Quince-nez

15, May, 2012 1 Comment

The Quince is flowering.

This is always a pleasure  as I think it has the prettiest blossom of any fruit tree: slightly bigger petals the colour of the insides of cowrie shells. Or the knuckles of babies.The Quince is one of those fruits that requires a bit of effort. Most other things can just be plucked from the tree and eaten on the spot: in the case of Quinces this would be unwise as not only are hey rock hard but they also have slightly furry skins which, I imagine, would feel unpleasant on the tongue. Like licking a well built hamster.

Quite apart from the fruit – with which you can make a number of rather delicious puddingy things (they are particularly good with pears and cheese) – these are very pretty decorative trees. For fruit the best cultivar is probably Cydonia oblonga Vranja.

The Quince has a long and colourful history: it may even have been the fruit of the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden (as apples were undomesticated chaps hanging out in Kazakhstan in those days) although it it difficult to be horticulturally precise when it comes to the Bible.

Quinces appear quite a lot in mythology, you will remember. For example, they were dished out by Paris to the goddess Aphrodite (thus indirectly causing the abduction of Helen from Menelaeus, the Trojan War and attracting the deep dislike of Hera, wife of Zeus).

The Golden Apples of the Hesperides were actually Quinces. They were also stolen by Heracles as the eleventh of his twelve labours – he had to carry out all sorts of weird tasks for King Eurystheus as penance for killing his sons while under a spell of madness cast by Hera (see above: not a good person to fall out with).

Finally, they were used by Hippomenes to distract Atalanta during a running race. The deal was that if you wanted to marry her, you had to beat her in a race. She was very fast so Hippomenes dropped three of them during the race and she stopped to pick them up.

Not the sort of thing that would work with Usain Bolt but life was simpler in ancient Greece.

 

 

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Show Me The Way*

8, May, 2012 2 Comments

It is Tuesday 8th May.

You probably know that but, just in case, I thought it timely to remind you.

I also have an ulterior motive as I wish to point out two events happening this week in which you might be interested.First off is Grand Designs Live which started last Saturday at the Excel centre in Docklands. You have another six days to get there. If you really pull your finger out and get there before close of business tomorrow you should come and see me. I am ensconced beneath a large yellow cube along with four other designers doling out free design advice to visitors. The garden bit of the show is good for whirlpool baths, seating, paving and lights: not that hot on plants.
But that doesn’t matter because the second thing to which I wish to draw your attention is the Malvern Spring Show this weekend (Thursday to Sunday). This show is completely awash with plants. Trees, shrubs, seeds, herbaceous, bulbs, climbers, bonsai, cacti, roses, annuals etc, etc, etc.

Whatsoever your little green fingers might desire.

There are always tickets on the door and definitely worth a visit: especially as an act of solidarity with garden makers and plant growers who have had a thoroughly damp and miserable few weeks during build-up. I am there too, I am afraid, cavorting in a sickeningly undignified manner upon the stage of the People and Plants Theatre. With me will be Carol Klein, Joe Swift, Terry Walton (he of the fine singing voice and Welsh persuasion) and Christopher Beardshaw esq.

So, now you have time to reorganise your diaries accordingly.Hope to see you at one show or the other.

Surely you can’t all be washing your hair.

The picture is of an extraordinary pice of Ash bark.

*Coincidentally the title of a Peter Frampton song. I went to a concert of his in about 1976. All I remember, apart from some of the music and that weird Wah-Wah thing he did with his guitar, is that I wore wellington boots (as a fashion statement) and got lucky. I doubt the two things are necessarily connected.

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Pay The Ramson

1, May, 2012 3 Comments

I have just returned from a few days on the island of Colonsay*, one of my most favourite places in the whole wide world.

At this time of year the island is liberally scattered with wild garlic and smells, if I might stray in the general direction of uncouth for a minute, like a bucket of unwashed Gascons.

This I hasten to add, is in many ways not a bad thing at all. Once you get used to it the garlicky smell is rather charming. It was particularly charming this time as the whole place was basking in the most glorious sunshine while south of the border the rain lashed down and all was soggy gloom.

