Horticultural

Sowing sweet peas: it's not too late!

Sweet peas are on trend for 2013, according to Matthew Appleby, who wrote a feature on them I commissioned recently in Weekend magazine. Of course, for many of us gardeners they've never been out of fashion: a timeless garden classic. I've been growing them for several years now, and sowing batches from October to December has become a bit of an autumn ritual.

It's worth sowing in autumn if you can: the seedlings get plenty of time to develop a tiptop root system and are ready to romp away when planted out in March or early April. Sowing in the cardboard inner toilet roll tubes filled with multipurpose peat free compost, one or two seeds per tube, gives the roots space to grow. (I fill a deep, round saucer with compost-filled tubes and hold them together with string so they don't topple.)

Usually I grow a hotchpotch of varieties, more for scent than colour coordination ('Kings' High Scent' and 'Perfume Delight' both from Kings' Seeds are particularly good), but I am always drawn to the darker colours, like the classic 'Matucana' (pictured above). So this year I thought I'd try out a new colour scheme: I am growing 'Blue Velvet' and 'Midnight' (both from T&M), and combining them with the species Lathyrus chloranthus 'Lemonade', with its lime-green flowers: a colour that should pop against the darkness of the other flowers.

Sadly, 'Lemonade' has no scent, but I am hoping the L. odoratus cultivars will live up to their name. I haven't sowing this yet, as the cultivation advice seems to suggest early spring sowing is best. But don't worry if you think you've missed the boat: it really is fine to sow these seeds any time through October to December. They'll need some kind of cover over winter - mine are in my potting shed, and get by swathed in some fleece when it's really cold. My other sweet pea tip is to put them somewhere easily accessible: some people find the deadheading, tying in and coaxing required to get sweet peas to perform their best a chore, but provided they're close at hand, just outside my patio window, I find tending to my plants and picking armfuls for the house for a few minutes each day a little piece of sweet pea heaven.

Above is a simple vase of flowers with a pink theme I picked last summer: with one dark sweet pea and one shocking pink one, plus sage leaves, red valerian, a pink rose, and blackcurrant sage flowers. If I can create something just as good in 2013, I'll be happy.

 

 

Hits and misses of 2012

Early September is a great time for a quick retrospective on the hits and misses of the 2012 growing season. Given the sodden weeks of early summer and the slug and snail apocalypse, it's a wonder anything has grown, but there were a few bright spots here and there.

Plug plants

I got sent two sets of plug plants by Unwins to try - Campanula 'Iridescent Bells' from Unwins - I can't show you a picture because all three plug plants got munched by slugs despite my best efforts, and the plant is no longer on their website. I had more success with Agastache 'Blue Fortune': one of the three plugs didn't survive the slug onslaught, but the other two made it through to flowering (pictured left). These are definitely a keeper: the pollinating insects love the blooms, and the leaves are edible, too: they taste like licorice in leaf form, and I am now addicted to munching them at every opportunity. I am not sure whether to keep them in a container or plant them out in the border, but I think I'll keep one in a container as an insurance policy against pests.

Seeds

Other sacrifices to the slugs were my Zinnia 'Queen Red Lime' seedlings, from seeds provided by Thompson & Morgan, and Tithonia 'Fiesta Del Sol' from Higgledy Garden. I had a bit more success with T&M's Nasturtium 'Troika': I liked the variegated leaves and it made good ground cover but didn't really do what I want it to - climb up this willow obelisk with the mangetout pea 'Shiraz' also from T&M. Most of the 'Shiraz' got munched by slugs (notice a theme developing here?) and the 'Troika' didn't seem to want to climb but the plain-leaved climbing nasturtiums grown from seed from Lidl did a bit better. Oh, and my Mina lobata seedlings grown from seeds from Higgledy Garden got smashed by hailstones, and replacement plug plants from Sarah Raven never got past a few inches tall. All in all, I just wished I'd put sweet peas up the obelisks as I'd done the previous year with great success.

