Two approaches that I’ve regularly come across are :  a) ruthlessly cut everything back or:  b) do nothing. Ever. There is also a common misconception that pruning is a kind of “dark art” best left to professionals, and/or a belief that every single plant has it’s own required pruning regime, but really neither are the case, and a few simple rules will suffice for most of your woody garden inhabitants.

The other oft-seen idea is that trees and shrubs always need to be pruned on an annual basis. The most frequent outcome of this approach is that spring flowering trees and shrubs never actually flower or set fruit in such gardens, because, of course, all their lovely dormant flower buds were merrily chopped off in the name of tidying-up the plant.

Winter allows a much clearer view of the arrangement of branches.

Pruning-wise you can divide pretty much all of your flowering trees and shrubs into three categories:

1. Spring flowering, which, as in the example above, always means that flower buds are set on the previous years wood. Such plants should only be pruned immediately after flowering, allowing them the remainder of the growing season to set the buds for the next years’ flowers.

2. Summer/Autumn flowering, which generate their flower buds on new wood that is created through the course of the same growing season. These plants should be pruned in winter.

3. Tender plants, which, regardless of their flowering season, should only ever be pruned when they are in full growth and all danger of frost has passed. Earlier pruning of such plants will often encourage widespread dieback and/or trigger growth too early in the year.

In addition, Winter is the preferred time of pruning for many trees because cut branches will not bleed sap whilst they are dormant, plus the bare leafless branches allow better access to and visibility of the branches. Still, whatever the time of year, the first consideration though is why prune at all?

It’s worth bearing in mind that woody plants do not prune themselves when growing in the wild, so there is no inherent need to prune from the plants’ perspective. For the gardener, though, there are some definite benefits. Before looking at shape and size the first consideration should always be to look for and then remove any dead, diseased or damaged branches.

Wood that is dead but still attached to a tree or shrub is a prime reservoir for infection – bacterial and fungal – that can easily spread into the healthy tissue of the plant. Likewise branches already showing the effects of disease threaten the health, or even the survival of the whole plant. Bacterial canker is common, particularly on fruit trees, and an array of fungi are all too ready to set up home too.

Coral Spot - a very common fungal disease of dead branches.

Dead and diseased branches should be taken back into clean, healthy wood. On shrubs this means cutting to just above a pair of growth buds, whilst tree branches should be taken back to live wood or removed entirely back to the trunk, depending on the shape and symmetry of the plant.

Cutting back to just above a pair of live buds.

Shrubs and trees are also subject to damage over winter. The last two UK winters, in particular, have brought extremes of cold and snowfall, both of which can cause severe damage. The weight of snow and/or ice can easily cause branches to shatter and tear, leaving large open wounds, whilst severe cold on it’s own can produce bark split as the sap freezes and expands.

Major wounds are also major sources of infection, and, as before, branches should be cut back cleanly into healthy wood, thus reducing the surface area for infection and preventing necrosis from taking hold in the damaged tissue.

When taking branches back to the trunk it’s important not to leave snags and stubs. These stubs will inevitably die back, potentially infecting the main trunk. It’s even more critical not to cut into the trunk itself. Trees have a natural infection barrier that is centred on their trunk and main branches, and, where possible, they will act to isolate dying material and reduce the potential for infection… so long as that barrier is not itself damaged by poor pruning!

Cutting back to the trunk using a pruning saw.

Large branches should be handled with great care and some forethought. Their weight can easily lead to them tearing away in mid-prune, ripping the bark and causing further wounding. Such branches should be cut first on the lower side, to relieve the weight pressure, with the cut being finished off from above. It can also be handy to have a trusty helper on hand to support the weight of branches to prevent tearing and allow a clean cut.

Having dealt with the sickly, damaged wood you can then consider shaping and sizing. Again, most plants don’t need to be cut back, but they may have outgrown their position, or require attention to restore balance and create a more pleasing shape.

