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Planting for Wildlife: Daisy, Daisy.

Thursday, June 9th, 2011

It’s no exaggeration to say that there is a crisis looming, or already in full swing, for many of our native insects. Something in the region of 70% of our native butterfly species are in steep decline and many of our bee species are now regarded as threatened, with the short-haired bumblebee having gone extinct in the last few years. Even one third of our native wasp species are now on the endangered list. All of these insect groups are vital for the ongoing health and well-being of the entire ecosystem of our countryside, and the reasons for their declines are not hard to pinpoint.

A Honeybee feeding upon an Ox-Eye Daisy.

Climate change is certainly a factor, as the seasons that species have evolved to exploit change their nature or become more unpredictable, but of far greater significance is the rise of intensive agriculture and the fragmentation or loss of wild habitats that has resulted. To put that in perspective, 97% of Britain’s wild-flower meadows have disappeared in the space of the last 70 years. When viewed from that stand-point it’s surprising that more of our native insects haven’t succumbed altogether, but part of the reason for their continued survival, and that of much of the rest of our native wildlife, is that many species have managed to transplant themselves into our gardens and the margins of habitats that might otherwise be thought of as wasteland.

One of my favourites - the Spotted Longhorn Beetle, a guaranteed visitor to a flowering patch of Ox-Eyes.

The enormous economic importance of pollinating insects is only just being appreciated. Without them virtually all of our arable agriculture would, overnight, simply cease to exist. The very nature of our landscape is also inexorably linked to the fate of it’s pollinating bees, butterflies, hoverflies, moths, beetles and wasps, and their continued survival is very much in our own hands.

The Buff-tailed Bumblebee is our most widespread species.

Alerted, as never before, to the alarming declines of insect species and their populations conservationists are becoming evangelical in their calls for us to plant more wildflowers. Food sources and living spaces are the two key areas that we, as gardeners, can readily provide for our our invertebrate neighbours, and both are served by planting wildflowers. Attempting to reverse that fragmentation of habitats, that I mentioned,  is particularly important, as insect populations can all too easily become trapped in an ever dwindling micro-niche that is both genetically unstable and highly vulnerable to climate or other physical changes.

A Heath Fritillary feeding on nectar.

The goal is to provide a network of linked wildlife corridors through which species can move and slowly expand their numbers and their range, and these corridors are created and defined by the planting of native wildflowers. Road verges, car-parks and railway tracks can all be pressed into valuable use, but the largest green area outside of farmland, and the one over which we collectively have the most control, of course, is that contained within our gardens. Each of our gardens can be thought of as a cell of the environment, and by keeping the habitat of our own “cell” happy and healthy then the whole organism will thrive, along with all of it’s wildlife diversity.

The Ox-Eye is unpretentious and naturally charming.

A good emblem for this wildflower resurgence must be the Ox-Eye Daisy - Leucanthemum vulgare. The specific name “vulgare” means common, and there’s something pleasingly unsophisticated and fundamentally natural about the look of this native wildflower that sums up the whole ethos pretty well, I think. The Ox-Eye thrives on roadside verges, poor soils and neglect. It’s the antithesis of formality, with it’s cheerful, but raggedy appearance, as the stems tumble over one another and present their flowers to the sun. Traditionally the species was a stalwart of natural wildflower meadows, and, where allowed, it is an early coloniser of meadow grassland and newly disturbed ground. The plants do equally well in a traditional English border, and can easily be incorporated into a wide variety of schemes and designs.

One of the many species of hoverfly that frequent the flowers.

Flowering more or less continuously from May through to early September the Ox-Eye is one of the quintessential British summer wildflowers. You can grow them in turf, and indeed it’s possibly to buy-in turf which already contains growing plants, and these will happily survive being mown along with the grasses, but to properly benefit your wildlife, they must be allowed to grow to their full size (around 60cm) and to flower, which they do prodigiously. You can readily raise your own Ox-Eyes from seed, which will generally flower the same year it’s sown, and is entirely undemanding in it’s requirements. The plants are perennial, but often rather short-lived, thriving best in sunny situations, which is also where they will be of most benefit to your insect population.

Common Malachite beetle, feeding on and smothered in pollen.

Ox-Eyes are adored and relied upon by a wide array of insects. Flower Beetles of many species, such as the jewel-like Malachite Beetle, will be attracted and nourished by the pollen the flowers produce, whilst the nectar is a guaranteed draw for a constellation of butterfly, day-flying moth, bee and hoverfly species. Where space and your garden conditions allow the plants will very readily self-seed, but if you need to limit their ambitions it’s easy enough to remove the spent flower heads and prevent them from multiplying.

A Green-Veined White Butterfly pays a visit.

So this is one area where we really can all make a difference, and we really can all do our bit –  sow some wildflower seed or plant some plugs, and bring swathes of meadow flowers back to life in our own back yard. In so doing we’ll be helping to maintain the health of our own garden, and that of it’s wildlife inhabitants, as well as contributing to the whole network of wildflower habitats throughout the land.

The magnificent Emerald Flower Scarab seated on his pollen meal.


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Planting for Wildlife: The Guelder Rose.

Thursday, June 2nd, 2011

Wandering through the garden recently on a hot, sunny morning I was drawn to one shrub because of the sound emanating from it…once I arrived I found the entire plant was covered with bees – wild honeybees, masonry bees, leaf-cutter bees and other solitary species – together with hoverflies of half-a-dozen different species. Even some pollen-eating horned-beetles had flown in to join the scrum, and there must have been getting on for a thousand individual insects all feeding together on one plant.

The shrub in question was a Viburnum dentatum, and the big draw for all the many insects were the flowers, many hundreds of which were covering the plant, each one laden with pollen. Our garden teems with wildlife at most times, but I was particularly pleased to think that just one individual plant was providing to much sustenance to so many wonderful insects and their various hungry broods back in their respective nests.

Viburnum dentatum is a North American species, and not necessarily one of the most ornamental of this strikingly handsome genus. Over in our hedgerows, though, both of the native species of Viburnum – V. lantana – aka the Wayfaring Tree – and V. opulus, the Guelder Rose – are doing their thing. The plants of Viburnum opulus that grow wild around the margins of the garden are all interwoven into the hedgerows and so get cut back pretty hard every couple of years, which certainly doesn’t do much for their flowering display, but where they do flower these too are smothered with feeding insects feasting on the bounty of pollen.

Viburnum opulus in full flower - a major insect magnet.