Tomatoes

I was very restrained in my selection of tomato varieties to sow this year, sowing just two: the yellow cherry 'Sungold' and the bush tomato 'Bajaja', both from T&M. 'Sungold' lived up to its reputation as a sweet little performer, and 'Bajaja' was shaping up nicely into a big (80cm across) plant until a couple got hit by blight: the 'Sungold' wasn't affected. A couple of plants of 'Bajaja' weren't too badly affected but the big disappointment was that the little red tomatoes just didn't taste very nice: especially when compared with 'Sungold', which were little balls of sweetness that exploded in your mouth. I've just been sent some organic 'Sweetie' tomato seeds by Unwins who have recently teamed up with Garden Organic on a new range of organic seeds. They're definitely on the list for next spring, but can they beat 'Sungold'? I'll let you know this time next year!

 

 

 

 

 

Astrantia 'Shaggy': with thanks to Margery Fish

I discovered today that the Astrantia major subsp involucrata 'Shaggy' - a much-loved plant in my garden - is also known by the far more pleasant name 'Margery Fish'. This sent me scuttling to my bookshelves in a hunt for one of my favourite old books, Cottage Garden Flowers, by Ms Fish herself. She loved Hattie's pincushion, as astrantias are also known, and had this to say about what presumably ended up as what we know as 'Shaggy':

A very interesting and unusual variation of Astrantia major is found in cottage gardens in parts of Gloucestershire. The bracts are pale green, about three times as long as in the normal type, and very shaggy. I have never been able to find any name for this truly decorative flower, nor does it seem to be included in any dictionary. I have been given a plant and I hope it will increase and seed itself as generously as the ordinary Astratia major does.

It's lovely when the pieces of a plant's story begin to fit together like a jigsaw. If Margery Fish is a new name on you, do look her up - she was a great plantswoman who had a fascinating life and championed many cottage garden flowers that were seen as unfashionable before she came along. And her book 'We Made a Garden' is a study in what happens when both halves of a couple have different views on the garden! Check out her biography on the website of her gardens at East Lambrook in Somerset, which are still open to the public: there's a review of the gardens on the Galloping Gardener's blog. She was also responsible for naming a number of other plants - see this page on the East Lambrook site for a full list.

But back to my astrantia. I love the purity of the green and white, but I do also covet the darker varieties, such as 'Venice' and 'Hadspen Blood' which always look so good in Chelsea show gardens. Mine are planted in quite the wrong place: full sun and soil that dries out easily, but this rainy weather has seen them right this year. Perhaps I should move them to a shadier spot in the winter, though - or perhaps divide and move the divisions. Any tried this and got some advice?

Sowing flowers from seed: successes and failures

My brain is currently a grab-bag of blogposts: of all sorts of bits and pieces. Blogging's had to take a back seat to all sorts of things, not least changing numerous nappies, replacinga broken dishwasher, fridge and DVD player, reading The Tickle Book over and over and OVER to my 1-year-old, and making lots of jam from my Victoria plums.*

Here's the first brain dump. I wrote a while back about how I've been growing a lot of things from seed to save money, so I thought I'd tell you a bit about what worked and what didn't.

The Cerinthe purpurascens seeds from T&M all germinated with ease and produced attractive plants (pictured left) just right in temperament for my rather dry big border, and loved by the bees - the only wrinkle was the packet was a bit measly, although each seed was huge, almost pea-like. Given that this is a good self-seeder I am hoping it will spread copiously, and I'll probably help it along by saving some of the seed myself to sow next spring.

Another banker has been the verbascums, now settling in nicely to the dry border and destined to provide spires of white blooms ('Snow Maiden') next summer. What's so great about growing verbascum from seed is that ALL of them germinate, so you get hundreds of plants - and they're pretty tough even from a young age so any underwatering is quickly forgiven. Next year I'd like to try a pinky-red one from seed, like 'Cherry Helen', but so far I've had no success finding the seed.

