Savage Grace

Approaching rain sending seagulls inland

The wet theme appears to be continuing through November: there's drama in the skies but little chance to enjoy the trees' autumn colour before their leaves are whipped away by an unforgiving wind.

Since most of our gardening jobs are temporarily on hold, I thought I'd use this blog to highlight some of the hardy "thugs" of our local plantworld which you might think twice before accepting into your little corner of paradise.  Many of these appear innocent and beguiling in their infancy, but we've learned from bitter experience - both in our garden and in others - that they can turn into horrors after just a couple of years.

A wild and woolly Lonicera periclymenum

It probably took a bit longer than that to grow this honeysuckle up a pair of ash trees in order to screen our garden from the back lane.  To start with we welcomed its fragrant blooms and the fact that it remained fairly evergreen, providing a good nest site for our tuneful blackbirds...

But this year we decided it was screening too much light from the garden and had scrambled up too high for pruning; so out came the shears and I held the ladder steady while Christina hacked it all down. We must have taken three trailer-loads to the dump, uncovering in the process several deep welts made by honeysuckle stems twining around the trunk of a young ash tree.

Cruelty to trees

I doubt if this kind of damage would happen so quickly in the UK but it does demonstrate how you have to take into account the added vigour of all climbers grown over here. Honeysuckle certainly makes a lovely hedge - but can easily bring down the wire fence that it's grown on.  Be warned!

Whereas one can tolerate a certain amount of ivy in an English garden, here it not only degrades wood and stonework but also seeds itself liberally in the most awkward places and is difficult to dislodge from under walls and hedges.  I'm sure it's been the ruination of many a good tree and we try to operate a policy of zero-tolerance.

Wisteria sinensis looking deceptively innocent

And much as I admire wisteria, which blooms abundantly in this climate, I've come to realise that it needs a very firm supporting structure for its fast-growing and ultimately weighty branches. 


Even a heavy-gauge wire fence is no match for those strong, twining stems.

Ouch, that hurts!

I'm afraid we took drastic action with the one in this photo, chopping into the main trunk so that hopefully it can be grown as a standard tree, which can still produce lots of lovely trailing blooms without wrecking the fence.

Another climber which is a popular adornment to gateposts and railings is the exotic trumpet vine or Campsis grandiflora, known as 'bignon' in French.  It's popular with the British and does look wonderfully tropical but it also throws up no end of shoots which can travel all over the garden and appear uninvited in the middle of lawns and flowerbeds.  

Valerian (Centranthus rubra)

Aside from such over-enthusiastic climbers, there are other innocuous garden plants such as wallflowers, antirrinhums, valerian and even hollyhocks which can vastly outgrow their designated sites by developing huge roots and/or very woody stems.  Valerian's tuberous root system can aid the downfall of a stone wall and its fluffy little seeds will ensure that you're never without its fleshy offspring somewhere in the garden. Better not to dally with it in the first place!

There's even more temptation to grow architectural specimens such as the larger euphorbias and the much-admired Acanthus mollis or Bear's Breeches.

Euphorbia characias wulfenii,
with smaller cousin myrsinites

I've mentioned Acanthus in a previous post and it's definitely something to be kept separate from the rest of the garden; when chopped down, it has a tendency to push up elsewhere and those fleshy roots are very hard to eradicate.

The large Euphorbia characias is fine for a couple of years and looks splendid in early spring when there isn't much else around; but clumps soon get overly big and woody and those sap-leaking stems are a pig to dispose of, making a mess of your secateurs and possibly giving you a skin rash into the bargain.  Smaller versions, like Euphorbia myrsinites, are useful ground cover and still provide that striking acid green to liven up your border.

Yucca recurvifolia

Another tempting choice for a hot, dry climate is Yucca recurvifolia, which can grow over two metres high and produces magnificent bell-shaped blooms. These look fabulous for about 10 days if you're lucky but, once the flowers fall, it leaves behind a woody stem which is sometimes tough to remove, particularly if you have to run the gauntlet of sharp, spiny leaves.



