"A flowerless room is a souless room, to my way of thinking;
but even a solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it."
- Vita Sackville-West
April is the month when we can finally begin flower-picking in earnest and this year the lilacs have really outdone themselves for scent and sheer ebullience.
Double white lilac outside the cottage |
We have two of the deep purple variety in the back garden and one white flowering tree in the front. Until recently this was overshadowed by a rather ancient elder which we've now removed to let in more light.
As a reward, the tree has provided us with heavy swags of bloom, just crying out to be picked and displayed in a room where they can scent the air with the fragrance of early spring.
Some people believe that bringing lilac indoors encourages bad luck, but the only thing I'd worry about is whether there are bugs hiding inside the blossom. (Maybe one should leave it outdoors for a couple of hours first, to let any little critters escape..?)
Cercis siliquastrum |
Another colourful favourite in gardens is the Judas tree - a strange beast in that it can apparently produce flowers right out of the bark. (Christina tells me that this tends to happen when it hasn't been properly pruned!)
In any event, it's certainly eye-popping and I was drawn to photograph this specimen because of the peculiar combination of golden lichen, grey bark and magenta petals, reminiscent of the pattern on a Japanese kimono.
My book tells me that Judas trees tolerate most soils, but prefer it to be deep and well-drained, in full sun or part-shade. Unless regularly pruned, they can reach a height of 8-12m, spreading out more than 8 meters... too big for our garden, alas, but nice to admire elsewhere.
Talking of things exotic, we recently decided we should replace our rather ineffective wild gladioli with some new robust corms which have just come into flower.
It's intriguing the way their heads reach forward as if practising an Egyptian sand-dance... (does anyone know what I'm talking about??)
I'm pleased to say the blooms are stronger in colour and form than the wild version, so it just remains to pull out all the old ones which have scattered themselves everywhere.
In this climate, it's nearly always wiser to choose a cultivar rather than rely on a native plant which may take more easily but then outgrows its welcome, leaving lots of offspring to remind you of your mistake.
However, we do make an exception for Honesty because it can be spectacular under a hedge where little else is prepared to grow. I enjoy its flowers - like the butterflies - but then I usually rip out the plant before its root becomes too large and intractable.
Gladioli byzantinus |
It's intriguing the way their heads reach forward as if practising an Egyptian sand-dance... (does anyone know what I'm talking about??)
I'm pleased to say the blooms are stronger in colour and form than the wild version, so it just remains to pull out all the old ones which have scattered themselves everywhere.
The Honesty hedge! |
However, we do make an exception for Honesty because it can be spectacular under a hedge where little else is prepared to grow. I enjoy its flowers - like the butterflies - but then I usually rip out the plant before its root becomes too large and intractable.
Aside from those bold, brash purples and magentas, there are smaller ground-cover plants also in bloom and attracting the insects.
This creeping thyme always makes a delightful cushion and will easily thread itself between rocks and over dry-stone paths.
This creeping thyme always makes a delightful cushion and will easily thread itself between rocks and over dry-stone paths.
I'm particularly fond of carpeters because they're so useful at knitting together awkward or unsightly areas of the garden and quickly lending a naturalistic flourish to a newly planted bed.
The same may be said of certain edging plants like this Iberis or Candytuft, much beloved of suburban front gardens.
Again, it's worth growing something which is a bit nicer than the stuff you find en masse in plastic trays. I found this variety in Chiltern Seeds catalogue and it's been flowering for well over a month now, starting from when there was little else in bloom.
I've planted it in different areas and it seems to perform best in part-shade where the soil is more moisture retentive. The flowers on this particular plant just keep getting bigger and brighter - a contrast to all the greenery!
Similarly pure white, the heart-shaped baubles of Dicentra spectabilis gleam within the shadowy depths of emergent foliage.
We both have a weakness for white or cream flowers tinged with green; out in the countryside, patches of Solomon's Seal and Lily of the Valley are starting to appear on waysides, echoing this cool combination. The verges, too, are full of waving Cow Parsley and burgeoning stems of Hogweed, not to mention the puffy blooms of Bladder Campion.
