Christmas.

Brand new boots, braces, books -
                               - and a 'Head Gardener' mug.


Absolutely no excuses now, horticultural glory and stardom is surely within my grasp.

Chimonanthus praecox.

For as long as I can remember, my father, my sisters and I have always been taken on twilight walks around the family garden with Mum. New plants and the season's successes are always pointed out - and those with an especially beautiful evening scent. The latter have always been fairly lost on me, due to my decidedly average sense of smell. For a long time therefore I have never taken a particular interest in plants for their scent, rather their visual impact.
     However, walking Cambridge University Botanic Garden I was stunned by the aroma of the Chimonanthus praecox. Naturally, everyone around me was delighting in it - but the fact that I was able to smile and nod along was quite a moment! I immediately jotted down the name, and here I write it down in the blog.

Chimonanthus praecox, 'Wintersweet'.
(Deciduous shrub.)

Planting: Autumn. Moist but well-drained soil.
Flowering: Winter.
Aspect: Full sun, south/west-facing, sheltered.
Hardiness: Fairly hardy.

Notes: Although Chimonanthus is a Greek title ('winter-flower'), it is further into the Orient that this genus has been loved most. In China, its flowers coincide with their New Year celebrations, and it has inspired artistic endeavour for hundreds of years. The painting below, 'Chimonanthus and Birds', is the eleventh century creation of Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty.

Corylus avellana 'Contorta'

Continuing with trees from a different world, the Corylus avellana 'Contorta' seems as though it has been dreamed up rather than grown organically. It twists and turns its branches fabulously, appearing to change its mind almost playfully. An extraordinary plant.

Corylus avellana 'Contorta', "Corkscrew Hazel".
(Deciduous tree.)

Planting: Moist but well-drained soil.
Flowering: Early spring.
Aspect: Full sun or partial shade.
Hardiness: Very hardy.

Notes: The first Corylus avellana 'Contorta', from which all others were cultivated, was discovered by Victorian gentleman Edward Augustus Bowles. It still lives outside his home, Myddelton House, which he referred to as "the Lunatic Asylum" - surely there would be no better tree stood before such a place.

Ginkgo biloba.

Although I'm not obligated to enter RHS plant identification tests as part of my apprenticeship, recently I have taken up the gauntlet. Every test includes thirty different plants found in Hyde Hall's gardens, and we have to learn some information on each. We also have to know their respective families, and - in the same way it once amazed me to learn that elephants and hyraxes are related - discovering which plants belong together is completely fascinating.
     Ginkgo biloba, a tree with such otherworldly-looking leaves, is part of the family Ginkgoaceae which is truly prehistoric. The heyday of the Ginkgoaceae was during the Jurassic era, 160 million years ago; dinosaurs walked under their canopies, not humans. It is only this tree which survives of their number, making it a very special species indeed.


Ginkgo biloba, 'Maidenhair Tree'.
(Deciduous tree.)

Planting: Autumn. Moist, well-drained soil.
Flowering: Spring.
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Hardy enough to have survived about two-hundred million years.

Notes: Having survived ancient climates and environments, the ginkgo biloba is unsurprisingly tolerant to pollution of the modern day and perfectly adept to urban living. Six survived the Hiroshima bomb, a relatively well-known story but something I still can barely believe.

Cambridge University Botanic Garden.

I am delighted to be writing this post at the house of my family, having returned for Christmas. However, my final day in the south-east for 2014 was a fine one indeed. My friends at Writtle and I went to Cambridge University Botanic Garden with Christine, to be shown the Winter Garden there.

Naturally, many of the plants within the Winter Garden were looking their best: hellebores, birches, and of course the dogwoods - stem colours ablaze in the cold golden sunlight. Some marvellous plants I had not encountered before, and intend to study in a later blog post.

Although I had not been to the garden before, my father revised for law exams in its surroundings during his student days in Cambridge. As a botanic garden, it has also a further use to the university - it plays a critical role in medical research. I would love to return and learn more about this fascinating aspect, something which makes Cambridge University Botanic Garden a place in which there is more than meets the eye - and that is saying something!

Back to school.

Yes, that is a rosette!

