Every rose in England

June13

scenic english country house

 

It didn’t take much prompting to convince my husband to come with me to England when I said I couldn’t wait any longer to see rose gardens on my must-visit list. The gardens include Mottisfont Abbey in Hampshire,  Hidcote Gardens in Gloucestershire (both of which are run by the National Trust) and Abbey House Gardens in Wiltshire. He Google-mapped our route to the nearest centimetre, found us great places to stay, and waited in the parking lots while I visited the properties.

Wait, WHAT? Yep, that’s right. It took me some convincing, but he assured me he’d be far happier with his puzzles in the car, or in a cafe, than gazing at Bourbon roses and marvelling at the pruning and training techniques employed by the genius gardeners.

Mme Isaac Periere rose

And so I’ve enjoyed the first two gardens in rather splendid isolation, getting the chance to glimpse the roses just approaching their peak.

Mottisfont is as miraculous as you may have heard, with Graham Stuart Thomas’s collection of old roses stretching across brick walls, spread over 7-foot arches, or pegged down to create arches of colour close to the ground, as you see with rose Mme Isaac Periere here. I grow this rose, but it doesn’t look as healthy as this. It felt as if every rose in England was growing here, and that might just be the case — every old rose, anyway, which are the kind I love most. The gardens were tended for more than 30 years by David Stone before his retirement last year, and the health and beauty of the gardens are testament of his and his successors’ wonderful hard work.

At Mottisfont I also got the chance to have a sniff of roses I’d only ever read about, including Desprez a Fleur Jaunes (which isn’t fragrant enough for me to bother with) and Rosa Spinossisima, which Gertrude Jekyll reportedly included in most of her garden designs, and which smells wonderful.

Rosa Lamarque from Mottisfont Abbey

I also discovered a white rose called Lamarque at Mottisfont which is meant to be difficult to grow, but it had a rounded, full scent and an overall grace that could make me change my generally low opinion of white roses. Arching over a brick wall that was already studded with pale lichens, Lamarque looked and smelled sensational.

But it was at Hidcote (where my husband said he enjoyed an uninterrupted 2.5 hours of newspaper puzzles) where I fell in love with Blairi No. 2, a very old and overlooked rose that nevertheless has every characteristic I love most about the old roses.

The fragrance is indescribably rich but not heavy; and its flower changes colour dramatically, from palest pink-white buds to light pink heads that develop warm, dark-pink centres. The texture of the petals is like wrinkled tissue paper, and the plant (which I think must be 50 years old at least) that stretched across the warm gable wall of one of the Hidcote outbuildings reached right up to its thatched roof, with canes and canes of healthy growth. Only some canes were filled with flowers, but the overall magnificence of this rose already has me searching my mental inventory of spaces in my garden for any south-facing surface I could grow it on. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do to get Blairi No. 2 into my life.

Rose Blairi No. 2 All Rights Reserved

Hidcote wasn’t quite what I expected. Yes, there were the endless garden ‘rooms’ I’d heard of, but there were also several empty expanses that I was grateful for: the hide-and-seek layout of the smaller rooms left me a bit disoriented, and the empty spaces were restful to the mind.

The kitchen garden, which the kindly woman at Hidcote reception advised me not to miss, was a delight of pleached apples skirted by merry, purple-headed chives, as well as rows of cutting flowers like cosmos, lupins and cornflowers. I noticed they’d stopped the cosmos after three sets of leaves to promote flowering, which is something I’ve done ever since a flower farmer in Virginia advised it (I did a short YouTube video showing the technique here – how to get more cosmos by making a bold, low cut when dead-heading).

I heard a couple visitors at Hidcote being a bit uncharitable about the relaxed planting style — “I couldn’t live with a garden like this,” one said, pointing at a crowd of plants that jostled each other — but I loved it. Hidcote allows plants a bit of freedom, and it’s a wonderful experience: it looks more like a real garden than a showpiece, with some areas left to self-seeders (like sweet rocket, Welsh poppies, columbines).

But there are also sculpted and formal areas, like the much-photographed white bench framed by white wisteria, which was visited by a hungry red admiral butterfly while I was watching.

espallier apples and chives at Hidcote

At the time of writing, we’ve still to visit Abbey House Gardens in Wiltshire, and it’s currently pelting rain here. But I hear the garden owners provide umbrellas, so even though the puddle outside my window is dancing with raindrops, we’re suiting up and heading out.

A note on garden-touring: it’s not so bad going around the gardens myself, although I felt more than a little guilty that my husband holed up in cafes rather than walk around with me.

But at this stage of the tour, I’m convinced we’re both doing what makes us happiest: having a few days of indulgent me-time, away from work and parenting responsibilities, and enjoying relaxing dinners and chats without thinking about email, deadlines or school lunches.

Being driven from garden to garden while I relax and take in the ludicrously gorgeous English countrywide feels terribly indulgent — I feel like a horse box, being lugged from place to place — but I’ll get over it. When a casual glance out the car window shows castle-like cottages draped with roses and flowers like something from a story book, it’s hard to feel guilty for long.

And we’ll be back at the deadlines and school lunches in no time, so we might as well make the most of it, dancing puddles and all.

white wisteria and red admiral at Hidcote

 

Have you visited any outstanding rose gardens you’d recommend I see? Let me know in the comments.

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Five minutes with RHS Chelsea designers: Visit Massachusetts Garden

May23

Hollyhock corner in Catherine MacDonald - Susannah Hunter garden at RHS Chelsea 2013

Thanks to the Visit Massachusetts team for introducing me to the designers at its RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2013 garden, which won a Silver Gilt. Below is taken from my exclusive chat with artist Susannah Hunter and garden designer Catherine MacDonald.

