JEARRARD'S HERBAL
9th February 2020
Galanthus 'Cowhouse Green' .
A typical spring week, in the sense that anything might have happened and most of it did. Wet weather cleared towards the end of the week to make way for a day or so of sunshine
before the arrival of storm Ciara. The wind is picking up as I write, the rain has returned and when I lit the fire, the blustery weather filled the house with smoke. Almost
warm enough to not light the fire. I considered it, shivered slightly, reconsidered. The garden is full of things bursting into life, the possibility of cold weather continues to lurk in the distance.
There is an out-take from the original series of Star Trek in which Captain Kirk is running through the Enterprise clutching a phaser when the wonderful sliding
door fails to slide properly and he runs straight into them. A difficult moment for an actor, I doubt you ever quite trust the set to behave again. Meantime the garden is rushing forward, primed for action,
and in the next couple of weeks we will see if the doors of winter remain closed or whether we slip seamlessly into spring.
During the sunny spell I went out to photograph the snowdrops, celebrating the return of the light and the chance to use a macro lens again rather than the standard model I have been forced to use
during the low light. Partly I like the change of viewpoint, mostly I like taking pictures without having to bend down too far.
Galanthus 'Cowhouse Green' was being co-operative.
It has been one of the better 'green' snowdrops here, not because it is especially well coloured but because it has been vigorous. I enjoy the wimpy snowdrops but to make a real impact in the garden
they have to increase enthusiastically and this one does.
9th February 2020
Narcissus cyclamineus .
Another thing that has been increasing is Narcissus cyclamineus. I started with a single bulb and it has slowly formed a small clump. In the process it has managed to shed seed
and now I have a small group of flowering bulbs growing downhill from the originals. There is some variation, and I tried selecting out a particularly large one (which disappeared)
and a very small one (which is normal sized this year). There are plenty of good small daffodils being selected and named, it is probably a good thing that I am not adding to their number.
That is not to say that I am not trying.
Two years ago I started to pollinate the tiny flowered hybrids and then sow any seed. Germination was good in the first year and they died down at the end of the season as I was expecting.
The real excitement came as they appeared again this year. This is the point at which I am proud to proclaim that I have tiny grassy shoots. Seed sown last year has germinated,
it is all starting to look like a habit. I am considering my approach. Much as I love growing things in pots I am forced to admit that the seedlings growing in a prepared bed outside
are much stronger. Creeping around on my hands and knees has lost its appeal in recent years, I am considering a raised bed!
9th February 2020
Saxifraga 'Joy Bishop' .
It may be that a raised alpine bed would have saved me a great deal of trouble in the long run. I don't have any particular enthusiasm for saxifrages but I do appreciate the early flowers
appeaing on the hard, silvery rosettes like grinning teeth in the face of winter. Breeders are developing bold yellow and bright pink forms, the analogy doesn't hold up very well.
I find them troublesome. The easy ones are too easy, overflowing a pot in a matter of months. They would be better outside but they languish and rot in the shade and damp of my garden.
The slower and more extreme alpines are fussy, needing good drainage and constant attention. I have been struggling to find a system that grows them easily and to my satisfaction.
The simplest solution might be to move somewhere drier but my limited affection for the genus makes that unlikely. I have settled for growing them in thick layers of stone chippings
and it seems to be working. It is a well established technique, it has just taken me a long time to catch on.
The real problem of growing saxifrages is that they opened a door of possibility. Once I had a taste for growing the softer things in chippings, I wanted to try the hard stuff.
There are a few genera that I have looked at with admiration throughout my gardening life and thought, no! Too much trouble, too much time, too much attention. Life is too
short to weep tides of inconsolable grief against a clay pot that has become the coffin of a dead tuffet. A few of the saxifrages have died, any tears shed have been perfunctory.
9th February 2020
Dionysia aretioides .
The genus Dionysia loomed into view. I can't grow them, I know I can't grow them, but I am prepared to give it a go. I am grateful for the skilled growers who propagate
occasional plants for me to kill. I salute them, and I do not admit that their precious charges are unlikely to survive long in my care. When I started, three weeks was a good average.
One of the problems associated with growing in stone chippings is the reduction of the water holding capacity. I was starting to get some longer term success but forgot to water plants for
a month or so in winter. They dessicated and died. I have taken that lesson on board and Dionysia aretioides was the first volunteer to try the latest conditions. It flowered last year
, it has flowered again this year and in the process has set a longevity record for the genus under my care.
As a teenager I saw the plant exhibited at Vincent Square by Ingwersens. I haven't got to that standard yet, but this is progress. I think I have a greenhouse that works and a substrate that works.
I think I have the watering sorted though feeding still needs attention. Perhaps one day this will be a golden bun of flowers. There are more difficult species and plenty more plants to kill
but this feels like progress. It is satisfying to stand in the greenhouse with the rain beating down and bask momentarily in the golden glow of these three flowers.
Spring in 1975
Dionysia aretioides .
So this is what I am aiming at! The slide has suffered a bit over the years in my hands, but not as much as the plant.