers cut their teeth here, where the cost of staging a garden is less and the scope to push boundaries is greater. Some graduate to the big show gardens, whilst others are content to stay and play, year after year.

The Artisan Gardens, seven in all this year, are strung out along the shady length of the Serpentine Walk and are major attractions for showgoers. The smaller gardens here are intended to engage visitors with their artistic and naturalistic approach. They tend to be traditional, vernacular and less esoteric, designs with which British gardeners will feel instant empathy. If I have any beef it’s that there is a tendency for them to become overly twee; masterly recreations of traditional British gardens comprising stone walls encrusted with moss and packed with a riot of cottage garden flowers.

Breaking this stereotype for a new years has been Kazuyuki Ishihara, who with his incredible style, exuberance and attention to detail has fast become a Chelsea legend. Mr Ishihara is one of Japan’s best known landscape artists and gardening personalities. Maving mastered Ikenobo, the purest form of Ikebana (a Japanese style of floral arrangement), his tiny flower shop in Shianbashi Nagasaki became the highest grossing florist per square metre in Japan. In 2004, Mr Ishihara created his first garden at Chelsea where he won a silver gilt medal and then from 2005 to 2007 he won three consecutive golds. Not a bad start. Using flowers, greenery and traditional hard landscaping materials he continually expresses the Japanese spirit and identity through his work and this year won both a gold medal and the award for Best Artisan Garden. As always the composition of button mosses, acers and irises around a scaled-down tea house and water wheel was rendered impeccably, clearly guided by a gentleman who understands one of the world’s most precise forms of artistry.

A few gardens away, one of Mr Ishihara’s students, Shuko Noda, created his first ever Chelsea garden entitled ‘Arita’. He won silver gilt, just like his teacher ten years previously. The town of Arita in the Saga Prefecture is where Japanese Imari porcelain is made. This artisan craft was represented by ceramic spheres, tiles and bowls within the garden. In contrast to his tutor’s design, Mr Noda’s garden was consciously contemporary with an elegant modernist pavilion, pale stone paving and rolling swathes of moss. The planting was carefully contrived to echo the rich colours and natural imagery depicted on the porcelain’s smooth surface.

Lupinus ‘Noble Maiden’, Digitalis purpurea f. albiflora and Camassia leichtlinnii subsp. suksdorfii ‘Alba’ in The Topiarist’s Garden.

In complete contrast The Topiarist’s Garden, by Marylyn Abbott of West Green House, was a space designed for a theoretical gardener influenced by the tradition of ‘Topia Opera’ – or fancy gardening to you and I. What was so striking about this garden was the quality of the building or ‘bothy’, which looked as if it could have been sheltering below the trees of Ranelagh Gardens for hundreds of years. In fact it had been there for less than two weeks. The clever twist in Marylyn’s garden was that pots of bulbs, annuals and perennials could be placed within the framework of box hedges to create constantly evolving display. Balancing the need for structure and seasonal interest in a small garden is big challenge and this was an inspired way in which to achieve it.

Brooding, black water was not confined to the main show gardens and appeared as the focal point of the Tour de Yorkshire garden. This year the Tour de France has its Grand Départ in God’s Own County and Alistair Baldwin celebrated with a garden evocative of the moors over which the elite cyclists will toil. An elliptical pond fashioned from Corian, and looking rather too much like a very posh bathtub, had its surface broken by a discreet circle of tiny bubbles. In a nod to the prestigious event, the York stone wall at the back of the plot was adorned with bicycle wheels reclaimed from recycling centres around Yorkshire. Iris sibirica, which must have appeared in over a third of all show gardens, featured here alongside yew, ferns and thalictrums.

I will leave you tonight with this detail of a stepping stone, inspired by Nordic rune stones, part of the Viking Cruises Norse Artisan Garden.

There was such an extraordinary amount going on in May that I am now working through a draft post pile-up. In contrast to the scarcity of blogging fodder during the winter months, early summer offers incredibly bounty. I find myself spoilt for choice and with a backlog of fine subjects to share. Now that June is here, I can reflect on the marvellous Kentish gardens I visited during May – Saltwood Castle, Sissinghurst, The Salutation, Goodnestone Park and, last but not least, Sandling Park.

Open on just one Sunday each year in support of Pilgrim’s Hospices, Sandling’s ancient woodland is situated in a small area with acidic soil, a rarity in chalky East Kent. The garden that’s been created in this unique spot is lavishly planted with a collection of rhododendrons, camellias and azaleas which have been collected over the last hundred years or so. After a period of neglect, beginning in the 1960s and ending in the 1990s, the Hardy family have effected a very successful restoration; nothing too neat and tidy, but reopening pathways and clearing some of the most overgrown areas. Old rhododendron and azalea cultivars, many no longer available commercially, have been identified and labelled. New stock has been planted in the gaps created by the Great Storm of 1987 and in areas cleared of Rhododendron ponticum.