Wild garlic, or ramsons (Allium ursine), tastes good as well. Somebody, I forget who but it may have been at the Malvern Show **, gave me some to taste a few years ago. It develops in strength the further down the plant you venture. The flowers are pleasingly oniony, the leaves a bit zapper and you need only the smallest bit of stem to add fire. My friend the food writer, Hugo Arnold, was also on the island leading foraging expeditions. He concocted a delicious pesto from Ramsons, ground elder and nettles (together with a bit of unforaged Parmesan cheese and some walnuts).

Apparently cattle fed on ramsons produce a slightly garlicky milk that makes good cheese – used to be very popular in Switzerland. Possibly not to be confused with that chive studded cheese that came in toothpaste-like tubes.

The woods are full of the stuff at the moment and it is well worth a try. Goes well with pretty much anything – except perhaps lemon drizzle cake. And first dates.

*You too can stay on Colonsay: in fact, you jolly well should. Details here.

** Don’t forget the Malvern Spring Show runs from 10th-13th May. I am there Friday, Saturday and Sunday with Carol Klein, Chris Beardshaw, Joe Swift and Terry Walton.

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Black, White And Read All Over

23, Apr, 2012 6 Comments

I have a book in my office (I have no idea how it came into my possession but the lack of library plates makes it seem unlikely that I acquired it dishonestly) called “A Horticultural Who Was Who”. It was published by the Royal Horticultural Society in 1948 and written by A.Simmonds MC VMH (the Deputy Secretary of the Society – a position that no longer exists).

There is a foreword by the then President of the Society, Lord Aberconway who says: “It is easy to collect facts and to make the recital of them uncommonly dull, but Mr Simmonds has the knack of dealing with the facts which makes the book most readable”.

He sounds rather surprised.

It is a modest volume, only eighty pages long consisting of a series of short essays about the people behind the plants. For example there is a chapter about Mr Cox of Cox’s Orange Pippin. He was born in 1776 (as was Narcisse Henri Francois Desportes: a French botanist who identified over 2500 species of rose) and earned his living as a brewer before settling into a comfortable retirement in Berkshire where he amused himself with a bit of light gardening. He raised the first Cox’s Orange Pippin from pips: it was thought to be a cross between Ribston and Blenheim Orange.

Mr Simmonds is quite hot on top fruit as he also writes about the Bramley, the Ribston’s Pippin, Annie Elizabeth (an apple named after the daughter of Samuel Greatorex: she was born when he was seventy so he was obviously feeling a bit chuffed) and the Greengage. James Grieve (he of the apple tree) had, apparently, “a reputation for the free use of forceful language”

He goes into flowers as well and tells us, for example, that Geum Mrs Bradshaw (pictured above) was selected by a chap called G.G.Whitelegg, gardener to the eponymous Mrs B.  The chap after which Rosa William Allen Richardson was named was  a bit of a mystery: after an appeal for information the closest they got was “an anonymous postcard with a Paddington postmark and the informative message ‘He was the brother of my brother’s handyman’”. Most of the rest are along quite unadventurous lines. Dianthus Mrs Sinkins was originally raised by Mr Sinkins. Viola Maggie Mott was named after Albert Mott’s daughter etc, etc.

It seems that horticulturalists seldom named their discoveries after their concubines or celebs.

Pity.

Still, I suppose things have progressed as we now have Dahlia Joe Swift , Helen Mirren has a Nepenthes that looks like a posing pouch, Maurice Gibb has a Penstemon and Dolly Parton a full flowered Rose.

Mick Jagger has a fossilised mollusc named after him: Anomphalus jaggerius but is outdone by Frank Zappa who has an entire genus of Mudskipper in his honour.

There is also a horsefly called Scaptia beyonceae because of its “striking golden behind”.

But I digress…..


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Ash, And It Shall Be Given Unto You

19, Apr, 2012 3 Comments

Some plants are just plants, others are suffused with folklore and have stories to tell.
In the former category I would put the Bizzy Lizzy, the Pachysandra ( which is generally pedestrian evergreen ground over soon to be lifted to new heights by Joe Swift in his Chelsea Show Garden) and the bedding pansy.
In the latter I would put the big guys: Oaks, Ash and Beech. On this occasion, I will , if I may, enlighten you with some faintly interesting facts about the Ash.

