I have a new favourite lily and it’s called ‘Pink Flavour’. The bulbs were an impulse, end of season purchase from Sarah Raven and I didn’t have a place for them, so into a pot they went.  Within weeks the flower spikes emerged, growing nice and evenly, the foliage subtly tinted bronze. Arriving home late last night the flowers had opened so I was excited to see what they looked like in daylight. The colour is hard to describe; a burnished, sophisticated coral-pink rather than the candy shade the name suggests.

An Asiatic type lily, ‘Pink Flavour’ has elegantly placed, downward facing flowers

I am pleasantly surprised how well the flowers tone with the deep purple foliage of Eucomis ‘Sparkling Burgundy’ and Aeonium ‘Zwartkop’, picking up reddish tones in the stems of gingers and begonias too. For those who detest the scent of lilies (how could you?) ‘Pink Flavour’ is a great choice; the blooms have only the faintest fragrance. L. ‘Pink Flavour’ is one of the first lilies to open in the garden this year, offering a welcome taste of summer. I think this one will be a keeper.

Lilium ‘Pink Flavour’ is available mail order from Sarah Raven (in season) and Hart’s Nursery, Cheshire.

A taste of summer, Lilium ‘Pink Flavour’

Joyful and life affirming is how I’d describe the garden at Old Bladbean Stud. Hidden among the labyrinthine lanes of South East Kent, owner Carol Bruce has created a garden of great substance from a site that was utterly derelict as recently as 2003. It’s a rarity these days to come across a new, large garden created by a private individual, and all the more compelling when you discover that Carol has no horticultural training and maintains the whole place single-handed. Having gardeners would be ‘like buying a jigsaw puzzle and then hiring someone to do the puzzle for me” remarks Carol in the garden’s new guide book. Old Bladbean Stud is testament to what can be done with a little grit, determination and imagination. I came away feeling genuinely encouraged and at the same time slightly humbled by her achievement.

Up the garden path, a view through the patte d’oie layout of the rose garden

Of course, a garden on this scale (three acres) does not come cheap and Carol is candid about the total cost of her project: about £100,000. However when one reflects on what this might equate to in property or even cars, it’s lot of bang for your buck. Spread out over ten years, it’s probably less than some people (ahem) spend on clothes in a year. Best leave the comparisons there!

A lovely combination of Astrantia major with Hydrangea arborescens and Allium christophii

A tour of the garden begins in an unprepossessing gravelled yard, where Carol sits in the cool shade of a tree, welcoming visitors. Passing through a brick arch, the experience is how I’d imagine entering Narnia’s summer counterpart. Immediately one is immersed in a maelstrom of scent, movement, texture and colour. Crowds of spikey allium heads carpet the ground beneath robust, lusciously scented roses; campanulas and delphiniums shoot up like rockets in the spaces between the bushes; and verbascums, eryngiums and geraniums flood any gaps that their compatriots have left. Like Narnia, the scene represents what is for many of us a fantasy, a dream of what an English garden should look and feel like.

Biennial sea holly, Eryngium giganteum, mingles with roses and white geraniums

The plot’s unusual shape calls for some interesting transitions. What could be an awkward, curving lawn, named Lamby’s walk, is afforded a focal point in the form of a life-sized Irish Wolfhound sculpture. The grassy walk leads visitors from the rose garden to the most ambitious of Old Bladbean Stud’s features, the double mirrored borders. How many people in this day and age have the vision and guts to create parallel herbaceous borders 300ft long by 60ft wide? Not many. The planting is superb, even following a spell this winter when large sections were submerged in water for over six weeks.

The planting in the 300ft long borders is mirrored in two planes, designed to reflect the colours of the sky

There are two lines of symmetry in the planting, one running down the length of the lawn and the other across the middle, meaning that every plant grouping appears four times. The architecture of the borders is important as it bears little relation to the house or any other anchor point. Handsome stone benches provide a spectacular vantage point at either end of the lawn, whilst obelisks create height, rhythm and accentuate the symmetry of the planting. Carol has chosen flowers which echo the colours of the sky, creating a third line of symmetry. Naturally in borders of such immense scale, planting blocks are substantial and there is room for beasts like Crambe maritima, Campanula lactiflora, Macleya cordata, Cynara cardunculus and Eryngium yuccifolium. Not denying the frequent greyness of British skies, Carol has made abundant use of silver leaved plants such as Artemesia ludoviciana ‘Silver Queen’.

Eryngium yuccifolium, known locally in the USA as rattlesnake master

A long gravel path shaded by Magnolia x loebneri ‘Leonard Messel’ guides visitors to the enviable kitchen garden, itself 330ft long. Carol describes it as a ‘crop rotation conveyor belt’ and has positioned taps and compost bins along its length the reduce the amount of plodding up and down required. The soft fruit was at its peak this weekend; blackcurrants, redcurrants, raspberries and strawberries all sweet, jewel-like and begging to be harvested. Of course we restrained ourselves, but it was tough!

Ripening berries against the wall which divides the double mirrored borders from the kitchen garden

Closer to the house, which unusually has very little relationship with the garden, lies the pastels garden. This enclosed square space is so called because of the way Carol has arranged the pale colours to blur into one another, like an artists pastels. To the left of the photograph below, the cloud of pale pink is composed of Campanula lactiflora (perhaps ‘Loddon Anna’?) and a pale pink delphinium of exactly the same shade.

The greenhouse, rising from its own gravel peninsula, lies on one edge of the pastels garden

The yellow garden was one of the very first areas Carol tackled, and was intended as a place to sit, eat, read the paper, shell seeds and brush her dog. It now provides a beautiful setting for a refreshing cuppa and is slowly morphing into a tea garden. The rose varieties are predominantly hybrid musks and David Austin hybrids mixed with white flowered albas. Other plants include sissyrinchiums, aquilegias, geraniums and Digitalis lutea.

White geraniums, yellow aquilegias and cream roses in abundance in the the yellow garden

The garden was exuberant when we visited in late June, filled with bloom, alive with bees and heady with scent, but this stud is far from a one trick pony. Carol has planned her planting schemes to provide a long season of interest, extending from April to October. She recommends the peak time for the double mirrored borders and pastels garden is August and September, demanding a return visit. Despite its off-beat location, Old Bladbean Stud is a garden that deserves to be better known. For now, let’s keep it our little secret ;-)

Old Bladbean Stud is open for the National Gardens Scheme on 13 and 27 July, 24 August, 7 and 21 Sept and 5 Oct 2014. Admission £5.50.  Click here for more details.

The damage – extraordinarily only one plant this time, Phuopsis stylosa, the large-styled crossword, which Carol allows to romp around beneath her roses.

A view through the rose garden towards ‘Angel’, a sculpture by Pete Moorhouse

In just less than one month, we open our garden at The Watch House in Broadstairs for the National Gardens Scheme. It has not been a long held ambition to let the public in, in fact it still seems a little absurd to me when you consider the garden measures just 20x30ft. However we were persuaded, quite forcefully by some proponents, to take the plunge and here we are just days away. The garden’s diminutive size is intended to be its USP amongst the other, more expansive gardens that open in Kent each year. We hope it gives visitors lots of ideas about they could do with their own small spaces and look forward to inviting them in to our little sanctuary.

Early summer 2013. Digitalis sceptrum in the background and Lilium African Queen to the fore

We moved to Broadstairs to be close to the sea and chose a town centre location. This meant a small courtyard garden, which we hoped would look after itself. We quickly found that we spent most of our time outside, but the space was cluttered with outbuildings of no particular historic interest. The house itself, two fishermen’s cottages knocked together, is not without charm, but hardly distinguished. In six years it will be 200 years old, an age I am sure the builders never anticipated it would reach. At the time of construction it was at the very edge of town, looking over the rooftops to the English Channel beyond, hence the name, The Watch House.

Broadstairs is famous for its seven sandy bays, each backed by gleaming white cliffs

It’s probable that the plot would have originally belonged to one of the buildings in the High Street, but is unlikely to have had a layout that would have been worth recreating. We took the decision to start again and turn it into a contemporary space where we could entertain visitors (it’s amazing how popular we became when we moved to the seaside!). Nothing apart from the surrounding walls remains from the garden we inherited in 2006.

With a rectangle of this size the opportunities to create surprises and areas with different moods are limited. Instead, we decided upon what one might call a very traditional layout, with borders around the edge of a terrace. This was born out of necessity, as beneath the garden lies two vaulted undercrofts that cannot take a great deal of weight. One of our proudest moments was being chosen to feature in a BBC2 programme about Sissinghurst’s influential role in 21st century garden design. We have a garden room but, in comparison to Sissinghurst, The Watch House is a broom cupboard alongside the presidential suite!

