Sunday, 25 February 2018

The Nonsense of What & When!

Recently, a colleague of mine commented that you only ever really need one annual subscription to a gardening magazine, as the tips and tricks, together with the ‘what to do now’ sections tend to repeat themselves with an almost same week accuracy, year on year. Of course, he was spot on. I once spent about 5 years tearing out the ‘what to do now’ sections of various gardening magazines and collating them in a folder. I know, very sad of me! Anyway, they acted as a useful reminder of what jobs I should’ve been considering in the various gardens I worked in. However, over time, I too noticed an obvious repetition of articles and tips... even using the same photos!

A small portion of my borders last year.
Now though, having spent many years gardening professionally, and having taught countless students the horticultural basics, I find myself having journeyed far beyond gardening as a pursuit allied to any calendar: I’ve discovered that the ‘what to do and when’ of gardening is something of a notional nonsense! In many respects, all gardening is made up of two elements: how to do something, and when to do it. We read articles on how to take hardwood cuttings and when is the best time to do so, or how to plant spring bulbs, and when to do so… and so on. The mythology of how and when, passed down from one generation to the next.

Well, obviously this is all good advice, and I’m not about to criticize its clear well-intentioned common sense, even though planting bulbs roughly six months before you want them to flower is kind of obvious really, as is choosing the ‘ripe’ time to take the ‘right’ cuttings. However, as with the huge degree of adaptability inherent within the ‘right plant, right place’ mantra, the law of how and when to do certain seasonal tasks also allows for a wide range of flexibility.

Dead seed heads still doing their stuff amongst grasses

That’s why, at times I must confess, I find myself getting a little tired and bored when teaching horticulture to new students.  I hear myself repeating the same information I was once told… 'all that stuff' in the books that tell you how and when you should be doing 'all that ‘stuff' in your own garden…. and so it goes on.... and on...!

I'm aware that i'm telling them of Magnolias, Azaleas, Rhododendrons and Camellias that love an acid soil, even though I’ve seen countless specimens absolutely thriving in some very average, Ph neutral soils. I tell them the importance of annually mulching their borders with a good organic compost, even though now I read that this task isn’t really necessary (except for rose-hungry borders) and how a perennial border actually prefers less fertility than previously thought. I listen to Gardeners’ Question Time on Radio 4 and hear five different responses from five different panellists.

Here, i’m reminded of the wit and wisdom of the great Christopher Lloyd (the God of Great Dixter) when he wrote on the subject of when to do a certain horticultural task. Having just given us pages and pages of advice as to when is the best time to prune and plant, in good humour he tells us that he is also a ‘great believer in doing a job when I want to it, and to hell with the consequences’. He informs us that the best time to do any job in the garden is when the task itself is staring you in the face, when and if you have the time to do it, and (most important) if you happen to have the correct tool in your hand at the time. If all those stars are in alignment, then now is as a good a time as any to be getting on with it!

I think what it is, is that now I’ve been gardening for so long, and I have worked so closely to the ground, and with the many plants contained within it, I have come to witness first hand, that nature (climate, conditions and tolerances) allow for such a wide interpretation of what, how and when something can be done, you can ‘almost’ throw The Book out of the window, and just do it when it seems right to do so!

I mean, don’t be silly about it: don’t go planting anything into hard and frosted ground, or in bone-dry, high-summer borders! Do pay at least some attention to the laws of right plant, right place, but do remain mindful of the fact that, like us, even when denied favourable conditions, plants still want to live, flower and produce offspring: plants are very adaptable!

Lovely combinations at Lady Farm

Without wishing to sound like some kind of other-worldly Zen gardener, I guess what I’m saying is that providing your intention is a good one, and you pay some attention to the needs of the plant, cosset them slightly and make them as comfortable as possible in their new homes, you won’t go too far wrong. All the best gardens are created from love and nurture, coupled with a desire to create something beautiful. Just remember that young Grasshopper… wax on, wax off…!

le Jardinier x

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Organs of Perennation!