Who are the design team?
Susannah Hunter (shown below) and Catherine MacDonald, applique leather artist and landscape designer respectively. I hadn’t realised Susannah is from Arbroath, well north of me in Scotland. Catherine is with Landform Consultants, and Amanda Miller assisted Catherine with the graft of planting on site.
Susannah Hunter's leather stream with water lillies on the garden planted by Catherine MacDonald at RHS Chelsea Flower Show2013

What is the Visit Massachusetts Garden?
A small garden in the “Fresh” category at RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2013. Panels of Susannah’s botanically correct leather murals line the walls of this intimate space, softly planted by Catherine. A channel of blue leather and waterlillies crosses the plot, covered with perspex (I would have loved to see running water here). I loved this garden – and it photographed so well, with foreground “real plants” like foxgloves against a backdrop of the same flower in leather.

Where did Catherine and Susanna get their inspiration?
Susannah wanted to pin the garden to some kind of Massachusetts narrative, and a visit to Amherst and the Emily Dickinson museum helped her understand more about the reclusive poet: Dickinson was a keen gardener and flowers feature heavily in her writing. The Houghton Library and Glass Flower Collection at Harvard University were great resources for Susannah, and Dickinson’s own herbarium (a book of labelled, pressed flowers) gave Catherine a plant list to work from. (Catherine r. and Amanda l. are shown together below).
Catherine MacDonald and Amanda Miller from Landform Consultants

When is the garden set – historic or modern?
“It’s a modern take on the English cottage garden,” Catherine told me, and I could see that: sleekly shaped chair, trendy deschampsia cespitosa, and did I mention the leather? Actually the deschampsia felt retro, recalling long roadside grasses during my childhood near Boston. Undeniably the garden feels historic, with the dainty tea cup, old books and old-fashioned hollyhocks tilting lazily across Susannah’s panels. Key plants are aquilegias (aka columbines) Black Barlow, Ruby Port and Vulgaris Alba; cornus kousa Chinensis (sadly the genuine New England flowering dogwood, cornus florida, isn’t easily available in the UK), Iris sibirica Tropic Night, Matteuccia struthiopteris, Papaver Patty’s Plum.

Why leather in the garden? Isn’t that crazy and perishable?
Susannah’s left some of her applique panels in her own garden as an experiment and they’ve weathered well, but she most definitely hasn’t designed her work to be for outdoors. “It’s about bringing the garden into the house,” Susannah says. “I have clients I’ve done commissions for – for example one client whose yellow irises only flower for a few weeks of the year – and I’ve done a headboard for her, to see the iris all year round.” Susannah hasn’t designed any pieces meant for the outside, although she says she’s thinking about doing so.

How does the artist work?
Susannah sketches flowers from life – her wisteria panel began as a drawing of a friend’s abundant wisteria one May – and also works from photographs, building up an image bank to draw upon for commissions. Plant geeks will love the accurate detail and growing habit of her work: climbing roses reach horizontally across panels, wisteria spills down the wall, tall hollyhocks lean just a bit to one side.

You can see Susannah’s work here, contact Catherine via Landform Consultants and go visit Massachusetts for goodness sake: there are now garden tours to the region. If you enjoyed this, you can click below to share on Facebook or Twitter.

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Crocus Prins Claus doesn’t mind the snow

March17

Click for larger image

This species crocus has not minded the cold March weather at all. You can just see the purple colour at the throat of the flower, which I expect to open up in the next few days, snow or no snow.

Another white crocus I planted — I think it was Ard Schenk – has suffered badly from slugs. I sat by one of them the other day and watched as it was warmed by the sun and promptly fell over, having been nibbled at the base. I love the delicacy of Prins Claus – I’ll try to share a picture soon of a pot of them growing on my steps, if springtime ever springs and they open up.

What crocus or other early flowers are pleasing you at the moment?

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The Scottish daffodil without a name

March5

double yellow daffodil from Mull stopwatch gardener

For six years I’ve been trying to identify this sophisticated double daffodil with the shredded, egg yolk-yellow centre. I found it growing just outside the walled garden of my mother-in-law’s house in Mull, off the west coast of Scotland.

The helpful David Wong of Plantedd has suggested it looks something like Narcissus “Glowing Phoenix,” and it may well be, but I’m going to have another look when it flowers this year and compare it against the Phoenix pictures. My mystery bulb also resembles Narcissus Eystettensis, which has the same shredded centre but is one colour throughout.

I like to imagine a romantic past for this unique flower: maybe it joined the other spring flowering bulbs that I know this Scottish garden used to provide to the ancient abbey on the island of Iona, about an hour away.

I’m really keen to identify this flower for my mother-in-law. If you are (or know) a narcissus connoisseur or other bulb expert, I’d be grateful for your help.

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Timelapse in the garden at Mercat Cottage

January23

I’ve always been fascinated by the timelapse sequences that gardening TV shows have. It must be the best part of being a presenter on shows like Gardeners World or A Year in a Cottage Garden: having a professional film crew do proper timelapse of your garden, letting you visualise the magical transformation through the seasons.

Here’s my homespun version… Pardon the yellowish tint in some of the autumn shots. I’ve tried to embed the slideshow of images right inside this blog post, but if you can’t see it above, click here to view it on Flickr http://www.flickr.com//photos/stopwatchgardener/sets/72157632468956021/show/

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