News Tagged ‘Bulbs’

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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The Winter Garden: Galanthus Gala.

Monday, January 31st, 2011

As this unusually long and rather harsh winter moves into it’s final stages, and the days finally start to grow longer and brighter, one of the most familiar and totemic of all our wildflowers is re-emerging, seemingly in defiance of the cold. The Snowdrop – Galanthus nivalis – is so familiar it’s easy to take it for granted, but take the time to kneel-down and study an individual flower and you’ll be rewarded with an intimate portrait of a fascinating plant.

Galanthus nivalis 'Daphne's Scissors'.

Members of the Amaryllis family (Amaryllidaceae) our native species is one of a small genus of around 20 species.  Some, such as Galanthus elwesii, are larger and rather more bold in the garden, whilst others  including Galanthus woronowii, are dwarf, they all pretty closely follow the same familiar pattern and floral structure.

Their scientific name was one of the first “Latinized” names to be published, indicating their significance in the landscape. Linnaeus, the oft-styled father of modern plant taxonomy, chose the name in 1753, fusing two Greek words gala (meaning milk) and anthos (flower), and adding the specific name nivalis (meaning snow) to underline the season as well, perhaps, as the pure white quality of the flower.

Galanthus 'Hill Poe'.

Whilst the common name “Snowdrop” is now utterly inseparable from the plant, in earlier times the flowers had a huge number of other, rather charming regional names including “February Fairmaids”, “Dingle-Dangle”, “Candlemas Bells”, “Snow Piercers” and “Mary’s Tapers”.

The species that we regard as our wild snowdrop is actually native to a wide swathe of Continental Europe spreading Eastwards to Turkey and the Ukraine. Here I must drop what could be something of a gardening bombshell too, for “our” Snowdrop, so permanent and ubiquitous in British woodlands, hedgerows and gardens is actually nothing of the sort. The species is actually believed to have been introduced from the continent as recently as the 1500′s.

Galanthus 'S. Arnott'.

This raises an interesting question about what we really mean by “Native” British flora. A good number of plants we now regard as always having been here were also introduced by various different human endeavours, and some have gone on to define aspects of our vary landscape – the Beech tree being perhaps the most significant of these. One thing is for sure though, as soon as the diminutive Snowdrop arrived on our shores then it was taken to the hearts of everyone who clapped eyes on it. By the early 1700′s different flower forms were being noticed, selected and propagated, and by the Victorian era Galanthus fever was in full effect, a condition that persists to this day.

Galanthus 'Boyds Double'.

Snowdrop collectors, fans and growers – collectively know as galanthophiles – have between them named over 500 different forms. This is a truly astonishing number for a plant which displays relatively little natural variation, and (arguably!) stands as one of the best examples of horticulture as obsession. But one of the great lessons that the galanthophile can teach any gardener is to look, really look, at the details of a flower, and in these details can be found endless beauty and micro-variations.

Snowdrop cultivars can be roughly divided into groups, for ease of navigation. The first division comes between the single and the double-flowered forms, for yes, there are a multitude of each. Another important division separates forms with yellow, rather than green markings on the white flower, collectively known as the Sandersii Group.

Galanthus 'Sandersii'.

Of course the patterning and amount of pigment can also vary considerably too, from almost pure-white, unmarked flowers at one extreme culminating in Galanthus nivalis ‘Virescens’, which is the nearest approach yet to a snowdrop with an all green flower. ‘Daphne’s Scissors’ is an interesting example, too, in which a green imprint in the shape of a pair or scissors appears on the scape  - the tubular inner segment of the flower. Further distinctions focus on size, from the unusually tall and large-flowered forms such as  ’Straffan’, ‘John Grey’ and the well known ‘S. Arnott’ & ‘Atkinsii’, down to miniatures like the recently named ‘Snow White’s Gnome’.

Galanthus 'Snow White's Gnome'.

Finally there are a small number of forms in which the basic shape of the flower differs from the norm. ‘Scharlockii’ (AKA donkey’s ears) has an enlarged and split flower; the double flowered ‘Walrus’ has tightly packed rosette of green surrounded by tubular, narrowed “tusks”; ‘Boyd’s Double’ has an almost brush-like flower; ‘Hill Poe’ is another double form with five or six petals, as opposed to the more typical three.  Most of the differences between the cultivars are much less pronounced, however, and it’s the ability to spot and select these differences that is the mark of a true galanthophile.

Galanthus 'Scharlockii'.