Image result for jacqueline van der kloet
The wonderfull Jaqueline van de Kloet - Dutch bulb master

Well, you don’t get blog titles like that every day, now do you?

Organs of Perennation, or put simply – bulbs! Bloomin’ magic things if you ask me. Small flowering time capsules is what they really are: a miracle, condensed and concertinaed into a container of hope and promise. How poetic!

Well anyway, it’s kind of that time again when our horticultural attentions turn towards bulb planting for the spring. Nurseries, garden centres and even supermarkets are full of them at the moment. Not that I would ever endorse purchasing anything even remotely horticultural from a supermarket, but I often see some real bulb bargains to be had in supermarkets: 18 Allium ‘Purple Sensation’ bulbs for £5 (from Tesco) can’t be bad. Two hefty bags of mixed Daffs for the same price is also a good buy in my opinion.

Two rows of daffs planted under a climbing hydrangea.........

.... and the result a few months later........!

Bulbs, and the planting of bulbs in particular, are a great introduction to the joys of gardening. They’re relatively inexpensive and they're guaranteed to bring success! They also command little/no horticultural skill. The planting ‘rule’ that you hear all the time, is give them a planting depth of around 2 times their own height, and to be honest, that’s pretty good advice. But like most of what ‘they’ say, all such advice can be taken with a huge dollop of salt. Bulbs come so highly bred these days that I swear you could leave the bare bulbs lying on your patio and they would still flower in the spring. Okay, without access to water and nutrients, I wouldn’t guarantee success in year two, but you get my drift.

Also, with regards their correct depth, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve come across sizeable bulbs that have been living very happily just below the soil's surface. They do say that bulbs planted at an incorrect depth will – over time – pull themselves up or down and find their own happy place. The same has been said about bulbs planted on their side, or even upside down… they will eventually right themselves. It’s that same ol’ thing I guess. Plants, like us, simply want to live, and they’ll do anything in order to continue their journey through to flowering, pollination and reproduction. 

As for their uses, of course the options are limitless. From small terracotta bowls hosting reticulated irises or crocuses, to larger pots of tulips and daffs. Personally, I love scattering crocus over expanses of lawn, throwing them at random and planting them wherever they land. But if you do this, do it after you've cut the lawn and remember to count them out... and then count them back in again. I throw 20 and can only ever find 15!! 

I also love using drumstick Alliums as dotted purple punctuations coming up and in-between perennials and the occasional row of lavender. Of course, allium foliage doesn’t die nicely, so make sure you plant wisely, using the foliage of other plants (hardy geraniums?) to help mask this.

I recall a few years ago, working in a garden that had a Magnolia tree sited in a circular bed in the drive. The circle was ringed with box, and was – Magnolia aside – bereft of any other planting. So, a few boxes of cheap bulbs later; their random distribution across the bed, and voila!  An instant – well, almost instant – success! The foot-high box hedge disguised their decaying foliage and it enhanced the bed immensely. Just do this stuff! Don’t think too much about it. What’s the worst that can happen? A few quid spent on bulbs is money well spent, if you ask me!

At first the daffs came up........

Followed by the hyacinths and tulips....... Lovely!

Also, I use bulbs as a bit of a gap filler for that period when the cut-down, herbaceous clumps of spring create vacant channels of soil: allowing bulbs to come up and do their stuff, bridging that spring gap before herbaceous foliage starts to look attractive in itself. 

As a lover of naturalistic planting, I do realise that the approach can, justifiably, be criticised for not having too much border interest around spring and into early summer – lacking a backbone of evergreen material. Therefore, bulbs can offer something of a solution to this dilemma. To be honest, even I – a new perennial purist - am not entirely convinced with this solution, but hey, who said life was ever perfect? Truth is, the burgeoning foliage of perennials creates sizeable hummocks of greenery by early summer, and with daffs, alliums and tulips adding some colour and diversity…. Well, that’s enough for me. You can’t have everything!

Tulips rising up through Stachys... and a cardoon!

Alliums through waving Stipa tennuissima......

Queen of the Night inside box hedging.

