Tag Archives: flowers

Walk Out To Winter

It doesn’t seem like five minutes since we were all baking in what felt like endless heat. The summer was one of the hottest on record. Here in York temperatures in the high twenties and low thirties became the norm. It made for some challenging working conditions at times even if  I rarely had to don the waterproofs, grit my teeth and battle on through the rain.

The good weather continued into autumn and I started to feel I was going to make it to Christmas without too many occasions where I resembled a drowned rat.  The last few weeks of mild, wet weather have quickly put an end to that thought.

So with December finally here I’m enjoying the end of term feeling even if I’ve got jobs in the diary right up to the Christmas.  I get more time to catch up with my admin, read some gardening books and blogs and do all those jobs I never get time for in the summer.

Winter isn’t a completely dead season in the garden. There’s a lot going on out there. There’s even some colour to be had.  My camellia is flowering already, my  Clematis cirrhosa var. purpurescens ‘Freckles’ is covered with flower buds.

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The Cosmos have only just exhausted themselves after a late summer and autumn of hectic flowering, there’s a rose or two hanging on here and there, likewise a few lavatera flowers.  The hellebores are looking primed and ready for their moment in the precious February sun, green tips of  snowdrops are poking up here and there.

If you’re in need of an urgent colour injection there’s plenty of winter pansies and cyclamen around in garden centres/nurseries/ supermarkets.  Winter pansies in particular always impress me. They look so insubstantial and a little frail but put up with everything even the most extreme winters can throw at us. They issue their challenge to weather in yellows, white, purples and reds. Dot them around your garden like season long Christmas lights.

Planning ahead you might want to consider planting a patch of winter flowering heathers or a Japanese Quince. Sink the corms of winter aconites in a spot beneath a tree, likewise snowdrop bulbs.  Mahonia with their in your face yellow flowers shine like a beacon in the darkest months, the stems of dogwoods stand out against the grey.

It’s really hard to predict what the winter will have in store for us. This time last year the few days we spent in Newtondale by the North York Moors Railway line was crowned with the white stuff.WP_20171203_14_00_21_Pro 4

And it was still snowing when my Spring diary began in March.  If the early days of Winter set the tone for what’s to come then we can expect mild and wet.  Different winters present different challenges not least in a city where the water that falls in upland areas  and turns peat black has to pass through on its way out to the sea.

Whatever the winter has in store it’s a good time for gardeners to put up their feet a little and congratulate themselves on a job well done.  It won’t be long until there’s barely chance to draw breath again as the seasons roll relentlessly on.

 

Dallying with dahlias

I haven’t grown dahlias this year for the first time in ages. It’s just a case of space, my borders are all but full and my pot collection really doesn’t need to get any bigger.  As September pushes on I’m sort of wishing I had.

This is definitely their best month.  They’re South American sun lovers  who like to bake and need a long summer before they finally give you their all.

A few of my clients grow them and it always amazes me just many flowers they produce. As long as you keep deadheading on they go, sometimes right up to the first frost.

They’re one of those plants that really inspire dedication. In the past this probably helped contribute to their once unfashionable image. They were the preserve of allotments and old boys who turned over their entire gardens to rows and rows of dahlias.  One of my client’s comes from a mining background and he recalls the competitive dahlia growing competitions that were all part of local life.   The advantage of growing dahlias on an allotment was the availability of space and fertile soil. They’re related to the potato and like their edible family they like to spread themselves below ground.

These days dahlias are more often than not grown among mixed perennial borders where given a bit of consideration and good soil preparation they can be quite happy. They really come into their own at this time of year.  They can help enliven a border that is pushing past its best, a hidden gem that has been biding its time until there’s less competition.  If an Indian Summer kicks in then dahlias really do enjoy their moment in the sun. They make a fantastic cut flower for late in the season too.

In these northern climes it’s wise to lift them before the frosts.  Give them a quick brush down, allow them to dry for a couple of days and then store them somewhere warm and dry.  An alternative approach is to plant the dahlias in pots and then move the pot into the greenhouse.  This has worked well for me in the past, meaning they’ve developed new growth in early spring before they’ve been planted out.