All the varieties are a treasure trove for the collector or general gardener, and it’s easy to find space in even the smallest garden for a couple of interesting named forms. But a slight word of warning, once the bug has bitten you could awake to find yourself transformed into a full-blow galanthophile, set on a mission to collect as many cutivars as possible.

The hobby can become an expensive one too. Prices of less common, though not super-rare varieties average around £10 per bulb, though £50 is not uncommon and a single bulb of a pure white flowered cultivar recently sold at auction for £357. But whether one is a collector or just enjoying their natural charms in a wild garden or border, those swept up in the February flowering celebrations will be following in a rich gardening tradition by joining the ever-swelling ranks of snowdrop aficionados.

Galanthus nivalis 'Virescens'.


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Gardening Tips September

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

There is one little cheat’s trick that will instantly revive a tired September garden:  Go out and edge the lawn, if you have one, and then take hand fork and loosen the soil at the very front of your borders and winkle out any young  weed seedlings or wisps of stray grass that have wandered in there.  I have just been grubbing around outside myself (I have been writing books this summer rather than gardening, and things have got away from me a bit) and the transformation is amazing.  Coupled with a bit of snipping and tweaking here and there, and the garden will stagger on quite attractively for another month before the big Clear Up starts in earnest in October.

I am often asked how you make a garden ‘last’ longer – most people are very good at planting spring bulbs and high-summer show-off plants, but fail to leave room for flowers that look their best in August and September.  If its blowsy colour you are after make space next year for a generous clump of lovely lofty, pleated daisies with ferny foliage – Cosmos bipinnatus – the tall ones not the boring dumpy ones called ‘Sonata’.  You can grow them from seed in individual pots on a windowsill – but don’t sow them till May since they germinate quickly. They will flower in profusion from late July until the frosts.   Many perennials cut back in July put on an extra show in late summer, and my Hybrid Musk roses (‘Penelope’ and ‘Buff Beauty’) are now coming back into flower, too.  Still looking quite smart in my borders is a hunky, late flowering Phlox (P. paniculata ‘David’), a blue Aster frikatii ‘Monch’ and a huge white single Shasta daisy (Leucanthemum maximum).  Other asters – ‘Little Carlow’ and ‘Harrington Pink’ will show up in a few week’s time, and all the while deep yellow, black-eyed Rudbeckia ‘Goldsturm’ glows on and on.


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Garden plants…from outer space.

Monday, May 10th, 2010

Asarum caudatum.

You know those slightly dodgy sci-fi movies & TV series from the 60′s, where our intrepid heroes land on some far-away mysterious planet and find it’s surface rich with bizarre and other-worldly plant forms?

Well, one of my great joys in gardening life is to seek out new, and improbable plant life-forms that can be grown in the garden.

These we affectionately refer to as “Star Trek Plants”.

They’re fun; they’re fascinating; they’re highly collectable: they’re strangely beautiful; best of all they will greatly enrich any garden. Here’s just a few favourites:

Saracenia.

Saracinia flava - red form.

Carnivorous plants are, by their very nature, pretty unusual from the get go, and many defy earth-bound floral conventions by doing away with various things that we’ve come to expect from plants. Like leaves, for example.

Following in that tradition are the Saracenia’s, the hardiest of all Pitcher Plants, and certainly the only ones that can be considered garden hardy in this country. Native to the eastern seaboard of North America, the leaves of these little beauties have vanished, fused instead into a slippery funnel that traps insects and digests their prey in a soup of enzymes.

Great fun (unless you’re a hapless fly, that is) and compellingly beautiful plants that are very much at home in a bog garden too. S. flava and S. purpurea are the ones to look for, along with a huge array of hybrids, each with distinctively patterned pitchers.

Asarum.

Asarum maximum.

If there’s an award for the most fashionable/collectable/in-demand plant in the temperate world then one or other of the 100 odd species of Asarum would have to be a serious contender. The “Wild Gingers” are actually completely unrelated to true gingers but they do exude a warm, gingery fragrance from their foliage.

They are slow-creeping plants of the woodland floor with beautifully patterned, marbled and veined heart-shaped leathery leaves. Beneath their often fabulous leaves they hold an extraordinary floral secret.

Asarum delavayi.

Their flowers vary widely but all defy conventional description. Fleshy, sometimes tubular, sometimes with hugely elongated “tails” and flaring lips in colours such as jet black-and-white, death-grey, lurid purple.

The most flamboyant varieties command huge prices in Japan and the US, but the likes of A. caudatum, A. delayavi and A. maximum are all readily available, and readily grown.