These leaves are attractive when young but pretty lethal even with gardening gloves.  The problem arises as the shrub matures and spreads, becoming ever more unmanageable with its sharp spikes until you eventually have to take a chainsaw and cut through the base; even then, fresh shoots continue to sprout and may take years to eradicate.  A mega-thug!

But I don't want to sound as if you'll be severely limited in what you can safely grow because rest-assured there are nearly always alternatives and this is what makes gardening so interesting.  You may not find them at your local garden centre but perusing a good seed catalogue, like Chiltern's which I've mentioned before, will often describe more garden-friendly varieties of plants, including those which have been accorded the RHS Award of Garden Merit.  If you don't want to grow something from seed, then at least you'll be armed with the name of a  cultivar to search for at a plant fair - French horticulturalists are usually well-informed and all too happy to help!

Spindleberries in the wild

Last but not least, I would nominate Euonymus as my Shrub of the Month for November.  In England it's known as Spindleberry and the wild Euonymus europaeus grows on chalky soil all around here, producing eye-catching clusters of orange and pink berries. 

Plant breeders have cultivated many interesting varieties of Euonymus, some with evergreen and variegated leaves, others with yellow or red-tinted leaves which fall in autumn. I'd recommend having at least one Spindleberry in your garden, either as a specimen shrub or as part of a mixed hedge.

Our valley finally parading its autumn colours!

Taking Stock

Horse grazing on nearby marais

The month of October sees our landscape slip inexorably from late summer into autumn.  Heavy rainfall seemed to start earlier than usual this year, interfering with the grape harvest (vendange), leaving trails of mud on the road from freshly ploughed fields.

Egret amongst sea asters

But gusty winds soon dry the reedbeds and grassy marais, blowing through waves of sea asters along the shore, tossing their fluffy seedheads in the bright light and sending up fine wisps of spiders' silk to travel on air currents and catch on your clothes in passing.

Now's the time to take stock in the garden: pruning and shredding offcuts of woody shrubs; chopping down herbaceous stems and adding them to the compost heap.  (It's a good idea to turn the heap beforehand so that it's fully activated and ready to go!)

A couple of gardening enthusiasts, Jane and Stuart, spent a morning performing some necessary surgery on our tall ash trees, carefully manoeuvering the heavy branches with ropes to avoid any collateral damage.

They did a fine job and filled our log shed with an ample supply of fuel for our two open fires and the woodburning stove.

Christina will tell you that the sight of a well-packed log shed is as pleasing as a fully-stocked fridge!

Once the clearing up has been accomplished, you get a better sense of what plants might need dividing and replanting.  As the soil is warm and moist, it's a great opportunity to move almost anything and I look for the odd space to cram in some spring bulbs, perhaps overplanting them with ground-cover such as aubretia or Campanula poscharskyana - both of which root easily from cuttings at this time of year.

Two varieties of Cyclamen hederifolium have recently come into flower under the ash trees and their elegant blooms really glow against the dark background of leaf-litter. 

It's interesting that their marbled leaves don't really appear until March and I see from looking at my picture files that the white variety has a different leaf shape and markings to the pink one.  

Pink on the left and White on the right!

Both are very pretty and provide eye-catching colour in a dry woodland area where little else will thrive.

Although many shrubs are notable for their foliage right now, I'm nominating the understated - but never underrated - Eleagnus x ebbingei as my Shrub of the Month. 

We recently planted several as a hedge in the front south-facing garden where they have to withstand salty winds off the estuary.  They thrived through our dry summer and two of them have just rewarded us with small, beautifully fragrant flowers which are almost hidden under the greyish-green felted leaves.  Their scent is all the more mysterious because the uninitiated can't see where it's coming from; but I have yet to capture its essence on camera, so you'll just have to trust me that Eleagnus makes an excellent hedging plant.

Meanwhile, those purple salvias are still flowering their socks off in the herb bed and, until a recent rainy spell, were continuing to attract nectar-seeking insects.