Viburnum opulus is one of our most attractive and versatile native shrubs. Not fussy as to soil type, the plants tolerate dry, infertile soils but particularly thrive in wet or boggy soils where, aside from huge trees, relatively few other native woody plants will succeed. Our largest pond is bordered by soil that was, at least in part, formed by the spoil from its excavation – rich but very heavy clay. The area also periodically floods from the river and is subject to continual leaching of water from the body of the pond.

We originally planted this mini-zone with a variety of selections of Acer palmatum, with their traditional association with water, but the continually wet soil has proven too much for these Maples, all of which failed to thrive and were moved to another part of the garden this last winter.  This pond-margin has now been replanted with a group of different cultivars of Viburnum opulus which have already produced great growth and seem to be positively relishing their semi-boggy new homes. The future display of flowers, all interweaving from the different varieties, should prove to be an even bigger insect magnet than their American cousin Viburnum detatum over on the other side of the garden.

Viburnum opulus - the wild form.

Viburnum are closely related to Hydrangea, and the flowers of V. opulus are amongst the finest in the whole genus, closely resembling those of a Lacecap Hydrangea. The common name ‘Guelder Rose’ is one of those widespread, but not very useful or accurate labels that sometimes get attached to plants, this time stemming from the introduction of one very well known form of the species – V. opulus ‘Roseum’, widely known as the Snowball Tree. This very popular cultivar was believed to have been found in the Dutch region of Guelderland, hence the name, but, from a wildlife perspective, the Snowball tree should be avoided entirely. Those large balls of flowers are completely sterile – so no pollen is produced at all, not much good for hungry bees and hoverflies.

The flowers of Viburnum opulus 'Roseum' are big and blowsy, but not much good for hungry wildlife.

Being sterile ‘Roseum’ also fails to set fruit, which brings me to another great attribute of the species. Once the flowers have fallen away the plants produce heavy clusters of cranberry-like, glistening bright-red fruits. These are absolutely beautiful to behold, particularly on the varieties with contrasting leaf colour (more of which in a moment…) but, as might be imagined, they are also highly valuable to birds busily feeding-up for the coming winter. The Thrush family are particularly fond of these fruits, and blackbirds, mistle thrushes, fieldfares and redwings will all go out of their way to visit and feed upon a fruiting bush. Woodmice and field mice are also fans of the fruit and have been known to scale the shrubs in search of a meal.

Big clusters of fruit bring in the birds (and the mice).

From an ornamental perspective – pretty important for any large shrub if it’s is going to deserve a space in most gardens, after all – the flower and the fruit are followed by another top feature, namely autumn colour. The foliage of most varieties turns to a range of colours from deep purple-burgundy to bright crimson and orange, depending on the temperatures, and is especially vivid when the plants are grown in full sun. A plant of Viburnum opulus in full autumn colour, and at the same time laden with it’s bright fruits, is pretty hard to top when it comes to seasonal finery, and all this from a common and easily grown British native.

Viburnum opulus, in autumn foliage.

Besides the aforementioned ‘Roseum’ there are surprisingly few named forms of the species, but those that do exist are generally all well worth growing. ‘Aureum’ is an old, golden-leafed cultivar that tends to burn when grown in full sun. It’s now been superseded by the much more weather-proof ‘Park Harvest’ which, come early autumn, combines it’s intensely yellow leaves with vivid red fruit – quite a spectacle.

Viburnum opulus 'Park Harvest' - the new golden foliage lined with red.

‘Xanthocarpum’ and the newly selected ‘Apricot’ have yellow and pink-ish gold fruit respectively, whilst ‘Notcutt’s Variety’ has larger flowers and fruits. Perhaps most useful of all is ‘Compactum’, a very free-flowering and strong fruiting cultivar that forms a dense and compact shrub, ultimately much smaller than the wild form, and so more readily accommodated in smaller gardens.

Viburnum opulus 'Xanthocarpum'.


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Planting for Wildlife: Honeysuckle.

Thursday, May 26th, 2011

As late Spring merges into Summer many of the hedges that border our garden here in North Devon are festooned with the most beautifully scented pink & yellow Honeysuckle. This is not something that we have planted, but instead forms a natural part of the woven fabric of the ancient hedges – our native species of this glamorous clan, Lonicera periclymenum, a plant without equal in terms of floral perfume, and also an essential element in the composition of any wildlife-friendly garden.

Lonicera 'Sweet Sue'.

L. periclymenum is a vigorous, scrambling climber, native to woodland margins and hedgerows throughout the land. The species bears large, open clusters of flowers, each comprised of greatly elongated tubes, typically red or pink on their exterior and creamy yellow within. These flower tubes flare open and re-curve back onto themselves, lending the flowers their highly exotic and intricately beautiful appearance. In truth, though, the Honeysuckle is another of those near bomb-proof native plants that will thrive in a range of garden situations without a great deal of attention or fuss. They can readily be trained over a fence or through a tree or companion shrub, and of course can easily be planted and left to develop in their natural habitat of the hedgerow.

Lonicera 'Munster'.

The species will grow in shade, although it certainly flowers better with at least a few hours of sun, but it is also highly tolerant of dry, and nutrient poor soils. The plant climbs not with arial roots or tendrils, but merely by the actions of the growing stems that have a powerfully twining, circular, clockwise momentum. This habit produced the old common English name for the plant: Woodbine – a reference to the “binding” effect that the twining stems can have on their tree hosts. A stroll through Honeysuckle woodlands will quickly reveal an array of curiously twisted and contorted tree branches, all of which will have been moulded and sculpted over time by their Honeysuckle neighbours.

The twining stems of a Honeysuckle, clambering above and below the now twisted branch of it's host tree.

Those wonderfully scented flowers first appear in late May but the season continues throughout summer, with the perfume intensifying greatly in the evening, a clue to the intended audience for the flowers. Honeysuckle blossoms are visited by bees and hoverflies, but their greatly elongated flowers are difficult for these insects to access and the nectar tubes have instead evolved to benefit an entirely different group of pollinators – the moths.  Many species of moth will visit a flowering Honeysuckle over the course of a night, feeding upon the copious nectar, and pollinating the flowers as they go. The spectacular Hawk-moths, in particular, with their greatly elongated tongues, have just the right feeding apparatus to get to the base of the flowers. All of the moth action in turn attracts bats, and an entire nocturnal mini food-chain in born.

An Elephant Hawk Moth pays a night visit to a Honeysuckle flower.