Miracles of nature on any planet, I would never be without them.

Aristolochia.

Aristolochia macrophylla.

Aristolochia, or “Dutchman’s Pipes”, are a large genus of almost exclusively tropical climbing plants with some wonderfully bonkers flowers which can reach epic proportions in the largest species.

Just one species, A. macrophylla, can be regarded as hardy, and, whilst it’s nowhere near the scale of it’s giant cousins, it does share their fabulously bizarre flower shape (the “Dutchman’s Pipe”), coupled with beautiful, large, pale-green leaves that are a perfect heart-shape. The plant is easily grown on a sheltered, sunny wall.

Paris.

Paris polyphylla.

Close relatives to the Trilliums, Paris are another legendary genus of woodland plants, that sadly have nothing to do with the French capital, but are instead, rather prosaically named after the fact that their floral and foliar parts are “paired”.

One cute little species, P. quadrifolia, is a rare British native, but it’s the Asian species that command the most devotion with their extraordinarily sculptural flowers. The petals are reduced to hair-like filaments but the remaining flower parts are hugely enlarged to expose their fascinating arrangements of orange and purple stamens and green or red-brown sepals.

Paris enjoy the same conditions as Trillium and some species follow their floral displays with arrangements of vivid scarlet fruit.

Rheum.

Rheum nobile.

Rheum are rhubarb plants on steroids. Not quite as large as the familiar bog-loving Gunneras, they nevertheless can’t fail to command attention with giant, slightly thorny foliage that is often tinted wine red.

Bold and handsome though it is the foliage in itself isn’t enough to qualify the plants for Outer Space recognition though. It’s actually the flowers, and more particularly the vast, bract-enclosed 2-metre tall floral structures of the near-mythical Nepalese species R. nobile that catapult it to the top of this list.

These yellow towers are actually protection for the true flowers that sit, completely enclosed, within. The effort of producing the flowering stems is such that the plants die after flowering, but the huge quantities of seed held in the other-worldly  flower statues ensures continuation of the species.

Dracunculus.

Dracunculus vulgaris.

Dracunculus – literally “Dragon plant” – is one of the many highly dramatic members of the Aroid (Arum Lily) family. This is one of the largest and strangest of all of the worlds plant families, and, with the mighty 3 metre tall and 2 metre wide Amorphophallus titanium,  includes the largest single flowering structure of any plant on earth.

Dracunculus vulgaris is nowhere near that size, but it does bring much of it’s giant cousins bizarre charm to the garden. Basically it’s very large, velvet textured, blood red and black flower, which has evolved to resemble a rotting corpse, with a smell to match – although only for a few days, luckily!

The species is native to the Balkans and enjoys the warmest spot you can find in the garden, where it will produce magnificent, heavily divided foliage and, just occasionally, one or two of those fantastical 90cm tall flowers.

Echium.

Echium pininana.

Echiums are another large-ish family of flowering plants, but it’s E. pininana, the so-called “Tree Echium” that makes the grade here. These plants are endemic to La Palma in the Canary Islands, but have also proved remarkably adaptable to British gardens, albeit in the most sheltered and warm positions.

E. pininana is a biennial. The plants produce a not-very-inspiring clump of low foliage in their first year of growth, but, if all has gone well and sufficient stores of energy have been built up, then year two will see an extraordinary tower emerge.

Densely packed with narrow foliage and many thousands of small blue flowers this soon becomes a giant flowering spike that can eventually reach 4 metres in height before setting seed and dying away altogether.

Cardiocrinum.

Cardiocrinum giganteum.

Not to be outdone in the giant stakes, Cardiocrinum giganteum is, essentially, a trumpet lily. But, as their name suggests, these are trumpet lilies that are keen to take the starring role in Jack-and-the-beanstalk, defying gravity to produce colossal, nearly 5-metre-tall flowering stems that are capable of putting even the loftiest Echium to shame.

It’s not just sheer size that Cardiocrinums have to offer though, their huge, pendulous white trumpets are also intoxicatingly fragrant and spectacularly beautiful, stained, as they are, with burgundy. Even the foliage is magnificent – each leaf up to 60cm across and highly glossy.

Like several of these plants, individual Cardiocrinum plants die after flowering (which can take 5 or more years from a young plant), but being bulbous they also produce a multitude of offset bulbs that can be grown on to form the next generation of giants.

They are really very hardy, but consideration should obviously be given to the size of the flowers and foliage and the most wind-sheltered spot selected, preferably with the protection of nearby trees. The more food and water the plants have access to then the bigger the flower spike that they can produce. What are you waiting for??