Him Indoors during the filming of Alan Titchmarsh’s Garden Secrets in 2009

I hope the result of our garden transformation is anything but traditional. We have made as much use as possible of the vertical plane, choosing trees which are taller than they are wide to screen ourselves from neighbouring houses. The planting is unashamedly non-native. Indigenous plants in this essentially urban setting would be incongruous and the flowering season too short. Instead I’ve looked to California, The Canary Islands, Tasmania and South Africa for plants that will thrive in our sheltered microclimate. We also have a lot of evergreens for structure, which are wonderful until July when they all seem to drop their old, yellowing leaves simultaneously.

Digitalis sceptrum (formerly Isoplexis sceptrum), one of my favourite plants in the garden

Slowly the garden has assumed the feel of one of those tranquil courtyards one finds at the heart of the Riads of Marrakech. The mass of foliage, which needs keeping in check constantly, deadens any noise that comes from the narrow back street running alongside the house. Birds seem to think it’s a paradise, regularly nesting in our trees and climbers, serenading us all day long. The only thing we are missing is a water feature, but I figure we have the best kind just two minutes walk away, the sea. When we come home and close the gate behind us, the hubbub of Broadstairs seems a million miles away.

In such a small space it’s been easy and inexpensive to incorporate little luxuries such as lighting, speakers and mains gas appliances, making the garden perfect for entertaining. Over the years we’ve probably spent more time in our beloved outdoor room than in any other part of the house. The initial project, which included design fees, demolition, materials, services, plants and labour, set us back the princely sum of £35,000. In my book that’s a small price to pay for such sustained pleasure and enjoyment.

Lunch at The Watch House in the early years. Our friend Oli holds court

The garden is approached down a narrow passageway, which is the only opportunity we have to create any element of surprise or mystery before the whole space is revealed. The vista from the front gate remains important and is terminated by my favourite tree, Lyonothamus floribundus ssp asplenifolius, the Santa Cruz Ironwood. This year it is flowering for the first time; the heads of white, achillea-like flowers are the size of dinner plates. I hope they will hang on for visitors to admire in August. My attempts to keep the passageway clear of pots have been pretty lame. If the garden is the stage, then the slate path acts as the wings where a cast of young plants await their cue. Getting to the front door often involves wading through foliage and getting wet trousers!

The garden viewed from the narrow passageway which leads from Thanet Road

Our outdoor kitchen is the feature that’s most often commented on by first time visitors. “How do you keep it covered?” we are asked, “we don’t” is the reply, it survives perfectly well with just the barbecue protected, mainly from seagulls and their shocking toilet habits. We did not get it right first time. The original slate worktop had too many joins and wicked water into the cupboards, so it was replaced last year with the granite surface we’d always aspired to. A ceramic sink in a garden is a godsend, useful for washing up pots, refreshing dried-out plants and chilling drinks. It looks as good as the day it was installed and comes up sparkling white after a quick scrub with my secret weapon, Astonish. Marine grade steel ensures that the barbecue and hob remain blemish free.

The outdoor kitchen after adding the new granite worktop in 2013

We have no shed or garage, so the cupboards make a convenient storage space for pots, tools, fertilisers and garden chemicals – no room for baked beans here! The shelves to the side of the barbecue were meant to be decorative, used occasionally for ingredients awaiting their turn on the grill, but have become the place to bring on seedlings and young plants in spring. In summer trailing begonias in fiery reds and oranges dangle dangerously from the top shelf.

The last of the day’s sunshine hits the sink area at about 4.30pm, after which the garden is plunged into shade. It’s a warm spot and perfect for grouping pots of sun worshippers which I swap around regularly to keep them looking fresh. The combination of the moment brings together hot pinks, wine and plummy shades. It is lovely to be able to examine up close the unusual flowers of plants like Rhodochiton atrosanguineus, the purple bell vine.

A combination of Aeonium ‘Zwartkop’, Rhodochiton atrosanguineus, Fuchsia arborescens and Begonia ‘Benitochiba’ by the outdoor sink.

Maybe it’s a gardener’s natural instinct to try growing things against the odds, but I do like a challenge. Many of the plants I have collected over the years are slightly tender and on the whole they survive thanks to Thanet’s mild temperatures and long sunshine hours. Geranium maderense is the most borderline hardy for me, but emerges afresh from seed in years where the frost gets the better of the mature plants.

Geranium maderense in bloom the year after the garden’s new design was completed

I am not interested in having a low maintenance garden, they have no appeal to me, and instead create work for myself at every opportunity. The profusion of pots around the front door requires the most labour and planning. In October they are crammed with tulip, narcissus, muscari and fritillary bulbs, every year a slightly different combination depending on my mood in July when I order them. Bright colours work well because of the amount of evergreen foliage in the garden and enhance the generally tropical feel. I have tried limiting myself to white, but it just doesn’t work, so in come the reds, oranges and plums which I seem to gravitate towards. I have nowhere to store or replant bulbs from year to year (unless they are very special) so they are replaced anew every season.

Tulipa ‘Red Shine” and T. ‘White Triumphator’

Winter is a quiet time, but the garden remains vital and green unless we experience a frost. Then the echium leaves hang down sullen and dry and the zantedeschias turn to slimy green mush. Once March arrives, the work, all done at weekends, is pretty constant, moving around pots to create new combinations of foliage, flower and texture. I start planting out tender perennials and annuals from Easter time, after which we rarely experience frost. This year the gamble has paid off, with many plants a good six weeks ahead of where they were last year. I make no apology for filling any gaps that appear unexpectedly with mature plants from the garden centre – this is something one can do inexpensively when working in a small space.

Now I hope for a perfect storm of regular, steady showers, cool days and light breezes to keep the garden in tip-top condition for our open weekend. A chance would be a fine thing – our weather just isn’t that well behaved. I hope that one way or another I will have done enough to interest people and make the experience worth the £3 entrance fee. If you can come along on August 2nd or 3rd, I look forward to meeting you and showing you around. If not, I hope you enjoy this post and that a little of my enthusiasm for small scale gardening will rub off on you.

Click here for a full plant list

New garden furniture arrived this June, a reclaimed teak table surrounded by ‘Air’ chairs by Magis.

Open Weekend Practicalities

The garden will be open on Saturday August 2nd and Sunday August 3rd from 12-4. Entrance £3. Well behaved adults, children and dogs are most welcome. Please be mindful of the garden’s size (you can see more than two thirds of it in the image above) and that at times it may become quite cramped. This being our first time we don’t know quite how many people to expect.

There will be refreshments in the garden, but in a town like Broadstairs there are lots of options from fine dining to fish and chips so perhaps combine your visit with a stroll along the seafront and a nice lunch.

There is no car parking immediately outside the house. A carpark immediately off the High Street is your best bet, turn in between Cooke and Co. Estate Agents and The Fireplace Company. On Sunday there is unrestricted parking on some of the surrounding streets. From the station, The Watch House is about a 7 minute walk.

The address of the Watch House is 7, Thanet Road, Broadstairs, CT10 1LF.  It is immediately next door to Elite Fitness Studio which is well signposted around the town.

Chelsea needs to watch her back. Her bigger, louder and brighter sister at Hampton Court Palace is slowly but surely stealing her crown. Chelsea may be smarter, better educated and popular with the establishment, but compared to Hampton Court she is starting to look a little too prim and proper.

Costing just £15,000, this contemporary sunken garden by Alexandra Frogatt had all the quality of a garden costing ten times more

I used to view The RHS Hampton Court Palace Flower Show as very much a poor relation to Chelsea. I doubt I will ever warm to its overtly commercial side, over which I wish the RHS would exercise a little more restraint, but whilst Chelsea appears increasingly stuck in a stylistic rut, Hampton Court gets more and more daring every year. For the first time, I think I prefer what Hampton Court has to offer: more variety, more adventure, more excitement and more inspiration for real gardeners.

The 100th anniversary of the start of The Great War was commemorated at Hampton Court using gardens, flowers and even scarecrows

Hampton Court’s gardens were split into four categories: the big-money show gardens; small but perfectly formed summer gardens; ‘Your Garden, Your Budget’ gardens (with price tags ranging from £7,000 to £15,000) and finally conceptual gardens. The result, to my mind, was a well balanced spectrum of size, style and cost, offering something of interest for everyone. The quality of gardens at Hampton Court has come on in leaps and bounds over recent years, but still one or two, disappointingly staged by garden centres, fell wide of the mark. That aside, I have never been harder pressed to choose a favourite, so here’s a selection, about which I hope to write in more detail shortly.