An unnamed double azalea with flowers in subtle shades of pink, amber and peach

Narrow streams cut into deep gullies drain the garden, each lined with its own unique shade of candelabra primula, ranging from pure white to cherry red. Osmunda, gunnera and polygonatum provide a supporting cast of foliage.

Primula japonica finds its feet in damp shade.

In a good year, when the weather is kind, Sandling’s deciduous azaleas steal the show with a display that’s nothing short of psychedelic. Flaming oranges and scorching pinks vie with zesty lemons and brilliant whites, creating a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour. This would be sufficient, but on top of the sizzling colour comes the unmistakable perfume of sun-warmed azalea flowers. It’s a scent I’d happily have under my nose every day.

Rhododendron ‘Orient’, an Exbury Hybrid introduced by Lionel de Rothschild in the late 1920s.

Deciduous azaleas originate from temperate areas of the world including Turkey, the USA, Japan and Taiwan. Most appreciate an acid soil and partial shade at the edge of woodland. Growing to around 1.5m in 10 years they are ideal shrubs for small garden. Prolific breeding means that there are varieties on offer which extend the flowering season from April through to early July. Autumn will see many deciduous azaleas produce colourful displays before the foliage drops. All azaleas are now officially classified as rhododendrons, but are still more commonly known by their original name. The identity of many of Sandling’s cultivars have been lost in time, although they lose nothing in their anonymity. I find it hard to choose favourites, but here are just a few of the garden’s specialities.

Rhododendron calendulaceum – commonly known as the flame azalea, and for good reason. The naked branches bear elegant scarlet flowers before new growth begins in spring. It flowers from May to June and has excellent autumn foliage colour.

Rhododendron ‘Mrs Oliver Slowcock’ – alas I can find no official description of this marvellously named variety, but it appears WC Slowcock was a nursery back in the 1960s. Clear tangerine flowers form shapely heads against a background of lime green foliage.

Rhododendron ‘Norma’ – a vibrant, sweetly scented rose-red double tinted with salmon and orange. Introduced in 1888.

Rhododendron ‘Favor Major’ – another stunner, and a parent of R. ‘Fireball’ which carries the RHS Award of Garden Merit. Flame red with an amber sheen to its petals.

Rhododendron ‘Cannon’s Double’ – more delicious than a knickerbocker glory, the flowers begin deep pink in bud, and opens light apricot and primrose with a reddish pink shading to the outer petals. It has excellent autumn foliage.

Rhododendron ‘Thisbe’ – I haven’t found any information about this lovely variety, which appears no longer to be available commercially. Shell pink flowers emerge from deep pink buds with the upper petals stained the colour of egg-yolk. Glorious.

Rhododendron ‘Corneille’ – vivid crimson buds open to reveal cherry blossom pink blooms which fade subtly with age. The flowers, which have the appearance of growing one inside the other, are described as ‘hose-in-hose’. A prettier shrub it’s hard to imagine.

Rhododendron narcissiflorum AGM – a nicely shaped shrub covered with sweetly scented, double flowers in May and June, followed by good autumn colour. At Sandling, carpets of pink saponaria grow beneath the spreading branches.

An unnamed azalea with white flowers stained golden yellow and blush pink petal edges. Rhododendron ‘Northern Hi-Lights’ is an Exbury type with similar colouration.

Rhododendron atlanticum ‘Seaboard’ – If all those fancy colours and fussy flowers are not for you, this is a perfect choice with flowers shaped like jasmine and a heavenly fragrance to match. Low growing and stoloniferous, so will slowly creep along the ground, rooting as it goes.

For an excellent selection of deciduous azaleas in the UK, try Chelsea gold medal winners Millais Nurseries in Surrey.

If you missed this year’s open day at Sandling Park, your next chance will be in May 2015.

Every so often a particular date throws up so many opportunities for merriment that one is spoilt for choice. The next such occasion is June 21st and 22nd, when two gardening events I’ve been hotly anticipating clash over one weekend. It wouldn’t be so bad, but they’re taking place in capital cities on either side of the English Channel.

Never one to be thwarted by such obstacles, I’ve devised a means of attending both, so am feeling very pleased with myself. Too much smugness means something is bound to go wrong!

