Weeding the Web

A Walk Round Chelsea Flower Show 2013

2013-05-23T13:01:30+01:00

Chelsea's Hundredth - you couldn't miss it.

Press Day is also VIP Guest Day. Drawback? Your interview's interrupted by self-important Americans. But what is Chelsea without celebs? If I'd walked faster I might have treated you to Helen Mirren; everywhere I went I'd only just missed her. Still, I found Mary Berry, hiding behind a tree.

Wonder what she thought of Sparsholt College's cupcakes? (Teavolution won silver-gilt.)

And Joanna Lumley was the trouper we've come to expect. She's quite keen on gardening too.

On Burncoose Nursery's stand (silver-gilt), they told me the lovely Jo had been there for hours, with only a break for coffee. But who was she supporting? There have been lots of pictures but not many details. How annoying is that for the stand-holder? (She was on the M&S stand; it won silver.)

Outside, Johnny Kingdom hammed it up on a vibrant driftwood sculpture by James Doran-Webb (pictured left). Johnny was behind at The Winning Post, two galloping horses for £28,000, already snapped up by one of the gardens' sponsors.

Whew! You end up walking a lot, but seats don't feature at Chelsea. Surely they can't want us to sit only where we have to buy food? Wellywoman, on her first visit, has been shocked at the prices, but I've been stung before - so I bought a sandwich from M&S before I arrived.

Where to eat it? (The Press Tent was no answer. It burst at the seams all day.) But here was a tempting resting place...

With plenty to read to pass the time:

It was Birmingham City Council's gold-winning Enlightenment. Alternative Eden shows more of the Great Pavilion but I was off to look for gnomes. (After all, they've gained worldwide coverage.)

Those pesky little creatures need putting in their place.

Charles Hawes feared for their lives at times but the jolly chap pictured below was safe in a four-year research project into grassless lawns. That sounded boring. "What's its name?" asked a reporter instead.

And let's not forget all the work that went into getting Chelsea ready. Opposite the gold-winning Trailfinders Australian garden that Vegplotting particularly liked, was a regiment of wheelbarrows - surely too clean!

Don't forget, there's still time to bid for Mark Quinn's sculpture. "“Hopefully, the flowers and the sculpture blend," he says in an interview. Will the sculpture be diminished without the planting?

And - did I mention? - Chelsea's 100.

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day - the best pulmonaria

2013-05-15T01:25:00+01:00

I've never seen another lungwort (Pulmonaria) that I've thought more beautiful than this one. The two-tone flowers, the not overly spotty leaves, the fact that bumble bees adore them - my heart sings every year when they break out into colour. They bloom for over a month but unfortunately I have no idea which cultivar this is.

This year has provided a particularly fine display, which I put down to one of the (very) few benefits of last year's rain. Our clay soil didn't really dry out and the pulmonarias didn't succumb to their usual annual dose of mildewed leaves.

See what other blooms are being blogged about at May Dreams Gardens.

Pop-up pot protection to sort out squirrels

2013-05-10T01:39:00+01:00

Do squirrels eat begonia tubers?

A glance into a pot revealed a tuber somewhat less rounded than it had been. Toothmarks are visible.

For anyone who hasn't grown begonias, the reason why this onslaught was so visible was that the tubers are nestled into the top of, rather than buried under, the soil. Thompson and Morgan, who handed them out at the Garden Press Event this year, have a helpful video showing how to plant begonias. Squirrels aren't mentioned.

As pests go, this isn't exactly a catastrophe. I rejoice that I haven't had the badger problem that destroyed most of the The Patient Gardener's tulips, but still, something had to be done.

I was about to arrange a square of netting, tied on jam-pot style, when Husband pointed out that the solution was sitting on a shelf. Not so long ago, Gardenskill sent me one of their pop-up fruit and veg cages. I have to admit that I really like it, but I hadn't found a use for it. It 's around 20 inches high and 18 x 18 inches square (51 x 46 x 46 cms) and as I tend to grow rows of veg in the raised beds there were always some that didn't fit under and so I used fleece or netting instead. Here it answers perfectly.

