This beautiful yellow daisy, with visiting bee, is a Ligularia – Ligularia dentata ‘Midnight Lady’. I’m not great at remembering latin names, so I like to use associations as prompts. My way of remembering this one is to think of the infamous Roman emperor. Unlike Caligula, Ligularia is thoroughly principled (despite the ‘Midnight Lady’ moniker).
I read somewhere that ligularia is grown more for its leaves than for its flowers, which appear quite late in the summer (these have only just come out).The foliage is impressive – large, heart-shaped and dark (darker still on the undersides) – but as you can see from these pictures, the flowers are well worth waiting for. Ligularias like plenty of moisture (the RHS say ‘moist but well-drained’, but then, they say that for everything). Like hostas, they’re recommended for water-side locations, but as for hostas, they are fine in a border; though they can sulk a bit during dry spells. And they’re martyrs to slugs and snails; as you can see from the picture below.
It’s a shame to see those fabulous, lush leaves unfurl, only to be lacerated by molluscs. This plant is by a pond, but unlike the hostas, doesn’t seem to be protected by the resident frogs. At some point during mid-summer Midnight Lady gives up the battle and learns to live with her tattered clothing; a sorry, defeated character. Or so it would seem. In fact, she’s conjuring up a spell, raising candles into the firmament. When those brilliant orange-yellow blooms appear, even on the darkest day, it’s as though the sun has come out.
It took governments and businesses a very long time to wake up to the environmental damage caused by plastic. And it seems to be taking them just as long to get off their proverbial backsides and do something about it. It’s good that nurseries are beginning to move to recyclable pots. I could say I’m not convinced this is quite the clever environmental ‘fix’ it’s been sold as. But what I’m really wondering is: am I alone in the universe?
The quote below, from the Horticultural Trades Association, might give you the idea that this is old news. But bear in mind that today, more than a year after this report, most of the pots I see in garden centres are still the old, supposedly non-recyclable black ones:
The HTA (Horticultural Trades Association) reported that; “On Thursday 19th July 2018 a group of leading HTA grower members met to discuss the issue of the garden industries reliance on single-use black plastic pots, that can’t currently be recycled, with the aim of agreeing to move to a new alternative as soon as possible that can be widely recycled through kerbside recycling schemes. A taupe-coloured polypropylene pot was selected by the group as being capable of recycling through current UK kerbside recycling systems and easily identifiable by consumers.”
The reality of the situation becomes apparent when you discover that to say the current pots can’t be recycled is at best misrepresentation. The problem isn’t that they can’t be recycled (they can) but that the optical readers in the machines that sort materials can’t sense black plastic. There have actually been schemes around to recycle these pots for some time, but they have to be collected separately, and while some garden centres and nurseries have made the effort to do this, the industry as a whole, and government too, weren’t prepared to put in the extra effort required.
It gets worse when you consider what the HTA calls ‘the garden industries reliance on single-use black plastic pots‘. As if they were only using black plastic pots because they had no alternative – as if the poor dears were desperately waiting for science to come up with an alternative. And finally, those clever scientists came up trumps with the ‘taupe’ (basically a rather dull beige) pot. But the reality is that the industry has been using plastic pots in a whole range of colours for as long as I can remember. Particularly prevalent is the terracotta coloured plastic that attempts to replicate old-fashioned terracotta pots. All of the ones I have in my extensive collection of so-called single use plastic pots (which I reuse over and over again), except for the very oldest, have the recycling symbol on the base.
So, to recap:
– The garden industry, for reasons known only to them (but most probably because they didn’t give the idea of recycling any consideration) has for years been using plastic pots that are difficult to recycle.
– Having chosen pots that are difficult to recycle, the industry largely wasn’t prepared to put in the effort to recycle them.
– It appears that, having been found out, the industry then concocted a publicity campaign to try and convince everyone that they had no alternative; that recyclable plastic pots weren’t available (even though we all know that they were). This yarn was spun out still further with the pretence that our heroic industry had actually created an all-new type of pot that could be recycled, because they love the environment more than their profits (though curiously, these new magic pots don’t seem to have been widely adopted by the industry).
Of course, we’re not daft enough to be taken in by this. Are we? Are we? It seems like the media (including the dear old BBC) has swallowed it hook, line and sinker.
Maybe I’m missing something. Or perhaps I really am alone in the universe…
Geranium ‘Rozanne’ was voted plant of the century at the 2013 RHS Chelsea flower show. Which seemed somewhat premature, considering there was another 87 years of the century yet to come.