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Erythroniums.

Friday, April 30th, 2010

Another genus that provides some of the real stars of the spring garden is Erythronium. Commonly known as dogtooth violets – referring to the bulb of the species E. dens-canis, which does sort-of resemble a canine fang – as well as trout lilies – after to the speckled leaves of many species, that supposedly look like trout scales…if you’ve been on the ale, maybe – these are truly beautiful lily relatives.

Erythronium dans-canis bulbs - the Dog-Tooth.

The 25 to 30 species of Erythronium are mostly woodland natives, but some species range up into sub alpine and even truly alpine regions of Europe, Asia and Western North America, this last being the place that most of them call home.

Much like Trilliums Erythronium can be divided into two botanical groups. the Eurasian species (the Dogtooth violets, if you will) are the smallest and are represented by E. dens-canis and it’s close relatives/variants –  E. japonicum, E. sibiricum, and E. caucasicum. The North American species (the Trout Lilies)  that form the second group are taller and represent the large bulk of the species. These two groups do not overlap geographically, are don’t seem to be very closely related botanically, having evolved in divergent directions after the break up of the supercontinent where their ancestors must have first appeared.

Erythronium americanum.

In the Eastern states of North America there are 5 native species, but the remaining 18 species are all native to the forests of the western seaboard, with particular concentrations in Oregon and California.

Erythroniums are quintessential Spring flowering perennials and display many of the typical qualities of other plants from the woodland floor. Like their native companions such as Hepatica, Trillium and Uvularia they emerge from dormancy between February and April, before the woodland canopy has leafed out, and then flower and set seed fairly quickly before dying back down again in early summer.

Erythronium Susannah.

In common with pretty much all bulbous plants the flowers and general performance of Erythroniums in one season is dependent upon the reserves of energy that have been laid down over the previous season.

The longer that a plant is able to keep in leaf the better the vigour and the display of foliage and flower will be the following year, and this length of growing season can be effected by water and food supplies, to it pays to keep a close eye on plants once flowering has finished.

Unlike their relatives the true Lilies Erythonium bulbs don’t respond at all well to being dried out and should ideally never be bought as “dry bulbs”. In addition many species have very delicate, fragile,  thin bulbs that are easily damaged if you do attempt to dig them up and dry them out, so careful handling is definitely required when dividing or splitting large clumps.

Erythronium Craigton Cover Girl.

Without doubt the best way to introduce and establish plants if to look for healthy, lush, pot-grown plants that are in full leaf, although the rarer species can also be successfully purchased damp packed having been freshly lifted in Summer from specialist bulb suppliers.

The alpine species, are, not surprisingly perhaps, quite demanding and tricky to accommodate in most garden conditions, but many of the woodlanders are amongst the easiest and most rewarding of all Spring perennials.

Erythronium californicum is a tall, stately and very easily grown species with bright white flowers that have a contrasting golden yellow centre. The form ‘White Beauty’ is widely available, and totally reliable in the garden.

Erythronium dens-canis Snowflake.

The little 15cm tall European species Erythronium dens-canis is early flowering and is widely available in a plethora of different forms and selections, which, for the most part don’t differ hugely from one another. All have lovely, dark-speckled leaves and ‘Snowflake’ is a distinctive beautiful white flowered form.

Erythronium oregonum is a normally white flowered species with wonderfully patterned and mottled leaves; E. oregonum ‘Sulphur’ is a form with equally appealing lemon yellow flowers.

One of the most widespread American species (and one that has also been used extensively in hybridisation programmes) is the pink flowered Erythronium revolutum.

Erythronium revolutum.

This 30cm tall plant is quite variable in terms of leaf quality and flower size and depth of colour, but there are a number of well tested selections – including the Devon form ‘Knightshayes’ Pink’ - that are worth seeking out in preference to the general species.

Amongst the many fine hybrids involving this species are E. ‘Joanna’, a particular favourite of mine, with gorgeous apricot coloured flowers that change colour as they age and E. ‘Craigton Cover Girl’ with very large flowers of pale pink.

The variety most frequently seen in cultivation, though, is definitely the bright lemon-yellow flowered old hybrid E. ‘Pagoda’, a tough, vigorous and widely available garden plant with broad, glossy foliage that emerges with a pleasing bronzy tint. E. ‘Sundisc’,  E. ‘Kondo’ and E. ‘Susanna’ are similar, and are also widely available, but both have rather superior flowers.

Erythronium Pagoda.