An inappropriate shape for my needs was really the only reason I hadn't used it before. Using tent technology, the frame is made of carbon-fibre rods - very strong and light. So light, that the cages have loops attached where you insert tent pegs to hold them down. And they're very easy to put up. So easy that it made me squeal with laughter when I first took it out of its bag. Raring to go, it leapt out of my hands and stood to attention.

Various sizes and shapes are available, and if I were to get another, I'd choose the Giant Fruit Cage which would fit well on the raised bed. At £39.99 + £5.49 p&p, though, it's not cheap compared with, say, netting. On the other hand it's incredibly easy to put up and therefore you're far more likely to put it up immediately you need to, rather than aiming to sort out netting as soon as you've got a moment.

It's almost as easy to put away. Twisting it back into the tiny size that fits in the bag takes a knack which I manage to master after a couple of goes. Gardenskill have put a video on their website to show how to do it. One reviewer on the site has added, "The key is not to get angry. If it doesn't work, just leave it and come back later for another try."

A month of blog loving : Head Gardeners' Blogs

2013-04-30T11:42:29+01:00

For Emma Cooper, April has been #bloglove month, in which she set herself (and anyone else brave enough) the challenge of visiting and commenting on five blogs a day, and then reporting back. I, you will notice, failed miserably to rise to it. Vegplotting managed her own, less intense, approach, and both are well worth visiting to discover parts of the garden blogosphere that you might not yet have encountered.

For some time, I've been rounding up blogs by Those in Charge - head gardeners and their ilk. They vary considerably. Some, you feel, may possibly be written under duress, dashed off at the end of the day to satisfy the marketing executive, and quite a few have lapsed (no doubt when the marketing attention moved elsewhere). Others, like those below, build a fascinating glimpse of life at the hard end of the hoe. Photographs feature strongly and the satisfaction gained from their daily work is palpable.

The Tattooed Gardener is by the Head Gardener of Trinity College, that particularly well-endowed Cambridge institution. Delightfully idiosyncratic, the blog not only carries lots of information on plants (with plenty of pictures), but imparts information on flowery tattoos and - a particular love of the writer - will brush up your knowledge of heavy metal and rock in almost every post (how long did I waste following the YouTube links?)

Buried within the website of Kylemore Abbey and Victorian Walled Garden ("Ireland's most romantic castle") is Head Gardener, Anja Gohlke's monthly round-up of what's been happening, a temptation to visit Connemara.

Gary Webb, Head of Grounds at Compton Verney, Warks, the house and garden with an emphasis on art, tends 120 acres designed by Capability Brown. He's worked in the heritage environment for a long time and his blogging talents have just landed him on the blogging team of Heritage Open Days. Gary also tweets: @garywebb1.

Fulham Palace's informative monthly garden blog (recently been taken over by Acting Head Gardener Lindsay Schuman while her boss, Lucy Hart, is on maternity leave) has plenty of photos and interesting detail of the daily tasks of running a large estate of many parts.

Head Gardener Harriet Rycroft runs the Whichford Pottery gardens and writes Potting Up. This is a outsize clue to the blog's angle, as everything is grown in the pottery's pots. It's an easy-going look at what works and what doesn't and Harriet says: "Most of all [I want] to encourage people to experiment and not to be intimidated by prescriptive books and programmes." Harriet also tweets at @harrietrycroft.

Finally, The Sproutling Writes is a particular favourite of mine - a lively blog written by Libby, Head Gardener of Layer Marney Tower, Essex. She frankly describes herself as "a struggling amateur gardener in her home garden" but it's hard to believe as she imparts loads of useful information on what she does and how she does it, with a good dose of humour.

There are surely many other blogs by Head Gardeners out there. If you know of any (or write one) do add to the list in the comments below.

Berlin, bare branches and the Botanical Garden Part II

2013-04-23T01:18:00+01:00

On the 7th day the sun shone (boy, did it shine!) and suddenly the Botanical Gardens beckoned.

Berlin has a superb, fully integrated transport system. A day's travelcard cost €6.40 and covered bus, U-bahn, trams and S-bahn (overground system). Even more impressive, our average wait for the next train/bus etc was around 4 minutes.

