Lysichiton camtschatcensis, The Western Skunk Cabbage.

Last weekend the sun came out. For those of you who are not British, sunny weather, even when it’s still cold, means the UK population suddenly feels compelled to wear as little clothing as possible and bare acres of pasty white flesh. It’s not a pretty sight. Happily another side effect of these sunny spells in spring is that everything decides to flower at once. And that makes for a very pretty sight indeed.

Quite how it’s taken so long for me to get around to visiting The Savill Garden, on the edge of Windsor Great Park, I don’t know. I lived less than 25 miles away for 15 years whilst studying and living in Reading, but never made it here. Fortunately, the great thing about great gardens is that they stay put and get better with age.

The stream, edged with Lysichiton, from Middle Bridge.

Until the middle of the 20th century, Windsor Great Park was essentially without any great public gardens. Then came Sir Eric Savill in 1931, who gained endorsement from George V to create a woodland garden in an area of oak forest on the fringes of the royal park. The ground was sandy and gave rise rise to numerous natural springs. Today these fill two ponds connected by a meandering stream. The ground was cleared of brambles, birches and aggressive Rhododendron ponticum, so that by 1939 the garden had more or less taken shape. Nowadays, fancier Rhododendron hybrids make their home here, including Rhododendron ‘Wayford’ and ‘Jocelyn’, below.

Rhododendron ‘Wayford’.

Rhododendron ‘Jocelyn’.

Originally referred to as the Bog Garden, in 1951 George VI decreed that it should become known as The Savill Garden. Knighted in 1955, Sir Eric directed the gardens until 1970, passing away in 1980. Sir Eric’s guiding principles of intelligent design, quality plants and excellent maintenance are still very much in evidence today and it was impossible to pick fault with the quality of the gardening.

Though it offers something to see throughout the year, The Savill Garden is best known for its spring display. The cast of flowers starring here last weekend was endless. The leading ladies were the magnolias, resplendent in subtle and not so subtle shades of pink. On leaving the Savill building (top of post), visitors are welcomed to the show by a mature Magnolia loebneri ‘Merrill’, smothered with ice-white flowers and attracting considerable attention.

Magnolia loebneri ‘Merrill’ in front of The Savill Building.

Away from the limelight, in a far corner of the garden near the summer house, is the visionary Knight’s namesake, Magnolia sprengeri var. sprengeri ‘Eric Savill’, with large, boldly pink flowers emerging from buds the size of shrews. I wonder if Sir Eric lived to see this tree flower and if so what he thought of it.

Magnolia sprengeri var. sprengeri ‘Eric Savill’.

The show’s unconventional leading men have to be Lysichiton americanus and Lysichiton camtschatcensis (above), both skunk cabbages, but the former hailing from North Amercia and the latter from Asia. Unusually for anything Amercian, the yellow L. americanus is slightly smaller, but both species appear to spread prolifically when happy. A new hybrid has arisen in the garden which has creamy coloured spathes. After flowering, enormous, paddle like leaves are produced, but by then the performance is over. Here at the Savill gardens Lysichiton light up the boggy meadows and streamsides like the footlights on a grand stage.

In the alpine meadow on the south-west side of the garden, the moist, open grassland is peppered with species daffodils and snake’s head fritillaries. The most prominent daffs are the native lent lily (Narcissus pseudonarcissus), the hoop petticoat daffodil (Narcissus bulbocodium) and the narrow, swept-back cyclamen flowered daffodil, Narcissus cyclamineus. The effect is completely natural but actually began from just a handful of seeds strewn across the meadow.

Narcissus bulbocodium in the alpine meadow.

At this time of the year it pays to keep your eyes to the ground, and close to The Savill Building large clumps of pink Corydalis solida lit up the sward.

Corydalis solida growing in meadow grass.

Arguably my favourite part of the garden was the secluded Hidden Gardens, where the rich peat beds were already bursting forth with choice bulbs and perennials. Lighting up the shade were thousands of star-like Erythronium revolutum, the beautiful mahogany fawn lily. The speckled foliage is a bonus, but no match for one of my favourite foliage plants, Veratrum album, the false helleborine, which has amazing, corrugated bright green leaves followed by white flowers in summer. But beware, the root is very poisonous, with a paralyzing effect on the nervous system. Even sniffing the flowers can cause nasty health problems. A plant best admired from afar!

Erythronium revolutum in the Hidden Gardens.

The corrugated leaves of Veratrum album.

Finally, no spring garden is complete without primulas. The Savill Garden provides the ideal environment for many moisture loving species, including Primula prolifera, P. beesiana, and P. japonica. However I was particularly taken with the yellow, cowslip-like flowers of P. elatior ‘Leucophylla’, a subspecies of the native oxlip.

Primula elatior ‘Leucophylla’.

At any time off year, The Savill Garden is well worth a visit, but especially during spring when the magnolias, rhododendrons and camellias are in their prime. Despite all the modern facilities, shops and eateries, when you get out into the garden itself it’s easy to get lost in the plants and birdsong, forgetting you’re just a few miles away from Heathrow.

The Savill Garden

The far south east corner of Kent is frequently overlooked, regarded by many as nothing more than the down-at-heel gateway to the delights of France and continental Europe. Yet behind the white cliffs of Dover lies rolling countryside dotted with sturdy Saxon churches, pretty weather-boarded villages and the romantically crumbling former defences of the realm. A superlative example of the latter is Saltwood Castle, dating back to the year 488 when Kent still had its own king, one Aesc, son of Hengist. A more picturesque and perfectly English castle it’s hard to imagine, and Saltwood has seen a lot of action over its 1500 year history. The artist Claude Lorrain would have revelled in the fortress’ setting, on a wooded promontory between two streams. These originally fed into briny coastal inlets, hence the name Saltwood.

The former home of irreverent tory MP Alan Clark, Saltwood Castle also attracted the attention of a less savoury historical figure, Nazi Hermann Göring, who earmarked it as his post invasion residence. Had Göring ever made it across the channel, I sincerely hope he’d have ended up quartered in one of the less salubrious parts of the building, such as the west dungeon. It needed a bit of ‘doing up’, but was no better than he deserved.

Thankfully, in the more benign hands of the Clark family, the castle continues to be maintained as a very atmospheric private home, the gardens littered with ruined walls and truncated staircases. The photograph at the top of the post shows the main accommodation and the inner bailey. The grounds are opened to the public just once a year, for a plant fair in aid of the NSPCC. This was the second year we’d visited, and both times the weather started warm and sunny and ended in a freezing deluge – that’s May Bank Holiday weekend for you! There were lots of goodies on display, and not all of them plants. We bought some delicious blue “Saint Michael” cheese from the nice people representing Silcock’s Farm in Tenterden and enjoyed a cracking beef burger with lashings of onions. Of course, I succumbed to temptation, purchasing a tender Fuchsia arborescens, some Brunnera macrophylla ‘Jack Frost’ for the London garden and numerous herbs to plant around the outdoor kitchen once the works are completed. As many of you are aware, I have absolutely no will-power when it comes to buying plants.

The woods, orchards and churchyards in this part of the country are full of flowers in spring, so this was the perfect weekend to get out and about. Looking around, the season is evidently a month behind, the blackthorn only just in bloom and most cherries still in bud. It’s too early for the bluebells too, but swathes of lady’s smock (Cardamine pratensis), glistening wood anemones (Anemone nemorosa) and primroses (Primula vulgaris) appear wherever good light falls between the bare branches. In a few weeks the canopy will have closed and these spring beauties will return quietly to sleep.

Primula vulgaris

Planted on a grassy bank below the castle’s imposing bailey was a drift of blue Anemone blanda, not a native, but seemingly very happy to be romping through the lush sward.

Daffodils, delayed by the cold, are still going strong, and were plentiful around the castle moat. Exuberant doubles mingled with golden trumpets and late flowering Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus, in a scene more reminiscent of early April than early May. This crescendo of flowers is the silver lining to our chilly spring, with everything seemingly in a mad dash to catch up with the advancing year.

Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus , the pheasant’s eye daffodil, is one of the best spring bulbs for naturalising in grass. The sweetly scented blooms with their striking red-edged ‘eyes’ associate well with other native wild flowers, such as snake’s head fritillaries (Fritillaria meleagris) and cowslips (Primula veris), which flower roughly at the same time. When I was a child, the UK population of cowslips had been decimated by modern agricultural practices, but thanks to conservation efforts are now plentiful once again.

Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus, the pheasant’s eye daffodil.

Primula veris, the common cowslip, once again abundant in the wild, as well as in gardens.

Keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings, and looking less than impressed by the coachloads of plant enthusiasts invading his peaceful territory, was a rather splendid peacock. The peacock’s distinctive call is, for me, synonymous with castles and stately homes, where they frequently strut their stuff in surroundings commensurate with their own look of importance. This splendid chap was guarding the compost bin in the corner of the kitchen garden, nicely sheltered from the biting wind.

Normally, I’d say two doses of Daily Flower Candy in one day would be bad for one’s health, but I couldn’t go to bed without sharing at least one of the sugary delights from today’s visit to Sandling Park. The display of rhododendrons, magnolias and azaleas was absolutely stunning, the late spring sunshine bringing everything into bloom at once. Full report to follow soon, in the meantime, enjoy this delightful deciduous azalea with it’s candy coloured flowers…..but remember to brush your teeth afterwards!

There are those that frown upon the lusty delights of rhododendrons, camellias and azaleas. I am not one of them. I expect these naysayers are the same folk who dislike orchids, with their similar flambuoyance and tendencies towards artifice. Yes, rhododendrons are big, bold and brazen, but they offer up colour aplenty in saturated hues of red, magenta and purple as well as blushing pinks, pretty primroses and sparkling whites. They are uncompromising, even in the wild as we experienced in Bhutan, but boy are they crowd pleasers. In celebration of their tremendous variety and flower power I have organised the images in this post into colour order, hopefully avoiding any nasty clashes.

A Kurume azalea prepares to put on a show.

Azalea ‘Mrs Peter Koster’.

It would take someone with a very hard heart not to be uplifted by the spring display at Sandling Park. The gardens, which spread over 25 acres, are listed Grade II and are an absolute treasure trove of rhododendrons and azaleas. Sandling has one of the finest collections in the country, comprising 20 national champion trees, 200 wild sourced trees which retain their collectors’ numbers and the same number of magnolia species and hybrids. All in all an astonishing array of very fine plants.

Sandling Park does not enjoy the picturesque surroundings of Cornish counterparts such as Trellisick and Glendurgan. There are no tantalising sea views here, but the gardens nestle very comfortably in woodland which was once part of the medieval forest of Westenhanger. Acid soils are rare in this part of England, but a pocket of greensand, drained by natural springs, creates the perfect environment for this very special collection of plants.

Although dominated by rhododendrons, magnolias, azaleas and camellias, Sandling has much more to offer, including narcissus, erythroniums, primulas and ferns. These were all in their prime, covering grassy banks and the many rivulets draining into a quiet valley. The many mature trees in the grounds include cedars of Lebanon and what I believe to be a form of beech with fine, delicate foliage, below. Clumps of the royal fern, Osmunda regalis, were so mature that they formed tufts almost two feet above the ground.

An, as yet, unidentified beech.

Osmunda regalis

All the rhododendrons were showstoppers, held back by the cold spring and now flowering at once, but these violet blue ones were especially dazzling. Several visitors commented that they almost looked as if they had been sprayed, so unusual was it to see flowers this colour. What you can’t tell is that they smelled as good as they looked.

Electric blue rhododendrons

I’m guessing genuine rhododendron haters would have stopped reading by now, but if blue is a little bit too challenging for you, there were several hybrids with softer mauve or lavender flowers including R. ‘Contina’ and delicate R. augustinii. ‘Exbury Form’. The latter was so vast and spreading that visitors could walk straight underneath it.

Rhododendron ‘Contina’

Pinks, of course, were not in short supply, many camellias still going strong. I have a slight preference for the single forms of camellia such as C. ‘Cornish Spring’ and C. ‘St Ewe’ and an aversion to any that hold onto their dying flowers.

Camellia ‘Cornish Spring’

By rights the magnolias should have been over, but not this year. Amongst Sandling’s 200 varieties was this classic shell-pink number with large blooms. Alas, like many plants here, it was not labelled, but an effort is underway to identify and label all the garden’s treasures.

We come now to the luscious blush pinks, creams and sparkling whites, which are probably my favourites. The stand-out plant for me in the whole garden was one Rhododendron ‘Rex’, alongside Pieris formosa the only shrub to stop us in our tracks because of its foliage. The leaves are deep green with a pale buff woolly ‘indumentum’ beneath. This gives the whole plant a slightly ghostly feel, but when studded with ice white flowers it’s easy to see why the Royal Horticultural Society have just awarded it the AGM.

Rhododendron ‘Rex’.

Rhododendron ‘Rex’.

I hope you’ve enjoyed The Frustrated Gardener’s little whirl through the colour spectrum – it was tough deciding what to leave out, which is probably why this post has taken so long. I’ll feature many of the other plants at Sandling through Daily Flower Candy over the coming days.

Meanwhile Sandling Park is open just once a year in aid of Pilgrims Hospices, so if you’re in the area, look out for the 2014 dates. If you’re not a rhododendron lover, keep a very wide berth!

I find deciduous azaleas completely irresistible, although I don’t have the right conditions to grow them. They are now lumped in with the extended rhododendron family, but are unrivalled for the brightness and abundance of their flowers which emerge before the leaves. What really does it for me is the sweet scent of the flowers. When mingled with damp moss and pine needles the smell sums up the great woodland gardens of England and Scotland. Pictures all taken last week in the Brentry Woodland (names given where labelled) at the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens, Hampshire. Don’t take my word for it – go now to see and smell them in all their glory!

Rhododendron (Azalea) ‘Fireball’

Rhododendron (Azalea) ‘Klondike’

Rhododendron (Azalea) ‘Northern Highlights’

Rhododendron (Azalea) ‘Freya’

Rhododendron (Azalea) ‘Il Tasso’

For a superior selection of deciduous azaleas, visit Millais Nurseries

No, it’s not an exotic ginger or some new discovery from the steamy rainforests of Vietnam, it’s the detail of the bud scales of Rhododendron macabeanum . One of the easiest of the large-leaved rhododendrons to grow, it has a lot to offer if you have a sheltered spot with acidic, well drained soil. Huge leaves with furry undersides, silvery new growth and large heads of creamy yellow flowers in spring are all part of the package. Pictured here at the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens, Hampshire, a long way from its origins in Assam, India.

Over the last two days I’ve experienced complete sensory overload. Yesterday’s highlight was the RHS London Plant and Design Show, where I was dazzled by oceans of irises and fountains of rare and beautiful snowdrops. Considering the winter we’ve had, the likes of Jacques Amand (above) and Avon Bulbs still managed to create extraordinary displays, deserving of the gold medals they were awarded.

Driving through the night to Cornwall was necessary pain, for the gain of being first in the queue for Bosvigo’s annual Hellebore Day. Nothing prepared me for the delicate, sunlit tapestry of early spring flowers in Wendy Perry’s garden, or for the temptation of the home grown hellebores on offer. In the same way that ice cream contains no calories, shopping for good plants surely costs nothing? Ontop of the exhilaration of bagging four absolutely exquisite examples of the ‘Bosvigo Doubles’ strain (just one pictured below), it was simply a thrill to be outside in clean air, under blue skies.

Soon we were off again, barrelling down the flooded lanes south east of Truro to Caerhays Castle, where the camellias and early rhododendrons were already in full bloom. Despite destructive gales, the venerable shrubs remain protected by mature shelterbelts and vast magnolias, which will join the spring display within days.

All this fresh air and excitement has made me a little bit giddy, but what a way to blow away the cobwebs and regain enthusiasm for the gardening year ahead. Check back over the coming days for more on each of these events (well perhaps not the 7 hour drive!) and some photographs which I hope will make you giddy too!

Spring 2013 arrived fashionably late. This was convenient for us, as we’d been travelling in Bhutan during the prime time for camellias, rhododendrons and azaleas at home. One of the highlights on our return was a visit to Sandling Park, Kent, which opens just once a year in aid of Pilgrim’s Hospices.  