Why was Rozanne so successful? Traditional blue perennial geraniums, such as Johnson’s Blue (Geranium x johnsonii ‘Johnson’s Blue’) flower prolifically for a period in June, and then are over, leaving just the leaves (which generally then become tatty, and often diseased). Rozanne was a new variety that flowered continuously through most of the summer. Which sounds perfect. But having grown this modern variety for a few years, I think I prefer the older varieties. Why? Well, Rozanne may flower continuously, but it doesn’t flower consistently. After the first flush, the blooms keep coming, but there are less of them, and the plant becomes straggly and tatty. It’s one of those situations where you know you should really cut the plants back, but it seems a shame to forgo the few flowers that are still appearing. The older varieties don’t give you that dilemma. They flower once, and then you know there won’t be anymore. However, they bloom with more intensity. While they’re doing their thing they have more flowers and are more impressive. And if you cut the foliage right back after flowering, they produce a new flush of fresh foliage, and will often flower again too.
Rozanne, Crocus say ‘In midsummer, rejuvenate plants that are beginning to look
jaded by removing old flowered stems and leaves.’ So basically; cut them back
as you would the old varieties, to promote new leaves and (hopefully) flowers.
In which case the only difference is that with Rozanne (as well as some of the
other new varieties), if you don’t get around to cutting them back, you’ll
still be getting a few flowers on the straggly growth that remains.
This year, in my garden, Rozanne formed a mound nearly a metre high, and then flopped to a sprawling mess once the rains came; all before producing a single flower. Add to that the fact that I’m not so keen on the foliage, which is rather an odd shade of green with an unattractive mottling, and I think I’ll be going back to the old varieties. Johnson’s Blue was popular for a reason.
The presidential hospitality came from the Annenbergs’ Sunnylands estate, which has hosted summits between American presidents and other world leaders. More of that later. The less than hospitable welcome came on our visit to reservation land on the edge of Palm Springs. OK, so we weren’t actually scalped – I was using poetic licence. Although our supply of cash took a significant haircut.
I was actually nervous about using the term ‘Indian’, as I’ve been told it isn’t politically correct. But it’s used on the website of the ‘Agua Caliente band of Cahuilla Indians’, so I guess I shouldn’t get into hot water. Just as well, as the reference to all those old (politically incorrect) Westerns wouldn’t have worked as well with ‘Indigenous Americans’ or ‘First Nations people’.
So what’s my gripe with the indigenous peoples of the Palm Springs environs? Well, being keen walkers, when in Palm Springs last month we were keen to do a hike (as our American cousins call any walks that involve anything other than smooth tarmac). We selected a trail a short distance out of town, up Mount San Jacinto. Unfortunately, due to rain the previous night (how unlucky were we – it hardly ever rains in Palm Springs!) that trail was temporarily closed. We were directed to another, which was still open.
We parked the car, and then headed up to the start of the walk (hike), where we had to join a queue. For a walk! (I mean hike). I don’t think I’ve ever had to do that before. We queued for 20 minutes to get to the counter, where we had to pay a fee. To do a walk! (I mean hike). The fee for the one we’d planned to do was $8. For this one, it was $12.50 each. For a walk! (I mean hike). Eventually, we got to walk (I mean hike) the trail. All 1.5km of it (I believe that was there and back). It was a nice little walk, up to a nice little waterfall. Except, it was like Oxford Street on a Saturday morning. So we queued for 20 minutes, and payed 50 bucks, all for the privilege of a 30 minute walk (I mean hike!) through crowds of people.
Now, I have two problems with this. The first is the price. I understand that walking (I mean hiking… sorry – is this becoming annoying?) trails need to be maintained. But how much work is involved in cutting back a few branches or consolidating an eroded path now and then? For not too much more than what we paid, in the UK you can spend the whole day at Chatsworth, looking around the huge mansion, finely manicured gardens, and large areas of parkland. Imagine how much all that must cost to maintain – you can really see what your entry fee is paying for.
The second problem is more to do with freedom – the basic human right to exist. Centuries ago, in the UK, there was such a thing as common land. And then the enclosures began, and the wealthy annexed the land and denied access to the common people. Later, in the 20th century, we finally won the ‘right to roam’. It doesn’t get us in everywhere, and most of the land is still owned by a few wealthy individuals (apparently half of England is owned by 1% of the population), but there are large areas of what we call wild land (even though it isn’t truly wild) where we can pretty much roam freely.
There’s a principle here, espoused by people such as Marion Shoard, in her book ‘This Land is Our Land’; that the countryside shouldn’t be fenced off from the people. We shouldn’t be restricted to towns and cities, and to the narrow corridors of tarmac that join them, just because we aren’t fortunate enough to have been born into the right family, or to have made a fortune. We’re free-born animals, and we should have the freedom to move about freely in the natural environment. To quote Billy Bragg: ‘this land was made a common treasury for everyone to share’ (I take issue with the word’ made’, but I appreciate the sentiment). This land is our land!