     Aside from working among the fine people of the RHS, I've been studying weekly at Writtle College with horticulturalist extraordinaire Christine Lavelle. Every Friday, she takes my class on a tour through a different group of plants, be it trees, herbaceous species, even weeds. We've also been introduced to different forms of propagation and cultivation. Whatever the day brings, it inevitably involves singing, dancing and some skipping around campus.

The tests we sit build towards an RHS Level II Certificate in Practical Horticulture, and I'm delighted to say that they've been going well. This blog was borne of a love of plants, and thus these classes are exactly what I had been hoping for. Aside from the look of each plant, and its latin and common name, Christine also tells us a short account of her personal encounters with it. Naturally this makes things far more memorable and (reinforced by some evening study with a cup of coffee) my confidence is rising with my test marks. As I walk back each time along the River Can, I know a little more about the plants growing on its banks, and it's a wonderful feeling.

Hilltop.

For the last eight weeks, I have entered the ranks of the Hilltop team. Positioned in the more formal area of Hyde Hall, their organisation and professionalism are exemplary - at times other staff mention them with the mischievous wink of a younger sibling whispering about an older one. In actuality there is as much welcome and humour on Hilltop as anywhere in the garden, but it is certainly true that they have taken my horticultural education seriously.

  Although I could talk at length about work in the vegetable plot and the dry garden (both of which have attracted television cameras this year, and understandably so), it is rose pruning which I've learned the most from. Hilltop has hundreds of roses: climbers, ramblers, shrub roses - indeed it has a 'Rose Ropewalk' and a Modern Rose Garden. With many thorns to handle and winter cold setting in, it can be a hard task but above all it has been a golden opportunity to develop my knowledge of a glorious and historic realm of horticulture.

The Beth Chatto Gardens.

On one of the most beautiful days of the month, and entirely out of the blue, came a chance to visit The Beth Chatto Gardens. Andy of Hyde Hall's Queen Mother Garden invited me along as he picked up a few plants from their nursery, patiently allowing me to dash around taking photos and answering my questions on the road home.

As all who have visited the place or are aware of its story know, this is a very special garden. What I admire most about it is that for all its international recognition and awards, it remains entirely personal to one lady and her family. She took this land from nothing, firmly chose her style to create a sense of identity, and selected species which would last. Being borne of one vision and one unique philosophy, a satisfying conviction radiates throughout the garden. Moreover, because it is a good vision and a good philosophy, one doesn't have to be a Chatto to take pleasure in the place. This will certainly inspire my principles as a gardener.

Hyde Hall, so far.

      Two months on from moving to Essex and beginning to garden with the RHS, I think it would be fair to say a lot has happened. All of it has been good, all of it has brought a smile to my face.

     I am living in a very sleepy town close to Hyde Hall with Martine and Hermine, a fellow apprentice and a trainee - both very lovely, and both willing to put up with me singing in the bath every evening.

      After being given a stocking-full of horticultural goodies (secateurs and a holster, a pruning saw, a knife, steel toe cap boots, steel toe cap wellies, a forestry helmet, safety glasses, five polo shirts, two sweatshirts, a fleece, a jacket, waterproof trousers, gloves, more gloves, and a partridge in a pear tree) from garden manager Ian Bull, work began!

    The crew is roughly divided into two teams (Hilltop and Clover Hill), along with several specialists - and it is with Clover Hill that I have spent my time hitherto. Their territory stretches from the nursery to the orchards and the ponds, the Australia & New Zealand Borders and the Tropical Border, the Queen Mother Garden,
the Modern Garden and the Country Garden, and indeed the wider estate. I'll refrain from listing all of the things I have been working on with them so far, but what I shall say is that I have been able to work in all of these areas, much to my delight.

Pastures new and infinite things to learn, this really is marvellous.

The RHS.

My days, it has been a while. I have some news.

In a moment of well-it-can't-hurt-trying, I applied for an apprenticeship with the Royal Horticultural Society.  The Royal Horticultural Society. What I expected was a polite suggestion that I acquire further experience before applying again... but three interesting interviews later, and many hours upon the train, came a pleasant surprise.

I am now an apprentice at RHS Garden Hyde Hall, Essex.

Aquilegia vulgaris.