Honeysuckle flowers are only one of the many assets that the plants provide to wildlife.  The leaves are the larval foodplant for an array of Lepidoptera, most famously the majestic and all-too rare White Admiral Butterfly, but also many smaller moth species too.  In early autumn the flowers give way to bright scarlet, waxy berries, and these are a favourite of bullfinches, thrushes and a variety of  species of warbler. Honeysuckle bark is also targeted, both by birds, including Sparrows, blackbirds and pied flycatchers, as well as by dormice, all of whom use the soft, flaking, peeling bark strips to line their respective nests.

Lonicera berries.

On top of that the plant itself, once mature, creates a very dense tangle of often impenetrable, inter-woven stems which make the perfect, fully protected nesting site for an array of small birds. Sparrows, robins, blackbirds and all manner of tits will invariably make use of a Honeysuckle plant in the garden, and even outside of the breeding season the dense cover the plants provide will make a ideal sheltered roost for many of the same species. Periodic hard pruning will encourage the plants to become extra bushy and maximise the protection that they can offer to garden birds.

Those delicate, flaring, nectar-bearing flower tubes, in close-up.

Not surprisingly for such a widely cultivated and much loved native plant, a variety of forms have been selected and named over the years. The habit, foliage and vigour is pretty consistent throughout the cultivars that are available for the gardener, but the flower colours and sizes do offer a subtle range of options. The best known, and certainly the longest established are ‘Belgica’, an old Dutch selection that has been grown since the 17th Century that has red-purple flowers that fade to yellow-cream, produced early in the season, and ‘Serotina’, a much more recent selection that extends the flowering season into October.

Lonicera periclymenum 'Serotina'.

L. periclymenum ‘Graham Thomas’ is another very widely grown cultivar, this time originating in Warwickshire where the original plant was found growing wild in the 1960′s. It produces flowers that are nearly pure white in bud, opening to butter yellow. ‘Munster’ goes in the other direction, with rose pink buds that open to white with pink streaks on the tube and the reverse of the flower lobes.

Lonicera 'Graham Thomas'.

Two of the very best forms are also amongst the most recently introduced. ‘Sweet Sue’, was found and named by the famous plantsman Roy Lancaster to honour his wife; the plant has exceptionally fragrant and very large flowers of creamy white, ageing to soft yellow, whilst ‘Heaven Scent’ has equally large and equally fragrant flowers of deep cream that open to pale gold.

Lonicera 'Heaven Scent'.


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Planting for Wildlife: Foxgloves.

Thursday, May 19th, 2011

All planted gardens, no matter how modest in scale, and no matter their style are beneficial to wildlife. With the increase of industrial scale farming through the last part of the 20th Century, many species of bird, mammal and invertebrate have come to rely upon our gardens and use them as a refuge or even as their permanent home. The combination of habitat, food-source and breeding location makes the garden an obvious and invaluable sanctuary for wildlife, but, of course, some gardens are more useful than thers when it comes to providing for the needs of wildlife.

The common, wild form of our native Foxglove.

Lots of recent research has underlined the importance of native plants in attracting and then maintaining populations of wildlife in the garden. This is hardly a great surprise, as virtually all our our native flora and fauna have evolved together and a host of different inter-dependent relationships have emerged as a result. Taking this to it’s ultimate conclusion you could argue, as many do, that the ultimate wildlife garden would contain only native plant species, and in so doing would replicate a little patch of habitat that has been lost from the open countryside.

That’s all well and good in theory, but in practice only the most dedicated, or those with the most garden space to spare, are likely to head down the all-native route when planting out their plot. But what almost every gardener certainly can do is to integrate some native plants into their garden schemes. The British flora is well known for having been greatly impoverished by the last ice age, and it’s true that we can’t get close to the variety or numbers of species found at similar latitudes in Asia or North America; still, a little investigation will turn up a really quite remarkable array of highly appealing species that will sit comfortably in any ornamental garden whilst giving the local wildlife the opportunity to benefit at the same time.

The soft pink of Digitalis purpurea 'Suttons Apricot'.

A good case in point is our native Foxglove – Digitalis purpurea. Foxgloves are so familiar, so commonplace both in the landscape and in our flower-memories, that it’s easy to take them for granted and ignore their great appeal. In this case, though, commonplace certainly doesn’t mean dull or unworthy of garden space. If you stop and take the time to really look at a foxglove in full flowering glory you could easily imagine that you’re looking at some exotic, tropical hot-house plant, rather than a vigorous and ultra-tough wildflower.

Digitalis purpurea Excelsior Group.

Digitalis is a small, but highly ornamental genus of herbaceous plants, pretty much all of which are endemic to Europe. D. purpurea is the only truly British native species, (although a few others have escaped from gardens are form localised populations in the wild) but rather handily, it is also the largest-flowered, and most easily grown of the group. The species is very easily grown from seed, which germinates rapidly (a week to 10 days is the norm) with no special treatment. The plants are generally biennial, meaning that the first year is spent bulking up and the second flowering, after which they die, leaving copious seed behind. If you grow them in a semi-natural area or bed, then they will invariably self-seed and quickly provide an ongoing succession of generations to grow and flower. Alternatively it’s easy to collect some seed and sow in a pot or seedtray the following Spring. In the wild they often colonise disturbed ground and woodland edges, but in the garden they will do just as well in full sun or semi shade in a regular herbaceous bed.

A wild stand of Digitalis purpurea.

Foxgloves have an exceptional reputation for attracting certain kinds of wildlife. They don’t bring in birds or butterflies, but they are absolutely unrivalled attractors of one of our most important and most threatened groups of insects, namely bumblebees. You only have to look at a Bumblebee feeding at a Foxglove to see how obviously and closely the two have co-evolved, each benefiting the other. The foxglove flower fits the bumblebee like a glove, and indeed, so specific is the match that few other insects are able to access it’s resources at all. For the flower the bumblebee brings a reliable and dedicated pollinator, whilst for the bee the Foxglove provides a feast of both nectar and pollen, which they feed to their larvae.

A White-tailed Bumblebee coming into land on a Foxglove flower.

Each individual flower is spotted and lined to our eyes, and much more vividly so to a Bumblebee, whose vision, like that of all insects, operates primarily in the ultra-violet spectrum. These patterns have evolved to precisely guide the bees onto the landing strips of the flowers, and then up into the bells to where the nectar and pollen lie.  The flowers even have an array of hairs on their lower surface to help the heavy insects get a secure grip as they do their work.

A Foxglove flower in close-up, with the guide spots and hairs for the benefit of the bees.

Wild populations of Digitalis purpurea are almost invariably rosy red/purple in flower, and show relatively little variance. However their very long history in cultivation has, over time, lead to the selection of  a number of other colour forms. D. purpurea f. albiflora is an exceedingly beautiful and very well-known form with pure white flowers.