Fraxinus excelsior is possibly the best name of any tree as it sounds like a rousing Christmas carol sung by a vast choir in a frosty courtyard.

We are surrounded by woodland here most of which consists of Ash. It grows very fast and is extraordinarily profligate in it habits. This garden is liberally sprinkled with seedlings every year which are pretty easily weeded when young but a nightmare if they escape detection for a year or so. There is one growing bang smack in the middle of a rather pretty (though short flowering) rose called R.Celestial. I will never be able to extricate it without removing the rose so instead I cut it down every year, swear a bit, shake my head and walk away. Quite similar to dealing with teenagers.

To make matters worse, ripe Ash seed can lurk in the soil for upwards of eighteen months before germinating. Like a deep cover enemy sleeper cell going about its everyday innocent business until, at a given signal…WHAM. Germination.

The buds are black. The flowers are pretty dull being purplish and petal-free. Interestingly a tree can produce all female flowers one year and then all male the next year. The dendrological equivalent of being pretty mixed up.

Ash was used to make arrows for longbows and , as each longbowman fired about five arrows a minute, quite a lot were needed. About a million and a quarter during the more interesting part of the Hundred years War. They were supplied in sheaves of 24 and every village was expected to contribute. Now that the French are slightly better behaved the ash is used more usually in snooker cues.

Ash makes excellent firewood, as in

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke,
Apple wood will scent your room
Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom
Oaken logs, if dry and old
keep away the winter’s cold
But Ash wet or Ash dry
a king shall warm his slippers by

So now you know….

 

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Hurrah For National Gardening Week

3, Apr, 2012 1 Comment

Now listen up you lot….

What do you know about National Gardening Week? Not much, I warrant. Well, the time has come to do something about it because it is a very good idea. It has been co-ordinated by the Royal Horticultural Society (so I suppose I had better declare an interest right now) and runs from 16th-22nd April.

The point is to whip the country into a frenzy of excitement about the up rushing garden season and gardening generally. There will be events at all the main RHS Gardens but the main impetus behind the event will be various community and local events being arranged all over the country. There will be open days, quizzes, plant swaps and parties.

And presents: lots of presents.

The days of the week are conveniently themed so there should be something for everybody. For example:

On Monday the RHS Members Advisory service will be around to answer any garden questions you may have from pesky pests to wearying weeds. You can telephone, email or turn up at one of the gardens.

Tuesday is called Gardens of the Nation. Everybody is invited to take pictures of their garden (throughout the year) and submit them to central website. This will give future historians a snapshot of what gardens looked like in the early 21st Century. Expect them to be rolled out on the centenary of National Gardening Week in 2112 when our great-grandchildren will laugh at our choice of plants and silly looking trousers.

Wednesday is all about careers in gardening. An important subject: partly because I have one (of sorts) and mostly because we need young people in gardening. Which means we must look after them, pay them properly and enthuse them. There is a Careers day in London hosted by His Grace The Alan of Titchmarsh and featuring both the rising stars of gardening and the old lags (amongst others, Sturgeon, Cleve West and me)

Thursday is about the Environment. There will be great talks at all RHS Gardens about composting, beekeeping, planting appropriately and other things to help us tread lightly.

Friday is about encouraging children to get involved so there will be garden related high jinks and activities.

The weekend is more general and is about “sharing the fun of gardens and gardening”. This includes a guided walk round Wisley with the curator, Colin Crosbie, which will  be both entertaining and educational (I guarantee: if you go and you are neither entertained nor educated then I will buy you a packet of Maltesers). There are also charity open days at Hidcote in Gloucestershire (one of our finest gardens) and at Hardy’s Cottage Garden Plants

And as an extra bonus the whole week is actually nine days long. It is a magic RHS Week which goes on longer than normal weeks (at least it sometimes feels like that when the odd meeting gets a bit sticky) because on the 14th we should all be sowing wildflowers to launch Britain in Bloom

Sounds quite jolly, doesn’t it? in order to make it even jollier you (yes, you) need to get involved as well. If you would like to arrange an event (and I think you should) then if you go to the website there are three simple steps to help you set things up.

So, what are you waiting for?

The picture is of some chillies: irrelevant, yes. But pretty.

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But Me No Butts….