Arriving at Botanische Garden station was a bit like arriving at Chiswick - we stepped straight out into that suburban quiet of a sunny day, a small row of shops outside the station, the long walk (around 1 km) to the garden itself. The tall, rather stately Germanic terraces made a characterful contrast to the many high-rise mediocrities of the city centre.

Entrance to the garden is €6 - a bargain compared with the eye-watering £14.50 entrance fee to Kew. The café, in common with all the other museum cafés we visited, and unlike Kew's, was run in a homely fashion, unfranchised, producing excellent fresh, home-made soup and snacks at a very reasonable price.

Berlin Botanical Garden is the second largest in the world (126 acres to Kew's 300) and grows around 22,000 different species of plants. We didn't stay all day as we had a boat trip to get back to, so we took the Spring Tour. Here's a taste:

This greets you when you enter. As you can see the beds are rather bare, but closer inspection revealed Chinodoxia in bloom.

You probably think I was transfixed by the blue flowers, but no. Passing through the North American Woods, here's a moment of good old schadenfreude - is that ground elder I spy?

Skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) looked particularly malevolent in the absence of other flowers.

Daphne mezereum saturated the air with perfume well before we saw it next to the raised herb beds.

Plant protection, large and small. The rather beefed up cloche in front was protecting Rheum (giant rhubarb). The glass house built like a small cathedral in the background was the Mediterranean house.

The Mediterranean House.

In the Rhododendron House.

In the Grosses Tropenhaus (Great Tropical House).

In a more temperate zone.

In the Cactus House. This is only touching the edges of the glasshouses, which are stunning and must draw many visitors in the winter. You can see on the garden map how far the sixteen greenhouses extend. Soaring pictures of the houses feature at Garden Gluttony, and there are some showing the construction in the slideshow of Botanical Garden views.

The "Rock Garden" is extraordinary. It's part of the extensive Plant Geography section, which covers a third of the whole garden. Here a a path winds through a miniature mountain range of 12 rock gardens, taking in everywhere from the Caucasus to the Alps. Obviously not at their best at this time, it was still possible to see how floriferous they'll be later in the year.

Alpine meadow

Here we are looking up the Himalayas.

I promised crocuses. They'd finally opened only 2 days previously after all the cold weather.

And after wending our way back through the arboretum and past the Rosea section, with fruit trees and rose bushes (none of which were anywhere near blossoming) we headed back to the city. Not, however, without a bit of a giggle:

Who says the Germans have no sense of humour?

For pictures of the gardens at a better season, visit The Fabulous Times, and for a glimpse of the Victoria House (which was unfortunately shut) see Victoria Adventure, and visit the garden map at the Botanische Garten's website to take a little tour through its various regions.

Finally, I've never added so many pictures to a blog. Let me know if it causes problems downloading.

Berlin, bare branches and the Botanical Garden Part 1

2013-04-19T01:12:00+01:00

While gardeners in the UK were beginning to enjoy the new season, Husband and I managed to extend winter by almost a week. In Berlin. Not everyone's choice of holiday destination, but it does happen to have one of the world's largest botanical gardens.

Not that that's why we went. Hubs has been itching to visit, having overcome his anxiety, born of too many black and white movies, that he might be arrested and tortured into betraying his underground contacts.

It's easy to overdo the grim stuff. Berlin's recent history is not hidden. The Haus am Checkpoint Charlie, the Topographie des Terrors (Germany under National Socialism), and the enormous Holocaust Memorial were quite enough for one day. When the Stasi Museum appeared on the Things To Do list, I pleaded depression and regained my equilibrium with a concentrated diet of superb paintings (Gemaldemuseum), fascinating architecture (Bundestag) and excellent sausages (everywhere).

Unfortunately spring is even later than it is here (it must always be a bit behind us), and with everything brown, tired or downright dead, it reminded me of the garden of Oscar Wilde's Selfish Giant, where winter never left. There were even heaps of snow in dank, forgotten corners.