On this side of the Channel, just on the other side of Hampstead Heath from our London home, preparations are already well underway for a shiny new gardening show. GROW London is a contemporary event which will be putting up shoots in leafy North London from June 20th to 22nd. It’s the brainchild of Will Ramsay, founder of the Affordable Art Fair, and is inspired by the sort of relaxed garden shows enjoyed on the continent. Billed as a boutique event (so often used as an excuse for being plain small) the main marquee on Hampstead Heath’s Lower Fairground site will bring together around 100 exhibitors selling plants, furniture and garden decoration. The whole shebang will be curated and dressed by floral designer Shane Connolly (a Royal Warrant holder no less) and there will be talks by horticultural grandees Chris Beardshaw, Val Bourne and James Alexander-Sinclair. The show will feature four ‘pocket gardens’ offering ideas for small urban spaces and naturally there will be necessities such as a plant creche, licensed bar and posh eats.

Despite landing in one of the leafiest and most affluent parts of the city, GROW London is aimed at all urbanites with a love of gardens and gardening. And quite unlike Chelsea, which positively basks in its elitism, the show is founded on egalitarian principles – compare the £68 price tag for a Chelsea ticket with just £10 for a day at GROW London. Let’s hope Will’s idea takes root and becomes as successful as his art fairs.

As we are leaving for our other engagement on the morning the show opens, I’ve treated Him Indoors and myself to tickets for the charity preview in aid of the Garden Museum on June 19th. I am calling it a treat, Him Indoors will pretend to grin and bear it, but will secretly enjoy every minute.

If this has whetted your appetite, visit GROW London’s website to book tickets and find out more.

The weekend’s main event, which has been inked in my diary for months, is Amsterdam’s Open Garden Weekend, or Open Tuinen Dagen in Dutch. Each year, over the third weekend in June, more than twenty five of the city’s garden owners open their private outdoor spaces to the public. For 2014 the theme of the weekend is ‘Utility and Pleasure’. This reflects the period when most of the city’s gardens were designed, in the 17th century, when their purpose was principally to provide food for the household. Old maps show orchards, vegetable and herb gardens in place of what later became ornamental pleasure grounds. Across Europe the ‘grow your own’ trend means that many of Amsterdam’s gardeners are once again turning their attention to fruit, vegetable and herb growing.

Four of the gardens belong to museums, a handful to smart hotels and the others to private individuals content to have the general public traipsing in and out through their homes to access their secluded courtyards. Many follow the formal canal garden style, comprising clipped box hedges flanked by hostas, ferns, geraniums, roses and hydrangeas. The gardens were originally designed in this way to be admired from the first floor, where the wealthy families of Amsterdam had their main reception rooms.

For the princely sum of fifteen Euros a single ticket can be purchased giving access to the gardens over a three day period. As one would expect in Amsterdam there are push bikes to transport the more energectic along the canalsides between the various properties. Personally I like the idea of being able to meander at will, revisiting gardens at different times of day to see the light changing and avoid the crowds. All participating gardens are open every day from 10 am to 5 pm.

Find out more on the Open Gardens Weekend website and check back at the end of the month for a full report.

Garden of the Museum van Loon, Amsterdam

This weekend over five hundred gardens participating in the National Gardens Scheme opened their gates to raise money for nursing and caring charities, including Macmillan Cancer Support, Marie Curie Cancer Care and Carers Trust. One of those was Trevoole Farm, Cornwall, fast becoming my adopted home in the South West. I was there to help out and to see my sister and new baby niece Martha, who is the sweetest girl in all the world. Here she is with her very proud uncle.

Trevoole is much more than just a garden. The popular summerhouse café and vintage shop has recently been joined by ‘The Glasshouse’ (above), a brand new catering venue, and an atmospheric Persephone bookshop, about which more very soon. The farm already has a loyal following among local people, attracting creative types and those in search of peace and quiet. The festival weekend attracted new visitors of all ages, some of whom are unable to experience Trevoole during normal Thursday and Friday openings.

The garden itself was in fine fettle, a riot of roses, irises, hesperis, ferns and foxgloves. The primrose border, which I planted back in early April, is already prospering and I was able to fill in a few gaps. From the local car boot sale I purchased some fine Astelia chathamica, Digitalis parviflora ‘Milk Chocolate’, Digitalis ‘Dalmatian Cream’ and Campanula punctata ‘Wedding Bells’ which were less than half the garden centre price. In time, a handsome climbing Hydrangea seemanii will cloth the honey-coloured walls with glossy evergreen foliage. The idea is to restrict to palette of plants to greens, coppers, yellows and whites to create a restful space outside the carthouse. Many plants, such as the sweet box, daphne, violets and feverfew, are nicely scented.