So, my advice is simple. It’s October. Get out there and buy some bulbs and get them in. Plant them anywhere: borders, pots, verges, lawns. They’re cheap as chips, and they won’t let you down. Put them in… forget about them, and then be surprised by their beauty in the spring.

I haven’t written a blog post for quite some time. Some of you might know that I’ve spent this summer writing a 16,000-word dissertation for my garden history studies. 

Well, I had a great summer, meeting many of my horticultural heroes and visiting many gardens both home and abroad. The highlight was spending over an hour with Piet Oudolf in his design studio in Hummelo. Needless to say, that was a rather surreal experience: sitting opposite that man. A man, who in my opinion, is probably the most influential gardener/designer of our time, and who has done more to shape and influence contemporary garden design than anyone for the past 150 years. 

Mr Oudolf's drawing pens....

Me & Mr Oudolf. Why is everyone taller than me!?!

Until next time… thanks for reading! Take care

Le Jardinier.

* Please note, all photos depict my own horticultural handy-work in the various gardens I work in. Just saying! 

Quick Update! I went to the Garden Museum last night to see a new film about Oudolf. Both he and the director were there and they did a short Q&A after the film. Anyway, the film was lovely, and if you have a spare 4 minutes do follow the YouTube link below.

Sunday, 11 June 2017

Steppe Lively!

Blimey, it has been some time since I last published a hortic post here. I’ve been very busy working, studying and writing ‘stuff’ elsewhere!

Anyway, having had a nudge from a colleague recently, I managed to find a vacant and warm afternoon in which to visit the Dunnett-designed rooftop gardens at the Barbican centre in London.

Having had the challenge of replacing the somewhat out-dated plantings of the 1980’s, Nigel Dunnett (Professor at Sheffield University) and his team began planting the Beech Gardens back in March 2015.  

The original planting featured areas of lawn, bedding (Yikes!) and bold architectural plants such as Phormiums and Cordylines. These had rather outgrown the site, requiring heavy irrigation and brought many structural problems to the site also. Ageing design, over-mature plants and leaky irrigation prompted the City Corporation to have a radical rethink. 

The Barbican ‘complex’ is a funny ol' place. I’ve visited it many times over the years, mainly to see cultural events at the Barbican Arts Centre. Built during the 60’s & 70’s, it’s a rather mysterious maze; a monochromatic greyness with three imposing towers, guaranteed to get you lost within its long walkways and tall walls of brutal architecture.

Registered as a listed building (or buildings), no changes could be made to the design of the existing beds and borders. 
So, with multiple aims of creating a self-sustaining community of plantings, which would provide all-year-round interest and satisfy the needs of its residents, Dunnett set about creating an oasis of naturalistic plantings all sat within a tough and demanding environment.
Layers and layers of sumptuous plantings!
Of course, the site itself is an elevated one, open to all the elements, and with strong winds funnelled throughout its architecture. Soil depth is also an issue with some plants being anchored in little more than 35cm of soil. So, mindful of the lack of irrigation, soil depth and exposure to the elements, it was to the natural landscapes of the world’s steppes that Dunnett turned for guidance and inspiration.

Steppes occur around the globe, and are to be found in the rain shadows of mountainous regions: the foothills of the Rockies stand as a good example of a landscape that, in recent years, has provided many a contemporary garden with a variety of naturalistic-looking plants: Rudbeckias, Echinaceas and many ornamental grasses. 

Temperate Grasslands, North America, KS2 Geography
Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam......!!

Steppes also provide plants with a pendulum-swing of extreme weather conditions – bitterly cold winters and boiling hot summers. Steppe plants need to be tough and resilient, able to withstand the feast and famine approach of a weather system of extremes. Very often these plants sit within very thin soils, fighting to hold on to both nutrients and moisture. Sounding more like the Barbican every minute!

Nigel Dunnett devised a 3-teired design solution to the Barbican plantings: the use of Steppe plantings for the driest, most exposed parts of the garden. A shrub-steppe idea, allowing for plants (trees & shrubs) to be used where deeper soils were available, and  some light woodland planting for the shadier areas of the garden. He also factored in layers of succession,  with both colour and form coming in waves throughout the year: as one herbaceous layer dies down, so does another level of material rise up to give a completely new feel and look.