Gardening and greenery are just waiting to burst out, though. Our first inkling flashed past us on the way from the airport (no chance for photos). What looked like a very neat shanty town, with various dwellings and sharply delineated plots, was a Kleingarten, a considerably less shambolic version of our allotments. (Ben Knight gives a lovely flavour of Berlin Kleingartens, which comprise over 3% of the city's area, and Sarah Webb describes the serious business of getting a Kleingarten hedge right in Bremen.) And the birdsong that greeted us every day as we left our very centrally placed hotel on Friedrichstrasse was what first alerted me to the fact that there was more nature in the city than was apparent.

Here's some of what we found:

Display of gardening items in the Galeries Lafayette, a shopping centre so gorgeous that even I almost wanted to shop!

A Patrick Blanc "Mur Vegetal", setting off an unexpected sphinx in the Dussmann das Kulturkaufhaus bookshop.

Might have had a coffee here, but it was closed for a private do. Gardening Jules was there at the same time and has some lovely photos.

Dwarfed by their surroundings, two beehives on top of the Berliner Dom (German Baroque - OK, but not worth the entrance fee, especially if you love Roman Baroque). Part of the Berlin is Buzzing campaign to create "a functioning urban nature and the conservation of ecosystems...and train young beekeepers".

Garden outside the Bauhaus Archiv, Berlin, April 2013

The garden outside the Bauhaus Archiv was sadly brown, tired and dusty. Bauhaus theory for Mies van der Rohe's one-storey court houses decreed that "floor area of the house and surface area of the plot had to form a harmonious relationship, with garden design and planting contributing to it. Garden plan and the interior arrangement of the house had to be interrelated, the views from the often large windows exactly calculated for near, middle and distance vision." This obviously wasn't meant to be a demonstration.

Bare branches weren't all bad. It was easy to see the enormous amount of mistletoe that grows around the city. Here it's outside the Neue Nationalgalerie, with Henry Moore's The Archer.

From fleece-wearing weather it turned in a week to 25 degrees, bringing a hint of green to city trees and the start of spring to the Botanical Garden. More in Part 2.

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day - just when you think you know better

2013-04-15T01:14:00+01:00

Last year, I bought a Paperwhite Narcissus bulb (yes, just one). Presumably it was some latent memory of something I've once read that made me decide to grow it in a bulb vase. It failed miserably. Long green leaves sprouted in abundance, and fell over. Flowers were conspicuous by their absence.

I'm afraid the vase got put in the outhouse and left, until earlier this year when I realised the bulb was sprouting again. Ho hum! I certainly wasn't going to give it window-sill space, but I added water (and a drop or two of liquid fertiliser, as it hadn't had any input since its excrable performance) and let it do its worst.

So, stuck in the cold, and pretty much neglected, it's now producing these. Fewer leaves than last year, much fewer, and stubbier, roots (which last year were very long and filled the glass) and the promise of lots of flowers which have an extraordinarily pungent smell (not sweet, barely floral).

I have to admit that I thought growing narcissus in a vase had to be a daft idea. Now I find that Paperwhites are generally grown indoors. And that old wives' tale about feeding a child gin to stunt its growth? Well, perhaps it's not so far-fetched after all. A touch of alcohol might have stemmed its leaf growth last year.

Nip over to May Dreams Gardens to see what else is going on this Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day.

Leaves sprout from strawberry fruit - Malwina's taste for phyllody

2013-04-12T01:46:00+01:00

Last summer, instead of the soft, deep red fruit promised by my Malwina strawberry plants, I was confronted by the strange leafy overgrowth you see in the photos. Thank goodness for all my years of gardening experience; I knew instantly that something was Not Right.

Could it be proliferation?

Flower proliferation occurs when buds form in an already open bloom. Various plants are prone to it, including clover and plantain, and some cultivars manage to stabilise the effect to produce a “hen and chicken” version of themselves. The daisy Bellis perennis “Prolifera” is one, and the Opium Poppy “Hen and Chicks”. (Here are pictures of rose proliferation.)

But mine had leaves, not flowers.

Enter phyllody

Phyllody, a fascinating but rather repulsive affliction, is the development of small leaves from developing fruit. I was pretty sure this had to be it. Now, I just had to work out if it was terminal.

One cause is infection by phytoplasmas, bacteria-like organisms that are obligate parasites¹of both plant phloem tissue (responsible for circulation of food substances) and insects, usually of the sap-sucking variety.