Sandling’s gardens are extensive, home to 20 national champion trees and 200 wild-sourced specimens which retain their original collectors’ numbers. In May Sandling is a feast for the eyes, decked out with lipstick-pink camellias, blushing magnolias, dazzling rhododendrons and a sizzling display of azaleas. There is nowhere else quite like it in this part of Kent, and well worth taking the trouble to visit.  You will leave as one of the privileged few to experience this special garden each year.

There is a lot to see, so give yourself a couple of hours to complete the full circuit of the grounds, which is about a mile long.  Revive yourself at the end of your visit with a nice cup of tea or some retail therapy at the plant stall.

This year’s opening is Sunday 11th May, 10 am – 5pm.  Admission £4.

The garden is situated 1½ miles NW of Hythe. Entrance from the A20 only. From M20 J11 turn east onto A20. Entrance ¼ mile.  There is ample free parking but wheelchair access to the garden is very limited.

Find out more on the Pilgrim’s Hospice website

Read about our visit to Sandling Park in 2013

Over the next couple of weekends, two of Kent’s most beautiful and enigmatic gardens will be opening their gates to the curious public. Both reveal their secrets on just one day each year, so are a must if you are in the county and love to visit special places.

Kurume azaleas at Sandling Park

The first of our Kentish Belles is medieval Saltwood Castle near Hythe, home of the late Alan Clark MP, opening to raise funds for the NSPCC. This year’s date is Saturday May 3rd. Saltwood is everything one could want of an English castle; there’s a foreboding keep, crumbling walls wreathed in roses, dungeons and a ruined chapel. If you fancy going the whole hog, archery lessons are offered in the moat, which is thankfully now dry. There are always excellent plants on offer as well as art, pottery and artisan foods for sale. Shelter and other creature comforts are limited as this is a private home for 364 days of the year, so bring a coat, umbrella and an empty car boot for all your purchases. It’s a popular event come rain or shine. You can read more about last year’s open day here and get opening and entrance details from the NSPCC website.

Plant sales at last year’s Saltwood Castle open day

Only a stone’s throw away is Sandling Park, which opens on Sunday May 11th for Pilgrims Hospices. This year promises to be a vintage year for blooms, following a mild start to spring. If, like me, you love the unashamed exuberance of rhododendrons and azaleas you will love Sandling Park. There are some very choice rhododendrons, grown to perfection amongst a remarkable number of champion trees, and a second-to-none collection of deciduous azaleas. Last year was so cold that they were barely in flower in early May, so this year should offer a very different experience. Find out more about my visit to Sandling Park last year and more details on Pilgrims Hospices own website.

More of Sandling Park’s incredible azaleas 

There was such an extraordinary amount going on in May that I am now working through a draft post pile-up. In contrast to the scarcity of blogging fodder during the winter months, early summer offers incredibly bounty. I find myself spoilt for choice and with a backlog of fine subjects to share. Now that June is here, I can reflect on the marvellous Kentish gardens I visited during May – Saltwood Castle, Sissinghurst, The Salutation, Goodnestone Park and, last but not least, Sandling Park.

Open on just one Sunday each year in support of Pilgrim’s Hospices, Sandling’s ancient woodland is situated in a small area with acidic soil, a rarity in chalky East Kent. The garden that’s been created in this unique spot is lavishly planted with a collection of rhododendrons, camellias and azaleas which have been collected over the last hundred years or so. After a period of neglect, beginning in the 1960s and ending in the 1990s, the Hardy family have effected a very successful restoration; nothing too neat and tidy, but reopening pathways and clearing some of the most overgrown areas. Old rhododendron and azalea cultivars, many no longer available commercially, have been identified and labelled. New stock has been planted in the gaps created by the Great Storm of 1987 and in areas cleared of Rhododendron ponticum. 

An unnamed double azalea with flowers in subtle shades of pink, amber and peach

Narrow streams cut into deep gullies drain the garden, each lined with its own unique shade of candelabra primula, ranging from pure white to cherry red. Osmunda, gunnera and polygonatum provide a supporting cast of foliage.

Primula japonica finds its feet in damp shade.

In a good year, when the weather is kind, Sandling’s deciduous azaleas steal the show with a display that’s nothing short of psychedelic. Flaming oranges and scorching pinks vie with zesty lemons and brilliant whites, creating a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour. This would be sufficient, but on top of the sizzling colour comes the unmistakable perfume of sun-warmed azalea flowers. It’s a scent I’d happily have under my nose every day.

Rhododendron ‘Orient’, an Exbury Hybrid introduced by Lionel de Rothschild in the late 1920s.

Deciduous azaleas originate from temperate areas of the world including Turkey, the USA, Japan and Taiwan. Most appreciate an acid soil and partial shade at the edge of woodland. Growing to around 1.5m in 10 years they are ideal shrubs for small garden. Prolific breeding means that there are varieties on offer which extend the flowering season from April through to early July. Autumn will see many deciduous azaleas produce colourful displays before the foliage drops. All azaleas are now officially classified as rhododendrons, but are still more commonly known by their original name. The identity of many of Sandling’s cultivars have been lost in time, although they lose nothing in their anonymity. I find it hard to choose favourites, but here are just a few of the garden’s specialities.

Rhododendron calendulaceum – commonly known as the flame azalea, and for good reason. The naked branches bear elegant scarlet flowers before new growth begins in spring. It flowers from May to June and has excellent autumn foliage colour.

Rhododendron ‘Mrs Oliver Slowcock’ – alas I can find no official description of this marvellously named variety, but it appears WC Slowcock was a nursery back in the 1960s. Clear tangerine flowers form shapely heads against a background of lime green foliage.

Rhododendron ‘Norma’ – a vibrant, sweetly scented rose-red double tinted with salmon and orange. Introduced in 1888.

Rhododendron ‘Favor Major’ – another stunner, and a parent of R. ‘Fireball’ which carries the RHS Award of Garden Merit. Flame red with an amber sheen to its petals.

Rhododendron ‘Cannon’s Double’ – more delicious than a knickerbocker glory, the flowers begin deep pink in bud, and opens light apricot and primrose with a reddish pink shading to the outer petals. It has excellent autumn foliage.

Rhododendron ‘Thisbe’ – I haven’t found any information about this lovely variety, which appears no longer to be available commercially. Shell pink flowers emerge from deep pink buds with the upper petals stained the colour of egg-yolk. Glorious.

Rhododendron ‘Corneille’ – vivid crimson buds open to reveal cherry blossom pink blooms which fade subtly with age. The flowers, which have the appearance of growing one inside the other, are described as ‘hose-in-hose’. A prettier shrub it’s hard to imagine.

Rhododendron narcissiflorum AGM – a nicely shaped shrub covered with sweetly scented, double flowers in May and June, followed by good autumn colour. At Sandling, carpets of pink saponaria grow beneath the spreading branches.

An unnamed azalea with white flowers stained golden yellow and blush pink petal edges. Rhododendron ‘Northern Hi-Lights’ is an Exbury type with similar colouration.

Rhododendron atlanticum ‘Seaboard’ – If all those fancy colours and fussy flowers are not for you, this is a perfect choice with flowers shaped like jasmine and a heavenly fragrance to match. Low growing and stoloniferous, so will slowly creep along the ground, rooting as it goes.

For an excellent selection of deciduous azaleas in the UK, try Chelsea gold medal winners Millais Nurseries in Surrey.

If you missed this year’s open day at Sandling Park, your next chance will be in May 2015.

From a very early age my parents took me and my sister to visit gardens. I like to think the reason was to cultivate our interest in flowers and plants, but as one follower of this blog commented recently (with reference to another Cornish garden, Trebah), it was probably to keep us both from wreaking havoc elsewhere. The upshot of all this outdoor activity, which worked for me either way you choose to look at it, is that I have enjoyed a lifelong relationship with a handful of gardens, mainly in Cornwall. Return visits to these precious spots are imbued with a completely different sense of understanding and recognition. Without thinking I can spot where trees have grown or been felled, where standards have fallen or new opportunities opened up. It’s like seeing an old friend who has moved abroad and returns home once in a blue moon, except I am the one doing all the travelling.

We were never without helichrysums (Xerochrysum bracteatum) when I was growing up.