The carthouse itself (below) now has a dual function as a space for textile art workshops and as a bookshop. The roof will eventually be tiled, but for now is covered with corrugated iron which drums wonderfully when it rains. A feature has been made of the ephemeral stream which drains the garden after heavy rain. It flows between the carthouse and the library and progresses along the edge of the primrose border, providing it with the right conditions for Zantedeschia aethiopica and Primula bulleyana.

The striking yellow and white Dutch irises (Iris hollandica ‘Apollo’, above), were begging to be photographed, so naturally I had to oblige. Yellows are sometimes tricky to capture, but these came out pretty well.

Trevoole is littered with such cameos and this is one of the reasons why I feel so privileged to stay there and enjoy the garden out of hours. During the early mornings and evenings the light is sharp and beautiful, permitting studies like this one, of vintage garden equipment nestled amongst ferns.

The highlight of this visit was the discovery of not one, but two varieties of orchid in the meadow. The first, with pale pink speckled flowers, was without doubt the heath spotted orchid, Dactylorhiza maculata. The other, pictured below, has proved trickier to identify. It has narrow, unspotted leaves and magenta flowers the colour of loosestrife. I think this identifies it as the northern marsh orchid, Dactylorhiza purpurella, or a hybrid between a northern marsh orchid and a heath spotted orchid. Should anyone know better, I’d be delighted to know.

The garden festival weekend was a great success. Visitors showed genuine delight in experiencing this special place and were wonderful to talk to, many sharing memories of places like Trevoole which they knew as children. It’s great to think that across the country so many people were able to experience usually private gardens whilst supporting deserving charities.

Trevoole is open every Thursday and Friday from now until Christmas. Keep an eye out on Trevoole’s Facebook page for details of gardening and craft events, and for ‘happenings’ in The Glasshouse. I for one will be returning as soon as I can.

Finally, a plug for my my own garden, The Watch House, Broadstairs, Kent, which is open for the National Gardens Scheme on August 2nd and 3rd, 12 until 4pm.

In case you haven’t noticed I am a sucker for anything colourful, exotic and expensive looking. This goes for food, cocktails, shirts, wallpaper and yes, plants too. I am a dreadful magpie, unable to resist the lure of anything bright or shiny. Hence it’s no wonder that the flame-like flowers of Lotus berthelotii, otherwise known as parrot’s beak, caught my attention when I last visited Sissinghurst. Here it cascaded nonchalantly from a tall terracotta pot, its cool silver-grey foliage set alight by hundreds of orange and red ‘flames’.

Parrot’s beak (left of the door) blends in with the other hot colours in Sissinghurst’s Cottage Garden.

In common with several plants that grace our coastal garden, Lotus berthelotii is a perennial endemic to the Canary Islands. In its native habitat it has been considered extinct for around 130 years, yet it persists in horticulture because of its dazzling looks and relative ease of cultivation. Sissinghurst’s cottage garden offers Lotus berthelotii the perfect conditions – bright sunlight, sharp drainage and an opportunity to trail; it will traverse a couple of metres if given the opportunity. Despite its name it has absolutely no relationship with the tropical, water-dwelling lotuses. Nor is it attractive to parrots, although it was pollinated by sunbirds before they were also erradicated from the Canaries.

Over the years my garden has lost most of the sun-drenched spots it began with, but having reacquainted myself with Lotus berthelotii I am tempted to find it a home, perhaps in a pot or tumbling from the shelves of our outdoor kitchen. There I can appreciate its colourful, exotic and expensive looking flowers whilst sipping a Mai Tai and wearing a floral shirt. There’s no cure for this particular magpie.

Lotus berthelotii is widely available from garden centres as a hanging basket or container plant in spring and summer.

Nestled in a broad, fertile valley cutting a swathe through East Kent, Elham is the very essence of England. During W.W.II Sir Anthony Eden lived in a house outside the village and Audrey Hepburn attended school here. The settlement has a long history beginning in the Neolithic period, but is defined by its fine Tudor and Stuart architecture. Elham Manor, pictured below, dates back to 1387 but was significantly altered in the 16th century. Building regulations relating to foundations were a little different then, but the manor still sits proudly atop Cullings Hill, looking out over the village to the countryside beyond.

Our destination for lunch, The Abbot’s Fireside, was built much later than the manor in 1641 and is reputed to have been the headquarters of the Duke of Wellington during a period when there was threat from Napoleonic invasion. The magnificent St Mary’s church dates from about 1200, when Elham was one of the most important and wealthy villages in the area.

As befits a village endowed with so much history and charm, Elham has a thriving community and an active gardening society. This weekend nine gardens opened for the National Gardens Scheme, offering visitors a glimpse of the glories behind Elham’s buildings, old and new. There was none of the fuss or commercialism seen in frequently opened gardens, just displays of good honest horticulture and enthusiastic owners keen to share their experiences with like minded people.