As I say, I saw the gardens in early June, and they looked pretty darn spectacular to me! I saw zillions of Alliums, all flowering atop of their drumstick stems. I saw masses of Salvias and Sisyrinchiums in amongst countless self-sown silvery and white Lychnis.

The green bracts of the Euphorbias contrasted with the purple Allium heads and nestled among the many Blue Oat grasses - Helictotrichon sempervirens. There were the butterfly flowers of Gauras dancing around the heads of Libertias and many a yarrow blending effortlessly with the pin cushioned flowers of the Knautias – how very lovely!

Personally, and with my current study interests in mind, I find the entire subject of a Dunnett-designed landscape absolutely fascinating. Without doubt, they (the Sheffield School) are the latest incarnation of naturalistic garden design. They experiment and trial seed mixtures - as opposed to plants - in order to create beautiful and sustainable, layered and successional, perennial plantings, that require little in the way of maintenance.

As I say, it's not a subject I know a huge amount about, but I find the subject fascinating none-the-less. I also love witnessing, mainly from my arm chair, the evolution of our ever-increasing journey towards more naturalistic gardens.  

Anyway, I’m heading back to my study and my books now, so this might be my last post for a good while.

Meanwhile, thanks for reading… and if you do get a chance to get to the Barbican this summer, please do so. You won’t be disappointed.

All the very best. 


Le Jardinier!

Monday, 29 August 2016

Snippets & Sunflowers

I imagine every tradesperson has an association with his or her special tool. No doubt painters and decorators have their preferred type of brushes; hairdressers who’ll only use a certain manufacturer of scissors; bricklayers with their favourite trowel…. and so on! When it comes to us gardeners, without doubt the tool that becomes our most reliable friend is, of course, the trusty pair of secateurs. Permanently sat in their holster, resting on my right hip, they are a constant source of comfort and activity throughout the day. I must reach for mine over a 100 times a day… everything from cutting string, to dead-heading dahlias... pruning shrubs to opening bags of compost. 
Image result for felco 2
Felco #2's - the choice of the professionals.

I’m forever advising students and clients to invest in the best pair of secateurs they can afford – easy for me to say of course! I believe the best pair of affordable secateurs on the market are undoubtedly made by Felco: for many years they have been the choice of the professional gardener. They retail from around £40.

 I often joke that like Trigger’s broom, in Only Fools and Horses,  I have had the same pair of Felco’s for about 15 years. Of course, they’ve had 10 new blades, 5 new springs and 2 replacement handles , but essentially they’re the same pair! I use the standard Felco #2, but they produce quite a range suiting most hand sizes and preferences.
Anyway, back in the early summer, I was made aware of a growing rumble of fuss being made around a certain manufacturer of Japanese secateur: Okatsune. A couple of friends of mine had been using them for a while, and along with many high-ranking hortics, they were waxing lyrical about how great they were. They let me have a go with them, and yes, they felt quite impressive. Not too dissimilar from Felco. Incredibly sharp and making a very professional-sounding click as they made their cuts…. a bit like a VW Golf door closing, they do sound the business! In fact there are whole You Tube clips where you can just listen to the sound they make... not the guiltiest of guilty pleasures one can have I suppose!
Image result for okatsune 103
Okatsune with their distinctive red and white handles.