Trengwainton in West Cornwall is one such garden. Like an old friend it rarely changes except perhaps for the horticultural equivalent of a new hairdo. Since those earliest visits the carpark had grown (as, sadly, have all National Trust carparks), smart visitor facilities have been built and the productive side of the walled gardens has been reinvigorated. Apart from that, change has been organic, the 90 year old gardens progressing gently towards the centenary of their creation by one Lt-Col. E.H.W. Bolitho.

On retiring from the army Colonel Bolitho became High Sheriff of Cornwall and was later knighted. His horticultural masterstroke was to recognise that his head gardener, a Mr Creek, had a gift for propagation. He was given carte blanche to develop his talents at Trengwainton. Other great Cornish gardens, including those at Caerhays Castle, supported the creation Col. Bolitho’s pleasure grounds, offering seasoned advice and gifts of plants collected around the globe.

Unlike the garden around it, Trengwainton House can hardly be described as a masterpiece

In 1926 Col. Bolitho joined a triumvirate of investors, including Lawrence Johnston of Hidcote and George Johnstone of Trewithen, to back Kingdon Ward’s 1927-8 planting hunting expedition to North East Assam and Upper Burma. Rhododendron seeds found on that trip gave rise to the garden’s enviable collection. Mr Creek’s expertise, combined with the mild Cornish weather, meant that several species flowered for the first time in the British Isles at Trengwainton. From then on there was a great flurry of development, including the creation of a stream garden, planting of further shelter belts and extension of the walled gardens to create space in which the Colonel could cosset his most tender plants. To this day Trengwainton remains the only UK mainland garden with conditions warm enough to cultivate many sub tropical plants, making it very special indeed.

Fascicularia bicolor, a Chilean bromeliad, growing in the boughs of a magnolia

The flowers are even more fascinating close-up

Although the gardens had welcomed the public since 1931, they did not pass to the current owners, The National Trust, until 1961. Thanks to West Cornwall’s relative remoteness and the large scale of the gardens, commercialization remains relatively low-key. On a quiet day the winding paths can be enjoyed very much as Colonel Bolitho would once have appreciated them. Surely he would be overjoyed to see the towering scale of his tree ferns (Dicksonia antartica), which now stand 4m high with trunks the size of Grecian columns.

Begonia grandis subsp. evansiana is unusual in that it’s hardy in most UK gardens

My favourite part of the garden is the series of walled gardens, which were constructed before Colonel Bolitho’s tenure, in the 1820s, to the floor plan of Noah’s Ark. It’s in these cossetted confines that may of Trengwainton’s tenderest treasures flourish, including a fine collection of fuchsias from around the globe and Chilean rarity Jovellana violacea. For the keen plantsperson this series of enclosed ‘rooms’ with their balmy microclimate is heaven on earth – I could spend hours wandering from one to another with notebook and camera in hand. Some of the plots have enormous magnolias planted at their centre, sending their low, sweeping branches out to fill every corner.

A mix of exotics, cottage garden plants and vegetables surround the gardener’s cottage

Each subdivision of the walled garden features steeply sloping, west-facing beds. These were designed to catch the rays of the sun and bring forward crops of fruit and vegetables, which might already be among the first in the country ready for picking.

Trengwainton’s west-facing raised beds are a unique feature of the walled gardens

Modern-day Trengwainton enjoys the additional adornment of scarecrows in the guise of famous historical characters …..

A scarecrow, impersonating Florence Nightingale, keeps watch over the chard with Einstein in the background!

….. and at the time of our visit in late September a magnificent harvest of pumpkins and squashes was laid out on a bed of straw, allowing the fruits’ skins to toughen up before storing, eating or carving into Jack-o’-lanterns.

Like an old friend I have a feeling Trengwainton and I will be reunited again very soon, although I am quite certain of which of us is going to age better!

A sea of freshly harvested pumpkins greeted us on a recent visit

Trengwainton’s balmy environs are worth a visit at any time of year, although winter opening dates are restricted. Check on the National Trust website for further details.

The chance to view the extraordinary collection of rhododendrons and azaleas built up by the Hardy family at Sandling Park in Kent is one of the highlights of my May. I adore these acid loving shrubs, especially as I have neither the space nor the soil conditions to cultivate them. At Sandling, sheltered in a shallow valley deep with peat, they find the perfect environment and are grown to perfection. Deciduous azaleas, with their fiery flowers and heavenly scent, are a speciality, although a cold April could mean they are a little late coming into bloom this season. Never mind, the range of cultivars grown at Sandling ensures there is something beautiful to see whatever the weather throws at it. It’s the lavender blues that always get me, so dazzling, plentiful and ridiculously romantic.

A garden needs a lot of space to accommodate so many potentially clashing colours. A walk around Sandling’s 25 acre garden will take about 2 hours if you dawdle and stop to take photographs like I do. If the weather is fine you will want to take a moment to find a bench and drink in the sights and sounds. Wear stout footwear as the valley sides are drained by hundreds of springs and tiny rivulets, each fringed with candelabra primulas and erythroniums. The ground can get boggy underfoot towards the bottom of the garden.

Sandling Park is a garden worth going out of the way for and is open just once every year. In 2015 it’s Sunday May 11th from 10am until 5pm. You need not go hungry as there are lovely teas available and plants to buy too. All proceeds go to our marvellous local Kent charity Pilgrims Hospices, so you can indulge yourself in flowers, ferns and fondant fancies without feeling the slightest twinge of guilt.

Click here for directions and further details on the Pilgrims Hospices website.

Other posts about Sandling Park: Great Balls of Fire (2014), A Spring Spectrum (2013).

Primped and polished gardens are all very well (we’ll be seeing a lot of them at Chelsea in a few days’ time) but for those of us who work and can’t afford help they can be a little intimidating. Small imperfections are natural and larger ones excusable. They render a garden approachable and understandable, revealing something about the way it works and the gardener that tends it. Flaws also lend a garden part of its atmosphere: glorious disarray is so much more evocative than clinical maintenance. The only gardens I never warm to belong to those stately homes, suburban villas and monotonous bungalows possessed of velvet-pile lawns, gappy planting and bushes so tightly pruned that they appear to have given up on life.

Exemplifying glorious disarray, if not wild abandon, is a little known valley in South East Kent known as The American Garden. You won’t find it in any guide book, and without a decent map you may not locate it at all. However, during the month of May you’ll find The American Garden open each weekend from 2-5.30pm. I’d urge you to make the detour and immerse yourself in its dank, dark, yet exuberant depths.

This part of The Garden of England has been mercilessly bisected by both the M20 and the HS1 train line on which Eurostar runs. Many years ago, as a Landscape Architect, the firm at which I worked acted for many of the landowners in this part of England who wished to keep their estates intact. Most, including Sandling Park, failed in their appeals. Both routes narrowly miss The American Garden, but the roar of traffic can still be heard.

The American garden is so called because of the Californian redwood tree that was planted at its heart by William Acomb in 1854. Acomb was employed by Archdeacon Croft, who was rector of Saltwood from 1812 until his death in 1869. Educated at Eton and Cambridge (a winning formula then, as now), he married, appropriately, a daughter of the Archbishop of Canterbury. With his stipend of £4,850, which was one of the richest in England at the time, he purchased Saltwood Alders, an area of bog created behind ancient beaver dams. Croft proceeded to clear the land for charcoal manufacture, creating a garden in its wake.

At that time new plant discoveries were arriving thick and fast from around The British Empire, including rhododendrons and azaleas from the Himalayas. Conditions in Archdeacon Croft’s garden mimicked the humid mountain valley climate perfectly and new introductions such as Rhododendron ponticum and R. arboreum flourished in their new home. Having employed William Acomb as gardener, the Archdeacon went on a spending spree, purchasing plants from all corners of the Far East and North America. His successor, Canon Hodgson, continued to build the collection, followed by a gentleman called Alfred Leney, a brewery entrepreneur from Dover who improved the structure of the garden. Between 1947 and 1976 Stanley Harland and his gardener Alex Pleuvry replaced large swathes of laurel with newer varieties of rhododendron, including the Kurume azaleas which still grace the Dell Walk.