Erythronium love conditions that replicate their wild habitats. A spot beneath deciduous trees in an open, loamy soil that dries out a little in Summer will suit them admirably, but any conditions that accomodate the likes of snowdrops will also work well. pH is not particularly critical, although thin, chalk-based soils will certainly need bulking up with organic materials and heavy clay soils will require opening up to improve drainage. Where soil conditions are unsuitable then Erythroniums can also be grown very happily in raised beds or in large containers, which also makes it easier to observe the extremely beautiful flowers in close-up detail and at eye level. The most vigorous varieties can also be naturalised in grass and can look spectacular in large groups planted around the margins of trees and shrubs.

Erythronium Joanna.

All of the more vigorous forms will multiply well at the bulb and the longer they are kept in leaf the quicker they will bulk up. Preventing them from setting seed will also increase the rate at which they increase underground, and can be easily achieved by simply removing the dead flowers.

Erythonium do set seed in quantity and this can be easily collected once the seed capsules have ripened, dried and are starting to split. The seed should then be stored dry and sown in August into a deep container which is then left outside to overwinter, since seed requires a period of winter cold to stimulate germination.

Growing from seed is a rather slow process though, and plants take anything up to 5 years before reaching flowering size. As with adult plants, keeping the youngsters in leaf for as long as possible is the key to speeding the process up as much as possible.

Erythronium californicum.

Luckily Erythonium are not greatly troubled by pests and diseases and the woodland species don’t have any great specialist needs in the garden.

Slugs and snails can be a pain during wet springs but most other problems are due to poor drainage causing rotting and fungal damage to the bulbs.


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Going native – using British plants in the garden.

Friday, March 12th, 2010

Cypripedium calceolus - Lady's Slipper Orchid.

The resurgent interest in naturalistic planting and in achieving a generally less formal look to our gardens has coincided with a growing awareness of wildlife-friendly gardening.

One of the very best ways to maximise both of these aims is to seek out and plant British natives in our gardens.

The last Ice Age left us with a relatively impoverished flora, and certainly those from equivalent climates in Asia or the US dwarf the total numbers of British plant species.

Nevertheless, a little research will turn up an amazing array of beautiful British natives of all types. Incorporating some of these into a garden will create a haven for native wildlife, as well as helping to properly situate a garden into its natural surroundings.

Dianthus armeria - one of our native Pinks

There’s a highly useful and endlessly dip-into-able on-line resource run by the British Natural History Museum to be found at:

http://www.nhm.ac.uk/fff/index.html

By simply tapping in your postcode you will be provided with a list of all the plants that are native to your immediate region.

Plants are listed by category – Annual, Biennial, Climber, Bulbs/Rhizomes, Herbaceous Perennials, Shrubs, Small Trees, Large Trees, Marsh Plants, Perennials and Aquatics.

What’s more the garden worthy plants are highlighted, and both common and Latin names provided.

Cornus suecica - a ground-covering Cornel.

Of course just because a plant grows naturally in your local area that doesn’t mean to say that it will thrive in your garden where conditions, habitats, soil and water levels may be utterly different. Equally plants from far distant parts of Britain may be perfect for your garden, which might mimic the conditions those plants have in the wild. Either way, the database can be a very handy starting point.

Although many town gardens are walled in and may not really connect with a surrounding landscape, together they do form a large wildlife corridor and the plants choices that you make can profoundly affect the health of your local wildlife.

Convallaria majalis Rosea - the pink Lily-of-the-Valley.

In more rural locations boundaries tend to be a bit fuzzier, and all gardens are, to one extent or another, borrowing the landscape around them, either as a view or just as a backdrop to the planting.

The more you can mimic, or at least harmonise with that surrounding landscape the more your garden will merge with it, appear more natural and immediately seem much larger too, as the exact limits of the cultivated area become harder for the eye to discern.

Although it is quite possible to plant an all-native garden you don’t have to be quite so rigid and restricted in your choices. A wide variety of close relatives of our native plants can also be drawn upon without really altering that natural look and feel.

Rosa spinosissima - Scottish rose.

Equally there are also a large number of cultivars and selections of many of our native plants, some of which improve upon the ornamental qualities of the wild plant, or at least increase the number of garden uses to which it can be put.

When planning your plantings a good approach is to plant exotics near to the house and then gradually blend into more native/natural plantings towards the boundaries.

Amongst such an embarrassment of riches in the British flora I’m going to highlight a large cross section, including some of my personal favourites together with a number of existing garden favourites that you may not even realise are British natives at all.