So, I did my research, and not being one to part with my hard-earned cash that easily, I read articles and reviews, Googled discussions all over the Interweb, listened to those clips on You Tube and so on! Eventually, curiosity alone tempted me to add a pair of Okatsune’s to my basket, proceed to the checkout, and then sit back and wait their arrival.
So anyway, a month later, what’s my verdict? Well, I’m constantly being told that Felcos are the choice of professional gardeners in the West, and that Okatsune remain the #1 choice for the Japanese gardener. They’re very good. Quite well balanced, about the same weight as Felco’s, but incredibly sharp. So sharp in fact, they scare me a little.
With my Felco’s I go cutting down clumps of hardy geraniums like Edward Scissor Hands, grabbing bunches of foliage and stem and shearing away like a maniac. However, I tried that particular task with my new Japanese friends and to be honest I had to stop using them. As I say, although the Felcos are sharp, you just feel that, should an accident happen with them, you would probably only give yourself a nasty cut. With the Okatsunes however I feel that they are so incredibly sharp, I could probably lose a finger or two in the operation and not even realise until I took my gloves off at the end of the day and had a finger count – surgically sharp!
Also, the Okatsune secateurs are not nearly as ergonomic as the Felco’s. They obviously embody a certain design simplicity, with their distinctive red and white handles having subtle simple curves to them. However, with activity, this can cause your fingers to quickly rise up and sit just where the blade pivots – not good!   
My Okatsune's with my very own ergonomic adaptation.

All in all, for me, the Felco’s are still by far the best! They feel robust; they’re well-designed. They sit comfortably in the hand. All parts are replaceable – unlike the Okatsune’s – and they also don’t feel so sharp you could might accidentally circumcise a gnat. 

Shoulder height when first cut
Whilst on the subject of pruning, you might like to see what I do with my sunflowers most years. As you may recall, I have a tiny bit of garden at the front of my cottage and each year I ram it full with pots, mainly herbaceous perennials, many late season daisies plus grasses and a few more exotic-looking annuals: Cleomes and Ricinus.

Of course, sunflowers are mega daisies and I tend to grow the rather tall varieties, again in pots. However, long before they flower, and when they reach approximately shoulder height, I brutally snip the stems.

A few weeks later, once it has branched off.

I do this in the hope of seeing it branch out into a multi-stemmed flower, giving me more bang for my buck. It’s a bit of a numbers game as it doesn’t work on every sunflower I do it to. Sometimes, I spend the rest of the summer simply watering a flowerless stick! But, when it does work, the results are great. Do give it a go!

The end result... several flowers from one single stem! Do this to a few sunflowers and the effect is stunning! Tough, robust mega-daisies towering over your displays.

Oh well, I think that’s just about it for this post. Thanks very much for reading it.
My next post is on the subject of assisted dying, and rather surprisingly, is not as depressing as it sounds!

Have a good one... 'til next time!
Le Jardinier

Thursday, 14 July 2016

Gardening as Therapy

Having read Tim Richardson’s column in the Telegraph last week, I got to thinking. His subject was regarding the supposed health benefits of gardening. As always, his job as The Horticultural ‘Medlar’ was to scratch slightly at the veneer of a topic, revealing a base layer of healthy scepticism together with an alternative view on the subject. As always, he again did this rather too well, if you ask me.

If the various contemporary approaches to health and well-being were to be ranked, a kind of therapeutic top ten, you would probably see the charts full of such hits as C.B.T, Mindfulness, M.B.S.R (Mindfulness-based Stress Reduction), the modern-day anti-depressant (SSRI’s) plus a whole range of Green Care approaches. Green Care could probably be summed up as any activity which uses the great outdoors (horticulture, agriculture and animal care etc) as a therapeutic tool, enhancing our mental and emotional well-being through social, as well as physical exercise.  ‘Nowt wrong with that’ I hear you say!

As a (part time) horticultural therapist,  I am of course, an advocate of most Green Care approaches. Gardening is a great way of both improving and promoting mental and emotional well-being. If you ask me, little research is really required to prove that gardening is good for you: gardeners have been saying so for years! In fact, it’s probably the main reason gardeners do indeed garden! It simply feels good to be outside, in the fresh air, gently occupied with tasks closely-aligned to the seasons. The work of the gardener, and the speed and stress in which he or she works, is kept in check by both the seasons and the weather: you simply cannot rush nature along.