The elegant, cool white of Digitalis purpurea f. albiflora

Digitalis purpurea 'Sutton's Primrose'.

‘Sutton’s Apricot’ is a soft, flesh-pink whilst ‘Sutton’s Giant Primrose’  extends into deep nearly-yellow-cream. Many other forms, such as the Excelsior Group, have also been selected for increased spotting or heavy blotching on the flowers, which reaches an extreme in ‘Pam’s Choice’ and the Giant Spotted Group. All of these are seed grown and so the flowers of each individual plant do vary somewhat, within the general limits of the group, but all are highly worthwhile and can provide essential drama for you and a lifeline for your equally fascinating and beautiful garden residents, the Bumblebees.

Digitalis purpurea 'Pam's Choice'.


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Planting for Wildlife: Respect your Elders.

Thursday, May 12th, 2011

The month of May has to one of the busiest times for wildlife in the garden. Fledglings are demanding food, dragonflies, bees, hoverflies and countless other invertebrates are taking to the wing, whilst the young of all our native mammals are out-and-about learning the ways of their world. All of these different species have food at the top of their priority list, and it can be a precarious time for adults and young alike.

Hedgerows, woodlands and garden margins provide a nursery for many of our native wildlife species and the planting choices that we make in these areas can make a real difference to the success of our local wildlife. Early May is dominated by the Hawthorn (May Tree) whose flowers and new foliage provide a wealth of food, both for insects and the birds and other predators that rely upon them. By the middle of the month the May flowers are falling, but one batch of fluffy white blossoms are almost immediately replaced by those of another ancient native tree, these belonging to the Elder - Sambucus nigra.

Sambucus nigra - the Elderflower.

Native to most of Europe, and with near-identical subspecies covering North America and northern Asia, the Elder has an enormously rich and varied history in human culture, and is still widely used for creating cordial and teas (from the flowers) together with jams, chutneys, sauces and wines (all from the fruit). Our native wildlife makes even better use of the plant than we do. Although Sambucus foliage is mildly toxic to us humans many species of insects have no problem dealing with it and the species forms the principle foodplant of an array of moth larvae, in particular, most glamorous and impressive of which is undoubtedly the Emperor – the only British native species of Silkmoth.

The amazing Emperor Moth - this one's a male.

Those huge creamy white masses of flowers are also incredibly important sources of pollen and nectar for a vast array of insects. The sheer number of individual flowers produced on a single mature Elder accounts for the key role it plays in the lives of Bees, Hoverflies, Butterflies and innumerable solitary wasp and beetle species alike. Introducing a plant or two into your garden could make a real difference in the ability of your local population of these useful insects to thrive and reproduce successfully.

A whole Elder bush laden with blossom.

Later in the season Elders provide a whole other food bonanza in the form of their fruit. The deep red-violet berries can, in good years, weigh down the branches of a vigorous young tree and many birds (a recent global study found no less than 120 bird species feeding on Elderberries) will make a bee-line for this harvest. Resident species such as Blackbirds, Robins, Warblers, Tits and Collared Doves can be joined by migratory Whitethroats, Fieldfares, Waxwings and Redwings at the feast. Again, the presence of a fruiting tree in the garden will certainly encourage species that may not otherwise visit, and so increase the overall diversity of wildlife in the garden.

Elderberries - absolutely loaded with vitamin C and vital for many birds.

Elder plants grow extremely rapidly and can grow and even colonise the most unpromising locations. They are extremely tolerant of both wet and dry sites as well as of acidic and alkaline soils. This can occasionally lead to the species become invasive, although they don’t generally tend to seed themselves around nearly as much as many other native colonising species and their shallow roots are easily removed where they are not wanted. This speed of establishment does make them absolutely ideal for use in new gardens and where maximum growth and green impact is required in the minimum time.

Sambucus nigra 'Aurea'.

Although they can and do form small trees the Elders more usually takes the form of a dense, multi-stemmed bush, and this mass of foliage provides the next vital use for wildlife, this time not for food but as a habitat. Mammals, large and small, use Elders as temporary shelter, and both the Woodmouse and the Dormouse seek it out as a nesting tree. Many species of birds also find the multi-stemmed shrubby habit useful to support their nests, and Blackbirds, Thrushes, Bullfinches and Chaffinches will all be encouraged to take up residence where Elders are planted.

Sambucus nigra 'Black Beauty'.

Along with the regular, white flowered Common Elder there are a selection of highly ornamental cultivars of Sambucus nigra, most of which are readily available. Foliage wise you can choose golden leafed forms such as ‘Aurea’, cut-leafed forms including f. laciniata, variegated-leaf forms like ‘Albovariegata’ & ‘Madonna’ and, most popular of all, various deep back-red forms.

The foliage of Sambucus nigra 'Madonna'.

These last group provide flowers in shades of pink with contrasting foliage of deep purple, and can produce extremely beautiful and dramatic effects in the garden. ‘Thundercloud’ and ‘Black Beauty’ both have fragrant pink flowers over blackish-purple foliage, but best of all, perhaps (if you can excuse the name!), is ‘Black Lace’  - now more properly and attractively named Sambucus nigra ‘Eva’.  This is a somewhat less vigorous selection, generally reaching around 3 metres in height and width, and combines large clusters of pale pink flowers with deeply cut and dissected foliage.

Sambucus nigra 'Eva' AKA 'Black Lace'.

All of these forms and selections give similar benefits to wildlife, and allow the gardener to widen and increase the use of Elders in the garden, which can only be a good thing.


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Summer Flowering Magnolias.

Thursday, May 5th, 2011

Magnolias hold a very special place in my heart. It was the fluttering Lotus-like petals of my parents Magnolia stellata that were partly responsible for my fascination with plants in the first place. Their shape, size and clean simplicity seemed somehow more extraordinary than most other garden plants. This introduction to the genus – at the tender age of maybe 6-ish – was the jumping off point for a lifelong relationship with these most magnificent of temperate flowering trees.

Magnolia sieboldii - pink stamen form.

I have blogged before about some of the newer hybrids and colour forms of Magnolia, but this is a huge and diverse genus and there is another, very different sub-section of Magnolias that opens the plants up to more gardens and gardeners than might traditionally be imagined. Magnolias, as a whole, are quite rightly thought of as large, and generally tree-like in size. Even the smallest of the well known species (such as good old M. stellata) eventually become quite enormous in girth, if not in height. Magnolias are also known for preferring acid soil. This is not entirely accurate, and almost all will do perfectly well on a neutral soil, particularly one that is nutrient rich, as is the case with most clay-based soils, for instance, but alkaline soils are generally seen as a no-go area for the plants.