Cenolophium denudatum, on the other hand, was a disaster. Got two seedlings from the whole packet, which when planted out promptly got munched by slugs. Clematis hieraclifolia, courtesy of Everett Leeds of the Clematis Society, so far so good - half a dozen plants from a similar number of seeds, all young plants now in situ(pictured above) and I'm hoping for a good show from this unusual herbaceous clematis. (Never heard of it? It is scented and needs no support, apparently. Will keep you posted).

Honesty seeds collected on my travels and scattered liberally about the garden should fill some more gaps, while I am encouraging my Briza media to self-seed for similar budget-busting gullness. One busted flush was the eryngium seeds I tried - possibly too old, I suspect.

*I wrote about how this tree was sulking after pruning two years ago - the commenters were right, I didn't prune in 2010 and this year it's been happy as larry, producing a top harvest of big, juicy plums.

On the verge: why my garden can't possibly live up to the delights of the A421

I am not such a great driver right now. Whenever I am on the road, I keep getting distracted by the verges, like this one on the A421 towards Cambridge.

I could bash on about how nature does it so much better than us, but you've probably heard that all before. It is interesting, though, how similar some road verges are to some of the planting at Chelsea this year, as Alys Fowler pointed out to me when I bumped into her at the show. I keep seeing amazing specimens of milk thistles (I think), but not in places I can stop the car!

It's the fullness, the boldness and the sheer exuberance of the poppies lining this drainage ditch that I want to recreate in my own garden. And on my green - by which I mean still mostly brown - roof. I am hoping that through my complete lack of intervention, something wonderful will happen up there and I'll end up with a lovely motorwy verge-style display to be enjoyed from my bedroom window. Perhaps today's rain will get it on its way. Otherwise I shall have to publish a rather ridiculous thing that's been rattling around my head the last few days, a sort of sub-Muddy Waters number entitled "I Got the Green Roof Blues".

Anyhow. Having long since run out of money for new plants for my still yawningly empty beds, I have resorted to sowing lots of perennial seeds, as I have already said. For some reason that's mainly verbascums right now - who knew they were ridiculously easy to grow? Cenolophium denudatum, on the other hand, scorns me. As does Eryngium bourgatii and some unusual clematis from Everett Leeds of the Clematis Society. Humph.

So the verbascums will have to do for the minute, but I am taking inspiration from the Leeds City Council garden at Chelsea, which featured them along with British native fox and cubs or Pilosella aurantiaca. I've already got P. aurantiaca up on the roof, will have to consult the green roof literature and see if the verbascums will have a chance up there, too...

Salad blue days: growing potatoes in containers

I don't know if it's because I am often on holiday in June, but my potato plants seem to be doing particularly well this year: possibly because I'm around to tend to their every need. I wrote a piece about the benefits of growing potatoes in pots earlier this year, and I've put my money where my mouth is and planted half a dozen sacks and junk shop pots with different varieties this season. It has been handy to be able to move them around the garden at a time when we've been revamping the plot. Through necessity rather than choice, I've used a mishmash of things as a growing medium - some peat-free multipurpose compost mixed with spent compost from containers, wormcasts from my wormeries and compost from my heap. They've been getting regular feedings with the much-diluted liquid from the wormeries, and it all seems to be paying off.

This year's pleasant surprise is how good the lush foliage and flowers look, even in a rough old builder's bucket. The star of the show is undoubtedly the Salad Blue with its gorgeous pale violet flowers, pictured above. If all goes well I am looking forward to experimenting with blue chips and mash. I can't tell you exactly what other varieties I'm growing, as I've had to hide the labels below soil level to fox my 3-year-old who likes nothing better than mixing them up. 

How are your potatoes doing this year?

Foxgloves and other flowers from seed

I don't tend to grow many flowers from seed, partly because I haven't had the space or facilities up until now, and partly because as regular readers will know, I am a bit of a vegetable growing enthusiast - give me a choice of edible or ornamental and I'll opt for the plants that can end up in my gob!