Young trees, in particular, can benefit from some formative pruning to encourage the development of a strong leader, or to remove twiggy side shoots, particularly in instances where you’re seeking to create a handsome, clean trunk  once the tree has grown to maturity.

Formative pruning to open up the trunk of a young tree.

Another good reason for pruning is to promote a flush of growth once Spring arrives. This is the ideal way to restore vigour to tired looking shrubs whose flowering has started to wane. Many garden shrubs end up flowering at their uppermost points only. This may be where the most light and pollinating insects will be found – which are the reasons the plant is flowering in the first place – but when such flowers are pretty much out of reach then the time for action has arrived. Consider how much growth the plant is likely to put on each season and the level at which you would ideally like to have the flowers and the “bulk” of the plant, then shape accordingly.

Many entire books have been written about pruning, so this is a necessarily brief run-through of the subject, but before you reach for those loppers, secateurs or saw there are another couple of important issues to consider. Firstly, tools. It’s no good trying to tackle a tree branch with a pair of secateurs, nor a whippy shrub with a pruning saw, so make sure that you have the right tool(s) for the right plants.

Pruning Tools to tackle any eventuality.

It’s equally important to make sure those tools are sharp or you risk creating jagged surfaces and torn bark. Finally always consider plant hygiene. If you have just removed a branch that was harbouring disease then your pruning tool will very likely be carrying the spores of that disease with it to the next healthy wood that you cut into. Disinfecting tools regularly is therefore vital. There are proprietary disinfectants that will do the job, but boiling water works equally well.

The final consideration, but again, one that need to be sorted before you begin, is on treatment of the cut surfaces. Small cuts and shrubby branches don’t require any treatment, but wounds on larger branches do need attention to minimise the potential infection.

The advice used to be to fully seal such wounds and a variety of paints and tars were (and still are) marketed for the purpose. It’s now known that this is entirely counter-productive, since a galaxy of bacterial and fungal spores are ever present in the air and are thus transferred to the cut as soon as you make it. By sealing the cut you seal these spores into the tree and actually encourage infection and discourage natural healing. Breathable balms are now the way to go and help to promote regrowth and healing whilst combating the potential for infection.

Pruning Balm.

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'.

Picea orinetalis 'Aurea'.

Trends and fashions in garden plants wax and wane just as they do in clothes or music, and one decades “must-have” garden plant can all too quickly become the next decades “wouldn’t be seen dead growing it”. Often such plants have become victims of their own successes – so ubiquitous and widely grown that they come to represent an era in their own right.

Picea likiangensis - startling cones of red/purple.

Kniphofia – Red-Hot Pokers – and Cortaderia – Pampas Grass – are pretty good examples. Quintessential plants of the ’70′s they were both relegated to the compost heap of all “fashionable” gardens in the 90′s.  The plants themselves, of course, weren’t to blame, and, as is the way with fashion trends, both are now back in a big way, with Kniphofia, in particular, one of the hippest plants for the border all over again.

Cunninghamia lanceolata

What does any of this have to do with conifers, much less winter gardening you may be asking…well, at about the same time that front gardens were being filled with those Pampas and Pokers back gardens were being planted out with faux rockeries and dwarf conifers. Both of these fell foul of gardening fashionistas sometime later that same century and, aside from use as hedging, the use of conifers in many gardens became all but unthinkable. A situation that, for many gardeners, remains largely unchanged to this day.

Pinus bungeana - python-like flaking bark.

It’s pretty hard to consign such a huge and important group of plants to garden history, however. The problem for conifers in gardens arose not so much with the plants themselves but the way that they were used and the selections that were promoted via garden centres. The dwarf, often shapeless blobs that came to dominate so many gardens denied colour, variance and (ironically) seasonal interest to many plots and were seen as the epitome of suburban gauche, whilst mis-planted leylandii hedges just compounded the problem.

Sciadopitys verticillata.

Conifers are, of course, a numerous, diverse and fascinating group of plants. Having paid homage to giant Sequoia in California, amongst others, I can testify to their enormous appeal and often astounding beauty. These two-thousand-year-old giants are a world away from some golden dwarf perched in a dodgy rockery, but delve into the vast array of conifers now available to the gardener and you open up a treasure trove of forms, textures, scents & colours.