In Vestra Wealth’s Vista garden, designer Paul Martin created the ultimate outdoor living space

If I had to choose my number one it would be Vestra Wealth’s garden entitled ‘Vista’, designed by Paul Martin. This really was a garden for entertaining on a grand scale and frankly made me green with envy.  The quality of the materials and plants used to create this superlative design was second to none.

For a garden with such a rosé outlook, the glasses were not quite half full

In ‘A Space to Connect and Grow’, designer Jeni Cairns had thrown in everything bar the kitchen sink. In fact there probably was a sink amongst the recycled and upcycled materials used to create this vibrant garden. Interest and detail was incorporated into every corner, justly earning the garden both a gold medal and the award for best summer garden. Unlike Chelsea, many of Hampton Court’s show gardens are designed to be viewed from three sides, or in the round. Jeni had embraced this opportunity, treating the boundaries of the garden with as much love as the centre. The choice of plant material was suitably upbeat, including zesty yellow eremurus and plant of the moment, Echinacea ‘Hot Papaya’.

Featuring recycled and upcycled materials, a green roof, flowers, fruit, vegetables and herbs, Jeni Cairns’ garden ticked all the boxes

I am not sure who had the idea of theming the conceptual gardens around the seven deadly sins, but it was an inspired decision. Rachel Parker Soden’s ‘Lust’ included a neon Peep Show sign draped with Gloriosa superba ‘Rothschildiana’ (top of post), orchids exploding from a red velvet settee, and suggestive anthuriums parading themselves gaudily behind steamed-up windows. Never have plants looked more suggestive.

Steam rising from ‘Wrath – Eruption of Unhealed Anger’, designed by Nilufer Danis, drew unsuspecting crowds in, rewarding an unlucky few with a soaking from sudden jets of water. As an evocation of a volcanic landscape it was near perfect; flame coloured kniphofia, achillea, crocosmia and echinacea mingling with Dryopteris erythrosora and grasses, all emerging from a landscape of charred black rock. Ominous rumblings from the smoking mound added to the brooding, sensory experience.

Smoke rising from Nilufer Danis’ gold medal winning conceptual garden, entitled ‘Wrath – Eruption of Unhealed Anger’

If ‘Lust’ wasn’t provocative enough, Katerina Rafaj drew attention to the vast amount of food we waste in her garden entitled ‘Gluttony’. Despite the relative lack of planting the garden was awarded a gold medal.

Love it or hate it, the design for ‘Gluttony’ highlights the huge amount of food that we consume or waste every day

Equally thought-provoking was The World Vision Garden designed by John Warland. This large show garden celebrated the transformation of the Antsokia Valley, part of Ethiopia hardest hit by famine thirty years ago, from drought stricken wasteland to fertile farmland. Orange-clad assistants helped visitors interpret the garden’s exuberant displays of tomatoes, maize, cut flowers and fruit, all products that Ethiopia now exports to the rest of the world.

30 years on, The World Vision Garden celebrated Ethiopia’s recovery from famine

My new found interest in vegetable growing was piqued by these pot-grown cherry tomatoes

Having been absent from Chelsea this year, Hampton Court welcomed back Australia and Trailfinders with a superb garden designed by Jim Fogarty for Royal Botanic Gardens Melbourne. Naturally this huge plot had a completely different feel to any other garden, featuring a palette of plants from the states of Victoria and the Northern Territory. Many plants were unfamiliar to me, but the varied textures of silver foliage set against red Devonian sandstone were easy to appreciate without any knowledge. A timber-clad structure at the back of the garden symbolised the rock formations of the Northern Territory, such as Uluru and the MacDonnell ranges. The sinuous layout of paths and pools was inspired by the Rainbow Serpent, a dreamtime creature from Aboriginal culture.

Essence of Australia celebrates the beauty and diversity Victoria and Northern Territory Flora

We return to the UK for my last three gardens. The first was the winner of a competition run by TV’s The One Show, designed by architecture student Alexandra Noble. The garden featured nine regularly spaced reflective pools representing the underfloor heating systems the Romans knew as hypocausts. Fine, billowing grasses were employed to create the impression of steam rising from the water, with other planting in shades of purple and lime green. This was a wonderful design for a sunken space and I am sure we’ll be seeing more from Alexandra Noble in future.

The designer of The One Show Garden, Alexandra Noble, was inspired by the Roman hypocausts of my home town, Bath

Nothing could have been more English than The Forgotten Folly, designed by Lynn Riches and Mark Lippiatt. The garden centred around a ruined stone building sitting high above a tumbling stream. Exuberant planting demonstrated how garden plants can successfully be combined with native wildflowers to create a haven for wildlife, as well as a beautiful space for humans to enjoy.

Nature takes hold in and around a ruined folly in this naturalistic garden

Finally, a garden which could have been a complete shocker, the NSPCC Legacy Garden designed by Adam Wollcott and Jonathan Smith. Four periods of garden style, from Victoria through to the present day, were represented in this small summer garden. The progression was marked by changes in the paving and plants, beginning with a shaded Victoria fernery, then an Edwardian rose garden, moving on to the the kind of 1970′s gaudiness I remember from my childhood. The present day section was filled with a familiar assemblage of perennials, but it was the humorous accessories, the teddybears, plaster ducks and lead soldiers, that really brought this whimsical garden to life.

A little bit of joyful whimsy, the NSPCC Legacy Garden depicts garden styles from the Victorian era to the present day

I hope I have managed to illustrate the enormous stretch of the gardens at Hampton Court Palace Flower Show this year and that you found something among them that inspires you. Already I am looking forward to seeing how the show moves forward again next year. Chelsea needs to take heed of her more worldy, provocative sister and let her hair down, just a little so as not to frighten the horses.

Exemplary planting was a feature of ‘Untying the Knot’ designed by Frederic Whyte for Bounce Back Foundation

I had never heard of Vestra Wealth before this year’s Hampton Court Palace Flower Show and that’s for one very good reason – I have no wealth to manage. Should I come up trumps in the lottery, I would have no hesitation in beating a path to Vestra’s door, based purely on the strength of their show garden. Decisions like these are probably why I am not a millionaire.

Vestra Wealth exercised a fair degree of prudence in commissioning show garden veteran Paul Martin to design their showpiece. The result, a contemporary space focussed on outdoor entertaining, was cool, calm and carefully considered; the sort of space someone in possession of both money and taste might aspire to. I certainly did.

A cedar rill seemingly floats above a plinth of clipped box

Everything from the materials to the planting was beautifully detailed. A smooth cedar rill delivered water into a pool surrounded by hostas and irises. The monolithic table, constructed from the same timber, cantilevered over an area thickly planted with ferns, Geranium ‘Rozanne’ and Lavandula ‘Hidcote’, delicately veiled by Deschampsia cespitosa.

The dining table cantilevers over an area of lush planting

Ground level surfaces were composed of traditional hoggin, smooth terrazzo and neatly sawn slate which contrasted beautifully. Gabions topped with copper sheeting or cedar wood were intended to attract wildlife, although how welcome bugs and beasties would have been in this sleek space is debateable.

Cool terrazzo, traditional hoggin and stacks of split cedar create a varied texture

Set for six, Paul Martin was clearly minding his sponsor’s pennies when he poured the wine, but who would not have wanted to join this garden party? The silver mesh chairs were a great accompaniment to the heavy slab of timber and slid neatly underneath. At night, lit by lanterns, the white flowers in the garden would have appeared cool and luminous.

A top-up please!

In a garden so strong structurally it would have been easy to oversimplify the planting, but this element of the design was not found lacking. Paul’s training at the National Botanic Gardens in Dublin shone through in the discerning palette of plants, which focussed on greens, whites and blues.

Hosta sieboldiana ‘Frances Williams’ mingles with Geranium ‘Rozanne’

Paul Martin had understood his client’s brief, and his client’s clients’ well, producing a garden rich in texture, interest and quality without resorting to ostentation. I am certain it will have gained him some suitably affluent new customers. As for me, I’m off to buy a scratch card…..