The group that I want to highlight don’t conform to either of those stereotypes, however. They are most definitely shrubby and rarely if ever grow on a single trunk, which in turn makes them much easier to accommodate in smaller gardens. What’s more they are known to be highly tolerant of even quite alkaline, chalky soils, and are amongst the best of all shrubs for use in such gardens where other luxuriant Himalayan/Chinese shrubs can often be all but impossible to grow.

Magnolia wilsonii.

Another handy thing about these plants is that they flower well after the “normal” Magnolia season. Strictly speaking there is no one Magnolia season, and, in fact the genus contains species, that together, can be in flower pretty much 365 days of the year. Still, it’s fair to say that most gardeners associate Magnolias with Spring…and with Spring come frosts, and with frosts come mushy flowers and disappointed gardeners. These summer flowering species completely bypass all of that potential heartbreak and their flowers are never affected by frosts in any way.

The horizontal flowers of Magnolia sieboldii.

The most primitive of all Magnolias – and indeed the most ancient of all flowering plants alive today – are summer bloomers too. Species including Magnolia obovata, M. fraseri, M. officinalis, M. macrophylla and M. tripetala are all spectacular and wonderfully Jurassic in appearance when their gigantic flowers open, but these are huge trees, and completely unsuitable for all but the most park-like of gardens.

Super-primitive, the giant blooms of Magnolia obovata.

Flowering along side them, from early May through to mid summer, are a small gaggle of 4 species, all of which are closely related to one another. Magnolia sieboldii is the best known, and perhaps the template for these shrubby, summer-flowering species.  A native of Japan, Korea and China it slowly grows to form a large bush that flowers from a very young age and small size….and what flowers they are too! Cup-shaped, horizontal or gently nodding, around 15cm (6 inches) in size, and pure white with a central boss of stamens in a contrasting colour – typically pinkish red, but deep burgundy in the best forms. Lacking the blowsy-showiness of the more familiar Spring flowering Magnolias these are a different proposition, and, together with their gentle fragrance their blooms are, with good reason, regarded amongst the most perfectly formed of all flowers.

Magnolia sieboldii

The Chinese native Magnolia sinensis is the closest relative to M. sieboldii, indeed some botanists lump the two together into the same species, but it is distinct in habit at least, and stands as the largest growing of the four. The flowers are also fully pendulous – wonderful viewed from below and perfect for planting on a steep slope. M. sinensis regularly sets seed in this country too, and this adds a whole further ornamental aspect to the plants, since the seed is held in dangling, bright scarlet seedpods that look extra vivid contrasted against the deep green foliage.

Those burgundy stamens in close-up.

Magnolia wilsonii seedpod.

Magnolia wilsonii is another Chinese species. In my experience it’s the best of the group for the production of seed pods, and each year the plants are fully laden with the fat, cone-like red pods. M. wilsonii also regularly re-flowers throughout summer and even into autumn, and tops all of this off with a decent display of autumn leaf colour when the foliage turns to butter yellow – one of the few Magnolias to do so.

The last of the small group is also the rarest both in cultivation and in the wild. Magnolia globosa is native to Yunnan, in South-West China, and also to Nepal. This Nepalese population has produced the best, and hardiest plants for the garden, and grows without any problems in our rather exposed and frost-prone garden. The flowers of this species don’t open fully, which lends the plant it’s specific name “globosa” as well as it’s Nepalese common name of “Hen Magnolia”, after the very egg-like buds that adorn the branches from May through June to July.

A brand new, as yet un-named hybrid of M. sieboldii and the pink-flowered M. insignis.

Although they are not pollen-compatible with most of the other Magnolias these four species have been used in hybridisation programmes with a few of the larger Asian species, and the gorgeous naturally occurring hybrid Magnolia x wieseneri is by far the best known, and most readily available of the their offspring. This has flowers that resemble it’s parent M. sieboldii, but they are larger, more widely opening, and much more intensely fragrant. This fragrance caused a complete sensation when the plant was first exhibited at the Paris Exposition of 1889, and continues to cause devotees to froth at the mouth at the mere mention of it’s name to this day.

Magnolia x wieseneri, with it's large, upwards facing and intensely perfumed flowers.


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The Bluebells Tale.

Thursday, April 28th, 2011

There can be few sights more evocative of the English countryside than a Bluebell wood in full flower. Late April and early May see large numbers of worshippers flock to key sites when entire acreages turn to azure, the colour all the more striking for the contrast that it makes with the apple-green of the newly emerging woodland foliage above.

Sunlight filtered through the woodland canopy onto a carpet of Blue.

The Bluebell is a perennial herbaceous plant whose new shoots, in common with many denizens of the woodland floor, emerge from their over-wintering bulbs at the tail end of winter, before the overhead canopy robs the floor of light. The species sets profuse seed and also multiplies rapidly at the bulb, with nemerous new bulbils being produced in a good year.  The combined efforts of these two reproductive strategies can see the species dominate over extensive areas that provide the right conditions.

The nodding, bell-shaped flowers, unfurl from mid April to early June, depending on the seasonal temperatures and the location. Not surprisingly, given the widespread affection in which the plant is held, a variety of other common and local names abound besides the familiar one. These include Auld Man’s Bell, Calverkeys, Jacinth, Granfer Giggles, Wild Hyacinth and Wood Bells – all of which refer to the flowers. Although Bluebells are, of course, prominently blue in colour white flowered plants are quite frequent, and can form small stands in amongst the blue. Much rarer are the pink flowered forms, although these too do occasionally occur amongst wild populations.

White flowered bluebells are not uncommon.

Botanically speaking, the species has previously been given it’s own genus, as Endymion non-scriptum as well as being  included within the closely related Scillas (Squills) as Scilla non-scripta. These days most botanists accept the scientific name Hyacinthoides non-scripta, which identifies the species as a close relative of the Hyacinths – Hyacinthoides literally meaning ‘Hyacinth-like’. As for the specific name, ‘non-scripta’ this translates as ‘unlettered’, which might appear rather odd as a plant name, but relates to the ancestor of cultivated hyacinths Hyacinthus orientalis. In Greek mythology the Hyacinth was believed to have ererged from the blood of the prince Hyacinthus as he lay dying. In response to this tragedy Apollo wrote ‘AI AI’, meaning ‘alas’, on the petals of the Hyacinth flower in order to express his grief. These wild Hyacinths, thus being the ‘lettered’ flowers, as opposed to the unlettered Bluebell flowers.