The official tour began, funnily enough, with property number one, Manor House Cottage, in The Row (at the top of the map above). This was one of the smallest gardens on the circuit, but full of inspiration, especially for keen vegetable growers. Vigorous rows of sweet peas scented the air alongside their culinary cousins.

Nothing beats the smell of a well kept greenhouse, especially when it’s sheltering a crop of tomatoes. Small pots of basil and marigolds added a lovely piquancy to the air, but were mainly present to deter pests. I could have stayed in there all day.

Garden number two, a short walk away at the bottom of the valley, boasted two ponds; one generously stocked with goldfish and the other designed for attracting wildlife. Owners Janice and John Cooper have had a big job on their hands this spring after their garden was flooded by the Nailbourne during January and February. They have been busy replanting with roses, fuchsias and herbs, which complement their pretty weatherboarded bungalow.

Retracing our steps through Elham’s main square (granted a market by Edward I in 1251), we found our way to Springfields in Duck Street. This was one of those utterly immaculate gardens which draw gasps of admiration from visitors. There were some very choice roses, hostas and acers to admire, as well as a pond and small vegetable plot. My friends’ sons appreciated the range of children’s toys on the patio, especially the Hello Kitty bicycle with its blaring horn.

Elham’s railway line linking the village to Canterbury and the coast closed in 1947, releasing land for building new homes. The lovely garden at 3, Station Mews hovers above the Nailbourne on land close to the old tracks. The garden escaped flooding this year, although properties on the other side of the stream were less fortunate. Owners Pauline and Barry Flanagan have packed in an extraordinary number of plants (gardeners after my own heart), especially roses and clematis. I particularly loved the quiet seating area they’ve created on a deck above the stream.

Just around the corner, Sleepers Cottage had the largest garden on the tour and was one of my favourites. At the end of a row of newer houses built on the former railway’s sidings, the smart red brick cottage has unbroken views of the countryside and the church. This is the kind of house I could happily aspire to live in one day. Owners Carole and David Kincaid clearly enjoy sport as they have a fine grass tennis court and putting green. Chickens peck around in the garden’s pretty meadow, which has a secluded corner devoted to bee hives.

At the back of the cottage a lovely seating area was surrounded by roses and vines. The unusual ‘spoke’ design of the garden furniture was perfect for the setting.

Down one side of the garden a long border full of vegetables and flowers for cutting was planted in diagonal rows. There were alstromerias, delphiniums and sweet williams in abundance, perfect for flower arranging.

A short walk brought us to Hog Green, a road lined by modern bungalows each sporting wonderfully neat front gardens. At number 25 the riot of fragrant roses and sweet williams gave us a hint of the class act that lay behind. John and Hilary Mitchell have created a very special garden here, with a pristine lawn, curving paths and choice planting. Every corner offered something new to admire and the way the plants were combined confirmed that the owners knew their stuff.

As at Sleepers Cottage, the views out to the countryside are priceless and The Mitchells have taken full advantage of the borrowed landscape. Just four years ago the garden was a bland patch of concrete and lawn, so the change they have effected is all the more admirable. Immediately outside the back door there are pots of annuals and tomatoes, giving way to a generous herb garden. Alpines, including erodiums and sisyrinchiums, bask in gravel between paving stones. The pot in the foreground of the photograph below was crammed with petunias in lemon yellow and velvety black, planted around a sunny yellow osteospermum.

My favourite plant combination in the garden was Digitalis parviflora planted beneath Rosa ‘Lady Emma Hamilton’.

It was less than twenty paces to garden number 7, across the road at 1 Hog Green. Here Hugh Buckhurst has created a small garden with huge variety. There’s a wildflower meadow, rose arbour, vegetable garden, wildlife pond and new stepping stone garden.

With every twist and turn in the garden’s winding paths there’s an amusing sculpture to be found. Hugh told me that this particular Hog (or rocking ham!) is called Deirdre. Made of paper maché and coated with fibreglass she is able to remain in her sty all year round. Your won’t see one of these in a National Trust garden!

At the rear of the bungalow a quieter area has another sculpture made from organ pipes, and a water feature engineered from old zinc bathtubs. No corner of the garden, which wrapped around the house on three sides, was left untended.