That's not to say, of course, that the traditional pink and white version of Dicentra isn't equally welcome - in fact it's a quintessential plant of the English spring garden, along with Foxgloves and Sweet Williams.
Chiltern's catalogue tells me that Dicentra spectabilis also bears the name of 'Lyre Flower', which is apt considering its unusual shape.
Anything which hangs, drapes or shoots out in an elegant fashion is worth growing because it draws the eye and stimulates your imagination in ways that other, more ordinary plants, never will.
The weather has been mixed throughout April, with plenty of sun along with cold winds which have kept the temperatures down. It hasn't been great for my seedlings, which have to survive without a greenhouse, but it's enabled the bulbs and the blossom to continue for longer than usual.
Here you can see our remaining tulips: 'Ballerina' - feisty in orange - and 'Merlot' in a sort of wine colour. Once they've finished, we'll take them out of the containers and keep them safe in the shed until it's time to replant in September.
The low box hedge on the right has just been trimmed and is already starting to put on fresh growth, whilst the honeysuckle hedge behind is in need of yet another hard prune.
On the far right of the picture, you can see that our Viburnum opulus is in full bloom. The French call this 'Boule de neige' (snowball tree) or Viorne obier, and it's another popular shrub.
I'm not sure if ours was the compact version or not; but, in any event, Christina keeps it well-pruned so it doesn't exceed its allotted space. If you cut back hard after flowering, you maintain the shape of the shrub and it will still bloom its socks off the following year.
The only downside to this viburnum is its fatal attraction to blackfly. We usually resort to snipping off the worst affected shoots - mainly those which have soft growth and no flowers.
Iberis sempervirens 'Snowflake' |
The same may be said of certain edging plants like this Iberis or Candytuft, much beloved of suburban front gardens.
Again, it's worth growing something which is a bit nicer than the stuff you find en masse in plastic trays. I found this variety in Chiltern Seeds catalogue and it's been flowering for well over a month now, starting from when there was little else in bloom.
I've planted it in different areas and it seems to perform best in part-shade where the soil is more moisture retentive. The flowers on this particular plant just keep getting bigger and brighter - a contrast to all the greenery!
Dicentra spectabilis alba |
We both have a weakness for white or cream flowers tinged with green; out in the countryside, patches of Solomon's Seal and Lily of the Valley are starting to appear on waysides, echoing this cool combination. The verges, too, are full of waving Cow Parsley and burgeoning stems of Hogweed, not to mention the puffy blooms of Bladder Campion.
Dicentra spectabilis The original 'Bleeding Heart' |
Chiltern's catalogue tells me that Dicentra spectabilis also bears the name of 'Lyre Flower', which is apt considering its unusual shape.
Anything which hangs, drapes or shoots out in an elegant fashion is worth growing because it draws the eye and stimulates your imagination in ways that other, more ordinary plants, never will.
View towards the herb bed |
Here you can see our remaining tulips: 'Ballerina' - feisty in orange - and 'Merlot' in a sort of wine colour. Once they've finished, we'll take them out of the containers and keep them safe in the shed until it's time to replant in September.
The low box hedge on the right has just been trimmed and is already starting to put on fresh growth, whilst the honeysuckle hedge behind is in need of yet another hard prune.
Sunbathing in a sheltered spot |
On the far right of the picture, you can see that our Viburnum opulus is in full bloom. The French call this 'Boule de neige' (snowball tree) or Viorne obier, and it's another popular shrub.
I'm not sure if ours was the compact version or not; but, in any event, Christina keeps it well-pruned so it doesn't exceed its allotted space. If you cut back hard after flowering, you maintain the shape of the shrub and it will still bloom its socks off the following year.
The only downside to this viburnum is its fatal attraction to blackfly. We usually resort to snipping off the worst affected shoots - mainly those which have soft growth and no flowers.
Exciting discoveries in the early morning light! |
Beautiful. ..I love lilacs. ..wish they lasted longer. ..smell heavenly
ReplyDeleteYes, somehow they're so delicious in full bloom that I just want to devour them... weird or what!?
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