Plant List

Acanthus mollis ‘Rue Ledan’
Agapanthus africanus ‘Albus’
Agapanthus ‘Northern Star’
Agapanthus ‘Silver Moon’
Agastache foeniculum ‘Black Adder’
Ammi majus
Angelica ‘Ebony’
Aster laterifolius ‘Horizontalis’
Brunnera macrophylla ‘Jack Frost’
Buxus sempevirens
Darmera peltata
Deschampsia cespitosa
Echinacea purpurea ‘Magnus’
Epimedium rubrum
Eryngium bourgatii ‘Oxford Blue’
Ferula communis
Geranium ‘Rozanne’
Hakonechloa macra ‘Albo Striata’
Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’
Hosta ‘Royal Standard’
Hosta sieboldiana var. elegans
Hosta sieboldiana ‘Frances Williams’
Hosta tardiana ‘Halcyon’
Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle’
Hydrangea arborescens ‘Incrediball’
Iris pseudacorus
Lavandula ‘Hidcote’
Lavandula stoechas ‘Christiana’
Nepeta faasenii ‘Six Hills’
Nepeta faassenii ‘Blue Wonder’
Penstemon ‘Electric Blue’
Perovskia atriplicifolia ‘Blue Spire’
Salvia nemerosa
Selinum wallichianum
Stipa gigantea
Thalictrum rochbruneanum
Thymus ‘Pink Chintz’
Tiarella ‘Pink Skyrocket’
Tulbaghia violacea
Verbena bonariensis
Verbena macdougalii ‘Lavender Spires’
Veronica longifolia ‘Charlotte’
Veronicastrum virginicum ‘Album’

I have always rather shunned the colourful, smaller cousins of the Ethiopian lily, Zantedeschia aethiopica, mainly because of their artificial looks and regular, cellophane-wrapped appearances in florists’ shops. But, as with most plants, I eventually succumbed and decided to give them a try this year.

The beauty of bulbs and rhizomes is that they can be picked up and transported home easily from shows. Many nurserymen will keep them in cold storage so that they burst quickly into growth after planting. I found my Zantedeschia ‘Picasso’ at the Chelsea Flower Show in May and planted them in a pot promptly afterwards. I was recommended to use a free draining compost and keep them in a bright, sunny position. It worked, and in just six weeks four rhizomes have produced a mass of paint-splashed leaves and a surprising number of almost perfect blooms.

Each rhizome, about half the size of my palm, has produced more than 10 flowers in the first flush

The flowers (properly ‘inflorescences’) appear as if fashioned from sugar paste – yellowish white, smudged a deep mulberry purple. When the first blooms unfurled I was not sure I would like them, but en masse they work well. Nevertheless their appearance is a little too foreign to blend in with many garden plants, so I think they work best planted in a pot alongside other exotics or ferns. Unlike their larger cousins they do not appreciate their feet in the wet, but still look great at the water’s edge.

I can’t think of easier, more trouble free bulbs to grow in pots, provided you have the right conditions and can keep them frost-free over winter. The spectrum of colours available extends from white through to yellow, orange, red, pink and inky purple. I for one will be trying more in future.

Zantedeschia ‘Picasso’ is available mail order from Brighter Blooms in Preston, Lancashire.

The elegant flowers of Zantedeschia ‘Picasso’ are perfect for cutting and last well indoors

At a certain point each year our seaside garden passes from a neat, orderly state into jungly bedlam. It becomes increasingly hard to move around without getting swiped in the face by a wayward lily, tripped by a flailing jasmine or toppled by a booby-trapped begonia. Getting to the front door requires a machete, if we can find it in the first place. The plants are waging a guerrilla war and will hold their territory until late autumn. I was hoping they might do the decent thing and agree a truce until our National Gardens Scheme open weekend is over, but the intense heat and rain we’ve experienced over the last two weeks has stirred everything into rampant action. My defeat is my own doing, highlighting an appalling lack of restraint when it comes to planting; all at once everything is on top of one another and fighting for supremacy.

Going ape. Pots outside the front door filled with Eucomis bicolor, begonias, fuchsias, salvias and members of the ginger family

The forfeit has been two weekends spent staking, cutting back and reorganising the collection of pots by the front door. Importantly, I have also been removing any dead leaves and flowers. This is for two reasons; first to discourage the army of snails which form a munching platoon at night; and second to avoid any mould and rot setting in. As in all jungle warfare, disease can be devastating, so it’s best not to take any chances and keep the air moving between plants.

Roscoea auriculata produces purple flowers from June until October, but requires propping with small canes

The spectacular thunder storms that have been sweeping the country have not passed us by. They have brought welcome rain, although not sufficient to reach the closely packed pots. In front of each storm has been a gusty wind, so staking has been essential to keep top heavy plants from toppling over. In most cases canes have been sufficient, but with plants such as Solanum laciniatum and Echium pininana, tree stakes are the only option. Around the kitchen area, Begonia corrallina (angel wing begonia), Thunbergia gregorii (orange clock vine) and Rhodochiton atrosanguineus (purple bell vine) manage well with a wigwam of split canes.

Rambling Rhodochiton atrosanguineus trails as well as climbs, making it perfect for pots and urns

I had hoped that my wonderful lilies, L. ‘Golden Splendor’ and L. ‘African Queen’, would hold themselves back for our open weekend, but alas they have peaked too soon. Heavy rain has smudged pollen over their lower petals, but they still smell incredible, especially on these still, sultry nights.

Lilium ‘African Queen’ holds court in her jungle kingdom

Thankfully the dahlias are right on cue, their first flowers just beginning to open. More on these next weekend, but already D. ‘American Dawn’ is a new favourite. Doing especially well this year are the begonias, which I started into growth early and which are now dripping with bloom.

Begonia ‘Firewings Orange’ cascades from a low bowl

With just two weeks until our open days I am hoping to establish some kind of entente cordiale which will allow visitors to enjoy the garden unmolested. Any pots which are past their best will be secreted away in our basement light wells and the hose and watering cans will be relegated to the cellar. For just once weekend I hope peace will prevail, before manoeuvres begin again…..

A barrage of blooms. The view from the front gate this weekend

It’s no good, I tried to hold back, but I just had to share this ravishing new dahlia which has started to bloom at The Watch House. It’s called D. ‘American Dawn’. Sight of its luminous blooms is certainly enough to get my day off to a great start. From a bud of bright peony-pink emerge petals the colour of a summer sunrise. Of all the dahlias I’ve grown this season, D. ‘American Dawn’ is by far the strongest and healthiest, with many flowers yet to come. In a garden where plants have to be robust, loud and proud to be noticed, this is the perfect early riser.

Dahlia ‘American Dawn’ is available from Sarah Raven and Crocus.co.uk in spring.

At first light, raindrops embellish the petals of Dahlia ‘American Dawn’

It’s official, my little neice Martha is on the move. She’s a quick learner, like her uncle, and on the eve of being seven months old she has mastered the art of crawling. From a very early age she seems to have had a fascination with nature and the great outdoors. Perhaps it’s an illusion, but I prefer to think not. So far we’ve had to bring the world’s sights, sounds and smells to Martha, but her new found mobility means she can now approach things at her own pace.

Martha’s look of wonderment at this delicate dandelion clock is priceless. Somehow my sister managed to capture her at just the right moment; a picture for the family album indeed. I hope Martha’s love of plants, flowers and animals grows, as my own did, and that she cherishes such things in future.

A-one, a-two, a-three, BLOW!

No, I haven’t quit my job or been given my marching orders, but I have taken a couple of days off to prepare the garden for our National Gardens Scheme open days this weekend. I am fastidious at the best of times, but risk turning a little bit obsessive-compulsive over the next 24 hours. Suddenly every yellowing leaf, fallen petal or stray branch has come into sharp focus and I can see flaws everywhere. Will visitors notice the horrific capsid bug damage and the dirty windows? Well, they will if they read this before coming along; the polite ones will kindly avert their eyes towards the abundant flowers.

Welcome to our jungle

No garden is perfect, but in truth ours is looking about the best it ever has done. I was concerned last weekend that we may have peaked a few days too soon, but I was worrying unnecessarily. The dahlias are covered in bloom and I wonder now why I didn’t introduce them to the garden sooner. They seem very much at home in large pots. Joy of joys, the gingers, Hedychium densiflorum ‘Stephen’, started to open yesterday, their flowers like exotic bottlebrushes, towering over my head. The scent in the garden last night was indescribably beautiful.

Hedychium densiflorum ‘Stephen’ sparkles

So, here we go, the final push. The weather forecast changes by the hour, but it seems we’ll miss the worst of the showers tomorrow and have a fine day on Sunday. Even at their most ravenous the snails and vine weevils can’t thwart me now. It only remains for me to wash down the paintwork, jet-wash the terrace, put up the famous yellow signs and count the float, whilst Him Indoors bakes for England. See you on the other side…..

