The Estate.

          Of the four RHS gardens, Hyde Hall is the youngest - yet interestingly at three hundred and sixty acres it is also the one with the most land to its name. Vast swathes stretch far, far beyond the main garden, and are referred to simply as 'The Estate'.
     
        The man who cares for the Estate is Elliot Wagstaff, a fresh face on the team but knowledgeable in native flora and fauna. We walked around his domain this morning, as he pointed out to me many things the untrained eye would overlook: the first primroses of spring, purple alder buds, 'Dog's Mercury', and even tawny owl feathers (pictured left) in the grasses.

          However, the most exciting aspect of the day was seeing how the young trees are growing on the Estate. In January, I partook in an effort to plant thousands of saplings in the southern and eastern borders: oaks, maples, pines, apples and many more. It was a hard task indeed with ice and mud, cold winds and the odd hailstorm, and voles have torn through earlier plantations ruinously. Yet with warming camaraderie, we pushed on with ambition undimmed. It was wonderful to now see many of the trees alive and with new buds, and to admire the size of those planted by others in previous years. The hope is for a dense, rich woodland to encircle Hyde Hall - complimenting the surrounding landscape, nurturing wildlife, and creating a beautiful place for visitors to lose themselves in.

The Meadow.

Whether I'm driving or walking to Hyde Hall, every morning I pass the old oak tree in the picture above. It sits a little way out from the rest of the garden, so it is the first thing I see at dawn and the last thing I see on the way home - it is certainly one of my favourite sights here in Essex.

For this reason, I'm delighted to look at the tree now at the centre of what-shall-soon-be a new meadow. With guidance from the greatly esteemed Professor James Hitchmough (famed for the London 2012 Olympic Park meadows), the designs I have seen look brilliant: waves of varying plants, each swathe native to a different country. Bring on the summer - I expect I shall be spending even more time looking over towards that tree!

The meadow method:
-Remove any existing vegetation and wait for two months. Repeat this twice.
-Get to work on the soil, breaking it up into as crumbly a texture as possible.
-Cover the soil with sand, seventy-five millimetres in depth (this is due to Hyde Hall's clay soil).
-Using measuring tape or rods, and rope or markers, assess the size of the land (consider dividing large areas     into portions) - and thus how thickly or thinly the seed should be spread.
-Mix meadow seeds with sawdust to spread them further, if necessary.
-Sow the seeds in the month suggested by suppliers.
-Give the land a gentle raking to bury seeds into the sand.
-Protect your hard work under a layer of jute with a high gauge (large gaps for seedlings to rise through).              This will biodegrade naturally. Alhough metal pegs will hold jute in place, they tend not to biodegrade so well  and do not get on cosily with lawnmowers or strimmers.
-Cup of tea.

Cambridge University Botanic Garden and Anglesey Abbey.

As the sun continues to refamiliarise itself with the grounds of Hyde Hall, it feels like a very special place to be. Nevertheless, my fortune seems all the greater when so many fresh and interesting projects are currently afoot there. The next few posts will take a look at some of them.

First of all, the Winter Garden. Although fantastic winter flora can be found throughout Hyde Hall -dogwoods and willows, hellebores and bergenias - hitherto it has not had a dedicated winter garden. However, work has already begun to change this, and the Clover Hill team (myself included) set off north to find ideas and inspiration.

Two of the finest winter gardens nearby belong to Cambridge University Botanic Garden and Anglesey Abbey. It is worth noting at this point that I had already visited the former in recent times (post below), but it is remarkable how much change is visible even from December - blossom now upon its Prunus mume (right), and of course bulbs rising through the earth. It clearly illustrates one should never underestimate what can happen within even a single season!

To keep colours burning through the darkest days of the year is a mighty feat. However, winter gardens therefore tend to display colour so brightly and triumphantly that I tend to find them quite overwhelming. Nonetheless, both gardens had views that completely enraptured me - especially Anglesey Abbey's drifts of snowdrops and winter aconites, and its birch grove (right). David the Assistant Head Gardener explained to us that the birches are kept perfectly white with just a simple water hose-down, and by not peeling them!

RHS Wisley Garden.

Having come through the coldest part of the year, the days have been gently turning milder over the last fortnight. The frosts have passed, and my long-johns are stowed back in their drawer. Nevertheless, I certainly had not been anticipating anything tropical around the corner - until an unexpected trip to Wisley beckoned.

I joined Matt of Hyde Hall's Hilltop team on a trip to collect bundles of birch rods (as you can see by the picture of the truck, his wood-stacking talents would set him as decent a lumberjack as he is a gardener). Once that was done, we took a minute to step out of the elements and into the humming, steaming warmth of the Wisley glasshouse.

Every spring, Wisley has a 'Butterflies in the Glasshouse' exhibition - in which hundreds of spectacular butterflies are released among its jungle fauna. Of course as an apprentice horticulturalist the exotic plants were utterly fascinating (particularly Ravenala madagascariensis, Tabebuia impetiginosa, and Dypsis leptocheilos), but this time around it was the butterflies that won the battle over my camera!

Essex Mornings.

This is where I work - quite a lucky young chap, to be honest.

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!