Running out of time we sadly had to skip garden number 8, the village allotments, to get to Church Cottage. This turned out to be my favourite garden of all. Sheltering beneath the hulk of the church, the tiny dwelling was surrounded by a garden of great quality and plantsmanship. Varied levels, clever screening and running water created interest and variety, giving the illusion of a much larger plot. Maggie Newington talked to me about the challenges of keeping such a small garden; what to do when plants outgrow their space and where to squeeze in new acquisitions. It’s a constant juggling act, but Maggie and her husband Richard seem to know how to keep all their balls in the air.

A gift from garden number one, Manor House Cottage, an enviable clump of Madeiran orchids (Dactylorhiza foliosa) was a real showstopper. They are so prolific that Maggie has enough to fill a large terracotta pot as well as an open space in the garden.

It’s through the generosity of garden owners such as Elham’s that the NGS is able to raise so much money for charity. At the same time, enthusiasts such myself are able to gain inspiration from gardens of all shapes, sizes and styles: gardens that you’d never find in a fancy book or magazine. Like Elham and its glorious valley, these gardens are the very essence of England and why our reputation as a nation of gardeners endures.

Find out more about Elham, it’s history and community here.

They say a change is as good as a rest. Normally I’d agree with that, but the amount of turmoil we’ve had through June has left me not so much in need of a rest but intensive care.

It would not have been so bad had it not been for the silly amount I’ve been packing in. A combination of work trips, family visits, socials and domestic chores, ontop of garden projects, has drained every last drop of energy. Even Him Indoors is looking a little lacklustre.

Campanula punctata ‘Pink Octopus’

This weekend we’re looking forward to some much needed TLC and togetherness when we flit over to Amsterdam for the city’s open gardens weekend. Before that, here’s a brief update on the three projects that I first posted about in March.

From this….

Down at Trevoole the new primrose border has settled down satisfyingly well. I planted it over a couple of days during early April in a shaded area which was formerly lawn, so the main invasion has been from grass seedlings. These are pleasingly easy to wheedle out. I left gaps in the planting, partly on purpose, so that there would be opportunities to adjust the scheme and fill any intervals in flowering.

My main routes for acquiring plants have been car boot sales and online nurseries. My experience with Crocus.co.uk was pretty good all round. The plants were a little small on arrival but have grown away vigorously. Car boot sales are pure pot luck, but West Cornwall is blessed with some good ones. On my last early morning visit to Hayle rugby ground (any later than 8am and the bargains have all gone), I bagged three Digitalis parviflora ‘Milk Chocolate’, three Campanula punctata ‘Wedding Bells’, a couple of ‘ansome Astelia nervosa (a snip at a fiver) and an Hydrangea seemanii, a plant you don’t really expect to find hanging out of the back of a transit van.

To this….

Other spaces have been filled with sweeps of Primula bulleyana, seedlings from Trevoole’s pretty bog garden. They will throw up burnished amber candelabras next year, continuing the gold, silver and copper theme we’ve chosen for the border. There are still a few vacant spots which will be held back for autumn flowering plants, and perhaps a couple more evergreens. Spring bulbs will be added when we visit in September

In Broadstairs, whilst the garden is greener and lusher than I can ever recall (I am crediting the potent agapanthus food I bought at Chelsea), the house itself is in desperate need of TLC. Nothing can happen now until our NGS open day is over, so the flaking paintwork will have to wait. Meanwhile the outdoor kitchen has been spruced up and I have invested in new garden furniture. The table, a pivotal feature in the garden, has been upgraded from a six to an eight seater, fashioned from reclaimed teak. It weights a stonking 70kg and that’s when it’s dry. The wood smells wonderful and has lots of quirks where patches in the old timber have been filled with smaller offcuts. In the fullness of time it will weather to silver grey, but for now I am happy to enjoy the warm peachy tones of the newly planed surfaces.

Finding chairs to complement the table was challenging, but in the end we agreed on beige ‘Air’ chairs made by Magis (available, like the ‘Vernet’ table, from John Lewis). I briefly regretted not choosing the same chairs in white, but then a seagull delivered a timely reminder why practicality must come first. The chairs fit neatly under the table and create much more circulation space than the bench and carver chairs that they replace.

From this….

Our final project this year, the London garden, took a new twist when we decided to bite the bullet and replace a rotten deck with raised beds. At 3ft deep these will ultimately give us the space to grow vegetables, which has never been a possibility on our rock hard, wafer thin clay. We will wait a few weeks before filling with a rich mixture of topsoil and Dalefoot double-strength wool compost, then get growing.

To this….

The builders have been very professional, which is nothing short of a miracle in London, but there have inevitably been casualties. I reflect on what the garden looked like in March, bare and virtually leafless, and remind myself that these are only plants and can be replaced in no time.

From this….

So, a busy spring, fast morphing into summer. Time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of our labours with a chilled glass of wine, or three.