Athrotaxis laxifolia.

AND (finally arriving at the crux of the matter…) Winter is the season when they truly excel. No matter how many winter-flowering bulbs, shrubs and perennials you gather together nothing better gives an air of majesty, structure and sheer personality to the scene than a well chosen and well placed conifer or two. What’s more the effects of frost, snow and winter light can transform coniferous foliage into a thing of sparkling magic.

Pinus wallichiana.

I must say, however, that I still have an aversion to those blobby, often gold-leafed dwarf conifers with very finely divided foliage – Thuja, Juniperus, Platycladus are perhaps the main culprits. For me they lack the two primary joys that conifers can bring to the garden – striking bark and bold foliage. Instead I’d like to turn your attention to three key genera - Abies (the Firs) Picea (the Spruces) and Pinus (yep, the Pines).

Abies koreana - numerous blue-ish cones produced from an early age.

These are three big groups of plants that offer an array of bold leaves, beautiful bark, elegant forms and sometimes spectacular cones. A few of the species are suitably small growing for almost all gardens – the beautiful violet-coned Abies koreana and the fabulous Lacebark Pine – Pinus bungeana are two such for example – but there are also a multitude of slower, smaller, stiffly upright and weeping forms that have been selected.

Many of these offer tremendous beauty and potential for moderate or even small sized gardens. Even in limited space the addition of just one specimen conifer – say Picea omorika ‘Pendula’ – will add tremendous personality and depth to the garden in winter as well as providing a perfect backdrop for winter-flowering shrubs like Hamamelis.

Picea omorika 'Pendula' - every individual forms it's own unique shape.

Whilst these three key genera should perhaps comprise the backbone of the winter garden supporting roles could also be played by a cast of somewhat less familiar coniferous beauties, many hailing from the southern hemisphere. Cunninghamia lanceolata is a fabulous and deeply exotic-looking gem from South America with huge, spiky foliage; Athrotaxis species are small, highly architectural conifers native to Tasmania; Podocarpus salignus is an extremely graceful Chilean native with drooping, willow-like deep green foliage; Sciadopitys verticillata is a unique and extremely ancient species with tremendous personality and a fascinating appearance; Wollemia nobilis is the headline-grabbing newly discovered Australian relic that is proving to be remarkably garden hardy here in the UK.

Wollemia nobilis.

Whichever you opt for the key is to think big, and think bold. Consign the apologetic blobs to yesteryear and allow the full beauty of these magnificent plants to reign supreme in the winter garden.

Podocarpus salignus.

The boldest, most vigorous plants in our garden right now are Arum italicum ‘Marmoratum’, a well-known  marble-leaved beauty that has been in growth since late autumn, but which is peaking just about now. Despite the extremes of cold and snow of the last month the foliage looks completely fresh. The Arum flowers and vivid scarlet berries will appear in later seasons, but in January the lush foliage looks incongruous against the drab weather and so all the more appealing.

Arum italicum 'Marmoratum'.

The last couple of winters have seen the early arrival of snowdrops, often in December, but February is their more usual month, and things seem to have got back to normal this year. Eranthis hyemalis – the winter aconite – is always earlier, though, and it’s fern-like divided foliage and giant buttercup flowers are an essential ingredient of the woodland understory or shady border. Tuberous Cyclamen coum appears a little later in winter, it’s silver-marbled heart-shaped leaves providing a foil for the pink to white flowers.

Eranthis hyemalis.

Careful selection can give your garden a near-continuous succession of Crocuses from Autumn thorough to Spring. The beautiful Crocus laevigatus flowers right in the centre of the season with lilac-stained white flowers appearing in late December.  C. tommasinianus is much bigger and more robust and produces large flowers in a variety of purple shades from late January, whilst C. sieberi closes out the season with white flowers that open in February.

Crocus laevigatus.