However, in Tim Richardson’s article, he does raise a few valid reasons as to why gardening should not fall blindly into a kind of Green Care vacuum, whereby it becomes to be seen as a vocation concerned primarily with encouraging a kind of ‘condescending caricature that horticulture is only fit for damaged people who require help.’  As with both C.B.T and Mindfulness (this decade’s darlings of the N.H.S), Green Care (especially the horticultural wing) has been becoming increasingly popular, with various projects seemingly popping up all over the place. Sometimes, it appears that all you need is some funding, a catchy name (Growing to Grow… Growing and Sowing etc) and voila, health and well-being are sure to follow!

However, as a hardened maintenance gardener, who has worked closely with the entire industry for many years, I can tell you from first-hand experience, gardening ‘proper’ is one of the toughest ways of working there is! I also know of many gardeners who say the same. Physically it is very demanding… more demanding and damaging to bodies than any of the building trades if you ask me.
Mentally too it can be very challenging. Working in one of the lowest paid, socially-isolating industries there is can be anything but fun and therapeutic. Just ask the charity Perennial who, for over 100 years, have helped countless individuals within the industry who have fallen on both hard surfaces and hard times! It’s an unforgiving industry where your over-worked muscles and joints determine both your usefulness, and your retirement age.

In looking at the perceived mental health benefits of gardening Tim Richardson makes a great analogy between human relationships and our individual relationship to the garden, and as he states, these relationships ‘do not always run smooth, and is it taboo to suggest that a garden can make you feel bad sometimes as well as good?’ I think we have to be very careful in simply reciting the mantra that ‘gardening is good for everyone’. Yes, working with nature, within the often-boundaried environment of a garden, can allow someone to experience elements of risk and reward: a gentle invitation to love and be loved back.  I have always thought that the care and nurturing of plants and animals gives one that opportunity. However, we do need to be careful we don’t limit the appeal of gardening, ‘portraying it as a branch of occupational therapy.’

I do share slightly Tim’s concern when he says that ‘we do not garden simply because it is good for us.’ Gardening is about so much more than that! It can be about everything from art and design to social and political history; from the study of the natural world and about our place within that world. There is of course the history of the great garden makers and the changes they have brought to our green spaces. Wars have shaped the history of our gardens: the fight for irrigation… the fight for post-war labour… wars over tulips… wars over thy neighbour’s fence!

So, in harking back to my introduction, at times, it does seem as though many things are being hijacked in the service to therapy these days: C.B.T has stolen much from ancient Greek Stoic philosophy; mindfulness has been ripped from the Buddha's Noble 8-Fold Path. 

Now gardening is at risk of going the same way, and if Tim Richardson is right - and for as long as the lowly-status of the care industry remains - narrowing its appeal in this way might only serve to dissuade even more young people from entering the profession.
'til next time!
le Jardinier

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

Cristo's June 18th!

The great man himself

So, what’s so special about June 18th? Well, it kind of goes a little like this.
I can never remember from where I heard it, and it certainly wasn’t from the great man himself, but I have often quoted the great Christopher Lloyd who believed that gardens reach their peak on June the 18th.  In fact, myth has it that he actually gardened with this date in mind, spending the first half of the gardening year working up to this horticulturally picture perfect day. As I say, I can’t recall exactly where I heard or read it, but I’m certainly not making it up! I definitely heard it somewhere.

To be teased by the teasels!
Anyway, whether it be truth or myth, it certainly has Cristo’s stamp of wit and wisdom about it.

It sounds like the kind of thing he would say, so I’m sticking with it!

Think about it for a moment, around that time, perhaps the weekend closest to that date, go poke your nose into a few gardens and I guarantee that they'll be hitting their annual peak around then. Of course, it makes complete sense when you think about it and smacks of the stupefyingly obvious.

Our gardens closely follow our clocks and calendars, the quarterly seasons and the associated weather patterns. Although we often remain completely unaware, we too are intimately related to the changes in our seasons, our ever-changing weather; the ebb and flow of daylight length, the rising and falling of our plant life, and so on.  You could almost set your watch by the various seasonal tasks required in the garden, with a tick-list too long to recount here!

le maison et le jardin
Look at where we are now, around Cristo’s June 18th. Gardens are at their peak. The soft lush foliage of trees and shrubs has reached maturity in shape, size and colour. Flowering time reaches its peak also, with probably the highest number of summer-flowering plants reaching their colourful best. Insect activity is also at its busiest and day length is fully extended with a solstice sun reaching its zenith. With this is mind, I’ve often heard designers say that Chelsea is a few weeks too early in the year, and that Hampton Court is a few weeks too late. Why neither of these famous shows are staged in mid-June is beyond me! 