Euonymus europaeus - the Spindle tree.

Starting with the big stuff, that last ice age did the most damage to our tree populations, and left us with quite a limited selection.

A number of the trees that we think of as “native” (Sycamore, Yew, Beech, Chestnuts Horse and Sweet) are actually all introduced.

Still, those natives that do still exist have all been endlessly selected from down the centuries.

Scots’ Pine, (our only truly native conifer) English Oak, Spindle, Hazel, Willows, Alder, Hornbeam, Field Maple, Rowan, Cherry, Hawthorn and Silver Birch are all now available in a huge range of highly ornamental cultivars – golden leafed, cut leafed, dwarf, columnar, twisted, purple leafed, autumn colouring, heavy fruiting – you name it and it’s probably out there waiting to be planted.

Viburnum lantana.

One of our most attractive native shrubs is definitely Viburnum lantana (the Wayfaring Tree), which again comes in a multitude of different selected forms. Crab-apple, Elder, Daphne mezereum and Viburnum opulus (Guelder Rose) are other good shrubby options.

There are also 13 different British native rose species to choose from, three beautiful Cornus species, a number of fruiting plants from raspberry and gooseberry to bilberry, not to mention our native heather species.

Dominating (ornamentally at least) the climbing plants are Ivy (hundreds of different, often extremely atractive forms are available) and Honeysuckle, both of which are already widely used in many gardens of course.

Humulus lupulus 'Aureus' - Golden Hop.

Golden Hop (Humulus lupulus ‘Aureus’) is another great option, and even our native Clematis (C. vitalba) has a certain fluffy charm.

Where the British flora really comes into it’s own though is in the perennial and bulbous departments.

There are literally hundreds of highly garden-worthy native ferns, grasses, woodland and meadow plants, not to mention orchids, marsh and water plants:

5 species of Primula, the marsh fritillary, Paris quadrifolia, 2 native Iris, gladioli, sedums, Aquilegia, foxgloves, bugle, wood anemone, marsh marigold, hellebores, violets….

Aquilegia vulgaris - our native Columbine.

Lily-of-the-valley, 11 species of Geranium, snowflakes and snowdrops, Arum, Dianthus, poppies, pattern-leafed celandines, euphorbias, 3 species of thyme, saxifrages gallore, bluebells, daffodils, ox-eye daisies large and small, cornflowers, mallows, wild sages and some of the world most beautiful ferns and orchids….well, hopefully you get the idea.

These are certainly not plants that you have to struggle to accommodate in any garden, and, once you start to investigate, the ornamental possibilities are pretty much endless.


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All hail the Daffodil.

Friday, February 26th, 2010

So, after a long and very hard winter (including the coldest day ever recorded down here in Devon) we are at long last on the cusp of Spring….and if there is one flower that single-handedly epitomises the season of rebirth it definitely has to be the sunny daffodil.

Narcissus pseudonarcissus.

Although we now think of Daffodils as being a ubiquitous mainstay of pretty much every garden, it was only around 150 years ago that they really caught the imagination of gardeners and in particular plant breeders in a big way. The 25 to 50 wild species (botanists disagree a lot on this!) were all brought into British cultivation around the middle of the 19th Century, since which time several generations, and many hundreds of Daff obsessives have dedicated their lives and gardens to breeding new forms.

The wild species that is so commonly seen brightening up British hedgerows in springtime is Narcissus pseudonarcissus, a real little charmer, full of nodding delicacy and subtle, harmonious colour.

Narcissus 'Tracey'

It has to be said, though, that for much of the history of Daffodil breeding, the emphasis has been on creating bigger, bolder, blowsier flowers, and many of the current hybrids are grossly enlarged from their wild counterparts and come in an array of improbably gaudy colours.

These hybrids may look appealing in colour catalogues, but can suffer from a few weather-related problems when growing in your typical garden – they easily snap and tear in strong winds, are damaged by heavy rain and scorched by sun.

Like much else in the garden, fashions in Daffodils and their breeding have recently shifted somewhat, and the emphasis for many has reverted back to producing weather resistant, easily cultivated Narcissi will readily naturalise in the garden and that (even where they have resulted from convoluted inter-breeding programmes) have an essentially wild-flower look to them.

For convenience all garden Narcissi are grouped into 13 separate “divisions,” each of which bring together hybrids that resemble one another under headings such as “double-flowered” or “small-cupped.” Also amongst these divisions are groups of Daffodils derived from particular wild species, and three of these incorporate those wild-looking, easily cultivated Narcissi.

