JEARRARD'S HERBAL
1st October 2023
Camellia brevistyla
The garden has fallen into autumn like a tired gardener into a soft feather bed. Autumn has arrived with a sense of soft and welcome relief. The ground is moist.
I planted some ferns out yesterday, confident that they would be rained on before they started to dry out. The forecast said dry all week, but they
were rained on before the end of the day.
Storm Agnes troubled the treetops and shook down a few dead branches, but passed us to the north leaving nothing but clear air and some firewood. A few hours of heavy rain
restored water levels without damaging the autumn display. Temperatures have remained high and it is nicer to have coffee in the garden than in the sitting room.
These are good days.
There have been rumours of autumn camellias whispering around the county. I have been on the look-out. I have found buds, but they haven't fattened yet into promises.
I was passing Camellia brevistyla and suddenly saw that it was studded with small white flowers. I raised it from seed, there are a handful of them in the garden.
Two of them are in flower, marking the start of the camellia season.
1st October 2023
Hedychium 'Devon Cream'
The Hedychium garden is an ocean of rippling green leaves. I have a taste for foliage and structure, it fills me with something that should be joy but is
actually closer to complacent satisfaction. Very intense complacent satisfaction. It lasts from the moment the shoots develop structure in the spring, until the first flowers appear in September.
The garden never blazes with colour, but sputters with occasional intensity. The sea of foliage swirls in gentle tides, and the suddenly explodes into
a speck of colour.
Hedychium 'Devon Cream' produces one of the best performances in this garden. When I planted it I was worried that it wouldn't be hardy enough to flower well
but it has performed year after year, producing a mound of cream flowers for a couple of weeks.
It has been a good year so far for the Hedychium. Hot weather in early summer got them moving. Rain in late summer kept them lush. The early flowering forms have all done very well.
Now we have moved into October, the late flowering forms are budding. H. coccineum is flowering, in a number of slight variations. Things are once again in the hands of the weather.
If the frost holds off there will be flowers into January. If the frost arrives tomorrow, it will all end there.
1st October 2023
Nerine 'Pink Fairy'
I have been hiding from the Nerine house all week, frightened by the consequences of knowledge. I have peeked around the door, visited the autumn snowdrops in there,
glanced at the seedlings, but avoided immersing myself in the reality. There is a lot to take in.
Yesterday I took my courage in hand and started sorting out the new seedlings. There are a lot in flower for the first time. Those that a very good need to be selected and labelled properly.
Those that are less good need to be rejected. There isn't space to keep them all. I don't mind building a new greenhouse for a passion, clearing space for an enthusiasm even,
but I will not create a temple to indecision. Those that aren't good enough have to go. I have been putting it off.
In recent years I have been breeding a lot of dark red and purple seedlings. The seedling benches are writhing in voluptuous shadowy tones. I want to keep them all, and I'm not going to.
I have a place for them in the garden where they can grow balefully and make me feel guilty. The brink of regret is the peculiar joy of the plant breeder.
In the collection, there are a few plants telling me that there is more to Nerine than purple brooding. I have a few that are really good plants. When it comes down to it, that is the
characteristic that makes the difference. I shall (might) change my breeding target for this year.
'Pink Fairy' has rapidly filled a pot, most of the bulbs have produced flowers, the effect is wonderful. I could do with a few more in a wider range of colours.
Perhaps a purple or two?
1st October 2023
Colchicum 'Waterlily'
Most weeks in the garden have a wonder. A small gasp of realisation. Something that was unexpected sets up a low pressure area in front of you and sucks the air out of your lungs with an oooo!
Last week the Colchicum started to appear under the trees. There is something mushroomy about the flower buds as they push through the surface, ballooning shapes made entirely
of thistle-down and optimism. They started last week, and I was expecting them to get better this week. Storm Agnes could have knocked them over, a couple of hours of heavy rain
should have left them shattered in the mud.
I went up there on Tuesday, prepared for the worst. I came around the corner and the Colchicum unrolled before me in the evening light. The season has been kind, the weather has been kind
and the Colchicum have been kind. I have spent all week trying to photograph it, and it hasn't worked. The eye grasps a breadth of wonder that the camera narrows to a mere picture.
Next week the wonder of the Colchicum will be routine, the Nerine will have been assessed and the Hedychium will quiver with diamonds in the dew of early morning.
I have started checking the forecast for the expected overnight temperatures. Autumn has arrived with a sense of soft and welcome relief.
Winter is coming.