Such successional abundance!
Then, following the hectic, heady heights of June, gardens begin a very slow decline: resting into a sulky July, often  overworked and somewhat exhausted by August, before receiving a little pick-me-up from the freshening winds of September.

As a gardener, people often ask me how I get through the winter months. Well, believe me, December and January are often busier months in the garden than July and August! In fact, many gardeners I know prefer to holiday in August, due to the general inactivity in the garden. Usually, by then, both gardener and garden need a rest!
With autumn comes another period of intense activity in the garden. Helping to put a garden to bed, rushing around behind it as it descends into dormancy is quite a skill, and is closely linked to its opposite – that of opening it up again (letting it unfold) in the spring: autumn and spring are more closely related than you would think. Rather gloomily, I once told my students that pre-winter work in the garden is not too dissimilar from assisted dying, in that your task is really one of helping your plants to die with both dignity and grace!

Those low autumnal tones I mentioned.
Of course, for new perennial lovers such as myself, September - and into the autumn - remains my favourite time of the year. I always plan to see many naturalistic gardens around this time: Scampston, Pensthorpe, Sussex Prairies, the Oudolf borders at Wisley, and so on. The combination of the many perennial daisies (asters, heleniums, rudbeckias), coupled with ornamental grasses reaching their beautiful best, and all backlit with low autumnal tones mingled with a chilly breeze is, to me at least, easily the most enchanting period of the garden.

Caryopteris x clandonensis
So as you can see, for most people, the horticultural crescendo that reaches its peak around the summer solstice really is a garden at its height. By then, all of it is pretty much up and doing so to speak. Okay, there may be a bit of wiggle room either side of that date, two or three weeks of weather wobble causing flowering advances or delays, but generally that is when our cottage style gardens are at their best.
As you can probably guess, the flowering window for most plants is relatively short - only a few weeks at most - and these windows open and close in quick succession throughout the year.  However, it is only now that the luminous June sunshine throws a brilliant gloss on to our plants and beckons us to throw open the largest window of them all – an invitation to simply get out there and see for ourselves!

It's all so good.....!

Le Jardinier.
Bye for now....

Thursday, 25 February 2016

A Bridge Too Far?

A vision of London's Garden Bridge

So anyway, it finally looks as though the Thames is to have its garden bridge after all. Ever since our very own Ghurkha girl, Joanna Lumley, way back in the late 90’s, raised the potential of crossing the Thames by way of a floating garden, there have been mootings and mutterings about a possible garden bridge.  Although the seed was sown a few years before, the idea properly managed to germinate around the time of London’s most recent renaissance, that of the 2012 London Olympics. During that time, and not since the BritPop era of the early nineties, had we as a nation felt quite so invincible, seeming to believe that any grandiose design idea – especially one based within the capital - could be midas-touched and blessed by the people.
So it was that a few U.K top-trendies somehow found themselves to be straddling that rather fortunate, age-old axis, that of being in the right place at the right time. Again, with the echoes of Olympic success still bouncing around the Millennium Stadium, design folk such Tom Heatherwick (he of the famous flaming Olympic cauldron) and Dan Pearson (Blighty’s very own Piet Oudolf) set about working on ideas for a garden bridge.
Planning applications were submitted in 2014 and a judicial review took place a year later, along with ground surveys of both the north and south banks of the famous river. The foundations of such a project, both literal and metaphorical were looking good. So, bridge building specialists were approached, as were specialist steel manufacturers and planting contractors, Willerby Landscapes of Kent. All the hard stuff, the very structures designed to keep us elevated and dry seemed to be advancing well.
Artistic mock-ups of the proposed bridge