Stanley Harland died in 1998, passing the garden on to his son Nigel, who valiantly continues its upkeep. Managing a garden on this scale cannot be easy, especially on a budget. The maintenance regime appears to be one of managed decline, with the focus on clearance and access rather than new planting. This is a pity as there must be many unmarked hybrids in the garden that are worthy of identification and propagation.

On a previous visit a tree-sized Embothrium coccineum, the fabulous Chilean fire bush, grew in the centre of the garden’s largest glade. Sadly this has now fallen, leaving behind the clump of wisteria-covered azaleas that grew in its shade. I hope The American Garden does not go the way of other gardens from this era that have found themselves without sufficient funds; swamped by sycamores and brambles, waiting for rescue. East Kent could benefit from a garden of this kind if only it had the means to smarten up its act and resume the building of a strong plant collection. In the meantime the experience of a visit to The American Garden, parking in a neighbouring orchard and plunging into the gloaming of The Dell, is like entering Jurassic Park. Your senses alive, you’ll discover many things, but there won’t be a tightly clipped bush in sight.

Discover more on The American Garden’s website.

At about 10.30am yesterday morning a small crowd surrounded Monty Don and RHS Director General Sue Biggs as they prepared to announce the prize for ‘Best Large Show Garden’. Their position, next to the island site at the bottom of Main Avenue, left little doubt as to the winner – the Chatsworth Garden designed by Dan Pearson for Laurent-Perrier. It was the bookies’ favourite to take the accolade and, judging by the rapturous applause, the public’s as well.

Managing Director of Laurent-Perrier in the UK, David Hesketh, is the man with the enviable task of selecting a designer for the Champagne house’s Chelsea garden each year. He is clearly persuasive, as Dan Pearson has not designed a Chelsea garden for eleven years. David’s brief to his designer is a simple one, purely to reflect the value’s that Laurent Perrier adhere to when crafting their distinguished cuvées: lightness, freshness and delicacy.

Rocks surrounded by the fragrant flowers of Rhododendron luteum

There can be no argument that David’s brief was achieved. During last night’s BBC coverage Monty Don described The Chatsworth Garden as one of the most significant ever created at the Chelsea Flower Show. I would have to agree. Not only is it one of the largest (no show garden has ever occupied the full island site before) but also one of the most ambitious. Taking his inspiration from two of Joseph Paxton’s lesser known features within Chatsworth’s 105 acre garden – the magnificent rockery and the ornamental trout stream – Dan Pearson has masterminded a garden of unrivalled detail, impeccable naturalism and enormous charm.

The layout of the Laurent-Perrier garden from the northern edge

Dan’s design is unusual for Chelsea in that it can be glimpsed from all sides. This in itself is a challenge as views from every angle have to be considered, whereas in other gardens the main viewpoint is from the front and one side. A tiny stream begins high on an austere rocky outcrop, out of view from visitors. It then flows gently down and through meadows of flowers where it is crossed by giant stone slabs, ending its course in a small pond: “Getting the levels right was crucial” explained David “every stone and pebble in the water course has been carefully secured in place to achieve the right effect”. The mammoth stones used for the garden do not just simulate Paxton’s monumental rockery of 1842, they are the actual rocks that Paxton rejected during his original project. They were found discarded, scattered around the Chatsworth estate, many weighing several tonnes.

Rheums and osmundas in the shadow of Paxton’s gargantuan rocks

Although they are species commonly found in England, the trees that Crocus sourced for Dan Pearson have come from all over Europe. “British nurseries don’t tend to hold mature specimen trees for landscape projects” Crocus founder and CEO Mark Fane told me, “so we had to look to Europe”. The characterful pollarded willow that stands at edge of the garden came from Holland, whilst other trees were found in Germany and France. I was interested to learn that the location of one of the willow trees had to be changed during the build after the team discovered a Victorian sewer running under the site. It was doubtful that the old pipes could have withstood the direct weight of the tree, so it had to be moved elsewhere at the last minute.

The rocks, flanked by Enkianthus campanulatus, through which the tiny stream flows

The comment that was repeated by everyone I overheard was how incredible it was that this garden had been created in a matter of days and yet appeared as if it had been there forever. David Hesketh explained to me that the entire garden had been created at the nursery three months earlier and allowed to knit together over the weeks leading up to the show. Unlike some other show gardens, all the plants were transferred growing in the ground to Chelsea, and not left in pots. A swathe of wild flower meadow was grown specifically for the garden and cut into large square sheets of turf before being transported on trollies to the site.

A grassy bank strewn with red campion, troillius, irises and primulas

The planting creates as rich and colourful a tapestry as one could ever hope to see. Completely unswayed by trends and ‘it’ plants, Dan Pearson has used a palette of natives, carefully augmented by ornamentals, just as you would find in the wilder recesses of a garden like Chatsworth. I loved the floating canopies of Rhododendron luteum;  the fringes of candelabra primulas which appeared to have seeded themselves alongside the stream; the random spikes of camassia and marsh orchids poking through the turf; and the white clouds of Luzula nivea, Lychnis flos-cuculi ‘White Robin’ and Cenolophium denudatum foaming at the base of the trees. There were wonderful touches such as clumps of Narcissus poeticus hiding beneath the bushes and purple stemmed irises along the water’s edge. Many visitors would not have noticed these details, but the judges certainly did.

Turk’s cap lilies in all shades of orange populated shady parts of the garden

I was lucky enough to be invited to walk through the centre of the garden, across a heavy plank boardwalk, over rough stepping stones and then onto a lightly worn grass path. From inside, the garden felt even more permanent, as if I was standing on a little island of Chatsworth that had floated down from Derbyshire to South West London. Any team capable of creating a show garden this convincing deserves a gold medal.

Heavy oak planks invite visitors into the garden

A privileged view from the top of the grass bank inside the garden

Unlike many other show gardens there is a future for the Chatsworth Garden. When the show closes most of the trees, plants and stones will be transported back to Chatsworth where they will be used in the regeneration of the trout stream area. This was one of the main reasons Dan Pearson took on the project. He says: “I felt when I was here the last time it was wrong to make a garden for just five days and I felt uncomfortable about the waste and that the gardens were not being recycled. I wanted to work on something that lasts decades rather than days, so that is why I said I was important that the garden had another life.” The Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, who live at Chatsworth, were clearly delighted with the whole project and spent the day handing out leaflets and talking to the public.

White thalictrum

Dan Pearson vowed yesterday never to work on another Chelsea Garden. In the short term his Garden Bridge project will keep him out of mischief, yet firmly in the limelight. With that under his belt, surely another Chelsea garden will seem like a walk in the park?

In Paxton’s original design for Chatsworth, rocks were delicately balanced so that they could be made to sway for the amusement of visitors

Plant List

A complete plant list was not provided, and would have run to many pages. Here are some of the highlights:

• Asarum europaeum AGM
• Asplenium scolopendrium AGM
• Briza media
• Brunnera macrophylla ‘Betty Bowring’
• Cenolophium denudatum
• Cornus canadensis
• Deschampsia cespitosa
• Digitalis purpurea f. albiflora
• Dryopteris erythrosora AGM
• Enkianthus campanulatus AGM
• Euphorbia palustris AGM
• Hemerocallis lilioasphodelus
• Iris ‘Berlin Tiger’ AGM
• Lonicera pericylmenum ‘Graham Thomas’ AGM
• Lunaria rediviva AGM
• Luzula nivea
• Mahonia ‘Soft Caress’
• Matteuccia struthiopteris AGM
• Melica altissima ‘Alba’
• Osmunda regalis
• Polygonatum x hybridum AGM
• Rhododendron luteum
• Smyrnium perfoliatum

Cornus canadensis carpeting the ground

Over the last two days I’ve experienced complete sensory overload. Yesterday’s highlight was the RHS London Plant and Design Show, where I was dazzled by oceans of irises and fountains of rare and beautiful snowdrops. Considering the winter we’ve had, the likes of Jacques Amand (above) and Avon Bulbs still managed to create extraordinary displays, deserving of the gold medals they were awarded.