What was your biggest gardening achievement this spring, and how will you relax this summer?

To this….

There are no front gardens in old Amsterdam. Instead, householders adorn their doorsteps with potted plants, or grow roses and ivy through gaps in the pavement. Ever the opportunists, hollyhocks also get in on the act, seeding themselves and then rocketing up between cobbles wherever they may. They dart between railings and through bicycle wheels, flaunting their crepe-paper flowers in shades of buttermilk, sorbet pink and rose.

We should plant more hollyhocks at home; I had forgotten what fabulous, gregarious flowers they are. I hope you enjoy them too.

We all know Amsterdam as a city arranged along tree-lined canals. Some are fronted with fine houses, others modest ones, but all share similar characteristics – lofty edifices, punctuated by vast windows and topped by fanciful gables. Less well known are the gardens, which linger in the long shadows of the buildings to which they belong. On one weekend each year, twenty nine of these hidden gardens, many of which belong to private individuals, fling open their heavy doors to the public. Whilst the gardens may be secret, the open days certainly are not. Visitors clutching their bright green passepartouts throng the quays of the three main canals where most of the gardens are to be found.

The imposing garden house at Keizersgracht 173 is no deeper than a kitchen cupboard

In the 17th century, Amsterdam’s gardens were productive ones, devoted to the cultivation of vegetables and fruit trees. Enlightened legislation ensured that only a certain proportion of each new canal-side plot could be built on. As the city’s elite grew in wealth they acquired country estates which were better suited to providing food for their household. Town houses were principally occupied during the winter months and their gardens became ornamental; structured spaces to be appreciated from the comfort of indoors. Originality was not considered a virtue at the time and city plans of 17th century Amsterdam show remarkably similar layouts repeated from property to property.

Garden of the Museum Geelvinck, Amsterdam, June 2014

Pools and water features are relatively recent additions to most Dutch gardens

By the mid 18th century, early formal styles had given way to the English fashion for ‘landscape’ gardens, characterised by serpentine paths, lawns and majestic trees. Grander households constructed fine summerhouses, guest lodges and stables at the end of their plots, often giving them the appearance of much grander buildings. The best example of this can be seen at the Museum Van Loon, a double-fronted townhouse, still partly occupied the Van Loon family, where the coach house and stables were disguised as an ornate villa. The gardens here, having been much simpler at the turn of the 19th century, have been returned to 17th century formality. The roses in the radiating beds are Rosa ‘Gruss an Aachen’.

The grandiose garden of the Museum Van Loon with it’s stately coach house and towering copper beech

Nearby, another of Amsterdam’s most distinguished and cultured couples, the Wilett-Holthuysens, created a typically baroque garden bounded by pleached limes. All the gardens of this period were designed to be appreciated from the first floor (or bel étage) where the family had their most elegant reception rooms. The result is impressive at a glance but not especially engaging to stroll around. Control, rather than exuberance, was the order of the day.

Reconstruction of the parterres de broderie at Museum Willet-Holthuysen

At the Museum Geelvinck on Herengracht the garden has two very different moods. The plot immediately to the rear of the glamorous mansion has been returned to elegant formality, sporting a long pool and fountain designed in 1991 by Robert Broekema. The area to the rear of the coach house, which fronts Keizersgracht, has a very different feel; a shady refuge composed of diamond-shaped box-edged beds filled with hostas, geraniums and more roses.

A formal garden designed by Robert Broekema in 1991 for the Museum Geelvinck

The garden specialises in roses and has a fine collection of hybrids old and new. I was especially taken with a climber named Rosa ‘Citronella’, which has sweetly scented flowers not the least reminiscent of citrus. A good selection of heritage roses was offered by Belle Époque Roses of Aalsmeer.

The pale yellow single flowers of Rosa 'Citronella' contrast well with the yellow stamens

The pale yellow single flowers of Rosa ‘Citronella’ contrast well with the golden stamens

Ships registered in Amsterdam sailed around the world bringing back goods from the Dutch colonies. As in England, the city’s gardens soon brimmed with exotica from the furthest corners of the globe. Quite what happened to Amsterdammers’ enthusiasm for the rare and unusual I am not sure. Today’s town gardens for the most part adhere to the same palette of hydrangeas, hostas, philadelphus, ivies, camellias and box, with the odd plume of aruncus or shower of blue campanulas to brighten the composition. Some of this is born out of necessity. Gardeners have had to seek out plants that will tolerate the dry shade created by vast trees that their predecessors planted in pursuit of the landscape idyll. It’s an issue experienced across the city as copper beeches, horse chestnuts, oaks and elms reach maturity. From above, Amsterdam’s gardens appear almost wooded, a far cry from their tightly corseted origins. Despite the constraints of shade, with which I sympathise, I was surprised at the lack of variety and experimentation with plants, which is in stark contrast to English gardens. Perhaps something of the 17th century resistance to uniqueness lingers on in 21st century Dutch gardeners.