In close-up - the nodding, reflexed flower bells.

Aside from their visual appeal, Bluebells have been widely turned to various utilitarian purposes too. The sap is extremely rich in starch and was widely used as a glue for bookbinding – the toxins in the sap handily also discouraging nibbles from silverfish –  as well as for attaching feathers to arrows. That same starch also provided the stiffening properties in Victorian ruffs and collars.

The Bluebell is also rich in folklore and associations, both good and ill. The plants undoubted toxicity may also be the origin of the belief that anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells will soon fall under fairy enchantment and be lost or even die. The fairy connection is repeated in other myths too, all of which stem from a time when the countryside was considerably more densely forested, and potentially hazardous. In particular the bells of the Bluebell flowers were believed to ring to summon fairies to their gatherings, and any unfortunate human who heard the ringing would soon die.  A counter belief was that when wearing a Bluebell wreath the wearer would be compelled to speak only the truth, whilst if anyone succeeded in turning one of the individual flowers inside out without tearing it, they would win the one whom they loved.

Bumblebees are key pollinators.

Bluebells are denizens of deciduous woodlands, and have also adapted to their changing and reduced habitats by taking up residence in hedgerows, meadows, cliffs and shady gardens. Their ideal environment, perhaps, is actually man-made – the coppiced woodland, where reasonable light levels reach the floor and regular management keeps the environment optimum for growth. These are the sort of conditions that allow the species to dominate, and vigorously out-compete all other flora that attempts to grow and blooms in the same season.

Although they do have a reputation for being hugely invasive in shady gardens (due largely to the lack of natural competition) Bluebells actually need a fairly specific environment to really thrive and are intolerant of trampling, heavy grazing, water logging & permanent deep shade. They are able to grow happily in sunlight, but can’t compete with carpet-forming grasses, so are rarely present in open sites. Where remnant Bluebell populations are found in hedgerows and pastures it’s a good indicator that that the land was once wooded.

Bluebells in a relatively open location, beneath an orchard.

Bluebells are native only to Europe, and whilst the species is still common in Britain and Ireland, it is rare or endangeres throughout the rest of the continent with about one third of the worlds wild population endemic to the UK. The species has greatly declined over the past 50 years and is considered to be globally threatened as a result of habitat loss and over-collection for use in gardens. Legislation introduced in an attempt to halt this decline means that it is now illegal to collect seed or bulbs from any wild populations.

The typical heavily arched flowering stem of the Common Bluebell.

A further and on-going threat to the Bluebell comes in the form of it’s close relative, the non-native Spanish Bluebell, Hyacinthiodes hispanica. This larger, more vigorous species has for many years been widely grown in British gardens, from where it has escaped to both out-compete and hybridize with our native species.

The Spanish Bluebell - with the bells evenly distributed around the stem, which is held upright.

The English Bluebell has fragrant flowers held only on one side of the stem and always in a distinctive, nodding arrangement. The Spanish Bluebell, by contrast, has unscented flowers produced on on all sides of the stem and in a fully upright pose, much more like a wild Hyacinth, in fact. Hybrids between the two species are now widespread in the countryside due to pollination by bees and the discarding of the over-vigorous, unwanted bulbs in hedges and road verges. Both methods of introduction represent a serious threat to the long-term survival of our native species, and the very real possibility of the eradication of the one of our most cherished wild-flowers. What a tragedy that would be.


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Lilac Time.

Thursday, April 21st, 2011

Amongst of the most evocative, popular and widely planted of all late Spring flowering shrubs, Lilacs - Syringa species – seem to be having something of a boom season this year. The exceptionally warm and dry April weather has pushed forward the flowering time for many specimens of the common Lilac – Syringa vulgaris – in particular, and gardens near us here in Devon are flowing over with the bumptious, highly fragrant blossoms that wouldn’t normally be putting in an appearance for another few weeks at least.

The Lilacs are a small genus of around 20 species that, in the wild, range from South-Eastern Europe to China and Japan. They are, rather surprisingly perhaps, members of the Olive family – Oleaceae - and, like most members of that clan, they gravitate towards sunny, well drained habitats in the wild.

Syringa vulgaris 'Andenken an Ludwig Spath'.

The cultivated history of the common Lilac is extensive and ancient. The plant is native to the mountainous regions of the Balkans and was widely grown for millennia in the Ottoman gardens of what is now modern day Turkey. By the 1500′s specimens of these cultivated plants found their way into British gardens for the first time, where they quickly became essential ingredients in the newly burgeoning English Gardening scene.  Initially a great rarity, prized above all for their fragrance,  the ease with which S. vulgaris can be propagated from cuttings, as well as it’s handy habit of self-seeding, meant that the newly fashionable plant soon took root in all the best gardens across Europe, and from there the USA too.

Syringa vulgaris 'Primrose' - the closest approach to a yellow flowered Lilac.

Today there are many hundreds – conservative estimates suggest at least 500 - of selected forms and hybrids of S. vulgaris from which the gardener can choose. In almost all cases the plants themselves are identical in habit, size, leaf etc., and have been selected and named purely for their different flower colours and forms. It’s fair to say that a huge number of these are nearly identical to one another, and their existence perhaps says more about the desire of gardeners & nurserymen to name their own form, rather than any special qualities that they posses. On the plus side, it’s almost impossible to find a bad form, so the excessive abundance of varieties at least have quality control going for them.

Syringa vulgaris 'Madame Charles Souchet'.

When left to it’s own devices Syringa vulgaris forms a very large, multi-stemmed shrub. If carefully pruned and shaped the plants can be formed into small, single-stemmed trees and often look highly attractive when grown in this way. The individual flowers are small and tubular, with flaring petals, but they are produced in huge numbers in very densely packed, upright panicles.

Flower colour varies from white through every permutation of blue-purple, to magenta pink. There are also a small number of varieties with a hint of yellow pigment in the flower, giving an overall creamy impression. Many double flowered forms have been selected, in which each individual flower is expanded and/or flattened  and the petals multiplied. These double forms are often referred to as “French Lilac”, a name that has arisen because, like very many of the best single flowered forms, they were raised by Victor Lemoine and his son Emile at their nursery in Nancy, France. Lemoine was also the first to extensively hybridize between the Lilac species, generally using S. vulgaris as one parent and S. x persica, (the so-called Persian Lilac), S. x hyacinthiflora, and x S. chinensis are amongst the now well-known offspring that resulted from his experiments.