But I did sow these white foxgloves from a packet of seeds that came free on the front of Gardens Illustrated back in autumn 2008. And now they've finally flowered: it seems like they've taken forever to get to this point, possibly through my completely rubbish "nurturing", but they do look rather lovely now. These definitely won't be ending up in my gob, given that foxgloves are poisonous, or as Amy Stewart notes in her book Wicked Plants, ingesting digitalis is like putting your heart on steroids. 

I'd like some other suggestions for flower seeds to sow this autumn for a low-cost boost to my (newly expanded) borders: now I have my potting shed (did I mention my new potting shed?!), a whole new world of possibilities has opened up to me. Just add your thoughts in the comments below. And if you too sowed these GI seeds, when did yours flower - were mine as sluggish as they felt, or was I just being impatient as usual?

Anna Pavord on her new book, Bulb

I promised a blogpost on Anna Pavord's talk at the Garden Museum on October 1 and hey, presto, 14 days later, here it is!

Anna was talking about her new book, Bulb, which took her four years to write, and you can see why - it's an erudite, beautiful piece of work that deserves to be pored over on many a cold winter's evening to come. The talk was full of gems - her bulb planting mix recipe (two scoops of John Innes no 3 to one scoop of 6ml grit), what bulbs to pick ("the simplest route to growing bulbs is to find out what likes you and grow lots of it"), and her description of Narcissus cyclamineus as looking "like a surprised piglet caught in the wind".

What was most reassuring to me was her emphasis on the importance of remembering that it is an "unreal expectation" to asume a bulb will flower every year: even in optimal conditions in the wild, many only bloom sporadically. So it may not be your fault when your tulips don't come back year after year! If you want to get more of a flavour of what she said, read this piece in the Independent. Here she is above signing copies of her book after the talk.

I was so inspired I went straight home and planted loads of bulbs the following weekend, and ordered many more. Incredibly, I've never grown paperwhite narcissus, so I'll be giving those a try for the first time this year, and using this top tip of giving the bulbs a nip of vodka to stop them falling over (funny, that - it's the reverse in humans!) And whatever the Garden Monkey says, I'll be growing some hyacinths (white ones, probably) because I like them, and that's that.

Also in the audience were the garden designers Dan Pearson (who I'd never met before) and Cleve West (who I already know), and I got to meet Christopher Woodward, the Garden Museum director, in person for the first time. Have a look at the Guardian gardening blog for my post on the museum's latest exhibition, The Good Life: 100 Years of Growing Your Own.

Nerine discovery

There's not a lot by way of exciting plants in my new garden, but I did thrill at the sight of a patch of the lovely autumn bulb Nerine bowdenii which have come up in one of the raised beds, partially covered by a rather rampant rosemary (try saying that after a few pints).

I've not grown these before but they're fairly straightforward provided you don't bury the bulbs too deep. There's a good piece from the Telegraph last year if you want to find out more.

Freaky foxgloves

I've just been leafing through the latest edition of Gardens Illustrated, as you do, over a screenbreak in the Guardian canteen. I got to the readers' questions page, a stalwart of any gardening publication, and had to double-take over the picture of an odd-looking foxglove.

I'd seen this somewhere before - twice. In a weird coincidence, THREE gardening mags - GI, plus BBC Gardeners' World magazine and Organic Gardening (I think - I don't have a copy of the latter on me to check) - have featured a question about foxglove flowers that have fused together, like this.

GI's John Cushnie says the distortion has been caused by damage from a sucking insect like a capsid bug or aphid, wheres BBCGW says it's "a naturally occuring abnormality, known as fasciation". Can't remember what OG thought it was, but I hope Bob Flowerdew or someone thinks it's down to a lack of zinc or somesuch.

But what are the chances of a weird foxglove triple-whammy, particularly when two of the mags in question are produced by the BBC? Are our foxgloves at risk? The nation's gardeners need to know.