Gardening Zen

"Summer makes a silence after spring"

- Vita Sackville-West

Serenity reigns... well, sometimes

Not sure that I totally agree with Vita's comment, given the manic twittering as a flock of goldfinches eyes up the birdbath for a drink, or the repetitive clucking of a black redstart warning the world that our cat is on the prowl. Even insects thrum noisily past your ear as you settle down for a doze in the shade. 

Drenched but not bedraggled -
'Scarborough Fair'

But finally those chill winds and sudden rainstorms have calmed into welcome breezes which refresh the midday heat and allow butterflies to roam lazily between flowers.

It seems that some roses recover better from rain than others...

'Scarborough Fair' is possibly my favourite climber and her delicate blooms seem to survive a fair bit of punishment without being blemished or losing petals.

She's also planted in semi-shade which is a help on hot days.

Rosa mutabilis growing with
Galega officinalis var. alba

Light and dark planting

Another rose, which seems to do better in shade, is the fragile Rosa mutabilis growing outside our living room window where we can watch its orange buds opening to pale pink flowers, which quickly become darker with age.

It's undeniably pretty but can be a bit leggy so I tried underplanting with a ferny-leaved Galega officinalis var. alba, which has the RHS stamp of approval.

I sowed this last year and we had a few flowers; but it's now more robust as it pushes up between the rose stems, giving the relaxed impression of a natural hedgerow.

I see that Galega is commonly known as 'goat's rue' or 'French lilac', and the flowers do in fact have a hint of lilac when you look at them closely; but I've not come across any wild versions rambling in meadows around here!

Some garden writers are a bit sniffy about galega but it works well in tandem with the rose and I enjoy its airy foliage which freshens up an otherwise shady corner of the courtyard.

Salvia turkestanica with
 Penstemon 'Husker Red'
and Dianthus barbatus 'Homeland'

Other pale accents are currently provided by this creamy-greeny salvia from Turkestan, which is drought resistant, and Penstemon digitalis 'Husker Red' which is going over now but still looks fine with its dark stems and leaves.

A contrasting background is offered by the annual blue larkspur - always a mainstay in June - and magenta flowered lychnis. We used to have a white version of the latter but this hasn't come back from seed, unlike its brash rival which pops up everywhere.

Our pink and white sweet williams - called 'Homeland' - have been a great success and people have remarked on the fact that they're taller and more striking than the ordinary plain varieties, some of which have got rather lost under the abundant foliage in our borders.

Dianthus barbatus 'Homeland'
- after weeks in flower

One plant in particular has produced lots of white streaks on its petals as it goes over, so the flowers still appear remarkably fresh after some six weeks in flower.

As they're biennials, I'll leave a few stems for seeding purposes and dig up the rest to make space for my next batch of babies. In this case I've potted up some Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty', which the catalogue promises will be fetchingly dark all over!

  

Penstemon digitalis 'Husker Red'

Here you can see 'Husker Red' in its prime - another handsome plant grown from the Chiltern Seeds collection. 

The few penstemons we've found on sale locally have been rather garish and I've noticed that their flower colour doesn't always sit well with a pale green foliage. 

I've found 'Husker' to be variable depending on where it's sited in the garden: if there's too much shade, the foliage doesn't darken properly and it can look a bit insipid. You need that sharp contrast of white petals against deep maroon stems for it to be truly effective.

Catanche caerulea or Cupid's Dart

Something you will be able to find in garden centres here is the pretty little Catanche caerulea which grows well in chalk (as shown here) or in sand, where its stems are slightly longer at about 50cm.

The one listed by Chiltern's as a 'Best Seller' sounds very similar but apparently grows taller - to a height of two to three feet - so I may have to try some of their seeds just to find out if there's a difference in the type we have growing locally.

Bupleurum rotundifolium
 'Garibaldi'

For those who, like me, are not familiar with growing Bupleurum rotundifolium, I can now report that it's a useful 'filler' in the border, offering some architecture along with those striking yellowy-green bracts - so reminiscent of euphorbia but with no messy sap to deal with!