Hellebores pretty much dominate herbaceous perennial beds at this time of the year, their exact floral timing varying with the weather and general temperatures.  H. x hybridus (often, though wrongly called H. orientalis , which is a true species in it’s own right)  is an absolute stalwart of winter, and now comes in a dazzling array of forms and colours, but most of the true Hellebore species and their many hybrids also perform in winter and are well worth checking out.

A whole gaggle of winter-flowering shrubs can be deployed, and many brighten the garden with both flowers and fragrance. Hybrid Witch Hazels – Hamamelis x intermedia - are particular favourites of mine, and late January is when the flowers hit their stride in a big way. The citric fragrance (strongest by far in the yellow flowered varieties) is intoxicating and the bright spider-like flowers are a joy, particularly when viewed close-up.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Barmstead Gold'.

Chimonanthus praecox – Wintersweet – is more understated in flower, but equally fragrant, whilst Daphne odora and the larger growing, semi-evergreen Daphne bholua are phenomenally perfumed and exquisitely beautiful with their winter-borne tiny pinkish white urn-shaped flowers. Daphne relative Edgeworthia chrysantha is rightly the most prized of all winter-flowering shrubs and opens it’s tubular, fragrant, furry flowers of gold and crimson on bare stems right about now.

Daphne bholua.

Not to be outdone the Honeysuckle family can also pack a winter punch. Lonicera fragrantissima, it’s close relative L. standishii and their well-known hybrid offspring L. x purpusii ‘Winter Beauty’ all do their thing round about now, and though none will win any awards for structural prowess these tough occupants of the winter garden reward with a mass of fragrant flowers.

Mahonias are a tad more dramatic, and, if they weren’t so familiar to British gardeners, it would be easy to imagine that they were delicate denizens of some tropical forest. Most Mahonia species don’t actually flower in winter, but the few that do are highly prized. M. japonica and it’s various winter-flowering hybrids are all pretty much bomb-proof, whilst M. lomariifolia and M. napaulensis are more dramatic species that require some shelter to succeed. Each flowers for a lengthy period and often throughout the entire season.

Mahonia nepaulensis.

Viburnums are a large and incredibly valuable genus of plants that collectively can offer something at most times of the year. Winter sees the unfurling of the earliest flowering species and various selections of the hybrids V. x bodnantense, V. x burkwoodii are widely available, reliable and easily grown in most gardens. Sarcococcas are pretty easy to cater for too, and are very much at their best in mid-winter, when the tiny white flowers appear and scent the air with vanilla.

Viburnum x bodnantense.

Garrya elliptica is another subdued prospect, flower-wise, but it’s elongated winter tassels give the winter garden a unique elegance.

Rhododendrons are almost entirely associated with spring, but the delightful tubular-flowered hybrid ‘Yellow Hammer’ bucks the trend and kicks off in January. A number of Camellias do flower in winter too (though not reliably so in our garden) but these need careful placement if those early flowers aren’t to be regularly burned off by frost. The winter flowering Cherry – Prunus x  subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’ – is well known and widely grown and, although it can’t compete with it’s spring-flowering cousins in terms of flower power, it’s tissue-paper petals certainly brighten the season effectively. Prunus mume – the Japanese Apricot – is more showy, but less reliable as a winter-flowering tree, the blossoms being held back until spring in colder years.

Rhododendron 'Yellow Hammer'.

There are very few true climbers that flower in winter. Canary yellow Jasminum nudum is widely referred to as one such, but is really a sprawling shrub that will forever need to be reminded that you’d rather it was a wall climber. Clematis, though, can provide a couple of true winter-flowering species. C. cirrhosa is surely the queen of them with beautiful bell-shaped flowers of cream through to burgundy, depending on the variety. The delicate ferny foliage is a big bonus too. C. urophylla is a less well known but equally worthy species, and the selection ‘Winter Beauty’ produces an abundance of pure white nodding bells in the heart of the season.

Clematis urophylla 'Winter Beauty'.

