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

Silver Linings

"... and soon they reached the fields of asphodel where

the dead, the burnt-out wraiths of mortals make their home."

- Homer

It's odd that I couldn't find a more up-to-date quote about asphodels, considering they present such an amazing sight! Woods of sweet chestnut are not exactly the Elysian Fields of ancient Greece, but it only takes a bit of poetic licence to imagine these ghostly lilies as an army of spirits guarding the underworld...

Asphodelus albus

Again, the wet spring seems to have favoured these flowers which have proliferated in the humus-rich, sandy soil. Glimpsed from a distance, at dusk between the trees, they look very mysterious indeed.

Although not scented like bluebells, for me they evoke the same atmosphere of serenity and contemplation, a perfect backdrop to the song of the nightingale or call of a cuckoo.

Luckily I took these pictures last week before the onset of more heavy rain which might have spoiled their pristine appearance. Funny how bad weather seems to strike just when plants are looking their best...

Fallen Arches

Clematis montana
'Marjorie'

I'd also just photographed our Clematis montana which was looking spectacular this year, draped over an archway and twice as floriferous as usual, when a sudden thunderstorm hit us overnight along with gale-force winds.

Yes, we had noticed the arch was getting a bit rickety and, no, we hadn't done anything about it because the plant was fast coming into flower and those brittle stems of clematis can easily break when disturbed. (This is a plant which was quite unremarkable for the first few years but has now turned into a real beauty.)

Checking garden supports like this should be a job for winter, while plants are fairly dormant and less likely to be damaged when you endeavour to rearrange them!

Luckily for us, poor old 'Marjorie' was reasonably unscathed after her fall from grace and we managed to resurrect the arch supports while keeping most of her crowning glory attached, only breaking one main stem in the process.

After she's finished flowering, we'll look at improving the supports and maybe change their position so she's not at such risk from prevailing winds. The way she's fallen in this picture makes it easier to appreciate all those flowers, leading one to think that perhaps she'd be even better draped as a hedge...

Accent the Positive

Gardeners have to be philosophical about the vagaries of nature and turn what could be a disaster into an opportunity. After all, a good soaking does mean that weeds come out more easily - yay! - and that small plants which now seem to be in the wrong place can be moved to another site. 

Back garden in early May -
compare with the picture taken in March!

I used to be very hesitant about doing this in the growing season as it can sometimes delay flowering, but over here it doesn't seem to be much of a problem - especially with herbs and young perennials - as long as you keep them moist and lift all the roots carefully in a nice ball of soil.

As you can see from this picture, our main borders have exploded into growth over the last month and it's easy for smaller plants to disappear under spreading leaves of foxglove or verbascum. (We keep removing the lower ones to discourage snails.)

Myosotis alpestris

It's now reached a point where we'll start pulling up forget-me-nots even though they are still flowering away, knitting together several islands of green. Once you have these in your garden, it's unlikely that you'll ever be without them as they seed freely and provide rapid and bushy spring colour.

Another attractive little flower which has become established in shadier areas is the unfortunately-named Blue Gromwell (lithospermum), which is something we introduced from the wild but has taken a few years to spread out and really make an impact.

Lithospermum purpureocaeruleum

Lithospermum is a member of the borage family and does well on chalky soil and in woodland margins, which is where we first came across it.

With its woody, creeping stems and narrow lance-shaped leaves, this drought-tolerant plant brightens up the spaces between hellbores and dead-nettles in shady areas beneath trees. Sometimes you need to wait a while for newcomers to establish themselves and earn their keep!

Bupleurum rotundifolium 'Garibaldi' -
rears up almost cobra-like from the ground

Bupleurum is another one you tend not to find down the garden centre - and I can't say it's ever grabbed me in photographs either. But, as an avid follower of Beth Chatto, I've come across many references to it in her books, so I thought I'd try one of the strains listed in my trusty Chiltern Seeds catalogue.

I sowed seeds in a tray last autumn and planted up half a dozen in pots, to overwinter in the cold frame. These were put into position a few weeks ago when the soil warmed up and have now grown to almost a meter in height. 

They're really quite architectural, particularly with strong light shining through their rounded leaves, and the catalogue tells me that this variety has been selected for extra-long stems, "making it even better for flower arranging".

Now we've dispensed with our euphorbias (just too big for a small garden) it's nice to have a striking yellow-green foliage plant in its place - and this one looks good come rain or shine!

May is the month for wisteria

Last year I wrote about the perils of growing wisteria without it being carefully trained and supported. Here, though, are two examples of well-tended varieties used to adorn the front of traditional cottages.

Finally, a picture that made me smile the other evening... A tranquil country scene disrupted by the sound of loud squawking from above!

Unruly herons high in a tree

Getting Greener

"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.

Gladioli byzantinus

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.

The Honesty hedge!

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.

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.  

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.

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

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.

Dicentra spectabilis
The original 'Bleeding Heart'

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.

View towards the herb bed

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. 

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!