It's difficult to make out the overall shape when grown amongst other plants, hence I've used a plain background to isolate both stems and leaves. Height varies, depending on whether it's grown in sun or shade - anywhere between one and four feet.

I still need to work out the right kind of planting combination to make the most of its attributes, so will probably bring some stems indoors to arrange in a vase together with a few possible companions.

Meditation and observation

Meditation of the feline kind

In actual fact I find it hard to sit outside and do nothing... like so many gardeners my mode of relaxation is to potter, secateurs in hand, looking for plants to dead-head or weeds to pull out.

As a child I used to think these were the most boring tasks imaginable: I'd rather be on my bike or climbing up into a tree house - even digging the veg patch held more appeal!

So we get older and turn into our mothers, reaching for trug and trowel rather than carving out a new patch for ourselves.

But that's only possible because the hard work has been done earlier and your garden should be  in good shape now; it just remains to enjoy it and keep an eye on everything.

To that end, dead-heading has become a pleasurable routine which I prefer to do in the cool of the morning, when shadows are still soft and low light shines into the depth of your borders, illuminating any little problems which might need sorting sooner rather than later.

Early morning teasel

It's all valuable maintenance; you can focus your attention on the details whilst your mind wanders elsewhere. (Zen?)

By removing the spent flowers on almost everything - from larkspur to lychnis to roses - you're putting energy into more growth and flowering, keeping the magic going a bit longer.

And by looking closely into your plants, you notice if there are any problems with weeds or pests.  Sometimes we take action if growth seems particularly threatened; other times we find that natural predators come to the rescue, or that there's enough food and flowers for everyone... so why worry?

  

Nature and Nurture

"Great things are done by a series

of small things brought together". 

- Vincent van Gogh

June evening on the marais

It's been said many times that gardening is good for the soul. For that reason it is used as a means of rehabilitation for offenders and as therapy for people who have been emotionally damaged in some way.

Peony lactiflora with
climbing rose 'Scarborough Fair'

Done properly, gardening breeds in us an empathy for the natural world, for life cycles of blossom and decay and, probably most rewardingly, for combinations of simple, uncontrived beauty.

This is the month for roses, for extravagant peonies and, in the hotter parts of the garden, bright clumps of pink dianthus exuding a subtle scent of cloves.

Rosa rugosa - 'Rubra'

In addition to some showy hybrids from David Austin roses, we're also fond of Rosa rugosa - a rough and ready shrub, which thrives in dry areas of semi shade and produces fat red hips after flowering. I normally cut off the first lot of seed heads which form in June, enabling the plant to put its energy into creating more blooms later on.

The flower here has lovely stamens and might be from a hybrid rugosa called 'Rubra' with a particuarly strong scent.

'The Pilgrim' rose from David Austin

However carefully you nurture your roses, you can be sure that Mother Nature will try to trip you up just as they reach a peak of flowering...

Usually it's a sudden storm but this year we went from cool, overcast skies to scorching sun in less than 24 hours. Luckily the forecast had predicted a rise to 34'C, so we prepared most of our plants by watering them well in advance and surrounding them with a well-rotted mulch of leaf mould.

Many of those hybrid roses, such as The Pilgrim (above), produce heavy blooms which soon fade and die if exposed to a lot of rain or sun. So we picked several clusters whilst they were still looking good and brought them into the cool shade of our living room.

Feeding and watering

Under the shady ash tree

Fortunately, the high temperatures lasted but a day and we're now back to a stiff northerly breeze, which can be equally drying but a lot less scorching.

We have a shady corner set aside for making compost and leaf-mould - not the most attractive area perhaps but, in addition to housing compost and canes, we've  added some shade-loving plants like Lamium maculatum and Geranium 'Kashmir white', which have flourished with the aid of our watering system and make it feel more like a woodland glade.

Arching stems of Deutzia scabra hang over a
French brouette and watering-can

Another form of nurturing which helps to get the most out of your plants is to use a natural fertilizer to promote flowering. We cut up stems of comfrey, plucked from a nearby meadow, add them to a can of water and leave the rather foul-smelling brew to steep for a couple of weeks.

