Sacred Datura…

Or Datura meteloides; a tender plant which is very similar to the better known Brugmansia (commonly known as angels’ trumpets). I bought a packet of Datura seeds a few years ago. They germinated well, and growth was initially good, but all of the plants slowed down (I’ve kept some indoors, and others in an unheated greenhouse) and have never grown to more than about 20cm. But the flowers are spectacular. The buds elongate, and the petals emerge in a whorl…

The whorl opens to a star…

And then, finally you get to see the full trumpet…

The seed packet said that, like Brugmansia, Datura are woody plants – shrubs – but mine seem to die back in winter. Even the two I have indoors mostly died back. Some of last year’s growth survived the winter, but it clung onto life looking sickly and yellow, while new, healthy shoots from the base overtook it.

In researching this post, I discovered some very interesting facts about this plant, particularly here. I can confirm that the leaves are sticky, and do have a very strange smell about them. I wouldn’t call it unpleasant exactly. But whatever you do, don’t lick your fingers after touching it!

It’s a curious co-incidence that Datura meteloides has a synonym of Datura Wrightii, as Wright is my surname. I remember once seeing a cactus (an unpromising, ground-crawling thing) with the name Wrightii, so I guess there must have been a plant collector in that part of the world (North/Central America) who shared my surname.

Apparently D. meteloides (or D. Wrightii) is native to Arizona. Which explains another phenomenon. Some of my plants produced impressive, spiky seed capsules, similar to a conker, which burst open to reveal lovely big, round, black seeds. I must have dropped some in one of the beds, because earlier this summer, seedlings started to appear. They had long seed leaves (which threw me, as the seeds were round) and I couldn’t initially identify them. Worried they might be from a mutant perennial sunflower we made the mistake of planting two years ago, and now can’t get rid of, I pulled the first few out. When more came up I decided to take a chance and see what they turned into. And here they are…

In the eight days since taking this photo they’ve doubled in size, and numerous flower buds are forming. They’ve grown through two heatwaves, in full sun for much of the day, remaining lush and healthy, despite my never having given them a single drop of water. Apparently having evolved in the Arizona desert, I suppose our little hot spells are nothing out of the ordinary for them. But looking ahead to increasingly hot, dry summers here in the UK (more about that next time), these plants could be the ultimate easy to grow, maintenance-free summer bedding – throw the seeds on the ground and watch your beds fill with the most amazing, tropical-looking foliage and flowers. Then again, they could just be the next Himalayan Balsam. Oh my god – what have I done?!

When the flowers are out, I’ll post another photo. This could be amazing!

Text & images © graham wright 2022

Dorothy Clive Gardens

Visiting gardens is one of the things I’ve missed most during the lockdown, so it was a joy to finally be able to get to a garden. We (Mrs Pullingweeds and myself) headed out to the Dorothy Clive Garden near Market Drayton in Shropshire, on one of the hottest days of the year so far (reaching 31 degrees in the afternoon).

A flower-lined path meanders up from the car park to the tea shop. I love the way the colourful borders are set within the wider context of the arboretum, rather than being hidden away in ‘garden rooms’

The gardens have an extensive collection of rhododendrons, azaleas (which are, I believe, now classed as rhododendrons) and camelias. I expect they will have looked spectacular. I hope the gardeners enjoyed them, because by the time the gardens were able to open to the public once more, that particular seasonal show was over. As was the laburnum arch. Never mind; there was far more on offer, on what turned out to be a much larger site than I had realised (it actually covers twelve acres). Spring flowering shrubs are history – we’re into the summer show now.

Roses are in full bloom, as well as many of the perennials, such as salvias, heleniums, campanulas, delphiniums, nepeta, to name just a few. Judging by the number of verbascums, the soil may be quite sandy.

Verbascum chaixii ‘Album’ works well against a backdrop of… what? I should probably know what that spiky-leaved plant behind is, but I can’t think just at the moment.

Many of the roses smelt wonderful, but be careful; I’m beginning to think smelling roses can become an addiction. Rosa ‘The Generous Gardener’ (one of David Austin’s roses, I believe) climbing up a trellis, was one of the best.

Of the tender plants, dahlias were getting into their stride – mostly zesty oranges and rich, velvety reds (perhaps, like me, they like their dahlias as they like their wines). There were plenty of cannas and hedychiums (ginger lilies) out in the beds and in pots, though they won’t begin to flower for a while yet.

The hot borders. A lush, single dahlia (‘Mexican Star’?), with Salvia ‘Amistad’, against a background of tropical bananas.

That damned covid meant of course that facilities were limited. Plant sales are off this year. The cafe was serving drinks and cakes (a little over-priced I felt, at £2.95 for a coffee) to have outside. The counter was cordoned off with a row of upholstered chairs, curiously set up facing the counter, as if they were the front row in a theatre where the stage was set for a play set in a cafe. You had to eye-up the cakes from a distance, and shout your order from the back row, then wait at the end for the staff to bring the card machine to you. They were doing their very best under difficult circumstances. Fortunately the gardens weren’t very busy, so there weren’t too many awkward moments where ‘social distancing’ became tricky.

The gardens include an old quarry site, long since grown over (some of the large, older trees are reaching the end of their lives). Labyrinthine paths weave to and fro, up and down, so that finding your way isn’t easy. It took us a while to find the waterfall, but it was worth the hunt.

By the side of the waterfall a mysterious figure is almost obscured by the large leaves of a Rodgersia.
A lone Iris sibirica stands out against the background of ripples in the pool at the foot of the waterfall.

Even with the doors open, with the temperature in the high twenties the heated glasshouse was something of an endurance test, but we were rewarded with some beautiful blooms, such as Brugmansia (also known as Datura, or more commonly, ‘angels’s trumpets’)…

Bouganvillea…

And the air was filled with the intoxicating vanilla fragrance from the Heliotropes near the entrance…

The gardens are surrounded by countryside, with views out here and there…

We had a lovely picnic lunch on the grass among the trees. All we were missing was one of those rich, velvety reds, but then we did have to drive home, so it was probably just as well. I don’t know whether, like so many other gardens, they have been operating with reduced staff during the lockdown, but if they have, it didn’t show – the gardens were looking superb. We had a great day out, and were sad to have to leave. But as we don’t live that far away, I’m sure we’ll be back before long…

Text & photos © Graham Wright 2020