There’s a vast variety of dahlias. As a general rule the simpler flowers are better for pollinators than the more complex pom-pom and water lily varieties. In my mind there’s nothing much that beats the old favourite, Dahlia ‘Bishop Of Llandaff’, with its brilliant red flowers and black foliage.   If local episcopal pride is a concern however you might want to go for its orange flushed, yellow flowered cousin ‘Bishop Of York’.

We can probably overlook the fact there’s not an actual Bishop Of York.  Everyone knows York has got an Archbishop.

Magnolias – prehistory in suburbia

alexandrina-magnolia-600x600Cycling around York over the last week has been a complete pleasure.  The sunshine and steadily rising mercury have really lifted the spirits after what felt like a never ending winter.   I couldn’t help feeling that Spring this year looked a little grey and colourless with plants that should normally be flowering not showing themselves. Then something seemed to happen, the daffodils on the city walls exploded into life and put on one of the best displays I’ve seen in years. It wasn’t only the daffs, everything seemed to suddenly wake up. It was as if the alarm had just sounded and the whole of nature bolted up, blinked and said ‘is it that time already ?’

Among the fashionably late to the party this year have been magnolias. Their flowering is brief but dramatic, a classic harbinger of spring. It’s been lovely to see so many finally reveal themselves from winter anonymity not least in my clients’ gardens where the consensus seems to be that they’re around three weeks later than usual.

They’ve developed an undeserved reputation over the years as something of a suburban staple and (like lilac) possibly a bit dull even downright naff. Fashions in gardening come and go and what most people who dismiss them don’t realise is just how long and fascinating their history is.

They were named in honour of the 17th/18th century French botanist Pierre Magnol at a time when there was only one type of magnolia grown in Britain the Magnolia virginiana which as its names suggests came from North America via a botanically minded missionary called John Bannister.  It was later discovered that  the Chinese have been cultivating magnolia type plants since at least the 7th century principally for medicinal use. But the plant itself traces its roots back to the cretaceous period a longevity that explains its distinctive large flowers and robust carpels. At the time bees were yet to evolve instead the ancestors of the magnolia were pollinated by large clumsy beetles.

file-20170731-22126-8ddii2In fact the oldest fossil of a flowering plant ever found suggests the ancestor of most of the plants in our garden probably  resembled a magnolia some 140 million years ago.

Given that kind of history shouldn’t every garden find room for one ?

 

 

Banking on Primroses

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And in the wood, where often you and I,
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie…

William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

My Spring/Summer timetable began with rain, biting cold winds and a winter that has felt like it would never end. At times like these as a gardener you keep faith in the turning seasons and the inevitable pull of summer.  It might be cold, the pace of things in the garden might currently be slow but it’s the calm before the storm.  Give it a few weeks and the pace will be hectic, everything bursting with life and demanding attention. Despite the cold over the last few weeks the sun that’s broken through the clouds has sometimes had real warmth in it. I ended last week in shirt sleeves for the first time this year.

I also ended the week planting primroses. The wild British primrose – Primula vulgaris – has suffered over the last few decades as its traditional habitats in woodlands, on verges and beneath hedgerows came under threat. Also, its increased popularity led to people helping themselves to the wild variety – a definite no-no. Traditionally they would be picked as gifts for parents at Easter and used to decorate churches.  It takes its name from the latin, Prima Rosa ‘the first rose’ despite being as far from a rose as you’re likely to find. In different counties of England it is also referred to as butter rose, early rose, Easter rose, golden rose and lent rose. And lucky old Devon has it as the county flower.

The market in cultivated garden varieties in all kinds of colours and degrees of flowering longevity is vast but to my mind nothing really beats the warm, buttery sunshine of the wild variety on an early Spring day when other flowers are still thin on the ground. Because they flower through to the beginning of June they serve as a bridge between winter and the profusion of summer.

The wild varieties themselves appear in a variety of shades from pale cream to deep yellow. If you allow them to establish themselves in your garden over time you’ll begin to see variations appearing.

One thing I really like about the wild primrose when its planted in a domestic garden is how it serves as a thread between the green spaces beyond the garden wall and the cultivated patch. Wild varieties of daffodils do the same and here in York the banks of the city walls are currently coming alive with them.  Often when I’m out and about at this time of year I’ll glance down and see a patch of primroses appearing in the least promising of urban locations. It’s always a pleasure to plant them in my clients’ gardens and even more of one to see them naturalise.