Metal watering cans are useful for this purpose as long as you cover the openings to keep out mosquitoes.

Depending on how strong the mixture becomes, dilute it with more water before using it around your flowering plants - and take the rose off your watering can otherwise those holes get clogged up with nasty bits of comfrey!

Christina's obelisk 

Garden structure

We're always looking at different methods of adding height to our small garden, whether it's with climbing plants, or tall flowers like verbascum and foxglove, or actual structures like this obelisk.

And, when I'm on the computer writing my blog, Christina is always casting around for a new project... so, hey presto, she turned her hand to woodwork and soon came up with this handsome frame for her favourite moss rose.

'Shailer's White' moss rose - in the pink!

Much as we love these old-fashioned roses, with their prickly stems and sticky buds, they can be awkward to train neatly without their getting entangled in neighboring plants. (It's interesting how many of our so-called 'white' flowers end up with splashes of pink on their petals..!)

Caro's 3D birthday card

Talking of pink - which isn't usually my colour - Christina put together this very artistic card for my birthday. As a miniature vase, she used the small plastic container found in certain hair-colouring products and her little posy actually lasted a whole week. Yes, sometimes the best gifts are ephemeral.

Young stork being weighed in a bag

When having coffee in the garden the other day, our neighbour Robert cycled over to tell us that people were coming to ring the baby storks which had been born on his platform earlier this year. Would we like to take some photo's?

I baulked at the idea of climbing up the tall, wavering ladder to photograph the birds in their nest, but it was interesting to observe the 'birdman' who carried out his job of weighing and ringing the chicks with great confidence and dexterity.

White stork in flight

This year there were only two juveniles, compared with three or four in previous years; one weighed in at 2k and the other at 4k. Sadly, the body of another baby lay beneath the platform... accident or murder, I wonder?

Whatever the cause, we noted that at least one concerned parent was keeping a close eye on the proceedings, flying in wide circles above us. The other, presumably, was crouched down on the platform with its nestlings. 

The whole operation took just minutes and this data will be recorded by the LPO which closely monitors the growing population of storks in our part of France.

Blue larkspur and Stipa gigantea

A fish in the grass!

Primary Colours

"It isn't that I don't like sweet disorder, but

it has to be judiciously arranged." 
- Vita Sackville-West

Papaver rhoeas - Common Poppy

Out in the countryside shades of white still seem to prevail, with hawthorn blossom giving way to creamy clusters of dogwood (Cornus sanguinea) dotting the hillsides and interspersed on field margins with the large, saucer-shaped blooms of elder (Sambucus nigra). It might be tempting to make a batch of elderflower cordial if it were not for the huge amount of sugar involved!

Anacamptis pyramidalis

Different flowers predominate in different years and this spring it's noticeable from a distance how some fallow fields have been carpeted in buttercups, providing bold splashes of yellow which don't usually appear until the sunflowers ripen in July.

Orchids, too, are ten-a-penny in meadows and waysides thanks to all the earlier rain.

So-called pyramid orchids, which are not true orchids at all, are particularly widespread and luscious, making it hard to resist the impulse to pick a few and bring them home to admire in a vase...

Ophrys scolopax

Luckily, there's so much happening in our garden right now that we've managed not to transgress the countryside code, even when severely tempted by something as lovely as a bee orchid, Ophrys apifera - or maybe it's even a scolopax, which is the more delicate version?

This cleverly designed orchid is able to self-pollinate if there are not enough bees around to do the job - its pollen sacs are the yellow part protruding above the 'lip' of the flower.

Admiring a floral offering...
aquilegia, scabious, orlaya and
Knautia macedonia (dark pink)

Ideas for Edging

Two of the flowers which we have been picking regularly from our garden are the white Orlaya grandiflora, an attractive Mediterranean lace flower which seeds easily, and a mauve scabious which looks remarkably similar to the wild one growing in our verges.