Clouded-yellow butterfly

We've almost finished planting up this new bed with a variety of herbs and edging plants and I have a small area set aside for lavender cuttings, thinking ahead to next year when there'll be a need for fresh plants along the driveway.  I've also filled my cold frame with seedlings which I'm hoping to over-winter and plant out in spring... always assuming there's any space left!

Second Spring

Autumn plant fair at Blaye (Gironde)

After the dryness of high summer, it's a relief to have some rain and the opportunity to move plants into different places.  If she's not rearranging furniture in the sitting room, Christina enjoys nothing more than a good garden makeover - or a 'relooking' as they would term it over here!

Despite producing a quantity of peas and beans earlier in the year, our potager is just too small and shaded to be really successful as a veg plot; so we've decided to concentrate on herbs - those wonderful hyssops and salvias I wrote about last month - retaining a little area for raspberries. 

Christina inclines towards the architectural side of gardening, and is much handier with a spade than me, so she started by digging out a proper gravelled path around the back of our new herb bed.  It cuts down on growing space but makes it much easier to trim the hedge and access all parts of the new bed.

We'd already set aside a number of flowering herbs which would be suitable for this area, but of course we couldn't resist the lure of a local plant fair to find a few more candidates...

There are always some interesting stands at the Autumn foire aux plantes in Blaye, held inside the 17th century citadel overlooking the Gironde estuary, which is like a medieval village within the town, its rough stone and plaster walls providing a backdrop for seductive displays of plants and garden crafts.

The plant-sellers are drawn mainly from neighbouring departments and have become more practised at presentation over the years, ensuring that their specimens are well-labelled and even providing a photograph if there isn't an actual flower on show.  Many of these horticultural enterprises now have informative websites and their plantsmen (and women) are always happy to talk at length to interested buyers - sometimes too happy it seems when you're left awkwardly clutching several pots, ready to hand over your cash whilst a long-winded discussion on soil types continues unabated, seemingly oblivious to impatient clients!

Eragrostis trichoides "Summer Strain"

One of the grasses we chose was a delicate Eragrostis which has now taken its place next to the stone bird bath, a central feature of our new herb bed.  When the early-morning sun shines through its seed heads, these elegant wands almost look like fine sprays of glittering water.

Another grass which catches the light beautifully is Pennisetum alopecuroides, or Chinese Fountain Grass, which is increasingly used to good effect in municipal flowerbeds and seems to come in varying shades of purple and brown.

Pennisetum alopecuroides "National Arboretum"

Much as I like to see the garden filled to overflowing with greenery, it's worth being brave and cutting back a lot of extraneous foliage on hardy geraniums; most of them have finished flowering by now and very few of ours produce any autumn tints before their leaves shrivel and go brown.

After clearing away this tide of green, we can take the opportunity to turn the soil, add some home-made compost or leafmould, and tidy up the beds by re-defining their edges.  Suddenly everything  looks much sharper and the dazzling autumnal light really picks out those grasses.

Bright candy-pink sedums and deep blue plumbago flowers continue to dominate our borders; but as the sun sinks lower in the sky, there are more areas remaining in shade for much of the day and it's important to try and light up these darker corners.

This is where plants with variegated leaves come into their own, together with the berries of shrubs such as pyracantha - we have three varieities currently showcasing their berries: in scarlet, orange and yellow.  Birds love them and they will probably all be devoured by Christmas.

Sternbergia lutea with Pyracanthus and Eleagnus pungens 'Maculata'

Despite intimations of autumn, the garden does feel quite springlike in this moist but warm season, and it never fails to surprise us when bulbs like Sternbergia suddenly burst forth.  Dormant for much of the year, their yellow crocus flowers light up the dry soil under trees and hedges; they quickly multiply and produce a great deal of glossy foliage - which is why they're probably better kept in out-of-the-way places!

Shrub of the Month - I would definitely nominate our Caryopteris clandonensis variegata (right) which has been in flower for most of September and is a magnet for bees.  I took some seeds from this plant last year and grew three plants - two of them had plain green leaves and are flowering well, but the third one just has yellowish leaves and not a single flower.

Which probably goes to prove that I know nothing at all about Botany!!