Driving through the night to Cornwall was necessary pain, for the gain of being first in the queue for Bosvigo’s annual Hellebore Day. Nothing prepared me for the delicate, sunlit tapestry of early spring flowers in Wendy Perry’s garden, or for the temptation of the home grown hellebores on offer. In the same way that ice cream contains no calories, shopping for good plants surely costs nothing? Ontop of the exhilaration of bagging four absolutely exquisite examples of the ‘Bosvigo Doubles’ strain (just one pictured below), it was simply a thrill to be outside in clean air, under blue skies.

Soon we were off again, barrelling down the flooded lanes south east of Truro to Caerhays Castle, where the camellias and early rhododendrons were already in full bloom. Despite destructive gales, the venerable shrubs remain protected by mature shelterbelts and vast magnolias, which will join the spring display within days.

All this fresh air and excitement has made me a little bit giddy, but what a way to blow away the cobwebs and regain enthusiasm for the gardening year ahead. Check back over the coming days for more on each of these events (well perhaps not the 7 hour drive!) and some photographs which I hope will make you giddy too!

Although I’ve never been able to grow them well, rhododendrons have always held a special place in my heart. I grew up visiting the gardens of Cornwall in the school holidays –  Trewidden, Glendurgan, Trengwainton, Lanhydrock, Trelissick and Penjerrick – long before the gates of Heligan and Trebah had swung open. As a small boy I was overwhelmed by the sight of these glamorous grande dames presiding over their fabulous woodland domains, their emerald-green skirts merging together to form dense trains of foliage studded with jewel-like blooms. I would collect the fallen flowers from the mossy ground and stack them on top of one another to create a kaleidoscopic tower of pink, red, purple and white. To me they were too beautiful to be left to rot: I wanted to give them a second chance.

The practical needs of rhododendrons – their general requirement for acidic soil and generous space – has precluded me from growing these fine shrubs extensively in any of my gardens to date. However, Him Indoors has been briefed that our next home will have several acres of attendant sheltered woodland, situated on a deep bed of acidic leaf litter and watered by springs. I can dream! In the meantime I satisfy my springtime rhododendron craving by visiting the great woodland gardens of the south-east, including The Savill Garden, Hillier Arboretum and Sandling Park, where the photographs in this post were taken this May.

The genus Rhododendron, which includes the shrubs commonly referred to as azaleas, fell out of favour at about the same time we ended our love affair with dahlias, chrysanthemums, gladioli, conifers and hybrid tea roses. Overgrown and gaudily coloured, they became synonymous with the gloomy shrubberies of commuter belt houses and stuffy National Trust properties. Then, to hammer a final nail in the coffin, along came the black sheep of the family, Rhododendron ponticum. It rampaged through forests, nature reserves and National Parks, displacing precious natives, making a general nuisance of itself. Tarred with the same brush, thousands of rhododendron species and named cultivars seemed doomed to linger in the backwaters of every garden centre in the land, waiting for the day when they would be consigned to the clearance bench or tortured by an inexperienced gardener.

Then the fortunes of rhodies, as some fashionable types now refer to them, began to change. It was at about the time that the National Trust started to tackle the restoration of the gardens at Stowe, and when The Lost Gardens of Heligan became unlost, that the tide finally began to turn in their favour. Visitors started to reappraise the these gentle giants, admiring their form, hardiness and myriad flower colours.

Before anyone rushes out to start a rhododendron collection it’s essential to understand what kind of plant you are dealing with. The requirement for an acid growing medium is almost universal and hence a significant limiting factor when most of us cannot naturally offer such conditions.  Cultivation in containers is entirely possible and helped by choosing a compact variety, but watering has to be fastidiously maintained, so rarely is this a long-term solution. In our London garden I grow R. “Sir Charles Butler” in a huge terracotta pot filled with ericaceous compost, sunk into damp ground. Still it requires watering as often as any other pot plant and then with rainwater not tap. Unless you are determined to grow rhododendrons this way, I would not especially recommend it.

Rhododendrons originate principally from the Himalayas where about 600 species can be found. I have been lucky enough to see a handful of them growing wild in India, Nepal and Bhutan. They range from frost tender plants, happy at lower elevations, to large-leaved species growing in conifer forests at around 3000 metres above sea level. As the tree line thins, small-leaved rhododendrons may be found sheltering amongst juniper scrub and alpine meadows, where there may be snow cover for much of the year. In size they range from the diminutive, tropical, tree-hugging vireyas of cool cloud forests to mountaineering, arboreal giants. A few species, such as the Japanese R. yakushimanum are very tolerant, surviving freezing winters and baking hot summers in exposed positions.

Over the last century plant breeders have developed more and more exotic hybrids, with about 20,000 currently registered. To celebrate their 100th anniversary, the RHS Rhododendron, Magnolia and Camellia Group (originally The Rhododendron Society), canvassed members from all over the world to compile a list of the top 100 rhododendrons of the century. All of them can be enjoyed in this video presentation, with the top 10 listed below.

The RHS Rhododendron, Camellia & Magnolia Group Top 10 Rhododendrons

1. R. yakushimanum ‘Koichiro Wada’ AGM
2. R. macabeanum AGM
3. R. ‘Loderi King George’ AGM
4. R. augustinii AGM
5. R. falconeri AGM
6. R. cinnabarinum ssp. cinnabarinum
7. R. bureavii AGM
8. R. arboreum
9. R. pachysanthum AGM
10. R. sinogrande AGM

Whether you’re a rhodie roadie or a committed rhododedrophobe I’d love to hear your thoughts on these incredible shrubs. For me, nothing surpasses a woodland garden in May, the dark green hulks of rhododendrons dripping with flowers and the naked stems of deciduous azaleas alight with flaming, scented blooms – My idea of heaven.

Finally, for those of you who have read this far, it’s The Frustrated Gardener’s 4th Birthday today. Thank you to everyone who has been with me on the journey since the beginning or has caught up with my blog along the way.

 

“We reached Stourhead at 3 o’clock. By that time the sun had penetrated the mist, and was gauzy and humid ….. Never do I remember such a Claude-like, idyllic beauty here. See Stourhead and die.”

James Lees-Milne, May 1947

It is incredible to think 20 years have elapsed since I last visited Stourhead. Incredible because I don’t consider that I’ve lived long enough not to have done something, except eat rusks or use a potty, for 20 years. Incredible because Stourhead is worth visiting much more often and incredible because I know it. So, on a gauzy, humid evening this week, armed with my iPhone, I re-entered the famed gardens to remind myself what I’d been missing for two decades.

It’s hard not to gush when one describes the loveliness of the landscape gardens at Stourhead. They are as close to a vision of earthy paradise as you are likely to witness, in England at least. And that, of course, was the hope and intention of generations of the Hoare family, the creators of these idyllic acres. Started by Henry Hoare in 1743, Stourhead was conceived as a garden in the Arcadian style, incorporating ever-changing vistas around a man-made lake, replete with temples devoted to Apollo and Flora, a rock bridge, a cascade, a grand pantheon, a gothic cottage, a grotto and acres of artfully positioned trees and shrubs. The aim was to create an idealized version of classical antiquity that would amuse, provoke and thrill visitors, and the Hoares exceeded themselves in delivering their romantic concept.

Despite the vision of Eden, all about you is false. From the lakes and islands to the tiny village with its green centered on the medieval Bristol Cross, everything was carefully contrived to create a scene of perfect peace and serenity. I recall, on a university field trip, being told of the allegories that informed the creation of this outstanding garden and its many set-pieces; how visitors were intended to experience intense emotions – good and evil, happiness and melancholy – as they circumnavigated the lake. It was the 18th century version of a roller-coaster ride.

Together with his chief adviser and designer Henry Flitcroft, Henry Hoare employed 50 gardeners, under the supervision of steward Francis Faugoin, to plant and tend thousands of beech, oak, sycamore, Spanish chestnut, ash, yew, larch and holm oak trees. He worked “con spirito” (as the spirit moved him), planting his “naked hills and dreary valleys” in picturesque swathes of varying greens. Inspired by Claude Lorrain, Nicolas Poussin and Gaspard Dughet he worked in a painterly fashion arranging different trees so that dark masses would contrast with lighter, airier ones. Eventually his grandson, Richard Colt Hoare, would add splashes of colour in the form of the rhododendrons for which Stourhead is now famous.

