JEARRARD'S HERBAL
5th February 2023
Lophosoria quadripinnata .
The weather has been uneventful. It is remarkably restful after weeks when the weather has been wrestling with politicians to see who gets the best headlines.
During the week it had crossed my mind that there hadn't been any rain for several days, but I opened the back door to find it pattering gently
onto the paving. The worry had been resolved before it had quite taken shape.
Spring is underway, the lushness of the garden is climbing out slowly from the cracks and crevices where it has hidden through the dark days. These are precious times, it is astonishing
how fast the garden starts to accelerate once things are moving. At the moment it is possible to get on with gardening tasks that get put off through the insanity of the growing season.
I went out yesterday and removed some branches from trees. A couple had drooped low enough to obstruct the paths, I spent most of last summer ducking under them.
A couple were crowding things growing around them. The weather was still, the weather was warm. I had a saw and a ladder. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to prune I go.
The treat for the week has been dividing the Lophosoria. I have wanted to do it for a couple of years but put it off for fear of damaging the plant. It becomes more magnificent
with every year, and much as I want more of it, I don't want to harm it. Fortunately it responded well to a sharp spade and a whispered apology. I have chipped some small divisions
from the side without needing to disturb the heart of the clump. The Lophosoria brings its beauty to the garden with quiet dignity. Now that I have more of it
I am beside myself with joy, dancing a wild and carefree jig of delight around the garden, quietly and with dignity.
5th February 2023
Narcissus 'Bowles Early Sulphur' .
Spring unwraps lake a game of pass-the-parcel. The music stops and keen hands unwrap another layer, hoping to reveal a new delight. The daffodil season started in the autumn
with the expected and unexpected appearance of flowers on Narcissus 'Viridi 5'. The first daffodil of a new season felt like a definitive moment.
Expected, because it has the autumn flowering N.viridiflorus in its ancestry; unexpected because I thought that it was probably dead.
N. 'Cedric Morris' and N. 'Rijnvelds Early Sensation' un-wrapped additional layers before the end of the year. N.romieuxii has peeped between layers of packaging
in the greenhouse. I suppose that it has been unwrapped, it has flowered without much conviction this year and the slugs have done their best to conceal the blooming.
The arrival of N. 'Bowles Early Sulphur' feels like another fundamental moment. The destination is clear, the heart of the parcel is close. There are buds showing on many of the
daffodils around the garden. Before long their sharp colours will bring scintillating sunlight to the ground, even on overcast days.
It has been hinted (never trust the forecast) that the sun might shine next week. If it does, I might try some pollination. I have no idea where I am going
in raising daffodil seedlings, but I am travelling hopefully, with an inane grin on my face. Perhaps that is a sufficient destination.
5th February 2023
Camellia 'Drama Girl' .
Technology changes things. Electric blenders arrived in the kitchen several decades ago and they seemed like a miracle. Suddenly things could be blended, not just mashed or strained, but actually blended.
They arrived into a culinary landscape that had not conceived "blending". Cooked food either started out smooth and remained smooth, or it started out lumpy and remained so.
Blenders revolutionised things, and like all revolutions it took a while for the consequences to become apparent. Baby food and soup were early beneficiaries
of the new technology and now we have smoothies and "froth" on the plates of expensive restaurants.
The digital revolution has introduced us to new ideas and we are still feeling our way towards understanding. It is revealing and clarifying experience that we have probably always had, but
which lacked conceptual definition. Video clips on social media have shown us water-skiing cats, men that fell trees onto their own cars and goldfish farting tiny bubbles. The internet has
exposed a very special mix of amusement, horror and astonishment that is wrapped up in guilty but unapologetic voyeuristic delight. It is a new mix of experience. We don't have a name for it yet, but we will.
We are still blending soup and baby food, we haven't discovered the smoothie. 'Gob-smacking' doesn't really do the experience justice.
Which brings me directly to the six inch flowers of Camellia 'Drama Girl'. I don't have a word for it yet. Wonder and amazement figure in the mix, along with horror and delight.
C. 'Drama Girl' attracts me every year, but this flower is the closest to perfect that I have ever seen. For a moment I stood in front of it completely aimlessly. Time passed, the cat fell off the water-ski,
I looked at the Camellia in blank wonder and walked away smiling.
The internet has changed things in unexpected ways.
5th February 2023
Galanthus 'Brenda Troyle' .
The snowdrops are one aspect of spring that has been climbing slowly from cracks and crevices. I have a snowdrop bed where a diversity of wonders develop through the season.
Although all snowdrops seem to look like snowdrops there are plenty of differences to attract attention. Double ones and yellow ones stand out. Green ones, green tipped ones
and flowers with strange shapes all vie for attention. I walk among them and note their individual characteristics. It feels rather patronising. My goodness, you are trying
so hard to be double and yellow. 'Jolly well done' - and in the case of G. 'Lady Elphinstone' - 'I'm sure you'll get there eventually'.
The diversity of snowdrops feeds my acquisitive hunger for novelty but it isn't the motivating factor. My pleasure comes from the snowdrops that do well.
When they are prospering, snowdrops exude contentment into the environment like a fat old tree or the outline of a trout in a clear stream. The snowdrops I love the most are those
that started as a single bulb and now fill the garden with satisfaction.
This patch of 'Brenda Troyle' started out in 2006. It has been vigorous. It has inspired me to plant more of the collection around the garden. 'Comet' is doing well,
'Angelsey Abbey' becomes more wonderful with every year. I am looking for a suitable place for 'Godfrey Owen', which will be stunning.
The snowdrop season is well underway now, but this feels like its finest moment.