Syringa vulgaris 'Madame Lemoine' one of the double-flowered forms developed at Lemoine's nursery

It’s not all plain sailing in the Lilac world, however, since the flowers are also considered to be extremely bad luck, or even harbingers of doom if brought inside the house. This strange reputation stems from the time when highly fragrant flowers were used indoors to cover the smell of putrification that resulted from a death. Being so widely grown, and abundant in flower, Lilac was very frequently employed in this way, and as a result became associated with death itself - ironic really, considering that the flowers were used to combat the signs of death. It’s an idea that has persisted, though, and even to this day the flowers are not supplied by florists.

Syringa vulgaris 'Sensation' - one of the very few Lilacs with truly bi-coloured flowers.

Aside from the ubiquitous S. vulgaris and it’s many forms and hybrids, there are several other highly ornamental members of the genus that are well worth investigation.

Syringa pubescens subsp. microphylla ‘is distinctive and now widely available. It forms a pretty shrub that rarely reaches more than 2 metres in height or width and contrasts it’s open, fragrant flower panicles with delicate and very small leaves. The form ‘Superba’ was selected for it’s very free-flowering habit, with blooms being produced intermittently from May through to the first frosts.

Syringa pubescens subsp. microphylla 'Superba'.

The Chinese native Syringa pinnatifolia is definitely the most unusual, or at least the most un-lilac like of the genus, looking much more like a Daphne at first glance. It’s flowers are held in small, nodding panicles, far smaller than those of the common Lilac, but are very charming nonetheless. The foliage is equally attractive, being divided into multiple small leaf-lets that give the whole plant an airy, but also exotic appearance.

Syringa pinnatifolia.

The king of the Lilacs has to be another Chinese species, the magnificent Syringa reflexa. This absolutely gorgeous plant bears large, elongated, cascading flower panicles of deep, pure pink, with each individual flower have a contrasting white throat. I will always remember my first encounter with a flowering plant of this species. It completely revolutionised the way that I saw the Lilacs and I vowed to track down a specimen ASAP!

Syringa reflexa.

The rather clunkily-named Syringa sweginzowii is another, extremely similar Chinese species, and a hybrid between this and S. reflexa, was raised in Germany in the 1930′s and named S. x swegiflexa. Happily I now grow all three of these and can testify to their enormous appeal for both eyes and nose alike.

Syringa sweginzowii


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Going up in the World – Making Raised Beds.

Thursday, April 14th, 2011

Having dipped our toes into the world of the raised bed in my last blog, and considered all of the benefits that they can bring to the garden, I’m now going to look at how to actually put a raised bed together and some of the various options along the way.

At it’s very simplest a raised bed is just that – a bed of garden soil mounded up above the level of the surrounding area. Several fruit crops, in particular, are grown en mass in exactly this way, with soil being mounded and the plants perched atop the mound. That’s fine for the very short term but in practise the combined efforts of the weather and time will quickly work to bring the mound back down to earth, and the gardener back to square one by the end of the season. Which is where containerisation comes in.

A beautiful bed made from natural wood.

Enclosing your raised bed of soil in a walled container allows all the benefits of mounding, but with the greatly added advantage of permanence, which in turn allows long-term planting arrangements or regular batches of crops to be grown.

In theory you can make your raised bed from pretty much any material that takes your fancy, so long as it provides sound and prolonged containment for the soil within. It’s best to consider your garden as a whole, and how the new bed will fit in and enhance it, and this, above all else, may well end up dictating your choice of materials.

Wood is certainly the most popular option, being readily available, cheap, lightweight and easily cut to fit a given site. There are a number of raised bed kits available from garden suppliers, most of which are made from wood, and these provide an easy and quick solution, particularly if you only need a small bed.  Concrete, stone, or brick are also pretty versatile, but will cost more in terms of initial investment as well as the labour to heft them into place. These are not the only options however.

A deep bed made from concrete blocks.

Traditionally raised beds were formed instantly by using bales of hay or straw as the walls, and this idea still holds good today. Degradable walls won’t provide a long term solution, but they can be replaced annually easily enough, and certainly allow a quick fix whilst you contemplate or construct longer term solutions. Metal, used tyres and an array of plastics are further options that together can provide the materials for raised beds that will work in virtually any given situation.

A small straw bale raised bed.

Once you’ve figured out your materials it’s on to the construction.

Site Selection

Different parts of your garden will provide very different growing conditions, so it’s vitally important to figure out what it is you want to grow and the conditions that will best suit them. From there you can work out the ideal location in your garden for the bed. Of course, just like any other part of the garden,  the same principle can also work just as well the other way around – you have a given site in which you want to place the bed, the next step it to figure out the conditions at that site, which in turn will determine what will grow best in the bed. Very many raised beds are employed for the growing of fruit, veg and herbs, and in all such cases you need to find a sheltered site that receives as much light and warmth as possible – ideally a minimum of eight hours of sun per day. Wherever you choose to site the bed the ground needs to be reasonably level (or level-able)  and it needs to have access to water – generally at the end of a hose pipe.

Shapes and Sizes

It’s often said that the optimum width of any raised bed is 4 feet. One of the important principles of growing in raised beds is that the soil isn’t walked upon or compacted, so it’s important to make sure that you bed is accessible from all sides and is narrow enough to reach across without having to step into it. If you’re siting the bed against a wall or fence, then bring that maximum width down to three feet. You can then make the bed (or beds) as long as suits your site. Depth of the bed is pretty critical too, and the deeper the bed the more benefits it will confer, so don’t be tempted to skimp. Six inches of depth should be the absolute minimum, and for anything other than the smallest beds try to aim for at least 10 to 12 inches.

A series of raised beds sited on a solid patio surface.

Site Preparation

The amount and exact nature of the site preparation – i.e. getting the existing soil ready for your new bed – will depend to a large degree on the depth of your bed and the plants that you wish to grow there. Unless your soil is truly diabolical, or the bed it being sited on a solid surface, then the first step should be to weed, fork over and loosen the existing soil surface, removing any turf if the bed is to be sited on grass. Unless your bed is very shallow there’s no need to dig the soil over to any great depth, and indeed doing so could alter the balance of beneficial microbes and risk bringing dodgy subsoil up into the bed.  Newspaper, landscape fabric, or cardboard can be used to line the bed where necessary and all will provide quick and effective weed suppression whilst still allowing for good drainage.

Using landscape fabric to line the new bed.