 

“Nymph of the grot, these sacred springs I keep. and to the murmur of these waters sleep; ah! spare my slumbers, gently tread the cave. and drink in silence, or in silence lave”

Alexander pope

 

We were blessed on our evening stroll by perfect conditions: golden sunlight, not a breath of wind, hardly a soul about and a pub at the end of our perambulations. Not just any pub, but The Spread Eagle, one of several estate buildings built specifically to complete the picturesque illusion of an English village. I can confirm it looks even better after two pints of bitter.

As we slowly circled the lake we were enveloped by the distinctive, sickly sweet scent of Rhododendron luteum and watched the white bracts of the handkerchief tree, Davidia involucrata, fluttering lazily down from the shady canopy. In every direction there was a view across the lake towards a temple, or a glimpse across a hazy meadow, or a delicious carpet of fallen blossom to trample through. In places groves of Crinodendron hookerianum, philadelphus, rhododendron and Kalmia latifolia (mountain laurel) were in full bloom.

As a landscape garden, Stourhead stands head and shoulders above its contemporaries: a greater vision of loveliness it’s hard to imagine. This would doubtless have pleased Henry Hoare enormously. Risen from the ranks of the merchant class he sought land on which to make his mark, and that he did. My excursion may have been long overdue, but I am determined that a return visit to Stourhead will not wait another 20 years.

Stourhead, Wiltshire, is owned and managed by the National Trust.

When I go to the Chelsea Flower Show, I want to see flowers. Whilst in the Great Pavilion this expectation is met in spades, occasionally some of the garden designers forget and start getting a bit too green, or worse, brown. This is fine, but don’t expect me to like it. For all its faults, and there were a few, the Chengdu Silk Road garden delivered flowers, and glorious ones at that. There were great mounds of rhododendrons and silken peonies, fragrant roses, rocketing primulas and blushing poppies. The spine of brightly coloured ‘mountains’ aside, this is a Chelsea garden that a visitor from the 1960s might have recognised and I, for one, was glad of it on such a sombre day.

One can say two things for certain about the Chengdu Silk Road Garden: it is bursting with colour and unlike any other garden that’s occupied the notorious island site in recent years. This pivotal plot, awkwardly located on top of one of London’s main sewers has seen its highs (Best in Show: Laurent Perrier Chatsworth Garden in 2015) and its lows. It has also attracted some of Chelsea’s quirkier designs. Anyone who takes on the island site in its entirety (last year it was divided between Sam Ovens and Diarmuid Gavin) must design a garden that can be admired from every angle and make an impression without any kind of backdrop. In that respect, the Chengdu Silk Road Garden did an excellent job. The spine of brightly painted panels, carefully constructed to minimise their weight, divided the plot effectively, allowing designers Laurie Chetwood and Patrick Collins to treat either side of the garden differently.

From the southern aspect we were treated to undulating mounds of foliage, beneath a canopy of neatly pruned Viburnum rhytidophyllum (leather leaf viburnum), a shrub I have never especially liked but which was perfect in this scheme. Grasses such as Miscanthus sinensis and Festuca ovina added texture.

At the western-most tip the grasses gave way to peonies, primulas and buddleias before rising to a crescendo of colour in the form of rhododendrons, astilbes, multitudinous primulas and gorgeous Meconopsis ‘Lingholm’. This is the kind of planting I love to see, and also a reminder of just how many of our favourite garden plants hail from China. It was not for nothing that British Botanist Ernest Henry Wilson titled his 1929 book ‘China, Mother of Gardens’.

Ignoring the spine and central ‘theatre’, which I found myself having to do rather a lot, the planting could have been transported directly from one of my favourite Cornish gardens, or those that enjoy the warming impact of the Gulf Stream in Scotland or Ireland.

Back to the structure, of which I have been a little dismissive, there was a very definite point to it. Chengdu, the provincial capital of land-locked Sichuan, was once the capital of the Chinese Shu kingdom. Chengdu is situated on a vast plain, but surrounded by forested mountains, which the panels represent. You may also recognise Chengdu as the ‘hometown’ of the giant panda, a fact curiously illustrated by a pair of cuddly pandas sitting at the entrance to the garden. I suppose it was too much to expect real pandas.

Since ancient times Sichuan has been known as ‘The Abundant Land’ thanks to its fertile soil and favourable climate. Within the province, in a place called Dujiangyan, one can find the world’s oldest dam-less irrigation system which is still in use today. It’s been effective since 256BC. In the garden water plays a small part, running around the edge of the circular platform which depicts the legend of the Sun and Immortal Birds … that’s another story, which I won’t embellish now.

A series of overlapping ‘tongues’ in various shades of red and pink represent the silk road that ran through Sichuan, linking this ‘Country of Heaven’ to the rest of the world, permitting ceramics, spices, textiles and plants to reach the western world. Just like our food sources, we tend to forget where our plants come from. It was surprising to hear just how many visitors were just discovering the origins of their favourite plants as they admired the spectacle.

After the show, the garden will be moved to Chengdu and used to launch an ambitious city-wide project called ‘Flower-shrouded Chengdu’. This will include building twenty large-scale gardens in the city suburbs. From my experience of China, this is a good thing, and I can imagine the garden sitting well in an urban environment. To Western eyes the reds and pinks may appear a little brash, but in China these are auspicious colours symbolising good fortune and joy.

If I could have changed one thing about this garden, I would have removed the insect hotels from the sides of the coloured panels. Although the garden was drawing in a phenomenal number of bumble bees, these little boxes were just clutter – and that’s coming from someone who is prone to clutter. Next to go would have been the curious perspex lozenges hovering over the garden like some kind of surveillance equipment. There was enough artifice in the garden without the addition of these. And finally, I’d have liked to see the planting come a little closer to edges, especially at the eastern end of the site where the colours cooled beautifully to yellow and white.

So, on the whole a brave and confident treatment of this challenging site and a garden very much better than I had expected. Silver Gilt was well deserved for a garden of such epic proportions filled so beautifully with plants we all know and love. As China’s influence in the world grows further, I expect we will see more Chinese influence at Chelsea in future. I would very much like to see India following suit.

PLANT LIST

To follow very shortly.

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As great days out go, I rank a visit to the Cornwall Spring Flower Show up there with Chelsea and Sissinghurst. It’s a special day for many reasons. The setting alone, deep in rolling parkland at Boconnoc near Lostwithiel, makes it worth a trip from near or far. The Boconnoc Estate has been at the heart of Cornish affairs for over a thousand years. The park, gardens and house wear a mantle of delightfully unspoiled antiquity. From the approach along narrow lanes lined with craggy oaks, one feels transported back to a different era. Look north, south, east or west and you’ll find nothing to connect you with with the twenty-first century, not even a phone signal. Even those whose cars got stuck in the mud on the way into the carpark would have to agree that there are few estates in Cornwall so lovely as Boconnoc.

And then there’s the show itself, one of the earliest in the year and unquestionably the best showcase there is for Cornish specialities, notably magnolias, camellias and daffodils. Entries into the competitive classes are exhibited in the Stable Yard buildings, filling them with colour and scent. All the great estates participate, as well as private gardeners and plant collectors. Not all the entries are top notch, but it’s the taking part that keeps the show alive. Incredibly after such a harsh winter, there was plenty to admire, among the most impressive being a collection of outdoor trees and shrubs exhibited by the hosts, winning first prize and the Rosemary Cobbald-Sawle Cup. The tiered display included generous bouquets of stachyurus, azalea, osmanthus, cherry blossom, Rhododendron macabeanum and pieris (see lead image).

Unlike the big RHS shows, The Cornwall Spring Flower Show is not centred around large, expensive, show gardens, although there were one or two small ones to break up the other exhibits. R&A Scamp’s showcase of daffodils is always a joy and the catalogue a ‘must have’. No time like the present for planning next year’s display! My friends were dazzled by the sheer variety of daffodils available, drooling over the flouncy doubles and split corollas. I prefer my daffodils slightly plainer, and found myself particularly drawn to canary-yellow ‘Arctic Gold’ and diminutive ‘Twinkling Yellow’.