But we do know how to keep our insects happy and have another 'nectar bar' in the mini-forest of Verbena bonariensis, which grows happily in the chalky base of our driveway.  One late afternoon I counted four types of butterflies and one moth feasting on the bushy flowers, which are still going strong after eight weeks.

Brown Argus

Hummingbird Hawkmoth

Decorative Herbs

Salvia uliginosa (not "patens" as captioned before!)

After a massive storm at the start of August - thunder, lightning and hail, causing widespread destruction across our wine regions - there's scarcely been any rain since and the soil is quite parched.  This is when late-flowering herbs such as sages and fennel really come into their own, requiring a minimum of attention.

I'm guessing at the variety shown above because it's not one I grew from seed and I've long since lost the label... a common problem!  What I can say is that it's pretty vigorous, bordering on the thuggish, and spreads like wildfire unless kept in check ("patens" does mean spreading, apparently).  Nevertheless it's great for filling dry areas along walls and you can be ruthless in yanking out unwanted stems.*

Another one we bought at a plant fair, which I think I've correctly identified, is Salvia guarantica 'Black & Blue' - it's name is fairly self-explanatory when you see the dark stems next to those lovely gentian flowers.

It's been in bloom for almost a month now and I shall certainly be on the look out for seeds so that I can raise more plants next year.  Some of these more colourful sages are from Mexico and can be a little tender if temperatures dip below -5'C, so it's worth taking cuttings if you have the means to over-winter them.  (As we're a bit limited on space, using a cold-frame rather than a greenhouse, I tend to go for the seed option.)

Culinary herbs are also thriving and, thanks to a tip from Monty on Gardeners World, we bought a pot of basil from the supermarket and planted up a number of rooted pieces into our container of tomato plants.  He said that the two crops complemented one another, presumably because they appreciate regular watering and feeding, and he's not lying - it's worked really well in our plastic trough and we've enjoyed endless tomato and basil salads!

Wild fennel fanning the shores of the Gironde

One herb which is both statuesque and edible is Foeniculum vulgare aka wild fennel, which grows like a weed on verges and along the Estuary.  I'm not sure how this plant differs from the giant fennel (Ferula communis) which is more typical in Britain... maybe it's just the Mediterranean version, which is a bit shorter?  The one in our garden came from a stray seed and is a couple of meters high, effectively filling the void left by our cypress tree which upped and died earlier this year.

Another maritime herb much in evidence on the cliffs and shoreline is wild marjoram (Origanum vulgare) seen here with its bedfellow, the sea holly (Eryngium maritimum), which appears to grow in chalk as well as on sand. 

Spot the sunflowers..!

Farmers of sunflowers must be tearing their hair out this year as the wet Spring has led to their fields being invaded by some kind of hedge parsley, as well as the usual crop of thistles and wild datura.  Looking up Latin names in my trusty plant book, I was interested to find that hedge parsley (Torilis arvensis) is a member of the same botanical family as fennel and sea holly - ie: Umbelliferae, or carrot!

A farmer's nightmare can equally be a pretty picture to the rest of us and it's great to see such a proliferation of wild flowers.  Cycling through vineyards, we pass patches of bright blue on the sunny downland, signifying clumps of wild chicory (Cichorium intybus) which is related to the endive and radicchio used in salads.

There's another cultivated variety we grow in our chalky driveway - Cupid's Dart or Catanache caerulea - which flowers in June and then provides the most stunning seedheads.  They have a metallic sheen and in bright sun you can almost believe they're fashioned out of silver or pewter rather than being just light and papery husks... a clever optical illusion.

* Correction, I've just seen a photo of Salvia uliginosa, the so-called 'bog sage', and I'm convinced that this is the one!  It starts flowering now and carries on until November, which would be right.  Despite being called bog sage, it seems quite happy in a dry spot - give it a damp position and I have a feeling it would probably go mad!

Dog Days

Agrostemma githago 'Milas Purple Queen' (corncockle)

I may have mentioned before that French garden centres - in our area at least - tend to stock only those stalwart plant varieties that we’ve all seen before, thus leaving little scope for imagination and invention.  When I first became interested in growing things, I loved to turn the pages of Bressingham’s catalogue because it was so bountifully illustrated with appealing images of species I’d never seen before.