Agapanthus africanus and Dahlia ‘Amercian Dawn’

It was about this time last year when our friend Beth began twisting our arm to open for the National Gardens Scheme. We took the plunge, and in February found ourselves numbered 104 on the map of Kent in the famous Yellow Book. On the eve of this weekend it still seemed unlikely to me that anyone would go out of their way to visit a garden that measures just 20x30ft, but I was to be proved wrong. Over the two days we welcomed 220 charming visitors and 6 well behaved dogs in a steady stream from midday to 4pm. Everyone who came along was kind and appreciative. Some had travelled from as far away as Leicestershire; many came from the four corners of Kent. It was a pleasure to stop, talk and share gardening tips with so many interesting folk. This alone made it all worth the effort.

The garden was thronged with visitors on both days

The Gods were smiling on us in every way, providing two days of almost unbroken sunshine, a cooling breeze and light, refreshing showers overnight. And we could not have wished for the garden to look more fulsome; the dahlias were in their prime and fragrant gingers soared skywards. Dahlia ‘Amercian Dawn’ was a big favourite with visitors, as was Hedychium densiflorum ‘Stephen’, the kangaroo apple (Solanum laciniatum), elephant’s ears (Colocasia esculenta ‘Black Magic’) and towering Echium pininana.

Reaching for the stars, visitors were fascinated by Echium pininana, photographed by Scarlett Wardell

I chatted solidly for the whole eight hours we were open, thus was in my element. I answered countless questions about how to get agapanthus to flower well, to which the answer was always “grow them in a bright, well drained spot; keep them tightly confined and feed with a high potash fertiliser from April to September”. Hopefully the agapanthus of Kent will bloom brighter and more bountiful than ever next year. There was a lot of interest in how to cultivate dahlias in pots and how to reduce the amount of water needed to maintain containerised plants. I shared my secret, which is to use the biggest pots available, use water retentive John Innes No. 3, pack pots together tightly and mulch with surface of the compost with horticultural grit. This way we only need to water our pots twice a week, even in the hottest weather.

Dahlia ‘Amercian Dawn’ photographed by Scarlett Wardell

On both days there was a lovely atmosphere, with visitors relaxing in the sun and unexpectedly bumping into friends and neighbours. What was so encouraging was that several people told us that they had only come to see us because our garden was is so similar in scale to their own. We were flattered that visitors told us how inspired they were by what we’d achieved in a small space and how many plants we’d packed in. The slate terrace was especially admired for its simplicity and clean lines, whilst the outdoor kitchen generated a lot of questions about maintenance and how often we use it. Fortunately this summer we have been able to cook in it almost every weekend, and in truth the kitchen requires very little routine care.

Radiant, Lilium ‘Debby’, photographed beautifully by Scarlett Wardell

My partner Alex (aka Him Indoors) slaved over a hot stove to create delicious orange and poppy seed loaves, lemon cupcakes, chocolate cookies, flapjacks and fruit cake. They went down a treat with a chilled glass of Belvoir fruit cordial, with the elderflower proving to be the favourite thirst quencher. Apologies to those who missed the offer of a refreshing cuppa, hopefully we can add this to the menu next time.

Our outdoor kitchen came into its own

Refreshing Belvoir cordials were kept on ice

Friends Nigel and James peruse the home-made cakes

Special thanks go to the special people who made the open weekend possible, starting with the wonderful Vanessa, Irrigator General and PR Guru. Here she is with husband Colin, who did our write up in the church magazine. Thanks to Vanessa, many people arrived with their NGS brochures pre-circled with our garden’s details.

Unsung heroes, Vanessa and Colin

Garden journalist Lesley Bellew gave us a glowing write-up in the Kentish Gazette which tempted a lot of visitors to make the pilgrimage to Broadstairs. NGS Assistant County Organiser, Caroline Loder-Symonds was marvellously supportive and encouraging throughout, convincing us that our garden was worthy of wider attention. Having persuaded us into opening in the first place, it was only right that Beth should travel from deepest Cornwall to make sure we did things correctly. No stray leaf, bare twig or fading bloom escaped her expert scrutiny and was dealt with accordingly.

Me and Beth, NGS pro and Artistic Director (shirt and blouse, models’ own)

On the gate collecting entrance fees, and on occasion managing the crowds, was Jack, Scarlett, James, Nigel and Simon. They did a marvellous job talking to visitors, dishing out booklets and providing directions. Scarlett, aged just 11 years, doubled as my talented young photographic apprentice and, I am sure you will agree, took some cracking shots for this post.

The men with the money, Nigel, James and Simon man the front gate

In the kitchen Rachel and Alex ran a very tight ship, keeping me out of the way until the very end of the day on Sunday when I just had to help myself to cake.

My attempts to blend in with the flowers was futile. Captured expertly by Scarlett Wardell

The whole experience has renewed our faith in human nature and put us in touch with lots of local people and keen gardeners. I won’t pretend that it didn’t involve a lot of planning and work, but it was worth every bit of it to hear visitors’ lovely comments. Preparing for the weekend helped crystallise my ideas about how the garden should develop in the future and this morning I looked upon our tiny patch with fresh eyes and a new determination to make it better than ever next year. Thank you to everyone who helped, visited or wrote about us, and in doing so provided valued support for the NGS charities.

Just desserts – a glass of chilled rosé and a cupcake to round off the day.

Having been utterly engrossed in our own garden for the last few weeks it was a relief to get out and about and start the summer holiday proper. Our destination was Great Dixter, the house and garden of the late, great Christopher Lloyd, nestled in the bucolic East Sussex countryside. The mellow Wealden house is a combination of an original 15th century dwelling with part of a 16th century yeoman’s house, transported here from neighbouring Kent. In 1912 the resulting building was sympathetically added to and updated by Edwin Lutyens, accentuating the property’s air of great antiquity.

Tall chimneys, typical of many of Lutyens’ country houses, rise above the flowers in the Peacock Garden

I have to confess to not having fully appreciated or enjoyed Great Dixter’s gardens on previous visits. I understand this statement might be considered tantamount to blasphemy in horticultural circles, but I put it down to poor timing and my own underdeveloped taste. On paper I ought to be in complete harmony with Christopher Lloyd’s philosophy of combining any and every colour effectively. I am happy to report that I am, not before time, converted.

A visitors admires the colourful display of potted plants surrounding the porch at Great Dixter

I chose Great Dixter to break my garden visiting fast for two reasons: first, to study the arrangement of pots outside the 15th century porch and second to seek inspiration in the exotic garden. You will already know from posts about our coastal garden at The Watch House that I am bound to grow many of my treasures in containers. The gardeners at Dixter have plenty of open ground to play with, but we each set out to welcome our guests with colourful displays of seasonal flowers in their prime. The terracotta pots at Dixter are handmade in England at Whichford Pottery. They are a little pricey, but a wonderful indulgence every once in a while. Having explained to many of our visitors at the weekend that I do not bother with pot feet, I was pleased to see that Dixter’s gardeners don’t either.

Colourful rudbeckia, amaranthus, dahlias, geraniums and Tulbaghia violacea ‘Silver Lace’ grace Great Dixter’s porch

As one expects of Great Dixter, the assemblage of plants is diverse and unconventional. Lilies, cannas, lobelias and variegated miscanthus tower over a tumble of dahlias, amaranthus, persicarias and shorter geraniums, fuchsias and succulents. As in my garden the subjects are swapped around constantly to ensure the display is always fresh, vibrant and pleasing to the eye. The joy of grouping pots in this way is that plants with very different growing requirements can come together in perfect harmony, if only temporarily. Dixter also illustrates that it’s not necessary to stick to the small range of plants typically cultivated in pots, bringing hope and inspiration to many a compromised gardener. The possibilities are endless and mistakes easily rectified if they occur. I took great heart from the joyous abandon with which the eclectic plants were amassed, and was spurred on to try new permutations myself. I was particularly excited by a form of Persicaria that was twinned with bronze leaved Canna purpurea – a combination I’d like to try at home next year.

An unnamed persicaria, possibly a variation of P. virginiana var. filiformis ‘Lance Corporal’

It’s hard to imagine that the space occupied by the Exotic Garden was not so long ago filled with roses. With the help of trusted Head Gardener Fergus Garrett, Christopher Lloyd tore up the rule book and replaced Edwin Lutyen’s Edwardian formality with an exuberant display of plants designed for tropical effect. The bananas, hardy Japanese species Musa basjoo, stay in situ all year with protection through the winter. They are joined by the massive palmate leaves of Tetrapanax papyrifer, the rice paper plant, and coppiced Paulownia tomentosa which might both be candidates to replace one of our larger evergreen trees next year. Great Dixter was one of the first gardens I can recall to discover the virtues of Verbena bonariensis and its wispy outline continues to lighten the garden’s extravagant structure.