29, Mar, 2012 2 Comments

Water shortages.

Next week we, in the arrid Midlands get a hosepipe ban due, obviously, to the fact that it has not rained here properly all winter. I never really thought that, when we moved here twenty odd years ago, that we would end up living in the British equivalent of the outer reaches of Chad. Even though that equivalent is still pretty green and gorgeous.

I rather enjoy a proper rainy day: but only when comfortably ensconced in my office gazing out of the window while continuing an intense relationship with some chocolate digestive biscuits. We don’t do much watering anyway in this garden- except for the few containers we have – as I don’t care that much about the lawn (which is mostly buttercup and moss anyway) and the rest of the plants have been raised hard so are pretty resilient.

But, in keeping with the zeitgeist we decided that we should get hold of some water butts. As a result two handsome specimens appeared from Sankey ready to be hitched to down pipes. Since then it has not rained at all and the presence of a handsome terracotta style water butt in their run has caused the chickens an enormous amount of consternation. They run headlong and clucking to the far end of the run  from where they regard the handsome object with extreme suspicion. It is as if the bogey man had descended and was chasing them round with dripping claws and slavering jaws rather than a plump ”Terracotta style” water butt. But then, Hens, as you may already be aware, are not widely known for their logic. If you are choosing a partner for celebrity Who Wants To Be A Millionaire then steer clear of chickens.

The only problem I have with water butts (apart from the fact that there is no butt manufacturer called Seymour: but that is just a childish Simpsons inspired desire own my behalf) is the time it takes for them to fill a watering can. Gravity is not entirely satisfactory in this case. I have another butt which is an old water tank with an open top: watering cans can just be dipped in and filled in seconds. The disadvantages are that we get a fair bit of evaporation, splashing and lots of mosquito larvae. The first is alleviated by putting the tank in shade, the second by being careful and the third by the introduction of a couple of goldfish to the tank.

Maybe April will be ridiculously wet and I will be able to write a blog complaining loudly about the beastly mud.

*I thought it a bit much to use a picture of a water butt as a main picture so have provided you with a picture of a fine apple tart made by my daughter, Stroma. For more gratuitous cake related pictures you could visit her blog here.

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Barking Up The Big Tree

22, Mar, 2012 2 Comments

I have been planting trees.

Not just any old trees but some rather thrillingly enormous trees supplied by none other than the publishers and paymasters of this dear Blog: Crocus. I was loafing around their offices a few weeks ago and was having a guided shufti around and amongst the nursery. There, lurking in a corner, was an handsome collection of specimen trees, some left over from previous Chelsea Show Gardens.

There is something wonderfully indulgent about planting big trees. It is like checking into a luxury hotel and doing nothing but lie around wearing towelling dressing gowns and making full use of the facilities. Coconut and kiwi exfoliating body lotion? Oh yes. Shower cap? Very fetching. Sewing kit? Rip that shirt. Complimentary pillow mint? Bring it on.

Planting big trees leapfrogs all the waiting and you have the delight of instant effect.
It also involves quite large machines which I find completely irresistible.We have dug large holes, when I say ”we” I, of course, mean ”they”, my job is to bang marking stakes into the ground and skip around in the peripheral view of various digger drivers. There is also, oh be still my quivering thighs, a crane to lift the trees into place. In particular a very handsome Olive Tree that needs to be hoiked over a wall and across a swimming pool into a waiting hole.

Part of the point of large trees is to make it look as it they have been there for ages and ages, therefore a lot of unsightly wooden stakes would look, well, unsightly. So we have used underground anchors: these, for those of you unfamiliar with such things, are steel cables that are secured around the root ball and winched tight so that there is no wind rock. A bit like nailing somebody’s shoes to the ground to stop them falling over.
In general large trees grow slow than small ones: they have spent ages being root pruned so that they can be moved more easily. As a result they are a bit nervous about branching out (bad pun, sorry) and will take a couple of years to settle in and start growing.

In short: if you want the luxury of instant effect – plant big. If you want the pleasure of watching trees grow (without excessively shrinking the bank account) then plant small.

But, whichever way you swing: plant something.