Agastache aurantiaca

Since then, I’ve moved on to raising my own perennials from seed and look forward to the arrival of the annual 200-page booklet from Chiltern Seeds.  What it lacks in photo’s, it more than makes up in the diversity of plants on offer, presented in a witty and informative way, inspiring me to order lots of little packets through the post!

I'd never even thought of growing a herb called hyssop until I read their glowing descriptions and decided to start with the small, orange-flowered Agastache aurantiaca, which grows about a foot high and flowers the first year from seed.  (In the above picture, its colour is heightened by a stray seedling of Cosmos sulphureus which happened to come out at the same time!)

Agastache 'Liquorice Blue'

Another variety that has since seeded itself in the garden is Agastache 'Liquorice Blue', so-called because its leaves really do smell of liquorice.

Agastache mexicana 'Sangria'

 








Rather more colourful and dramatic is my favourite Agastache mexicana 'Sangria', which has lemon-scented leaves (useful for salads) and the most gorgeous magenta flowers.  Grown in an open area with plenty of sun, it can reach over a meter in height.

I’m a huge fan of salvias, which come in all shapes and sizes from every corner of the world and are generally quite easy to grow.  (Chiltern Seeds latest catalogue lists over 40 varieties and I should think I’m only up to number eight!)  Being a herb, they usually have pleasantly aromatic leaves which can be added to salads, and striking flowers in shades of red, white, purple or blue, which can really perk up a border at this time of year.

Anenome japonica 'Honorine Jobert'

In the damp shade of a high barn wall, a cluster of white anenomes is coming into bloom.  For some reason, I had difficulty raising a decent clump of these in England but always admired them in other people's gardens where they lit up a shady corner in early Autumn, looking as pure and crisp as royal icing against the darker foliage.

Here in Charente Maritime, however, some varieties can run amok and we rue the day that we planted a pink-flowered anenome nearby; now the shoots have popped up everywhere and it's nigh impossible to eradicate, insinuating itself between the roots of gentler plants.

On the other hand, there are a few choice hybrids to be found, including this darker pink double Anenome hupehensis, which is slightly more demanding than 'Honorine Jobert' but with no nasty habits.

Another mainstay of the semi-shaded border at this time of year is the sedum family, especially good old Sedum spectabile which looks so wonderful next to the ground-cover plumbago, Ceratostigma plumbaginoides, with its gentian-blue flowers. 

Sedum with Ceratostigma

There are two versions of this hardy plumbago in our garden: the rather invasive but extremely useful low-growing form in this photo, and the taller (90cm) Ceratostigma plumbaginoides Willmottianum, which is a more restrained back-of-the-border plant.  Both types have leaves which gain some bold red tints when the cold weather arrives.

Larger sedums have the unfortunate habit of collapsing under the weight of their blooms, leaving an unsightly gap in the middle.  Some brave souls give them a 'Chelsea Chop' midway through their growth cycle, but this year we've re-used the mesh shelves from some old wire and plastic staging.  Just bend the metal into a 'V' and push it under the plant for support - I find I can gently tip them up with my foot when strimming the grass underneath!

Back on the subject of seeds, I was a bit slow in sowing some love-in-the-mist ordered from Chiltern's and they've only recently come into flower, long after the ordinary blue ones are dried and papery.

The exotic Nigella hispanica "African Bride'

Last but not least, why is this end of Summer sometimes referred to as 'Dog Days'??  Apparently the saying goes back to Greek and Roman times, when Summer turned sultry and "the Sea boiled, the Wine turned sour, Dogs grew mad and all other creatures became languid..."      

Phew, I'm off to have a siesta!

Warm winds at last



 

A roadside bank of Stipa tenuissima - with poppies!

 Another very difficult month for weather, with more than the average number of cool, wet days.  I'm quite relieved that June is over, despite the huge range of plants which have come into bloom all at once, making it a memorable month for roses in particular - we've never picked so many for the house, trying to save some of the bigger trusses before they were savaged by wind and rain. 