Luytens’ formal rose garden has been replaced by exuberant exotics

At waist height there is lots of interest in the form of orange-flowered impatiens, dahlias, variegated cannas and more persicarias. Everywhere seedlings take advantage of any square inch of ground that receives light and water, just as you’d expect in a rainforest. I gained some mean pleasure from noting that Great Dixter’s Begonia luxurians were afflicted with at least as much capsid bug damage as my own. Garden pests are, if nothing else, democratic in their deliverance of misery. Less than gloomy was Him Indoors who, having been allowed to drive there and back with the car’s hood down, was the embodiment of happiness.

A rare sighting of Him Indoors standing on his own two feet

No visit to Great Dixter is complete without witnessing the tumultuous tapestry of plants that is the Long Border. Christopher Lloyd believed that no bare earth should be visible from late May onwards, and Fergus Garrett continues to uphold that principle. Any empty spaces are quickly bedded out with ephemeral plants such as lupins and cannas which peak and fade at different times. Tall plants are also encouraged to the front of the border, joining others that tumble gaily over the mellow flagstones.

The Long Border is separated from the informality of the Orchard Meadow by a wide flagstone path

The Long Border is a constantly evolving beast. Regular visitors will rarely experience it (and it is an experience) looking the same way twice. Verbascums, fennels and exotic annuals such as Persicaria orientalis are positively encouraged to seed themselves around, contributing to the colourful exuberance of the scene. Experimentation is, and will always be, a guiding tenet for the gardeners at Great Dixter, which is why the garden is almost constantly in the spotlight and at the cutting edge of planting design.

Christopher’s Lloyd’s wish was to create a closely woven tapestry of foliage and flowers

I never met Christopher Lloyd and visited Great Dixter just once whilst he was still alive (he passed away in 2006). Fortunately he was careful to leave his legacy in safe hands. In Fergus Garrett he has a natural successor, trained and confided in by the great man himself, but with a mind of his own. The estate is in the stewardship of a charitable trust which continues and extends the good work that Christopher Lloyd started. Everywhere one looks young people are gainfully employed, whether it’s looking after the shop, planting up pots or turning the compost heaps. From a visitor’s perspective Great Dixter remains as its creator must have wanted it, a beautiful, refreshing, evolving, irreverent and ultimately happy place where his unique style of plantmanship endures.

Even in hazy sunlight, Great Dixter’s heleniums are dazzling

I was in the garden early this morning, the very best time to be out there, enjoying the collared doves’ soft cooing between bursts of raucous squealing from the circling herring gulls. Whilst ducking down into the entrance of our undercroft for tools I spied an enormous bumble bee clinging pathetically to a pile of black plastic pots. At first it seemed she, surely a queen, was beyond salvation. Thinking such a splendid creature deserved to feel the sun on her wings again, I transported Her Majesty up into the light and positioned her carefully on the first bloom of Dahlia ‘Marie Schnugg’. Thank goodness the glossy bud had opened overnight as it’s the only single dahlia I grow, and by far the most appealing to pollinating insects. After a stumbling start Queen Bumble tucked in, scouring every millimetre of the flower’s golden centre for nectar. Whilst she was moving at a stately pace I was able to study her magnificently striped thorax, athletic legs, jet black eyes and tiny wings. They looked about as inadequate as a thong on a weightlifter. How she became airborne I will never know.

After 30 minutes, and amusingly by sliding down the flower’s stem like a fireman’s pole, she had a brief rest on a leaf and mustered energy enough to transfer to a neighbouring agapanthus. The pale blue trumpets bowed under her regal weight. After a few more sips she was off, cruising slowly through the air like a furry zeppelin, up into the summer sky, returning to her loyal subjects.

On reflection I wonder if when I found her she was asleep, or resting her eyes in the manner of Him Indoors, but my instinct was that she was exhausted and ailing, ready to abdicate. Either way she seemed to respond well to my humble resuscitation attempts and, happily for me, lived to fly another day.

Queen Bumble breakfasting like royalty on Dahlia ‘Marie Schnugg’ AGM

If ever a dahlia deserved the classification ‘waterlily’, describing the shape of the blooms, it’s Dahlia ‘Firepot’. The juicy-fruit colours might have given Monet a fright, but the lush, softly incurved petals are a gardener’s delight. They begin sulphur yellow at the centre, fading out to tangerine and then coral at the tips. In bud the flowers are shocking pink so, with blooms at different stages on the same plant, the effect is hot, hot hot. The flowers positively glow, even on dull days, as if they had their own internal flame.

Firepot’s luscious petals curve gently inwards, like a waterlily

This is the second summer for my tubers, which I overwintered in a dry cellar and am growing on in large pots (the black ones typically sold for tomato plants are ideal). D. ‘Firepot’ is the perfect subject for container culture as it’s compact and reaches only 2ft high. The only drawback is that the flower stems tend to be rather short, the smallish blooms held tightly against the foliage. If you decide to cut some for indoors they will last almost as long as they would on the plant; they will soon be replaced, as D. ‘Firepot’ is incredibly floriferous.

Firepot produces a succession of flowers about 4′ across, and is one of the earliest dahlias into bloom

Admittedly this hybrid, which was introduced in 1969, might be challenging to integrate into your garden if you have a pastel colour scheme, but amongst other hot colours, or on its own, D. ‘Firepot’ is a stunner. It’s tricky to photograph but these images are accurate for colour and a fair reflection of what you can expect should you choose to give the variety garden room. I, for one, would not be without it.

Dahlia ‘Firepot’ is widely available, mail order, in the spring.

When fully opened the blooms of Firepot display all the colours of the sunset

Succulent plants are not everyone’s cup of tea, but one which attracted a lot of admiring glances when we opened our garden for the National Gardens Scheme was Aeonium arboreum ‘Zwartkop’. It’s hardly surprising given its height (hence arboreum, meaning ‘tree-like’) and the colour of the fleshy leaves, which are quite unlike the average houseleek. The glossy, purple-black rosettes which top each stem lend the plant its common name ‘black rose’, rather nicer than the direct translation of ‘Zwartkop’, which is ‘black head’.

A. ‘Zwartkop’ is easily propagated, so you can be sure of a ready supply of small plants to use or give away

Anyone who’s made a trip to West Cornwall or The Isles of Scilly will recognise Aeonium ‘Zwartkop’ from the mild coastal gardens in this part of the UK. When we visited the island of Tresco in April, the sub-tropical Abbey Gardens were full of mature, well-branched plants topped with chunky panicles of bright yellow flowers. These appear only in the most favoured locations; those with the greatest similarity to the Aeonium’s native Canary Islands and North Africa. Hardiness is an issue elsewhere in the country, so even in balmy Broadstairs I keep my plants indoors when there is any chance of frost.

Mature plants grown in mild locations should produce panicles of golden yellow flowers

Despite its tenderness, A. ‘Zwartkop’ is happiest outdoors in a sunny, well drained spot. Even if overwintered indoors it can be bedded out during the summer. At The Salutation aeoniums are used as a striking accent plant in Lutyen’s white garden. I keep my plants in pots and use them to punctuate a mass of dahlias, lilies and gingers by the front door. If grown indoors A. ‘Zwartkop’ needs the brightest spot you can offer, and even then the leaves will rarely be as richly coloured as they are outside. Keep a close eye out for tiny green caterpillars which can destroy the centre of the rosette in late autumn.

When allowed to grow tall, A. ‘Zwartkop’ mixes well with other tender exotics

Happily A. ‘Zwartkop’ is extremely easy to look after, needing very little water in winter (perhaps a drop every fortnight) and a weekly drink in summer. Aeoniums like dry air, so are quite happy in a centrally heated room. Propagation is equally straightforward. Leaf rosettes with a few inches of stem can be cut cleanly away from the plant with a knife and the cut surface left for a week or two in order to callus over before potting into in a gritty, well-drained compost. The drying stage is essential to avoid rot setting in and to encourage rooting from the sides of the stem. Within a month or two the new plant will be growing away strongly whilst the old one produces a number of new rosettes, helping to create a well-branched bush. This process can be carried out several times, meaning lots of spare plants to give to your envious friends. If you are selfish like me, plants can be allowed to grow tall and lofty, perfect for making a statement in the garden.