Strawberries have some picturesque-sounding diseases such as Green Petal and Lethal Yellows and when I emailed Thompson and Morgan, from whom I received the strawberry plants at last year’s Garden Press Event, I was told:

“Phyllody…is caused by the Green Petal Mycoplasma². It is carried by the Leaf Hopper that is on clover nearby and very occasionally turns up in the UK. Our supplier hasn’t seen it for the last fifteen years in Norfolk!

I looked guiltily at the lawn, bursting with clover. Had I infected my babies through eco-friendly gardening?

But…

Research published in 2001 lists symptoms that may accompany phyllody in strawberry plants: chlorosis (yellowing of leaves), virescence (greening of petals), stunting, crown proliferation. And, apart from their weird fruit, some of which were long and thin as well as leafy, my Malwina strawberries positively burst with health—big, strong green leaves, fine thick runners (and you’ll note the petals were white).

Worldwide research

A paper from the Third International Strawberry Symposium 1996 (I so hope they have strawberry-themed dinners) described Strawberry Phyllody on Cold-Stored (Frigo) Plants. Strawberry growers around Sydney found it appearing on plants lifted in mid-winter, cold-stored at -1°C and planted mid – late summer for an autumn crop.

The same year, Italian research investigated strawberries in Campania that had “pronounced foliaceous growth from the achenes” (those are the bits that we laymen thought were seeds).

And, in 2000, research published on Non-infectious Phyllody Disease looked at an epidemic in many strawberry-growing areas of Thailand.

None found any evidence of phytoplasmas and all came to the conclusion that physiological damage was the cause. Put all the research summaries together and you build a picture of phyllody occurring in the first harvest of certain cultivars grown from runners that have probably been cold-stored but may have been affected by weather prior to lifting or after planting.

Malwina prone to phyllody

In last November’s Kitchen Garden Magazine, a reader sent in a picture of his phyllodic strawberries:

“More than one variety has been affected and probably one in four plants has one or more deformed fruit. They have already fruited well this season and it is only in the last few weeks that I have noticed these fruit/plants forming (since the plants have been producing runners, in fact)."

So much for phyllody only occurring in the first harvest… But Bob Flowerdew replied:

“…I strongly suspect this complete rosette of leaves replacing the fruit entirely is not induced by the virus [oh, Bob! Phytoplasma! Ed] but by the weather. I have had many similar, all on the new superbly flavoured later variety “Milvana” (aka “Malwina”). These occurred on plants from cold-stored runners.”

Hah! Malwina! More information from Thompson and Morgan arrived last month after I reported my experience to Director Paul Hansord at this year’s Garden Press Event. He forwarded me the following unsourced snippet:

"Phyllody is a genetic fail from Malwina. But that’s been written into the variety description for years. Phyllody often comes in one year old plants or if you are planting a fresh plant late, in Germany. It’s most one flower on one plant. In the second year and on coolstore plants, there is almost no phyllody on the plants."

With its tortured English, this isn’t the easiest passage to comprehend and I haven’t traced any references to Germany elsewhere, but it sounds as if my phyllody might have been a one-off, induced by cold storage, and possibly the atrocious weather we had in 2012.

Let’s hope so. I’m not confident, though. A response in a StrawberryPlants thread reads:

“I’m reliably informed that the…[Malwina]…variety is affected by a genetic anomaly which will be transferred to any daughter plants.”

Wouldn’t you know it? The one year I was organised enough to pot up the runners…

So, it’s now a case of waiting and seeing. If a significant number of fruit exhibit phyllody again, then I’m afraid they’ll have to come out. If none or only a very few do, then, if they are as delicious as Bob Flowerdew says they are, it might just be the price one has to pay.

¹Obligate parasites can’t complete their life cycle without a suitable host. ² Mycoplasmas and phytoplasmas belong to the same bacterial class (Mollicutes).

NB Since writing this I have also come across a thread on Malwina strawberries on Grow Your Own forum, where several others have had this problem.

Bee nests from an expert at nurturing nature

2013-04-08T01:33:00+01:00

What with all the news of neonicotinoids and declining bee numbers, the urge is certainly to try to make our gardens as bee-friendly as possible.