Construction

The possible methods of construction are as variable as, and are largely determined by, the materials that you are choosing to use. Firstly measure out your site – string and bamboo canes can give you a great idea of shapes and sizes and how they will work in the garden as a whole – and sketch the arrangement of  the bed and how it will fit together. Wooden beds can be constructed simply, using ethically sourced, outdoor grade (preservative treated) softwood built up to whatever height you decide to go for. Cut your pieces to the desired size, then attach them together to make a simple, four-sided frame. The corners can be secured with internal brackets, screwed together with galvanized screws or by fixing a small corner post into each of the four corners to which each walled side is attached.

Bed walls attached to one another by screwing into short corner posts.

Levelling

Move your frame into it’s location and use a spirit level to ensure that it really is flat. This is more important that might be imagined since a partly tilted or otherwise uneven raised bed will lead to uneven drainage, potentially leading to flooding on one side of the bed and drought on the other. If your site preparation was good then it should be a simple matter of forking the soil around the frame edges until all sides are level.

Fill and Plant

One of the primary benefits of planting in raised bed is that it allows you the chance to create an ideal growing medium for your intended plants. So there’s no point in going to the trouble of creating a new bed only to then fill it with substandard soil.  A good mixture of quality topsoil, leafmould, garden compost, and rotted manure makes for an ideal, humus-rich blend, but again, the exact composition should be determined by the type of plants that you will be growing – herbs and alpines will benefit from the addition of lots of grit, for example. Once the bed is filled, and levelled, then you’re all ready to plant and start reaping the benefits.

A pair of beds - filled, levelled and newly planted.

Maintenance

Raised beds are, in effect, very large planting containers, and like any other container they will rely on you to maintain moisture levels, rather more so that the surrounding garden, although much less so than would an individual pot. Aside from that maintainance is blissfully easy and revolves around an annual or bi-annual surface application of mulch/compost/well-rotted manure to maintain fertility and moisture levels. Generally speaking it is not necessary to dig over the entire depth of soil or, and lightly forking the surface will provide a suitable open and crumbly planting environment for the next seasons crops.


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Going up in the World – the Benefits of Raised Beds.

Thursday, April 7th, 2011

Raised planting beds, in one form or another, have been in use  for almost as long as humans have been cultivating plants – just think of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon….Whatever plants you intend growing, be they ornamental or culinary, these useful and highly adaptable garden features offer a remarkable range of benefits over growing directly in the ground and, so long as you’re not intending to create a new 8th wonder of the world, they can also generally be created simply and cheaply.

Simple but effective - a series of small raised beds awaiting filling.

Amongst the most immediate advantages are that you can cultivate all sorts of things that wouldn’t ordinarily be growable in your garden. Your garden might have soil that is too acid for vegetables, or too alkaline for ericaceous plants, for example, or your ground might be too stony, wet, quick draining etc. Going one step further, raised beds will allow you create planting areas where none currently exist at all, such as in a courtyard or rooftop, or simply make the very most of a small, or awkwardly shaped garden.

The extension of planting choices doesn’t stop at the soil itself however, as the actual sighting of the bed itself can open up new planting possibilities – a hot sunny location is perfect for a herb bed, for instance, and the extra drainage of the raised bed creates the perfect planting conditions too. On the other hand a spot in dappled shade, perhaps beneath the canopies of overhead trees,  would be ideal for growing a collection of woodland gems that might otherwise get swamped in open ground.

The dramatically improved drainage afforded by a raised bed makes the ideal planting environment for alpines.

If your soil is thin, stony, infertile or full of subsoil clay – all of which are common problems for the gardens of many new build houses, amongst others – then the addition of garden compost, well-rotted manure or leaf-mould will allow you to immediately create rich, balanced and ideal planting conditions. Improvements of the garden soil itself could take many years or even decades to come close to providing the same quality of growing environment and annual additions and improvements will be maintained within the beds much more readily than they would in the open ground too.

Another key benefit is that the soil in raised beds is not walked on and so remains uncompacted. In order to create an optimum growing medium  soil needs plenty of water and air moving freely throughout. Compaction progressively destroys the soil structure, prevents the movement and retention of both of these key elements and so seriously limits root growth. Crop yields from vegetables, fruit or flowers are all significantly better where compaction is avoided, and individual plants can also be spaced more closely together, further maximising the use of space.

Lots of veg packed in closely, making the most of the available space.

Even without any additional protection the improved drainage within raised beds means that the soil warms more quickly at the start of the growing season and the start of each day too. The leads to improved growth in general, but also allows Spring vegetables to be planted out earlier, and so the whole crop year is extended, which, once again leads to a more efficient use of space and time.

The benefits aren’t limited to simply extending planting choices, however. When properly sited and built to an appropriate level raised beds can dramatically increase the discomfort and/or pain of bending and kneeling to tend your plants as well as bringing smaller plants closer to eye level where they can be appreciated, tended or cropped, as appropriate. They can also allow access to planting areas that would be almost impossible to gardeners in wheelchairs or with limited mobility.

Raised beds can allow far greater access to soil and plants at a convenient height.

Once established raised beds will rarely, if ever need to be entirely dug over. The presiding principle is to add more nutrition at the surface and let the worms and other friendly soil beasties do the hard work for you, so, as a sub-section of no-dig gardening, working with raised beds requires much less physical work. General maintenance - watering, pest removal and particularly weeding – are also made easier since the soil level is closer to hands and eyes and the lack of compaction allows even the most stubborn weeds to readily be teased out.

Working with a fixed, raised frame bed also allows for the easy attachment of protective covers, when needed. Frost protection can be vital for getting seedlings and veg crops established in spring, and the solid boundaries of the bed can be purpose made to hold season-extending horticultural fleece, for instance. At the other end of the season fruit crops, in particular, can easily be protected from bird damage, by again using the frame of the raised bed as an attachment point for netting.

Highly beneficial though they are, raised beds needn’t simply be all about utility are crop-yields. From a design perspective, using raised beds in the garden is a bit like being given an extra spacial dimension with which to work, and can open up a whole new range of possible shapes, heights and effects that would otherwise be unavailable. It’s not simply a question of  having plants higher than ground level either, as the sides of beds can be turned into cascading walls of foliage or the beds themselves used to divide up an otherwise open space, in turn helping to provide shelter, shade or just simply surprises-around-the-corner in any garden.

Raised beds can make for beautiful, as well as functional garden features.

Despite their great simplicity raised beds certainly are extremely valuable additions to any garden, and it’s no wonder that they’ve been a staple of worldwide horticulture for millennia. In my next blog I’ll be looking at how to create a raised bed and the different materials that can be used.


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