For Aeonium arboreum ‘Zwartkop’ and a great selection of other choice, named aeonium varieties, visit Trewidden Nursery’s website.

Spot the black head! Him Indoors soaks up the sun in Tresco’s Abbey Gardens

The longer one has to wait for something (apart from death, visits from the mother-in-law and tax return forms) the more exciting it is when it finally happens. This certainly applies to gardening. Happily, several plants at The Watch House have chosen 2014 for their floral debut, and there has been much anticipation as the unfamiliar buds emerge and then start to unfurl. As they do, I spare a thought for the great plant collectors of yesteryear who had to wait 10, 20, 30 years for their precious discoveries to produce flowers, sometimes not knowing quite what they’d get. Few gardeners these days are quite so patient – we all expect immediate results from our nursery-grown plants. However, even with modern growing techniques, not all species are happy to be rushed.

The longest I have waited is seven summers to enjoy the foamy-white flowers of Lyonothamnus floribundus ssp. asplenifolius, or the Santa Cruz ironwood tree. This species is endemic to the rocky, wind-swept islands of Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa and San Clemente off California, but finds itself very much at home in Broadstairs. Although the ferny leaves and stringy red bark are reward enough for growing this unusual tree, the flowers are a nice bonus. They lasted just a few weeks in July before turning brown, and are now starting to develop seed. The drawback is that they formed at the very top of the tree, 25ft up, so were only visible from our bedroom windows on the second floor.

You’d need a tall ladder, cherry-picker or zoom lense to get close to the lofty flowers of Lyonothamnus floribundus ssp. asplenifolius

It has taken Digitalis canariensis only a year to begin flowering, compared to its reluctant cousin Digitalis sceptrum, which took five. The flowers are sparser, smaller and more fiery in colour, borne on fine burgundy stems. This is the second flush, which sprang up readily from beneath the main spike. It looks tremendous planted with other exotic companions, such as sapphire blue Echium candicans, the pride of Madeira. A relative of our native foxglove, Digitalis canariensis is a short lived shrub from Tenerife which I have found to be completely hardy by the coast. Give it dappled shade and moist, well-drained soil for best results.

A long way from its home in Tenerife, Digitalis canariensis flowered for the first time

Canna x ehemanii is new to the garden this year, but is already putting on one hell of a show. Although never demure, the plants are now producing leaves the size of a banana. I dislike the stiffness of most cannas, but C. x ehemanii holds its raspberry-pink flowers with grace and poise. Already there are sharp new shoots emerging from the ground, which will hopefully keep on producing flowers until the first frosts.

As the season progresses, the leaves of Canna x ehemanii will exceed 3ft in length.

I did not have to wait at all for this post’s final plant to flower, as it was purchased already in bloom. At first I could not believe that Spigelia marilandica, the Indian pink, was a North Amercian native: the flowers appear so unashamedly exotic. It would not be out of place lining the pathways of a Caribbean resort, but in fact this perennial plant revels in the moist, sheltered woodlands of Missouri. The first flower spikes were mercilessly snapped off during the weekend’s stormy weather, so I only have this grainy image to share with you. With its eye-catching red and lime green flowers, I feel sure S. marilandica is going to become a new favourite of mine.

Back home in Missouri, Spigelia marilandica is a woodland native

Below is a picture, courtesy of Carolyn’s Shade Garden, to demonstrate the potential of this little known shade plant.

I find most things are better the first time round, so if these plants are new to you I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I have. I would love to know what’s flowered for the first time (or even the last!) in your garden this year.

Spigelia marilandica carpeting the ground in Pennsylvania, USA

As far as I am aware, and please enlighten me should I be mistaken, there is not a collective noun for a group of dahlias. I have taken this terrible oversight into my own hands and, having considered ‘a dazzle’, ‘a blast’ and ‘a riot’, I’ve settled on ‘a drama’, summing up the dahlia’s extraordinarily ostentatious, extrovert blooms. Should anyone be unconvinced my choice, take a look at Dahlia ‘Black Monarch’ below and tell me I am wrong.

The dark, velvety blooms of D. ‘Black Monarch’ have all the glamour of a vintage Hollywood movie

It’s quite right that dahlias should once again take their place in gardeners’ affections. For a while during the 90’s and early 00’s, they fell from favour. Many gardeners considered them too gaudy, vulgar, ugly and overblown to be worthy of their borders. Increasingly absorbed in composing ‘tasteful’ planting schemes, middle class gardeners struggled to find any place for them amongst finer, blowsier perennials. This was the same sad malady that befell gladioli and chrysanthemums, other flowers commonly grown on allotments or for showing.

Bi-coloured dahlias such as ‘A La Mode’ are very much in vogue again

It was one variety, the single-flowered D. ‘Bishop of Llandaff’, that helped dahlias return to social acceptability. Hardly new to horticulture, D. ‘Bishop of Llandaff’ was awarded the Royal Horticultural Society Award of Garden Merit back in 1928, but was to save the whole genus from horticultural turpitude. The simple red flowers with their bright yellow centres, rising above finely-cut bronze foliage, appealed to the staunchest dahlia snobs. They quickly found a place for this free-form hybrid in their rarefied planting schemes, using it more as a perennial than a showstopper. D. ‘Bishop of Llandaff’ was helped by its ability to make great associations with other plants, looking good in front of purple-leaved cotinus and with crocosmias, cannas and lime green Nicotiana langsdorfii. The veteran hybrid’s new found popularity gave rise to a psalter of bishops (a fine collective noun) and even a seed strain known as ‘Bishop’s Children’.

Single-flowered dahlias remain in vogue, and in recent years I have grown varieties from the ‘Happy Single’ series and D. ‘Marie Schnugg’ below. I would love to grow species such as single pink D. merckii and orangey red D. coccinea var palmeri, but these are both giants of the dahlia world and too demanding of space and sun for my tiny garden. The Twynings series is also worth exploring, especially for the white-flowered, black-leaved D. ‘Twyning’s After Eight’.

The star-like blooms of D. ‘Marie Schnugg’ are similar to the native dahlias of Mexico and Guatemala

There are fourteen classes of dahlia, defined by flower shape, listed on the National Dahlia Society’s website. They include pompon, cactus, anemone and fancy colarettes, such as D. ‘Carstone Firebox’ at the top of this post. I have a soft spot for most of the classes, but especially the ‘waterlily’ types such as D. ‘Firepot’ and D. ‘Amercian Dawn’. The flowers tend to be modestly sized and easy to associate with other perennials and exotics.

An unknown dahlia variety with flowers in the ‘waterlily’ class

The lilac flowers of D. ‘Blue Boy’ combine well with pinks, blues and silvers

After my recent visit to Great Dixter I am keen to experiment with other dahlia flower shapes, including cactus, semi-cactus (with less tightly rolled petals than a true cactus) and pompons. Fergus Garrett and his team have no qualms about using dahlias throughout the garden, emerging from amongst foaming perennials, filling gaps where spring flowering plants have faded, and in pots. It’s a joy to see them employed with abandon in such a current and trend-setting garden.

A semi-cactus dahlia variety in the Sunk Garden at Great Dixter

Not quite a pompon, this vermillion dahlia was the perfect choice for Great Dixter’s Exotic Garden

We are fortunate here in East Kent to have The Secret Gardens at The Salutation, where Head Gardener Steve Edney is constantly indulging his passion for dahlias with inventive new plantings. Following this winter’s devastating floods, Steve has filled a lot of the gaps where other plants perished with interesting groupings of dahlias. On the whole this has been successful, although one wonders what Lutyens and Jekyll would have made of it. The garden’s trial bed is a great place to assess new varieties and appreciate the vast spectrum of colour, stature and form available.

Room for one more? D. ‘Sam Hopkins’ could be contender for our garden next year

When we visit Cornwall in September I am excited to visit the National Dahlia Collection at Varfell Farm near Penzance. The collection consists of over 1600 named species and cultivars and should be in its prime after an unhelpfully dry start to the growing season. My aim will be to pick out new varieties for my garden next year, ensuring we capture, once again, the sheer drama that dahlias can deliver.

At The Salutation, a trial bed demonstrates the dahlia’s huge range of colour and flower shape

…My salad days,

When I was green in judgment, cold in blood…

 

William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

It’s going to be one of those weeks when I have no time to do anything other than work, eat and sleep. So thank heavens for the quick, easy crops that are coming thick and fast from our new vegetable garden. They require no preparation other than a wash under the tap and help me feel healthy and wholesome after a day dining on uninspiring, packaged sandwiches.