Neither of us recalls actually buying the two clumps of scabious that have been in flower continuously for over a month, so I think it may have been a case of pulling up a couple of 'bits' during one of our walks last year!

As there's nothing remotely endangered about scabious, I can't feel guilty for purloining a plant or two and I'd definitely recommend it for use as border edging, especially if regularly dead-headed.

The new raised bed with
Cerastium tomentosum var. columnae

Removing spent flowers on pinks is also a good way to keep this fabulous edging plant in good colour; I find that faded blooms tend to detract from the impact of our dark pink Dianthus gratianopolitanus, the original Cheddar pink, which has an RHS award of merit.

Another attractive edging for raised beds is the tumbling silver-leaved Cerastium 'Silver Carpet', also known as Snow-in-Summer, which can spread its silvery mat over dry areas of gravel or on rockeries, acting as a useful weed-suppressant. Once established, it's simple to transplant rooted pieces around the garden. 

Sowing Seeds

Both of the above can be raised easily from seed, especially at this time of year. I'm busy growing my latest batch obtained from Chiltern Seeds in the UK - they have a wide selection of different varieties and I'm rarely disappointed by lack of germination or with the end results.

Dianthus barbatus 'Homeland'
and Penstemon digitalis 'Husker Red'

Generally, there are sufficient seeds in each packet for at least two sowings: if I don't have success in spring then I can try again in autumn, and some seeds need to go through a cold spell anyway in order to germinate.

It has encouraged me to become more adventurous over the years and look for interesting foliage as well as flowers. For instance, the 'Homeland' variety of sweet william in this picture is nicely offset by spires of a purple-leaved penstemon which is just coming into bloom. 

Most gardens need some dark foliage to break up the sea of greenery.

And it's equally important, of course, to have plants of vertical interest to draw the eye upwards.

These foxgloves just happened to seed themselves in dappled shade under our tall ash tree and, together with the creamy blossom of pyracantha, they echo some of the wild plants growing in adjacent meadows.

Even the dots of red provided by flowers of Geum chiloense could be mistaken for field poppies!

Chelsea Fashions

Anchusa azurea 'Dropmore'

We both have a weakness for flowers of intense blue, which look great in sun or shade, mixing happily with other blooms of white, pink or red.

Chiltern Seeds always take note of what is popular at the Chelsea Flower Show and last year's TV coverage featured several shots of anchusa. Like celebrity chefs endorsing use of a particular culinary ingredient, suddenly it becomes the must-have plant for gardeners!

I duly grew some from seed last autumn and each of those plants has rewarded us with several branches of bright flowers. 

Lysimachia atropurpurea
'Beaujolais'

This year it's a silver-leaved plant from the Balkan Peninsula, Lysimachia atropurpurea, which has caught people's attention.  

The glaucous, spiky foliage sets it apart from other border perennials and its wine-coloured flowers take a few weeks to develop, adding to a sense of anticipation in those of us unfamiliar with its unusual style.

As it's my first season growing some of these perennials, I need to look carefully at where best to site them in the border, taking into account companion plants. No doubt there'll be lots of moving around come autumn!

Growing Grasses

Stipa gigantea

The end of May is when our grasses start to look fresh and burnished once again: none more so than the Stipa gigantea, or giant oat grass, which holds sway - literally - over the main island bed.

Its decorative pannicles catch the light and dance over the ferny foliage of nigella and larkspur which are all coming into bloom now.

Stipa gigantea and friends

I love the tapestry effect of these grasses which combine happily with so many other perennials such as geum, aquilegia, scabious and geranium.

Although I sense this Stipa will probably become too big for the bed after three years, its open framework means that at present it doesn't crowd neighbouring perennials unlike other grasses which form dense clumps.

For instance, we found that the plumy Chinese Fountain Grass, Pennisetum alopecuroides, spread too quickly; lovely though it was, we took the decision to dig it up from the back garden where it provided just too much of a screen. (Having grown this from an inexpensive packet of seeds, I didn't have to feel too guilty about wasting money..!)

An excellent year for roses - even wild ones