But what of the actual planting elements on the bridge itself? Designing, imagining, creating what will be a massive park… on a bridge, comes with huge horticultural challenges. The journey across the bridge will be designed to tell the tale of the capital’s horticultural history, with ancient old wild marshland being depicted towards the south side, unfolding its proud heritage into more ornamental gardening as you cross the water north towards Temple.
Of course, it is around this area, long-famed for its inner temples of law and order, where the Knights Templar of the 12th century brought back many plants from the holy land, including figs, roses and lavender, creating gardens that to this day, are revered all around the world.
The High Line. Similar, but also very different
Within this story, there is of course an elephant in the room, albeit a rather small one. It’s very hard to discuss London’s garden bridge without also making reference to New York’s High Line, a 1 ½ -mile long disused train line elevated some nine meters above Manhattan’s Lower West Side. Instigated in 2009, the High Line has undoubtedly become the world’s largest landscape design project of the last 50 years.  In fact, ever since its initial conception, London’s garden bridge has constantly been referred to as ‘London’s High Line’ and has, in my opinion at least, been driven ever-so-slightly with at least some degree of Anglo-American competition.  
But of course, though appearing to be quite similar ideas, there are some very strong fundamental and critical differences between the two projects.
Firstly, New York’s High Line was created more in the spirit of our original Olympic bid, in that it was designed to help regenerate an extremely deprived part of the city. It made use of a huge, and pretty ugly, redundant infrastructure that was ear-marked for demolition anyway. Quite unlike London’s garden bridge, which promises to link two already popular tourist destinations (the South Bank and Temple) which quite frankly, don’t need linking. One can hardly argue that these two areas of London are in any way impoverished and in need of regeneration.
Secondly, and quite unlike The High Line which has successfully enhanced the landscape of a rather uninviting part of Manhattan, London’s garden bridge is set to ruin one of London’s most historic and iconic views: the sweeping view from Waterloo Bridge across the Thames to St Paul’s Cathedral. Maybe London’s parks and gardens should remain exactly where they are, hidden away behind the rows of terraced houses and sitting within the many squares, waiting to be discovered like the secret oasis gems they all are.
However, in an attempt not to sound like the half-empty kind of guy I’m often accused of being, and in the spirit of balanced reporting, there are of course, many good things to say about the this potential project.
I feel it will offer the people of London, both tourist and worker alike, a free and unrivalled method of crossing the Thames. I’m sure it will be glorious. A way in which to cross the Thames, already a pleasure in itself, one will be transported like a passenger through one of the world’s most creative and innovative landscape designs.
Once again, and following on from our Olympic success, it’ll showcase British creative design, our way of thinking and inventive engineering, and will remind the world of our history of horticultural excellence.
Okay, the ‘great’ in Great Britain may not actually shout as loud as it once did. Now we have a very small manufacturing industry; an ever-increasing gap between us and the world’s super powers; all our neighbours seem to want independence, and now we are faced with a possible exit from the European Union. Well, perhaps a project such as the garden bridge is exactly what we need right now.
The view from the Temple
Our ever-changing, four-seasons-in-one-day style of weather has always been a horticultural gift to this small island. Our temperate climate, with (believe it or not) as much sun as there is rain has allowed us to grow, breed and show a huge range of diverse plants in our gardens. As a result, our horticultural heritage continues to portray us to the world as a land of green-fingered gardeners still cultivating our mixed borders, growing bountiful supplies of fruit and veg in our allotments and laying down stripes in our cut lawns at the weekend.  
Couple this with our equally-long and proud heritage of both engineering and architecture and suddenly London’s garden bridge begins to feel simply like the right thing to do. The U.K has always had a history of being able to punch above its own weight and demonstrate to the world exactly what we are capable of, and let’s be honest, when we do something, we do it pretty well in this country.

I’m sure the garden bridge will be fantastic! Like everything we do in this country I’m sure it will be an incredible success, an amazing experience for all those who use it, and yet another jewel in the crown for both the capital and the country.

Until next time.

Le Jardinier.