I had been admiring flowers appearing in some of the gardens I work in, varying in colour but always with an elegant bowed head and crown of soft horns. However, everyone I asked seemed to know it by a different name, to the point that I was feeling really rather confused. Columbine? Aquilegia? Granny's bonnet?
It turns out that all of these names are true - perhaps such a fine flower encourages creativity in bestowing a name. They certainly do look beautiful at this time of year.



Aquilegia vulgaris, "European Columbine" or "Granny's Bonnet" (or "Granny's Nightcap").
(Herbaceous perennial.)

Planting: Spring.
Flowering: Late spring and summer.
Aspect: Full sun or partial shade, any aspect or exposure.
Hardiness: As hardy as it gets!

Notes: Although aquilegia and columbine are both Latin words for this same beautiful flower, the underlying meanings are very different. Aquilegia means "eagle", noting the petals' resemblence to a talon, whilst columbine means "dove", imagining the same sight as five gathering doves.

Eden Project.

Wow. At long last, I have been to the Eden Project - what a place it is.

Before I begin, I must say that there is more to the Eden Project than the famous domes - nevertheless it was the rainforest dome ("biome") which really did capture my imagination.

Indeed, one senses that the entire place is sculpted with that in mind: to capture every visitor's imagination, rather than impress a select few interested in botany. The intense heat, the paths meandering through surprisingly established-looking environments, the props, structures and artwork positioned playfully around each corner. It all comes together to tremendous effect.

I won't describe everything in laborious detail, I'm not sure that would be in keeping with the place. However, I shall say that, upon leaving, I felt great contentment in having spent a day in such fascinating surroundings as well as an instant desire to return. I hope that is a feeling I can recreate in future gardens of my own.

Pieris floribunda.

I'm not sure I have mentioned it before on the blog, but I've been working with two local gardeners for a couple of months - James and Dave. It's recently been getting to the time of year in which working outdoors is no longer a test of manhood in the wind and the rain, but a pleasurable pursuit beneath cloudless skies - although today was a wet exception!

One plant that seems to embody the excitement and heat of the coming seasons is the Pieris floribunda (especially the 'Forest Flame' cultivar*), with its deep red young leaves and white bells. It has appeared in many of the gardens I've been working in, and at this time of year it really is striking.

Pieris floribunda, "Mountain Andromeda".
(Evergreen shrub.)


Planting: Spring or autumn.
Flowering: March to April (now!).
Aspect: Full sun or partial shade. Non-north facing, sheltered.
Hardiness: Hardy.

Notes: Originating from the slopes of the Appalachians, the Pieris floribunda is poisonous enough even to hold its own against deer.

*I learnt that the correct term is cultivar here: http://apps.rhs.org.uk/rhsplantfinder/plantnaming/hownameswork.asp

Gerard's Herbal.

Having been inspired in the previous post by some charming fiction, we now move on to something real, and really very exciting indeed. Dating from 1597, John Gerard's Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes (thee moree e's, thee bettere) is truly a masterpiece~ perhaps not in clinical science, but certainly in beautifully demonstrating human wonder in the world around us.
Accompanied by fabulous woodcut illustrations, Gerard discusses thousands of plants encountered personally or by contemporaries, each with a gentle charisma that sets his delightful work apart four hundred years later.

"For if delight may provoke mens labor, what greater delight is there than to behold the earth apparelled with plants, as with a robe of embroidered worke, set with Orient pearles and garnished with great diversitie of rare and costly jewels? If this varietie and perfection of colours may affect the eie, it is such in herbs and floures, that no Apelles, no Zeuxis ever could by any art expresse the like: if odours or taste may worke satisfaction, they are both so soveraigne in plants, and so comfortable that no confection of the Apothecaries can equall their excellent vertue. But these delights are in the outward senses: the principal delight is in the mind..."

Magical Plants.

Having discovered Mr Arthur Osborn's tie to the magical community (see Gentiana x macaulayi), I thought I would take a stroll down Diagon Alley and look at a few plants that secretly have a little more to them than meets the eye.

Salix alba, "White Willow".
(Deciduous tree or shrub.)