Unlike Christina, who adores roses - especially the old fashioned ones that we obtain via mail order - I have mixed feelings because of the amount of work they entail and the number of times I'm attacked by thorns as I endeavour to keep them under control (yes, I know I'm a spoilsport...) 

Rose training in early Spring

We have a few moss roses with rather untidy habits but in springtime Christina is careful to tie down the stems, making an arch from which will sprout lots of flower-bearing side shoots.  

Moss roses are unusual because of the green or brown "fuzz" which encases the buds, and the flowers themselves are sometimes too heavy for their delicate stems; but they are gloriously scented and have an old-world charm of their own.

"Shailer's White" moss rose

In their favour, I have to say that roses of all types tend to perform a lot better in this climate than back in England.  They're definitely sun-worshippers and although the blooms may not last as long, there are twice or three times as many. 

We occasionally get aphids but the birds make short work of them and our roses are otherwise pretty pest-free.  As long as they are well-planted, with the addition of some blood, fish & bone (or hoof & horn in France) and kept reasonably moist for the first season, they will reward you with loads of flowers.  Bucket-loads, in some cases!

Whilst the strong sunlight of midsummer causes some flowers to fade quickly, it definitely adds burnish to the ornamental grasses and we've grown about four different types, all of which bring a golden hue to the gardens. 

Stipa gigantea or 'oat grass'

Most members of the Stipa family come easily from seed and can totally transform a mixed border, adding movement and a subtle veil through which other plants can be glimpsed.  This is especially true of Stipa tenuissima, an effective foil for Verbena bonariensis, larkspur and long-stemmed prairie plants. 

 

Stipa tenuissima and blue cranesbills

Here the grass has become intermingled with a clump of blue geraniums planted under a shady tree; as the grasses reach out for light, they create a sort of cascade effect over the edge of the terrace.

Stipa tenuissima is a prolific self-seeder, particularly in our gravel driveway, and has produced wonderful waving vistas quite by accident!

Grasses are also invaluable when you have to cope with dry conditions and for this reason we've used them for under-planting a number of trees, in combination with crocus and other spring bulbs. 

Briza maxima

Here we've planted Briza maxima, or quaking grass, all around the base of an olive tree to try and simulate a Greek meadow.  This only grows to about 45cm and, looking at the picture, I can't help thinking it would be fun to intersperse some field poppies - Papaver rhoeas - which are available in subtle shades of pink, white and apricot as well as the more common crimson.

Finding plants which tolerate arid conditions and unrelenting sun is even more of a challenge.  Friends nearby are planning to retile the area around their swimming pool; at present there are two date palms growing out of dry, thin soil which is surrounded by concrete.  Not a good look...

Base of palm tree in spring

For ages we kept weeding around the base of these poor palms, trying to decide what would tolerate such difficult terrain.  At the end of winter, when it was still relatively cool and damp, we planted some small lavender cuttings together with some equally minute evening primrose seedlings.  (Babies with strong roots are easier to transplant than mature plants which need more moisture.)

As the garden and pool are basically dug out of a chalky cliffside, we had no difficulty finding lumps of chalk chippings to use as a mulch, holding in what little moisture there was and refracting sunlight.

Oenothera 'Apricot Delight'

The result has been quite dramatic, even though the lavender flowers have flattened themselves against the concrete rather than standing upright like the evening primroses.  (This could well be due to some of the heavy showers we've had recently!)

At any rate, it's a low-maintenance option for breaking up this expanse of concrete and won't result in leaves or petals falling into the water.  Many types of herbs are suitable for landscaping around swimming pools.

A plant which is particularly statuesque at this time of year is Acanthus mollis, or "bear's breeches", which has proved to be a real thug in our garden.  I love its sharp-cut, papery flowers, but if you grow it alongside other plants in a border with fairly rich soil, you run the risk that it will take over and you'll never be rid of its fleshy, underground shoots.  Be warned!

However, grown by itself in full sun, it makes a very pretty picture...

Acanthus mollis in exactly the right place