Narcissus 'Thalia'

Division 5 Daffodils all originated from the species Narcissus triandrus - an exceptionally pretty plant native to Portugal and Spain.

Most of the garden forms are hybrids and back-crosses with our own N. pseudonarcissus, which was used to bring vigour and hardiness into the mix.

Commonly known as Angels’ Tears Narcissi, these generally carry two or three smallish flowers on each 30cm stem and come in a range of whites, creams and yellows.

‘Thalia’ is an old, widely available, pure white hybrid that is a very good do-er which naturalises extremely well in grass. ‘Petrel’, ‘Ice Wings’ ‘Tresamble’ and ‘Niveth’ are other good creamy whites, ‘Lemon Drops’ has contrasting yellow trumpets whilst ‘Liberty Bells’ is one of the best pure yellows.

Narcissus 'Rapture'

Division 6 is the home of the Narcissus cyclamineus hybrids.

This is another species native to southern Europe, but which is, nonetheless, a particularly tough and very easily cultivated garden plant here in the UK.

As its name suggests the species has flowers that (in shape at least) somewhat resemble a Cyclamen, with severely swept-back petals that, in the best forms, give a lovely just-caught-in-a-wind-tunnel effect.

Though still very much on the small side for a Daffodil, these are generally a little taller and larger flowered than the Division 5 plants, and always have one single flower per stem.

As well as white, cream and yellow, new forms are now incorporating orange and true apricot into the flowers.

Narcissus 'Cotinga'

Cultivars like ‘Tracey’ (white) ‘Warbler’ and ‘Rapture’ (both yellow) sport flowers that closely resemble the wild species, whilst ‘Cotinga’ and ‘Elizabeth Ann’ ‘Foundling’ have more rounded flowers, all with soft apricot-coloured trumpets and pure white petals.

‘February Gold’ and the beautiful creamy white ‘February Silver’ are short, tough and vigorous growing forms selected for exceptionally early flowering, although in most years this generally kicks off in March rather than February.

Finally, division 7 daffodils are the Narcissus jonquilla hybrids, again derived from a species that is native to Spain.

These can vary from quite dwarf to around 60cm tall, but they are always robust and weather resistant carrying up to five (rarely eight) flowers per stem.

Narcissus 'Cherie'

The flower shape is generally rounded; colours range from vivid daffodil-yellow through primrose together with a few white cultivars – some with orange tinted cups – but the majority are beautifully fragrant.

‘Sweetness’ and the Devon bred ‘Rosemoor Gold’ are both very easily grown pure yellow selections, ‘Oryx’ ‘Curlew’ and ‘Sweet Blanche’ are amongst the best whites, whilst the recently introduced ‘Cherie’ is an exceptionally beautiful pastel peach and white.


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Unusual Spring bulbs.

Friday, February 5th, 2010

Aside from the merry gambling of new-born lambs, the appearance above ground of brightly coloured flowering bulbs must be the most widespread, well-understood and potent symbol of a British spring. Hedgerows and grassy banks throughout the land play host to snowdrops from late January onwards, whilst carpets of bluebells dominate the finest mixed woodlands in May.

Camassia cusickii.

Some time in between these two native wildflower spectaculars many gardens also erupt into colourful life with their own spring bulb displays. These are, for the most part, almost entirely dominated by the “Big Four” – Daffodils, Crocus, Tulips and Hyacinths. There are, however, other spring bulbs that, whilst perhaps a little less well known, are neither expensive nor difficult to obtain, and are generally no more tricky to grow than your average Narcissus. Most importantly though, all of these are extremely garden-worthy and will bring variety, depth and much added interest to any garden in springtime. So without further ado, let’s introduce these bulbous understudies in alphabetical order, and see if we can’t elevate a few of them to centre stage in the garden.

Camassias are large-flowering natives of damp grassland in the US. They are tough growers and the perfect choice for that slightly dodgy, poorly drained damp spot in the garden, where they will naturalise readily, doing particularly well in heavy clay soils. They vary from the metre tall Camassia cusickii to the 30cm C. esculenta, all featuring densely clustered, widely opened star-shaped flowers of white, electric blue or rarely, blush pink.

Chinodoxa forbesii 'Blue Giant'.

Next up are the Chionodoxa, AKA Glory of the Snow. These 15cm tall little beauties from Turkey are amongst the earliest of all spring bulbs to flower, with the first blooms brightening the grey days of February and continuing for a month or so. Naturalising easily in sunny areas of the lawn or amongst border shrubs, they boast strappy-petalled flowers of pale to vivid blue along with others of pure white. C. forbesii ‘Blue Giant’ is one of the finest of all, with bi-coloured flowers of bright blue with a white centre.