Surely the most characterful plant in the Harry Potter novels, the Whomping Willow can wave its branches and does so violently. I've chosen Salix alba to be its counterpart species, as a few I've seen have borne a strong resemblance.

Planting: Autumn.
Flowering: Spring.
Aspect: Full sun or partial shade.
Hardiness: Very hardy.

Mandragora officinarum, "Mandrake".
(Flowering perennial.)

Shaped like a human and hallucinogenic, for centuries the root of the poisonous mandrake was considered a dangerous and supernatural entity. I rather prefer Rowling's interpretation, which breathes a little humour into it all.

Planting: Autumn or spring.
Flowering: March to April (hermaphrodite).
Aspect: Full sun or dappled shade, sheltered.
Hardiness: Very hardy (though initial protection is required in its first year at least).

Cunila origanoides, "Common Dittany".
(Perennial subshrub.)

Like all men - magical or not, ahem - Harry and Ron are particularly talented at causing and acquiring injuries. Dittany, which genuinely is known for its healing properties, makes more than one appearance in the books.

Planting: Spring. Well-drained soil.
Flowering: July to August (hermaphrodite).
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Fully hardy.

Valeriana officinalis, "Valerian".

Another medicinal plant, valerian is used in all sorts of impressively named potions, including the Draught of Living Death and the Draught of Peace.
On an unrelated note, cats apparently adore valerian and may destroy it by rolling over it.

Planting: Spring. Moist soil.
Flowering: June to August.
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Fully hardy.



Speaking of potions...

A classic tirade from the enthralling Professor Snape~
"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Asphodelus ramosus, "Branched Asphodel" or "King's Spear".
(Flowering perennial.)

Planting: March to April. Well drained.
Flowering: June to August.
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Hardy.

Artemisia vulgaris, "Common Wormwood".
(Flowering perennial.)

Planting: Early spring to early summer.
Flowering: July to September (hermaphrodite).
Aspect: Full sun or partial shade.
Hardiness: Fully hardy (often found on wasteland).

Aconitum vulparia, "Wolfsbane".
Aconitum napellus, "Monkshood".
(Herbaceous perennials.)

Planting: Early autumn to late spring.
Flowering: Summer.
Aspect: Partial shade. sheltered.
Hardiness: Very, very hardy.

(Picture: Wolfsbane left, monkshood right.)
Note: Like the Mandragora officinarum above, these two plants are highly poisonous. Look but never touch.

Anemone coronaria.

This gorgeous flower, with its combination of white and deep blue, would not be captured in a little sketch. It is an anemone, and in my eyes its beauty outshines any diamond or precious metal.


Anemone coronaria, "Poppy Anemone".
(Bulbous perennial.)


Planting: April to May, five to ten centimetres deep.
Flowering: Spring.
Aspect: Full sun, sheltered (south/east facing).
Hardiness: Hardy.



Notes: Nectar mixed with the blood of Adonis, the legend of the anemone's origin comes from ancient Greece - as does its name, which means "windflower".

Ceratostigma willmottianum.

Aside from telling me a few of my great-grandfather's favourite plants, Granny Pat also knew how to spell them. With gentians it isn't so much of an issue, but with Ceratostigma willmottianum it is very useful indeed!
Having had a busy few weeks, it's good to get back into the blog.

Ceratostigma willmottianum, "Chinese Plumbago".
(Semi-woody perennial.)

Planting: Autumn or early spring (before the last frosts).
Flowering: July to October. Foliage turns fiery red in autumn.
Aspect: Full sun, sheltered. Well-drained soil.
Hardiness: Hardy.

Notes: Discovered in China by the intrepid victorian Edward Wilson, it is named after his patroness Miss Ellen Willmott. Eccentric and extravagant, her place in the history of women and horticulture is deserved. I shall be discussing her "ghost" in a later post!

Gentiana x macaulayi.

Like many people, I adore the scent of old books. This fine picture is taken from Arthur Osborn's Winter-Flowering Plants, published just after the war. My lovely Granny Pat & Grampy gave it to me recently, and it belonged to my great-grandfather. Granny mentioned he was fond of gentians.

Gentiana x macaulayi, "Macaulay Gentian"
(Herbaceous perennial.)