You’ll say, of course, that I was only a visitor, that it isn’t actually my land, because I don’t live there. But those who do live there have to pay too. And in what kind of a land is it customary to fleece (or scalp – I’m mixing my metaphors) visitors, rather than offer them hospitality? And in any case, aren’t we all citizens of the world?
Now, I know that their ancestors were violently displaced by invading Europeans. But I’d say that what happened in the past, many generations ago between ancestors of different sets of people to whom I have no relation, isn’t my responsibility. I’m more interested in the here and now. Wherever you are in the world, whatever your ancestry, it’s the poor who are denied opportunity. Always. To me, it doesn’t make any difference who owns a tract of land. It might be someone who received it, down the line, from a distant bloodthirsty ancestor who invaded a country and took it by force (such as the Duke of Westminster). It might be owned by someone who made a fortune through their own business activities, or those of their ancestors, whether from coal, steel, or slavery, and who used it to take possession of the countryside. Or it might be a group who claim possession by virtue of the fact that their ancestors once lived there, before being displaced and treated most cruelly. Whoever they are, and however they came by the land, if they deny access to open countryside, or demand a fee for access (particularly such a high one) then they’re tyrants who are denying the common people a basic human right.
All that land sitting there doing nothing, and they only give us access to a few short trails, and charge us a fortune for the privilege! Reading between the lines, I get the impression that if you know your way around you can find trails to walk without having to pay. But in Donald Trump’s ‘we don’t dial 911’ USA, poking around where you might not be welcome could be a dangerous business. As a visitor, I suppose you could say it comes down to hospitality. The mean-spirited hospitality of the Agua Calientes can be contrasted with the generosity of the Annenberg family, who own the Sunnylands estate in Palm Springs. I’ll tell you about my visit there in my next post, for which I promise lots of beautiful photographs, and far fewer words…
It’s easy to imagine that what’s left of the slug and snail population, having been decimated by the cold and the frost, is holed up somewhere, sitting it out until spring. It’s tempting to think we can sit back and relax for now, secure in the knowledge that our emerging plants are safe from attack. Tempting, but sadly mistaken. I don’t know how they do it, but the little blighters seem able to take anything the weather can throw at them. And on any mild night, while we stay indoors wallowing in complacency, an army of molluscs sets out to graze on our plants. The new shoots of perennials are particularly at risk. Now is the time to wage brutal war on slugs and snails, before they start breeding in earnest [1.]and the population gets out of control.
With this in mind, I put out slug traps the other day. I should have got out to do it earlier, because there’s quite a lot of damage. Sometimes slug and snails are so quick to eat the shoots of perennials that you never see them coming through. It gets later and later, and still a plant isn’t shooting. It’s then you realise the plant has been trying, but its shoots are being grazed off almost before they are visible. That kind of treatment can seriously set back or even kill a plant.
You can see from the photo that my beer traps have ensnared large quantities of slugs. At this time of year the really large slugs don’t seem to be very active, but the small ones can be equally damaging – below ground, where they munch on roots, as well as above. I use beer traps because it’s a safe, environmentally friendly method. Despite the brave talk of waging war, I actually don’t like killing these creatures. But it’s them or the plants, and as a gardener, the plants are my responsibility. At least the slugs die happy this way!
On a cheerier note, the hyacinths that had been over-wintering outside have now really come good. We put them into a slightly larger pot, with some fresh compost, in December. These were bought as forced bulbs, to be brought into flower indoors in Xmas 2017. I’ve decided they’re better grown outdoors. The flowers might not be quite as showy, but they’re still good. And it’s a lot less hassle than keeping them in a dark place for a prescribed time, taking them out and putting them somewhere cool, before moving them to where you actually want them… and finding the flower spikes flop about and need supporting… and they don’t last very long… and when they start to go off, that lovely fragrance starts to turn a bit nasty…
…reminds me of the joke about the two worms, who were making love in dead Ernest.
These are Hesperanthacoccinea, which until recently were called Schizostylis coccinea (thank you botanists!) Just a few, coaxed into flower by the mild weather. They’re accompanied by Australasian foliage – Eucalyptus gunnii, Callistemon citrinus ‘Splendens’ (bottlebrush) & Melaleuca squarrosa (scented paperbark) – all from our garden in plain old South Wales (rather than New South Wales). The Melaleuca was grown from seed. It’s nice to have a display inside at this time of year, even if it is a small one.