INGREDIENTS:

4 Leeks sliced and washed

2 Medium Potatoes peeled and cubed

1 Large Onion chopped

1 Bay leaf

1 litre of Chicken Stock

1/4 litre of Milk

Glug of Olive Oil and large knob of butter

Seasoning

METHOD:

Prepare the vegetables, and then melt the butter and oil in a large saucepan.  Add the chopped vegetables to the pan, coat with the buttery mixture, season, add a bay leaf, and then pop the lid on the pan, and let the vegetables sweat for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Then add the stock and milk, add some more seasoning, and simmer uncovered for about 20 minutes.  When vegetables are tender, blitz until smooth, taste and re-season if necessary. Serve when needed!

I have to confess that I haven’t even cleared a fallen leaf this week on account of feeling under the weather, but that hasn’t stopped me from delegating this endless task to the man of the house!

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.

 Well, since I last wrote, the weather has been beautiful, but the ground has become very dry with a total lack of rain!  I have had no excuse not to disappear to the bottom of my garden, and get to work on my vegetable patch.  I am happy to report that my chitted potatoes are now planted underground, and I keep looking hoping to see the first sign of an early shoot, but have just checked again and still no sign  

However, I experimented with some new seed strips, which are seeds, placed on strips of what looks like toilet tissue, evenly spaced and ready to just lay in shallow trenches in the ground, and have just noticed that only one week later the rocket is just starting to appear in perfectly straight lines….  a bit of a cheat maybe for the serious gardener, but new and innovative and incredibly easy for a novice.  Because of the lack of rain I have been watering daily to help with the germination process.  The slugs have kept away from my lettuce seedlings thanks to the slug and snail deterrent however, I have had another resident in my vegetable patch since the Winter snows melted!  Molehills have been germinating and appearing daily, and although they are the most gorgeous critters to look at, they can devastate gardens. Luckily I know a local man who is expert at trapping moles so it is with mixed feelings that I can tell you the mole has now gone.

In the Summer, when my homegrown fruit is plentiful, I freeze fruit such as gooseberries, which I top and tail first and then bag up. My gooseberries are the dessert variety so they are a lovely pink colour. This simple recipe is for good old-fashioned gooseberry jam. Makes a delicious and unusual sweet yet sour flavour, and this jam sets remarkably well as gooseberries are full of pectin. Remember to keep everything simple and it will taste absolutely delicious.

Ingredients

• 900g gooseberries, topped and tailed
• 900g-1kg granulated sugar
• 600ml water

Method: How to make gooseberry jam

1. To every 450g prepared fruit use 300ml water. The riper the fruit, the less water you will need, and also the pinker your jam will be. Put the frozen fruit and water into a large, heavy-based saucepan. Bring to the boil, then simmer gently until the skins are soft – they will not soften after the sugar has been added.

2. Add the sugar and stir over a low heat until it has dissolved completely. If you boil the jam before it has dissolved, it may crystallise during storage. Bring the jam to a rapid but steady boil and boil until it reaches a temperature of between 105°C and 110°C.

3. Meanwhile, wash some jam jars in hot soapy water, then rinse well. Put them into a preheated oven at 160°C/fan140°C/gas 3 until you are ready to use them.

4. Do the ‘wrinkle test’ to see if you have reached setting point. It should happen after about 15 minutes or so of boiling, and your jam should by now have become slightly more viscous and clear. Have a saucer ready in the freezer. Take the pan off the heat, spoon a little jam onto the plate and leave until completely cold. Then push it across the plate with your forefinger. It should wrinkle up if it’s ready. If it only slightly wrinkles, bring back to the boil and boil for a few more minutes.

5.Discard any scum from the top of the jam and pour it into the prepared jars, using a jam funnel if you have one, or from a jug. Cover the surface of the jam with waxed discs, wax-side down, and either quickly cover each jar with a dampened round of cellophane and rubber band or leave to go cold before covering with cellophane or a screw-top lid. Sealing the jars well will prevent the build up of condensation under the lid, which could lead to mould.