Planting: March.
Flowering: September to October.
Aspect: Partial shade. Acidic, well-drained but
                 moist soil (a dry spring can affect growth).
Hardiness: Hardy (alpine plant).

Notes: Head of Kew's arboretum in the early twentieth century, Arthur Osborn wrote plenty of other books. His Shrubs and Trees for the Garden even features in the seventh Harry Potter film!

Granny Lalage.

What a wonderful few days I have had.
Despite her modesty, it has never been any secret that my granny Lalage has always been very artistic. I could write paragraphs on her fabulous family tree, which includes writers, canons, even Pocahontas, but then that wouldn't really be in keeping with her humility & gentleness.
I knew she had studied at Chelsea Art College after the war, but nothing could have prepared me for the treasure trove of drawings, designs and beautiful books that she let me look at this week. Her eye for colour deserves a special mention, but for obvious reasons I have chosen to show this fine picture of her father's gardening tools (esteemed academic Hugh I'Anson Fausset).

Although she loves my little sketches of plants (her mother, my great-grandmother, was brilliant with wildflowers and painted them), of course I think her works are far more exciting. Nevertheless, talking & sharing all of these things was a marvellous bonding experience and a great encouragement.

Cattleya tigrina.

This post involves a double discovery for me. I saw a label marked "Cattleya tigrina", but not the plant it belonged to- as I liked the name (the tigery "tigrina" suggested it must be an impressive thing), I thought I'd research it online at home. I adore wildlife, but I had never known there to be one called the tigrina! It is a small & elegant spotted wild cat of South America ~ the plant is perhaps less beautiful, but equally striking.

Cattleya tigrina.
(Rhizomatous perennial.)

Planting: July. Roots need air, large "media" is preferred to soil.
Flowering: May to June.
Aspect: Sun (not too intensive), in a six to nine inch pot.
Hardiness: Indoor plant.

Notes: Since even the Victorian era, the classification of this plant has been cause of fervent debate - it has been named and renamed, at one point named after King Leopold I of Belgium, Catteleya leopoldii.

Caryota urens.

Having looked at the tallest in the Palm House, here now is surely the most fascinating. The Caryota urens is also known as the fishtail palm (due to the shape of its leaves), and I love this marine name. As well as its plentiful foliage, it has great clusters of flowers that truly resemble waterfalls - as though the whole tree is spilling forth with verdant life.


Caryota urens, "Fishtail Palm".
(Palm tree.)

Planting: Nowhere near England!
Flowering: Monoecious, monocarpic.
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Subtropical and tropical habitat.


Notes: The specimen at Kew had grown to a grand stature of twelve metres, with gardeners beginning to                         fear for the glass roof! In a moment of magical timing, however, it had recently burst into flower-                        sparing both the roof and the final days of the tree (Caryota urens is monocarpic).

Attalea butyracea.

I realise that for many people, dense forest can be a little claustrophobic. However, I must admit I rather enjoy the sensation of looking up and seeing leaves high above me; it means there isn't a single angle in which the eye can't see teeming life. In the tropical Palm House at Kew, this atmosphere is created by the towering Attalea butyracea.
(All credit to the superbly named 'Danger Garden' blog for this image.)

Attalea butyracea, "Yagua palm".
(Palm tree.)


Planting: No English season! Very moist soil (floodplain) required, as well as heat.
Flowering: Monoecious.
Aspect: Full sun.
Hardiness: Encountered in the hot and humid Palm House at Kew, presumably not hardy!

Notes: Most of the online material concerning the "Yagua Palm" is in Spanish, so much of this information                        may be incorrectly translated on my part. However, it seems that this is a plant vital to many South                      American communities, providing thatch for housing, animal feed, and even a wine-like drink                                  from the flesh of its fruit.

Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew.

What a perfect weekend down south- I saw my lovely grandparents and cousins, and my family & I spent Saturday at Kew Gardens.

It is a marvellous place, in the fullest sense of the word. The desire to stop and linger over every interesting plant struggles with the urge to dash about the grounds trying to see everything!
Needless to say, I did not see everything, yet I am nevertheless weighed down with books and notes of my favourite plants. My posts over the next few weeks (or months!) shall be greatly influenced by this single day.