The quality of the nurserymen and women that attend the show is, for me, second to none and more akin to what you’d find at a rare plant fair. If I had to single out a few it would of course include Burncoose for shrubby plants, especially magnolias; Crug Farm Plants for scheffleras; Penberth Plants for proteas, restios and succulents and Barracott Plants for all manner of exotic and architectural plants. New to me was Nicholas Lock, a grower of rare trees and shrubs who was offering the most jaw-dropping array of shrubs and trees. Judging by the twenty-two page plant list, Nicholas has a penchant for buddleias and euonymus, as well as corneas and acers.

Realising that resistance would be futile, I decided to make three of my four purchases here. I can barely contain my excitement at acquiring Buddleia speciosissima, an incredibly sought-after buddleia with felted silver leaves and bright red flowers. I also passed up the Drimys winteri I’ve wanted for so long in favour of a different species, Drimys granadensis, a plant which I’m assured will not grow as large as D. winteri and will therefore be better for my garden.

We had a lovely chat with Selma Klophaus, a Landscape Architect who also turns her hand to growing unusual and tender plants such as echiums, sonchus and dudleyas. Selma explained how she loves to experiment and try new plants, which is very much in tune with my approach to gardening. Along with many other good Cornish nurseries she will be taking plants along to Rare Plant Fair at Tregrehan on June 3rd, and to a new plant fair she is helping to organise at Tremenheere Sculpture Garden on September 9th.

Following Saturday’s wash out, those who made it as far as the carpark were blessed with glorious weather. The spring sunshine was warm enough to allow us to sit outside and enjoy lunch (falafel) and a drink (Cornish beer) and get some colour in our cheeks. I could happily have done the whole day again, only this time with a pick-up truck to transport all my purchases home. Alas I had to restrict myself to what I could manage on the train. Here’s The Damage:

1. Drimys granadensis – a broadleaf, evergreen shrub or tree native to tropical montane forests in Peru and Southern Mexico. It has large, white daisy-like flowers and green leaves with a striking, silver reverse.
2. Pittosporum bicolor – otherwise known as Tasmanian whitewood or Victorian cheesewood, this columnar shrub looks nothing like a pittosporum and more like a berberis. The flowers are fragrant and yellow with a maroon flush.
3. Buddleia speciosissima – A rare species found only on Mount Itatiaia in Brazil where it occupies rocky grassland habitats. It is blessed with silver leaves and tubular red flowers, not unlike those of Nicotiana sylvestris, only scarlet.
4. Schefflera gracilis – A small, slender evergreen forest tree with fabulous foliage. Hails from Vietnam.

The Cornwall Spring Flower Show is organised annually by the Cornwall Garden Society and is sponsored by Atkins Ferrie Wealth Management.

There is something especially delightful about going on a holiday that one hasn’t organised. Perhaps it’s the element of surprise, or the ability to shirk responsibility for anything that goes awry. Either way one can sit back and – quite literally in the case of my recent holiday – enjoy the ride.

I am a bit of a control freak and tend to take charge of arrangements rather than endure that queasy feeling I get when someone else is holding the reins. So usually I’m chief organiser. However when it came to planning a trip to Disneyland Paris I had to concede that my lack of expertise in anything child / Disney / princess related made me a very poor choice of tour leader. My sister took up the challenge uncontested and did an excellent job. Everything went perfectly smoothly; even the weather was kind to us. There were moments when I struggled not to wrestle back control, but on the whole I was happy to go with ‘le flux’.

I had no preconceptions about what I might discover in terms of plants and landscaping at Disneyland. In fact I hadn’t given this aspect of my holiday a second thought. If I had, I might have expected some fairly decent, park-style planting – mature trees, manicured shrubs and lashings of cheerful carpet bedding – and I would have been right on all counts. What I would not have predicted is how plentiful and pleasant the landscaping would be, nor how carefully it would be tailored to each of the park’s themed ‘lands’. The longer I spent at Disneyland Paris the more details I noticed and the more impressed I was.

By the end of the first day I realised that everything I knew about Disney films could be written on the back of my entrance ticket. Somehow I never have the time or inclination to watch films, probably because I am always in the garden. Hence every time I asked a question about this character or that, a look of utter horror would pass across my four year old niece’s face, followed by the familiar exclamation ‘Silly Uncle Dan!’ There are things an uncle should just know – latin plant names are not among them. It quickly dawned on me that I was probably the only person vaguely interested in the park’s plants, save for a Japanese family I spotted scrutinising an especially fine rhododendron near our hotel one morning.

Disneyland Paris is twenty-five years old this year and much of the landscaping is reaching maturity. I read somewhere that thirty years is all it takes for a garden or park to appear fully fledged and I’d say Disneyland has a few more years left to go. Nevertheless the park’s original designers must feel extremely proud to see their vision realised, especially in spring when everything is bursting with vitality.

The first thing one deduces is that the soil must be acidic, permitting lavish use of rhododendrons, azaleas, pieris and skimmia. I love to see these under-appreciated shrubs used for landscaping as they suit being planted en-masse. Why plant a laurel or a viburnum when you can choose one of these flamboyant beauties? Underplanting graceful acers and hornbeams, they exude the class one associates with the US Masters course at Augusta and the style of a Japanese inspired garden.

The second nuance one notices is that flowers are limited to the colour palette of plastic childrens’ toys – all shades of pink, white, lilac, violet-blue and occasionally red, orange or yellow. There appears to be a big focus on spring-flowering shrubs, perhaps because summer colour is provided by bedding. In autumn the park’s acers must be an absolute picture.

Within the park, plants are used primarily for storytelling, whether it be vines espalier-trained against Cinderella’s house, lofty bamboos sprouting from behind Jack Sparrow’s galleon (The Black Pearl, that much I did know) or bright pink Judas trees flanking a Wild West saloon. Most visitors will not consciously notice these touches, but subconsciously they greatly enhance the sense of place that the park’s designers were trying to achieve. On top of that, appropriate choices of flowering and foliage plants introduce seasonal colour as well as disguising the park’s inner workings. No detail, hard or soft, is left unconsidered. From the style of paving to the finish of the timber, everything is thought through.

What is interesting from a gardener’s point of view is how frost-hardy plants are deftly employed to create or amplify a specific mood. In Frontierland around a dozen tree and shrub species are all that’s needed to artfully emulate the Wild West. These included Mahonia aquifolium (Oregon grape), Hippophae rhamnoides (sea buckthorn), Cercis canadensis (eastern redbud), Amelanchier lamarkii (snowy mespilus), Eleagnus ‘Quicksilver’, tamarisk, Populus tremula (quaking aspen), Cedrus deodara (deodar cedar), Pinus montezumae (Montezuma pine), Yucca gloriosa (Spanish dagger), Rosa glauca, Sequoia giganteum (giant redwood) and Pinus nigra (Austrian pine). Although many are not American natives, the effect is highly convincing.

A tighter palette still furnishes Adventureland, which spans Africa and The Caribbean. Here one finds bamboos, Prunus laurocerasus (cherry laurel), Fatsia japonica (Japanese aralia), Eriobotrya japonica (loquat), Campsis radicans (trumpet vine), Aucuba japonica, (Japanese laurel), Hedera colchica (Persian ivy), Catalpa bignonioides (Indian bean tree), Callistemon citrinus (crimson bottlebrush) and Trachycarpus fortunei (Chusan palm), mimicking both rainforest and desert conditions. Without hard landscaping and heavy propping the impact of plants alone would not be so great, but in combination they create a convincing scene for derring do.

Achieving the desired look is as much about the maintenance regime as it is about the choice of plant. In places shrubs are tightly clipped to accentuate a curve or lead the eye towards a focal point. In other areas they are permitted to drape, cascade and move freely in order to give an impression of wild abandonment. The whole landscape is carefully calculated and calibrated to heighten the visitor experience.

At the end of my five-day experience I find that most of my preconceptions about Disneyland were affirmed: it’s a little bit tacky, although done so well one has to let it go (you see what I did there?) and inexcusably expensive. Overall, it would not be my bag were it not for the pleasure I derived from spending time with Martha and my sister. But I did heartily appreciate all the effort that had gone into the landscaping, maintaining it well and making the park as attractive to wildlife as it was to humans. Because of that, I can now furnish the other side of my entrance ticket with the list of plants I spotted, which technically doubles what I know about Disney. TFG.