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!