Just heard this weeks weather forecast, and there is the possibility of some ground frost over night, so I need to go and search out some protection for my lettuce seedlings and mangetout plants…..

Well the Easter weekend has been and gone, and I would like to say a big thank you to the girls for laying such a beautiful selection of eggs for us!  In fact Mrs Hen produced her first double yolker of the year possibly due to the warmer weather and longer days, but it was not destined for the frying pan sadly.  It was so big and heavy that it rolled off of the hen house roof and smashed to the ground …  still hopefully there will be more double yolkers to come.

It really felt Spring like yesterday  …  I had 2 hours to kill, and popped to RHS Wisley to have a wander round the plant centre.  I challenge any keen gardener to visit the shop without spending money!  I bought a Cordyline Australis to replace one that was damaged by the cold winter conditions, and couldn’t resist adding another Hellebore to my collection.  I also got a Snakes Head Fritillary, which has exquisite checkered pinky purple flowers, to add some interest to one of my beds.

I couldn’t wait to get planting, as it was such a sunny afternoon, and as we are due for some settled warmer weather, I decided it was fine now to plant my lettuce seedlings.  I sprinkled a circle of EcoCharlie Natural Slug and Snail Repellent around each plant to protect them from any unwanted visitors to my vegetable patch!  There is one row of parsnips still left in the ground, so I dug up a few, and found some onions still hanging in my potting shed, and ventured into the kitchen to make use of the chicken stock I made at the weekend.

As I sit here writing this entry, I am sipping a mug of curried parsnip soup, and it would be rude of me not to share my recipe with you!

CURRIED PARSNIP SOUP

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons Olive Oil

450g Parsnips, cubed

2 fat cloves garlic, crushed

1 large onion, chopped

25g flour

1 tablespoon curry paste

1.2 litres chicken stock

Seasoning

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and add the onions, garlic and parsnips and fry gently for about 10 minutes. Stir in the flour and curry paste and cook for a further minute, and then add the stock and seasoning.  Cover and simmer for about 40 minutes or until the parsnips are tender.  Blitz the soup in a processor or blender, re-check the seasoning, re-heat and serve.

Looking forward to planting out the rest of my chitting potatoes this week  …  still got some rhubarb and gooseberries in the freezer from last Summer; must make some more jam soon….

Some of the colours of the hellebore rainbow.

There’s no doubt that hellebores are pretty special garden plants.

Flowering at the tail end of winter, with only snowdrops and the occasional early Iris, Cyclamen and Crocus for company, these improbable members of the buttercup family never fail to inspire as they push up their multicoloured flowers and divided leaves through snow or ice, or whatever the winter weather has to throw at them.

Emerging so much earlier than most other spring-flowering plants hellebores would probably command attention even if they were small and weakly coloured.

Apricot with dark nectaries.

Thanks to generations of dedicated enthusiasts, there’s not much chance of that, and these perennials now pack a truly dramatic punch with large cup-shaped flowers in a kaleidoscope of colours from vivid green and pure white through yellow to apricot, pinks & purples and on to the most intense slate blues and deepest violet blacks.

Flower shapes vary from very rounded and cup shaped, to starry with a range of different shaped doubles. Some also have dark red or black-ish nectaries, which gives a different look altogether.

As if that range weren’t enough the flowers of many forms also come with a multitude of different markings. These have evolved to guide pollinating insects safely and accurately towards the reproductive organs of the flowers, but luckily for us it’s not just the eyes of passing bees that are dazzled by the endless different combinations of spots, blotches and lines.

A bit of Botany.

Near black - both flowers and foliage.

Before going any further I need to qualify exactly which hellebores I’m referring to. Helleborus is a small genus of around 15 species, all but one of which are native to Europe. H. foetidus (the rather unkindly named Stinking Hellebore) is actually a British native, but the large majority hail from central southern and eastern Europe, with particular strongholds in scrubby mountainous regions of the Balkans.