Colchicum – lovingly known as naked ladies for their habit of flowering on bare stems before the leaves emerge – are essentially Crocuses on steroids, and are usually associated entirely with autumn flowering. Actually, though, most of the 50-odd species flower in spring, and a few of these are ideal subjects for alpine beds and rock gardens. C. kesselringii is one such, with white Crocus-y flowers streaked with violet, whilst Colchicum szovitsii is perhaps the pick of the bunch, with large, cup-shaped flowers of pure white.

Fritillaria pallidiflora.

I’ll confess here and now that before returning to garden in North Devon I was long obsessed with Fritillaries. They seemed to me to be amongst the most intricate, perfect and beautiful of all flowers. Indeed they still do, but the majority are best grown in alpine conditions, which is not something that we have in abundance down here. There are, though, a handful of species that are just as easy to grow, and, with their nodding bonnets of white, purple, yellow and chartreuse, are far more unusual than any Tulip. Fritillaria meleagris – the deep purple checkerboard flowered Snakes’ Head Fritillary – is a rare British native wildflower whose natural habitat is damp grassland where it self-seeds and spreads very pleasingly. In the garden it is just as happy in semi-shade in a regular border.  Other shade-loving Frit’s include F. uva-vulpis, with gorgeous burgundy flowers tipped with canary yellow, the creamy F. pallidiflora, the jade and maroon F. acmopetala and the near black flowered F. elwesii. Sun-lovers include F. michailovskyi and the large and very beautiful primrose flowered F. raddeana.

Ipheion ‘Wisley Blue’.

Amongst the smallest, but also the cutest of Spring bulbs are the Ipheions. Perfect for container growing, but also ideal for the front of borders or on rock gardens where they will vigorously increase. Ipheions have grass like foliage and flared flowers, rather like a widely opened Tulip, but in rose pink, white, and, an array of blues. The baby blue of Ipheion ‘Wisley Blue’ is my personal favourite.

Leucojums, the Snowflakes, are also favourites of mine. These over-large Snowdrop relatives are terrific for naturalising in grass or beneath shrubs in semi-shade in the border, where they will push through from late Feb, just after their smaller cousins have peaked. After some botanical jiggling there are now just two species in the genus and the 60cm tall European native L. vernum is the one to grow for Spring flowering.

Nectaroscordum siculum.

Alliums have now become one of the mainstays of the summer garden, but a close relative, Nectaroscordum siculum, can bring some of that same charm and elegance to the late Spring garden too, with lovely, loose umbels of white and burgundy stained flowers, each like a miniature Gladiolus. The seed heads are also highly attractive and sit atop the metre-plus tall stems well into autumn.

The Grape Hyacinths, Muscari, must be the most widely grown of these less usual spring bulbs, and there can’t be many gardeners who aren’t already familiar with the densely packed little blue or white flowers spikes of M. armericanum and M. azuream. M. latifolium varies the theme with twin-coloured flowers of bright blue and near black, whilst M. ‘Comosum’ heads off in a whole different direction with open-topped flowers of purple that look like a baby lavender. Best of all though has to be the sulphur-yellow flowered M. macrocarpum. This really needs a sunny, well-drained spot in the garden, but rewards with a powerful fragrance as well as the delightful flowers.

Ornithogalum nutans.

Ornithogalum is a large genus of Hyacinth relatives with representatives across southern Europe and Africa. O. arabicum, the fancifully named Star of Bethlehem, is one of the best for British gardens, with large stems reaching 80cm, supporting a mass of white star-shaped flowers. My pick, though, is definitely O. nutans, a shorter species, to 20 cm or so. This sports flowers of the palest jade, edged with white and is a great naturaliser in grass or the border. Another similar Hyacinth relative is Puschkinia libanotica, an extremely easy, vigorous and free flowering bulb with blue-veined white star-shaped flowers produced in March and April.

Scilla Peruviana.

The final genus I want to mention are the Scillas, or Squills. These are all bright blue flowered species, with an array of white flowered cultivars in support. They range from the teeny-tiny S. siberica, which excels in shady borders, through the March flowering, mid-sided (15cm or so) S. bifolia, which is ideal for naturalising in grass, to the giant flowered Mediterranean S. peruviana. With it’s buds of intense violet, this last species is a real show-stopper and given a bright, well drained spot it might just prove the highlight of any late Spring garden.


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