Detail of the garden at Singel 124, Amsterdam, June 2014

A classic combination of hydrangeas, hostas, geraniums and campanulas

Several of the gardens on the tour have been laid out within the last decade. They tend to make better use of hard landscaping to form seating areas, especially in areas of the garden that catch the sun. This would have been a horrifying concept for the residents of old Amsterdam, who looked for every opportunity to protect their noble skin from the sun. Brick paviours are most commonly used, a narrow profile allowing for refined curves and patterns to be created. This gave me a few ideas for our garden in London where this treatment would be perfect.

Only three years old, the garden at Singel 124 was carefully designed to make the most of the very narrow site

Only three years old, the garden at Singel 124 was carefully designed to make the most of a narrow site

Constructed in 1996, the garden at Herengracht 68 replaced a vast warehouse constructed after WWII

The garden at Amstel 216 appears modern, but struck me as a contemporary take on traditional Dutch style, incorporating many features that would have been familiar to earlier inhabitants. A guest lodge-cum-office simply breathes new life into the idea of an ornamental building to admire from the main house. An armillary sphere sundial, de rigeur in the 17th century, occupies an open part of the garden and acts as a focal point. It’s mirrored on the other side by a fine sculpture of a horse. Not visible in the picture below are two juvenile trees, a copper beech and a tulip tree, continuing the English landscape garden tradition of planting trees which will ultimately outgrow their welcome. The use of dog woods was the only deviation from the tried and tested palette of hydrangeas, hostas, box and geraniums. Curiously for such a watery city, pools and water features are a relatively new development in Amsterdam and would not have appeared in early garden designs. The Netherlands have a complex relationship with water, it having enabled immense power and encouraged the rats which transmitted the dreaded plague. Hence stagnant water was rarely welcome in the city of old. Other new features in this carefully composed garden are the bicycle shelters, secreted behind blocks of yew hedging so that they cannot be seen from the house.

A sober composition of water, paving and symmetrical planting at Amstel 216

Amsterdam’s open garden weekend is a unique opportunity, not only to visit some very special gardens, but also to delve into the city’s fascinating history. For small gardeners a glimpse of these shady, often overlooked gardens reveals a host of clever ideas for maximising the appeal of a small space. I for one came away inspired by the owners’ ingenuity and encouraged to keep experimenting with our own shady, awkward city garden. Practicalities Most of the open gardens are situated on Amsterdam’s three encircling canals, the Herengracht, Keizersgracht and Prinsengracht. Walking between them is easy, although bicycles are always an option in Amsterdam. A passepartout which gives access to all the gardens can be be purchased for €15 from four key gardens, including Museum Van Loon and Amnesty International. Be mindful that some of the gardens are accessed via low doorways and worn stairs and mind your step. To see all the gardens in one day requires something of a route march, so I’d recommend spreading them over two or three days, noting that one or two do not open on all three days. We found Sunday to be the quietest day, and Saturday by far the busiest. Many gardens offer refreshments, ranging a glass of wine to sandwiches and homemade apple cake. Also worth a look, but not part of the open weekend, is the Hortus, Amsterdam’s historic botanical garden. The 2015 garden open days will be June 19, 20 and 21. Click here for more details For a more in depth history of Amsterdam’s fascinating canal house gardens, track down ‘Canal House Gardens of Amsterdam, The Hidden Green of the City’ by Saskia Albrecht and Tonko Grever.

Blooming Bosvigo

Kentish Belles

A Green Moment

Spring comes to Saltwood

Plant Portraits: Dicksonia antartica

Happy Hostas

Plants in Detail – Gunnera manicata AGM

Where to see

Anticipation

Chelsea Flower Show 2014 – Stars of the Show: The Telegraph Garden

Plant list

Trees

Hedges

Topiary

Herbaceous plants

Chelsea Flower Show 2014 – Stars of the Show: A Garden for First Touch at St George’s

Chelsea Flower Show 2014 – My Top 10 Plants

Chelsea Flower Show 2014: Artisan Gardens

Great Balls of Fire – Sandling Park in May

London Grows, Amsterdam Shows

Trevoole Farm – National Gardens Festival Weekend 2014

Daily Flower Candy: Lotus berthelotii

Elham NGS Open Gardens

All Change!

Hollyhocks from Holland

Amsterdam Open Gardens Weekend 2014