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..."