The cold, wet, grey, dark conditions at this time of year can be quite depressing. To cheer myself up, I’ve been looking through my photographs from a visit to Singapore earlier this year. Prepare for an image-heavy post!
This is the magnificent Torch Ginger (Etlingera Elatior) Some of you may think I’m sad, but for me, coming across these in the Singapore Botanic Gardens was akin to a religious experience.
The (relatively) new Gardens in the Bay are the star attraction, with enormous glasshouses containing a cloud forest and a flower dome, and ‘super trees’ lit up with a spectacular light show after dark. But for all their splendour, I got more out of the older, less showy, Botanic Gardens.
The ‘super trees’ in the Gardens in the Bay – very impressive, but as much about technology as plants.
The Bukit Timah gate of the Singapore Botanic Gardens. Imagine you’ve just a had a tasty lunch, followed by a great coffee, in a nice café over the road, the weather is beautifully warm, and you’re about to spend the afternoon wandering through the Singapore Botanic Gardens…
Hymenocallis speciosa – Spider Lily
As you might expect, orchids were everywhere, in both gardens. Here’s a selection:
The above is one of my favourites, labelled as ‘Papillionanda Ernest Chew’. And below – not so pretty, but very eccentric…
And finally, this is another ginger – Hedychium coronarium (White Ginger Lily).
Gardening at this time of year is not always a pleasant experience. It can be cold, wet and miserable. Even with gloves on, hands get cold to the point where they hurt – particularly when you come inside. Everything gets covered in mud – tools, gloves, boots. It’s tempting to think that there’s nothing to be done in the garden, so as not to have to go outside, but it just isn’t true. I’ve been busy pruning deciduous trees, planting bare-rooted hedges and trees (especially fruit trees), clearing the rest of the leaves, digging over soil in preparation for planting and mulching. Even the weeds are still growing, though they shouldn’t grow so much as to be out of hand by the spring. So maybe we can leave those for now…
By this time of year, so many of our flowering plants have done their thing and are in various stages of decay – some more decorous than others. In autumn we rely on the turning leaves to provide colour and interest in our gardens. But there are some flowering plants that are at their peak now. One of these is the plant we know as sedum.[1.] A dark-leaved sedum, sold as an unnamed variety, but which is probably ‘Xenox’).
A closer view, showing the intense colours of leaf and flower.
Another Autumn favourite is the aster, or Michaelmas daisy. The one below was actually taken last month at Picton Garden, near Malvern, which holds the national collection of autumn flowering Michaelmas daisies. Continue reading →
With leaves changing colour all around us there’s no chance of pretending autumn isn’t on its way. All we can do is to embrace the season and enjoy the show. What’s your favourite plant for autumn colour?
Parthenossisus cinquefolia (Virginia Creeper) is early to colour up.
It’s been an unusual growing year. It began with an apparently very early spring, which turned out not to be spring at all; just a mild spell in winter. The cold and the snow that followed was harsher than anyone would have expected and the winter, far from ending early, dragged on. Continue reading →
…in this case, Rosa ‘Francis E. Lester’; a beautiful single-flowered rambling rose with clusters of pink tinged white flowers. Like most ramblers, it delivers all of its blooms in one magnificent show of colour, in June. When the flower buds start to form and swell there’s a great sense of expectation. And when the first blooms begin to burst open, like bright stars in a lush green firmament, you know that summer has truly arrived.
Rosa ‘Francis E. Lester’, late June 2018
Rambling roses epitomise the optimism of early summer, when the winter just passed is finally forgotten, and the one to come is so far from our minds as to seem improbable. For a few weeks in June they re-assure us that life is good, and that summer will last forever.
The flowers begin to fade all too quickly of course. Luckily, that’s when many perennials and annuals are coming towards their best, so it isn’t too difficult to distract attention away from the slightly messy, uninteresting background that the rambler has become. Even then, it does the job of covering a bare wall or a fence with foliage. And all the while, the faded flowers are gradually forming attractive rose hips that will give another, albeit more muted, burst of colour in the autumn.
The hips are swelling and beginning to colour up – due to the prolonged hot weather, they may well be early this year.
You don’t have to prune rambling roses. If you plant them under a medium to large sized tree they’ll happily clamber all over it and provide a fabulous show every year without your having to touch them. Alternatively, some of the more vigorous varieties are capable of colonising a large section of your garden. As you can see from the photos, this one is busy sending out long shoots in every direction. So now is the time to knock it into shape.
Francis Lester attempting a ‘land grab’!
The Basic Principle
… is to cut out some of the old shoots, and tie in new ones to replace them. Continue reading →