Tulip Fever

"I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge

scale, you could not ignore its beauty."  - Georgia O'Keeffe

It seems as though all the subtlety of Spring, with its soft pastels and misty greens, is suddenly blown asunder by the arrival of these brash tulips!  

Easy to understand how artists have been inspired - and 17th century collectors driven mad - by the vivid combinations of shape and saturated colour.

This is a flower that can appear so delicate and subdued on a dull morning, petals closed and elegantly streamlined, only to throw open her skirts in the heat of a sunny afternoon, revealing hidden depths of a completely different hue!

Tulip "Apricot Emperor"

These three photographs reflect the changing moods of one tulip, "Apricot Emperor", which we used in planting up a copper container last autumn.

There are two more containers of bulbs yet to flower and I guess we're probably about halfway through the tulip season. We've had a few surprises pop up in the border too... bulbs which probably came from the 'Tulips Against Cancer' charity, where you buy a flowering bunch with bulbs still attached. This might account for the occasional pinks and yellows!

Tulips with cerinthe

We rather enjoy these odd splashes of colour as they light up beds which are mostly full of greenery at this stage, and they have the gaiety of poppies when their petals are fully open and flamboyant.

Tulips form clumps quite quickly in our garden and need dividing every three years or so. The larger ones produce a lot of leaf which is why we prefer to put them in containers, even though it means the bulbs will have to be lifted and stored later on.

But it also means you have plenty of flowers for cutting and giving away, which is a good thing!

Just a single specimen can make an effective table arrangement when teamed with other early bloomers such as primula, narcissi, cerinthe and muscari.

I really prefer smaller botanical tulips for naturalising in the garden. We started with Tulipa turkestanica, which featured in last month's post and has now gone over, to be followed by Tulipa clusiana "Peppermint Stick", a taller, single-flowered variety.

Also known as "The Lady Tulip", clusiana is very slender and stylish when her petals are still tightly wrapped in the early morning.

Gradually she unfolds herself, revealing that her petals are pure white inside with just a hint of the exterior pink showing through.

Tulipa clusiana "Peppermint Stick"

Finally, these petals open right up like a magnolia flower and you see that the centre is a shade of deep plum - almost black - with contrasting yellow stigma (that eggy bit in the middle).  Small but spectacular!

As long as your bed is in a sunny position with free-draining soil, these tulips can be left in the ground to spread - either by seed or by producing offsets.

Although this spring has been particularly wet and windy, I have to say that even the taller varieties of tulip have stood up well to bad weather.

Their sensible strategy is to remain shut when it pours with rain and, if anything, the colours seem to intensify on dull days - a good time to photograph them in fact.

In his bulb book, Dr Hessayon recommends that both flowers and foliage can be removed from garden tulips once they fade... thus depriving snails of a good meal but avoiding lots of mess in your border!

Anenome nemorosa

A Walk on the Wild Side

As an antidote to tulipomania, we've been exploring local woodland to find early wild flowers like pulmonaria and wood anenome, which have also done well in this damp spring.

We came across some lovely drifts of Anenome nemorosa which bloom on the sunlit forest floor whilst waiting for the trees above to come into leaf.

My wild flower book tells me that its spreading habit means that a group of 100 flowering stems can actually belong to a single plant! 

Vinca minor alba or Periwinkle

Our garden is too dry for such a delicacy but - from a distance - we've created something similar by planting Vinca minor as a ground-cover under shrubs, hoping it will keep the dreaded ivy at bay.

At this time of year it produces a host of starry white flowers that stand out nicely against its evergreen leaves.

Whilst walking through woodland, we came across several butterflies taking advantage of sunlit glades and spring flowers.

Here a brimstone has attached itself to some Lungwort (Pulmonaria officinalis), a plant that nearly always has blue flowers in the wild, although we did come across a white version similar to the cultivar called "Sissinghurst".

Populus tremula

If our little garden in the valley were a huge estate, with an awkward area of waterlogged land, then I'd be sorely tempted to establish a plantation of aspens.

I adore these trees and I guess they've been emblematic of the French countryside ever since Impressionist painters set up their easels beside rivers and lakes.

In winter and early spring their silver-white trunks and delicate branches have a magical ability to reflect light and transmit the rushing of wind.

Catkins on an aspen

Aside from being able to thrive in boggy places, aspen wood is said to be resistant to boring insects so it's often used in construction of roofs, providing local farmers with a relatively fast-growing crop of timber.

This is another tree decorated with masses of catkins, though they're often hard to see at 15 meters high!

It might be stunning to grow in a big garden but unfortunately the roots produce extensive suckers which can be particularly annoying if they come up in your lawn.


As you can deduce from its Latin name, the aspen is a type of poplar which, in turn, is part of the willow family - hence their affinity with water and those catkin-like flowers. In our area there are two or three other types of poplar - all very beautiful trees - which I'll endeavour to write about later this year.

Narcissus actaea (or Pheasant's Eye)
with Narcissus albus plenus odoratus