Tomatoes are ripening just fast enough for me to harvest a few glowing fruit each evening. They are sweet, juicy and nicely tart, just as they should be.

The ripening fruit of cherry tomato ‘Sweet Million’

Herbs are growing at a tremendous rate of knots. Parsley is lush and glossy green, tarragon (my favourite herb of all) in the rudest of health and chives are fine and tender. We are adding them to curries, pasta dishes and salads in quantities that would be prohibitively expensive if bought from a supermarket.

A fine bunch of happy herbs

Purchased at Hampton Court Flower Show, a single plant of shiso (Perilla frutescens var. crispa) is forming a pretty, purple-leaved bush with fragrant, tasty leaves. It is used in Japan for pickling plums; we use it as an attractive ingredient in salads when the leaves are very young.

Known as shiso, or ‘beefsteak plant’, Perilla frutescens var. crispa makes an unusual addition to salads and stir-fries.

It’s hard to believe that all of these fruits, leaves and herbs were planted just seven weeks ago. A warm July followed by a damp August has certainly helped (although not the courgettes which are rotting) and we are already planting more lettuce and radishes to last us into autumn. Such instant gratification is welcome in a world where we are all so short of time, worth every penny for the superior flavour and there’s no need for waste. These really are our salad days.

Rocketing rocket and marauding mustard

“I don’t just like dahlias: I love them” asserts Andy Vernon on the opening page of his new book, The Plant Lover’s Guide to Dahlias. Even had he not spelt it out so explicitly, readers would have been left in no doubt of his passion for this most exuberant of garden flowers. Andy’s tone is chipper and informal, making every page eminently readable; yet there is no scrimping on the expert guidance. The first chapter begins by describing the recent fall and rise of the dahlia’s popularity, noting the great movers and shakers – Christopher Lloyd, Sarah Raven, Michael Mann, Jon Wheatley and Mark Twyning – who have championed the flower’s unique beauty and variety.

A small gardener himself, Andy constantly recognises that luxuries such as allotments and polytunnels are not available to all of us, pointing out varieties that will perform well in pots and containers. There are also helpful lists of hybrids suitable for attracting bees, cutting and growing in borders. The front section of the book covers flower forms, planting ‘pals’ and a little on the fascinating tale of the dahlia’s introduction to Europe from Central and South America.

A fine cactus-flowered hybrid growing at The Salutation in Kent

The bulk of this hardback gem is occupied by a shortlist of 200 varieties which Andy has commendably whittled down from the 20,000 or so believed to exist in cultivation. They are organised by colour rather than flower shape, although, such is the diversity of this flower, some blurring of the boundaries is required. Tantalising images are used throughout, many of which were taken by the author. Andy’s descriptions are no less colourful than the blooms he loves and are a joy to read. For myself I singled out D. ‘Jitterbug’ from the front cover; D. ‘Le Castel’, a freestyle white waterlily type and D. ‘The Phantom’, with plum-coloured anemone-shaped blooms. They’re all on my shopping list for next year.

That many of the cultivars we grow today were created relatively recently is evidenced by the often ridiculous names they have been saddled with – ‘Junkyard Dog’ (‘day-glo cherry pink with white streaking’), ‘Sonic Bloom’ (‘a fabulous coral pink fizz’), ‘E Z Duzzit’ (‘a mellow orange collerette’) and ‘Poodle Skirt’ (‘magenta and berry colours combine in a pincushion poof’). Dahlia haters will be reaching for the smelling salts if they make it as far as the section entitled ‘Extraterrestrials’, where Andy describes those crazily shaped and coloured cultivars that defy normal classification.

I would recommend Dahlia ‘Firepot’ to Andy for its compact habit and incredibly vibrant flowers

Those of a delicate disposition should skip on to the chapter on growing and propagating, which I found exceptionally useful and easy to read. It taught me some new tricks and affirmed some of my own, in tones that suggest nothing is really too tricky when it comes to growing dahlias. The books ends, all too soon, with some suggestions on cutting and arranging dahlias which, Andy implores, ‘long to be picked and adored in a vase’. I could not agree more.

I have very little time for reading books (hence the scarcity of reviews on this blog) but Andy Vernon’s perky prose and illuminating images kept me hooked for days. His empathy for gardeners with limited space makes his book all the more relevant in an age when many of us have to make do with balconies, window boxes and pots on the doorstep: Andy provides inspiration and solutions for all.

The title is part of a series published in association with Kew Gardens which, randomly, comprises only Dahlias, Salvias, Sedums and Snowdrops so far. The Plant Lover’s Guide to Dahlias is a fantastic books for absolute beginners or any gardener wishing to indulge themselves further in the bright, extrovert, sometimes eccentric world of dahlias.

Dahlia ‘Rebecca’s World’ is a curiosity, displaying random combinations of red and white in its blooms

The Plant Lover’s Guide to Dahlias by Andy Vernon is published by Timber Press

I am guilty, guilty of having twice visited Sissinghurst this year and not having posted anything about it. Had this been any other garden I might have been forgiven, but on both occasions Sissinghurst was in its prime and more than worthy of sharing with you. I may still do so in the depths of winter when we all need a little joy. For now I will assuage my guilt by not dallying over an account of my third visit, which will extend over two posts. The first celebrates a bulbous flower, sometimes mistaken for a crocus, which makes an appearance just as everything else in the garden is on the wane. That flower is the colchicum, variously known as ‘meadow saffron’ or ‘naked ladies’.

Sissinghurst’s splendid Tudor tower rises from the sward of the freshly scythed orchard – a splash of pink at the foot of the right-hand tower is created by colchicums

Both common names are easily understood, if not very accurate. In England we have a native colchicum, Colchicum autumnale, which populates areas of rich meadowland. Its similarity to the non-native autumn flowering saffron crocus, Crocus sativus, lends this pretty bulb the epithet, ‘meadow saffron’. Colchicums flower before producing leaves and are frequently pink-flowered, hence the fabulously suggestive nickname ‘naked ladies’, which I rather like. (You can have a lot of fun just replacing every instance of the word colchicum in this post with ‘naked ladies’ – go on, I dare you!)

Colchicum autumnale, the meadow saffron, in Sissinghurst’s herb garden

At Sissinghurst Colchicum autumnale earns itself a place in the herb garden by dint of its medicinal uses in treating gout and Mediterranean fever. However, all parts of the plant are poisonous in the wrong hands and definitely should not be eaten.

Backlit colchicums explode from the freshly cut grass beneath Sissinghurst’s venerable apple trees

Sissinghurst’s colchicums demonstrate exactly where these wonderfully hefty bulbs prefer to grow. The translucent goblets erupt from the sward of the orchard and from sun-kissed patches of earth in the rose garden where they remain undisturbed for years. A little shelter is helpful when siting the bulbs, as some less robust varieties can be laid low by boisterous autumn weather, which I find heartbreaking to see.

Forming expansive clumps, colchicums love a warm, dry, sheltered spot

Colchicums are mostly native to warmer, sunnier parts of the world than England, so like to be on the dry side during summer and moist, but not wet, in winter. The bulbs should be planted where they can build up into large clumps and so that the foliage, which appears in early spring, can be concealed as it dies down in summer. This isn’t too much of challenge for most gardeners. Alternatively, it is possible to cultivate colchicums in pots, using a 50:50 mix of grit and John Innes no.2. I am experimenting this autumn with three bulbs of Colchicum ‘Water Lily’ AGM, a double-flowered, pink hybrid, which I would find hard to place elsewhere in the garden.

Colchicum ‘Conquest’ in a quiet corner of Sissinghurst’s rose garden. The emerging flowers can be prone to slug damage

The flowers associate well with ferns, grasses and sedges provided their foliage is not too leggy come autumn. Both C. autumnale and C. speciosum are robust enough to compete in semi-rough grass, which must be left unmown between August and June when the leaves disappear. There are a great number of species and named varieties available, most of which I find very hard to tell apart, but for starters I’d recommend C. autumnale ‘Nancy Lindsay’ AGM and plain C. speciosum for pink flowers and C. speciosum ‘Album’ AGM for pure white flowers. I shall let you know how I get on with C. ‘Water Lily’.

With their fresh, lusty goblets rising unhindered from the ground each autumn, colchicums provide a much needed shot in the arm for a garden when all else is fading. Sissinghurst is not a garden which requires a shot in the arm at any time of year, but even here the sight of them rampaging beneath the ripening apples and fading roses is a refreshing tonic.

All photographs taken at Sissinghurst Castle on August 24th 2014

Colchicum speciosum sports pinkish-purple flowers with bright white throats and yellow stamens