JEARRARD'S HERBAL
30th July 2023
Cyclamen hederifolium .
Wonders will never cease, and I think that sums it up for the week.
Days have passed in the mundane trivia of astonishment, the hint of vanilla in a Victoria Sponge, fine china and Mexican banditos. I had tea in the garden with a friend during the week,
a slow, languid moment. I didn't have the fine china or the Victoria sponge, but the event was spiced with the essence of summer. An aroma so beguiling that, like the scent of violets,
by the time you notice it, it has gone.
A week earlier we had walked under the trees where the bare ground still sounded the desolation of drought. This week we have had rain in all descriptions, from timid to torrential.
It was enough to wake the Cyclamen, enough to wake two of them anyway. The rest will follow.
I had hoped that the Cyclamen would spread into a robust carpet over the years, but I think it is too dark. In the years that the Cyclamen have not been spreading the trees have been getting larger.
There is a wide diversity of Cyclamen up there, from an assortment of strains. I had hoped that genetic diversity would lead to extra vigour. It hasn't happened yet, but I'm still hoping.
I have a tray of seedlings from a friend's garden to add to the mix this year. Eventually it will be a robust carpet, for now it is diverse. The vanilla of autumn in the heavy shade of summer.
30th July 2023
Utricularia praelonga .
Down in the greenhouse the Disa have reached their peak. It is another moment that is only recognised after it has passed. I was snapping off spent flower-heads yesterday and thinking to myself that
I should get a pair of scissors and do the job properly. A moment of recognition that the display was good, but that it had been better last week. Once again I have pollinated too may flowers. Fat seed-heads are forming.
It is inevitable that I will cut some of them off as I clear away the spent flowers. I am resigned to the inevitability of it. I hope it isn't anything important.
I have been breeding for yellow flowers this year, and things have gone well. I hope I don't spoil it now.
Further down the bench, Utricularia praelonga reminds me of the colour I am trying to achieve. During the spring I cleared away a large portion of the Utricularia.
It had escaped through the holes in the bottom of the pot and spread for three or four feet through the water tray, taking over other pots as it reached them. It is a lovely thing,
it will flower for weeks, and it needs little attention. I am very fond of it, and one large potful is enough.
30th July 2023
Allium sphaerocephalon .
Judging when you have enough is one of the complex elements of gardening. I usually think that if something does well in the garden, then I will have more of it. Sometimes things do so well
that I don't get a choice in the matter. I am still fighting Persicaria campanulata and it is difficult to judge which of us is winning. Fallopia baldshuanica
continues to clamber rampantly up a fifty foot Leyland Cypress, despite the removal of the Leyland Cypress. It has formed a mound over the stump and suddenly leaps up six or eight feet
into the air, as though it might find something to grab hold of if it can only jump high enough.
Anyone who knows their onions will warn you to be careful where you plant them. I resist the incursion of Allium triquetrum into the garden. I don't think that I can stop it,
but I am tying to slow its progress. Allium ursinum has been wandering down the hedges locally. Eventually it will get here, and jump the garden wall. I know that my opposition will be futile,
but I feel obliged to try. Allium sphaerocephalon was planted among the hellebores to see it it would add late summer interest. The site is too shaded for flowers, it has
limited its display to tufts of foliage. I have been reducing the overhead cover, and finally I have flowers. If I had a thousand of them then they would be spectacular. As it is I have three.
It's an onion, do I want any more?
30th July 2023
Blepharocalyx cruickshankii .
By the side of the meadow I have planted Blepharocalyx cruickshankii. Has it wafted the hint of vanilla over the newly cut grass? Not that I have noticed.
It has grown larger over the last few years without showing any sign of flowering. I had started to think that it would wait until it was the size of a small tree before it bothered.
Suddenly, in early summer, the first flower buds formed. Perhaps the hot, dry weather has inspired it. Perhaps it has simply grown large enough.
Whatever has caused the change of heart it is welcome. It has transformed from a bland shrub to a bland flowering shrub.
It's nicer than that, I am just a bit grumpy with the plant. I have spent twenty years trying to remember the name. It has been one of those blind spots that occur. I wander around for hours thinking
"I'm sure it starts with a 'B'". Polylepis was another one. I didn't get that until several years after it died ("Polly put the kettle on" got me there in the end).
I mastered the Blepharocalyx last year by repeated visits to the label and sheer pig-headedness. I got it in my mind at just the same time the name was changed to Temu cruickshankii.
I can do Temu, it's a doddle, but I'm not going to. I'm going to continue with Blepharocalyx until I've had my moneys-worth from the name!