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Nota Bene

14, Mar, 2012 2 Comments

I love technology. In fact I would go so far as to admit that I am a sucker for a shiny gizmo: in this house we are currently in possession of two computers, a laptop, two iPads, two iPhones (rising to five if my children are around) and both video and still cameras. All of these things are designed to talk to each other and record our every move. They are there to make our lives smoother, simpler and easier.

I also own three Moleskine notebooks in which I write things that I should remember. I also have a Muji notebook on my desk and two more on my drawing board. I have a plastic covered book which I use for interviewing people in their gardens and a very spiffy leather one with thick paper which is too good to use for anything. This can sometimes be confusing as I tend to forget in which notebook I should be using.

Why is it then that I cannot recall exactly where the gaps are in the garden and what I decided to do about various plant combinations ?

I must also share further information that has come to my attention during my weekend happily furtling around my garden.

Things are growing like stink: it may not be that obvious to the passing pedestrian but to those of us on our knees getting down and dirty the evidence is only too obvious: everywhere you look there are little shoots shoving their laborious way through cold soil. So this would be the obvious time to get out those notes and pictures I took last year in order to make sure that I got any planting, dividing or moving sorted out before the Spring really gets a shift on.

Except that I cannot find the notes and I have a sneaking suspicion that I may either have written them on a long since crumpled envelope or not written down anything. There are various unexplained photographs of bare patches in borders but little indication as to why I took the pictures or even where.

This is not good and I hang my head in disorganised shame – although I would like to take this opportunity to reassure my clients that, when it comes to their gardens, my efficiency is beautiful to behold. Mostly.

So this Spring will be, as all previous Springs, a bit chaotic, a tad frenzied and a little stressed. I will suddenly panic buy plants and do wildly impulsive things some of which I will regret and some which will be glorious triumphs about which I will brag at lectures.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

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Shed A Happy Tear

7, Mar, 2012 5 Comments

Every gardener should have a shed of some sort. Ideally one which is large enough for tools and potting stuff: there are luxury versions, of course, with stoves and armchair and kitchens. My friend Cleve West has four sheds: all of them interestingly designed and built over the years that he has had his allotment. One contains tools,one his collection of jewelled pants, one contains buckets and one is for storing cooking stuff: he is a conoisseur.

The rest of us have no chance of measuring up to such standards.

I have various barns that are terribly disorganised: a cursory inspection this morning revealed:

Various bicycles (few with inflated tyres)

Three lawn mowers (two of which do not work)

Assorted tools (some hanging on hooks, most lying on the floor).

Three pallets of leftover bricks.

Some useful bits of wood *

A leak in the roof

An old bath (unusually narrow: designed for use only by people with small bottoms)

Wire (galvanised and electrical)

A fine collection of crusty paint tins (including a whole box of Farrow and Ball miniatures)

Some scaffolding, bits of gutter and an Acrow prop

An old perambulator, three large bits of slate and a perforated pond liner

The skulls of both a sheep and a rat.

I could go on for ages but that would be really very dull indeed. I do, however, hanker after a proper potting shed. My mother-in-law has a particularly fine example. It has obviously served its purpose for many, many years: the brick floor is worn into smooth furrows where people have walked back and forth and there are notes written by gardeners long departed on the back of the door. Interestingly the contents remain largely undisturbed and in cupboards there are ancient , and slightly terrifying, bottles of old pesticides and the sort of poisons that were commonly used in gardens fifty years ago.

There is a large (empty) bottle of liquid Nicotine – a chemical that was made illegal in gardens in the 1970s. It is ridiculously dangerous to all living creatures and was used widely as an insecticide for many, many years. It was either mixed with water as a spray or else vaporised in lamps – in which case the gardener lit the lamp and got the hell out of the greenhouse as quickly as possible. Everything left in the place – aphids, mealybugs, lacewings, ladybirds and, probably, rats was toast. There is also a box of Arsenate of Lead – which may not be empty but I feel that nothing is to be gained by opening it. This was originally used in the first aerial crop dusting experiment.

History, horticulture and toxicology all in one place.

 

 

* The rule with useful bits of wood/metal/etc is that they remain undisturbed and unwanted for decades: up until the point that they are burnt or thrown out. Within a week of this one suddenly needs a plank of the exact dimensions of the one you burnt.

 

 

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