Environmental educator, author and researcher, George Pilkington has studied bee behaviour more than most and last November won a Green Apple Award for Environmental Best Practice in Wildlife and Conservation from The Green Organisation.

He was a founder member of the Bumblebee Conservation Trust and runs the Nurturing Nature website, which just buzzes with information on subjects ranging from sustainable gardening to ecotherapy to composting. And, of course, bees.

His research into why commercially produced bumblebee nests often don't work resulted in his producing his own version, complete with a bumblebee "catflap" which is a deterrent to the predatory wax moth.

For solitary bees he's also produced a nestbox with viewing panels (I'm very tempted), which means you can watch red mason bees go about their business of tussling for territory and laying eggs.

Click on the links to see videos of the boxes in action.

A great (Dixter) reason for repeat garden visits

2013-04-01T01:38:00+01:00

All over the country this weekend, you can hear the crash of doors being thrown open as houses and gardens receive the public. You may have noticed over the past few years an increasing tendency for properties to run a programme of events throughout the summer season in the hope of luring visitors back for a return visit.

OK, it's understandable, and presumably aims to capture local interest, but it does make a lot of properties seem all the same. Several times over the last couple of years while on holiday we've found ourselves folding and unfolding leaflets, looking in vain for information on why we should visit a particular landmark, beyond its generic procession of Easter Egg hunts, face-painting, woodland craft demonstrations and food fairs that makes it sound just like any other visitor attraction. The National Trust is particularly prone to this.

Great Dixter also opens for 2013 this weekend. This hardly needs introduction, as Christopher Lloyd's garden has drawn visitors for decades, but if ever a garden had reasons to return built in, rather than cynically manufactured, it's this one.

At the moment the gardens are on the cusp of bursting into growth. A carpet of crocuses spreads in front of the long border. Borders are orderly and low-slung, waiting the upsurge of vegetation, while primroses, daffodils, hellebores and snowdrops sprinkle the space. (There's always the debate of whether hellebores should have their leaves cut away. Here they do because 1) they suffer from unsightly blackspot and 2) it looks good. The flowers do look particularly elegant without them.)

But come back in a few weeks' time and all will look totally different. Head gardener Fergus Garrett is truly a plant enthusiast, even going to the lengths of measuring the width of tulip leaves to pinpoint the perfect choice for his beds, and much attention is paid to finding combinations that will succeed each other easily. In the Sunk Garden, snowdrops are just going over, but hidden amongst them are euphorbias waiting to hide them from view, while the as yet unemerged Rodgersia will add contrast in colour and leaf.

Fergus has plenty of photographs which show how completely a space will change its character: a dry stone wall that is a mass of ox-eye daisies one month may flow with hypericum and bramble another. Plants grow up and through others, fresh foliage and flowers obscuring with startling distinction the plants that have had their time in the spotlight.

Elsewhere long-season cultivars such as Geranium "Russell Prichard" provide a backbone of colour over several weeks or months. amidst a sea of changing pattern. Christopher Lloyd believed that no gaps, showing bare earth, should be visible from late May on, apart from the most recent replacement plantings. Fergus continues to maintain this tapestry effect.

The result is a supremely skilful and, to a degree, educational display. I say, to a degree, because of course this garden is famous for not inserting plant labels. For Christopher Lloyd, Great Dixter was a home before it was a show garden. Now that he's died, I'm inclined to think a few labels wouldn't go amiss (after all, they don't have to be startling white plastic) but there is an army of students and volunteers who, I've found, are extremely helpful to anyone asking questions. Much of what is grown is also sold in the nursery.

Not everyone is lucky enough to live close enough to Great Dixter to make repeat visits feasible through the summer, but if you are it's worth considering visiting regularly through the open season.

If the far reaches of Sussex are just too much of a drive (and sadly the nearest train stations with bus connections to Northiam are Rye and Hastings), then on April 13th 2013 they are laying on a coach service to meet the 10.15 from Charing Cross at Robertsbridge Station, giving you three hours in the garden before returning you to catch the 16.13.

(For more takes on Great Dixter, have a look at Vegplotting, where you'll find a round-up of posts by the bloggers who enjoyed the same day out as I did.)