The only non-European species is the beautiful H. thibetanus, which, you won’t be surprised to hear, is a native of Tibet.

H. niger (the so-called Christmas Rose) and H. argutifolius are both very well known garden plants, but the large-flowered, multi-coloured garden hellebores are all very complex, multi-species hybrids based in part of the species H. orientalis.

Double white spotted.

Strictly speaking these should be called H. x  hybridus, but in reality hardly anyone used this name.

As a group the plants have widely and pretty consistently come to be known as the Orientalis Hybrids (as well as picking up the unfortunate and totally misleading moniker Lenten Rose)….having said that for simplicities sake I’m going to continue referring to them here simply as hellebores.

Cultivation.

Reverse picotee white spotted.

One of the other great appeals of hellebores is that they really are incredibly easy, tolerant and rewarding plants to grow.

In their wild habitats the species invariably live on slightly alkaline, rocky and generally pretty impoverished soils.

In cultivation they will happily grow in virtually anything you care to give them, although they will of course grow better and certainly provide a better flowering display if they have something halfway decent to sink their roots into.

Hellebores are essentially plants of open, light woodland, so a good, organic-rich soil with a free draining structure will give optimum results. They are also partial to a good feed, and though far from essential, a heavy mulch with well rotted manure in late autumn will see the plants respond with extra lush and large growth the following spring.

Green streaked picotee.

Despite their woodland origins hellebores are actually very sun tolerant and can be grown in a really wide array of garden positions, including that most difficult of all situations – dry shade.

In many ways, though, they both grow and look their best when integrated into a shady or woodland border situation, which of course also closely mirrors the habitats of the wild species.

Ongoing care.

Hellebores are evergreen, with flowers emerging before the foliage and on separate new stems.

The main care involved in growing them in the garden revolves around what to do with the previous years foliage. Many gardeners simply do nothing and leave the whole plants intact year round. There is something to be said for this since the old foliage will certainly help protect the soft new stems as they emerge in winter.

New spring flower stems.

However, those old stems and leaves can also act as snail hotels as well as potentially harbouring various fungal diseases, so the alternative approach is to cut all the previous years foliage and stems right back to ground level in mid winter.

This has the added advantage of allowing the new flowering stems to be displayed to their fullest, without last years raggedly, blotched old leaves marring their pristine beauty.

Propagation.

It is possible, with much care and patience, to divide large plants in order to propagate from highly desirable individual clones. In practice though, hardly anyone fiddles around dividing their hellebores, because they are one of the easiest and most reliable garden plants to grow from seed.

A selection of yellows.

Actually, if you leave the seed heads to develop and ripen on the plants then you’re pretty much guaranteed to find a little crop of satellite babies sprouting around their parent the following spring.

It’s great fun, and really very easy to hand pollinate your favourite coloured plants with one another to see what new colours and patterns result, but simply gathering the copious seed that naturally develops will do the job as well.

Although it is released by the plants in late spring and takes around 9 months to germinate – naturally timed to sprout as the same time that the adult plants come into growth – hellebore seed does not store well and quickly looses viability. It’s simple enough to deal with though, and should be sown as soon as possible after harvesting.

No special treatment is needed although the seed does require winter stratification to stimulate germination, so, after sowing the pots/trays etc. should always be kept outside to experience the winter cold.

Pest and Diseases.

Red picotee with dark nectaries.

Again, these are thankfully few and far between. Slugs and snails will attack young shoots but once the leaves have matured they are far too tough to be appealing to any mollusc. Aphids can likewise congregate on new growth and if not removed will lead to distorted and damaged foliage and flowers.

More importantly aphids are also suspected as the agents responsible for passing on Hellebore Black Death – an all too common viral disease that leads to large black streaks and distortion in the foliage, stems and flowers of hellebores.

A much less serious but also quite widespread problem is Black Spot, a fungal disease that causes “dead” brown blotches to appear on the foliage. Removal of old foliage and good general garden hygiene will greatly reduce the occurrence of this and indeed any other fungal problems.