JEARRARD'S HERBAL
11th February 2024
Camellia yunnanensis
I'm not a gambler and I haven't been to Las Vegas but I have seen images of rows of slot machines in hotel foyers. There must be a moment when you have put the coin in but
not yet pulled the handle. It must be a delicious moment. The future is already set, nothing can be done about it and yet the possibilities are endless.
The handle has to be pulled, the future has to unfold but perhaps the wise gambler (if there is such a thing) puts a coin in the machine and walks away.
Leaves the situation while the future is still rich with the scent of hope.
It has been a warm week in the garden. Buds are pushing through the soil. The promise is thrilling and fills the air like the scent of cooking in a warm kitchen.
If I were a wise gardener I would walk away from spring now. Perhaps, in the drama of expectation, I have already had the best part.
I can't do it, the slot machine of fortune is spinning. This week it spilled out Camelia yunnanensis. The plant is about 2m tall, I have been waiting for flowers
for several years. A glint of white petals around the back alerted me to a change in fortune. This is a very moderate but almost overwhelming delight.
The fates rarely deliver unfettered bounty. By the time I found the flower it had already fallen to the ground. I put it back again.
I'm not going to let a little thing like that stop me from getting a picture.
11th February 2024
Galanthus 'Egret'
Snowdrops are romping through the garden in the warmth. I don't think that they are particularly early, though I have heard several people saying so.
I just think that they are open wider and for longer than is usual for the second week of February. This is always the peak week for snowdrops,
it is just that this year they have been wide open all week rather than peeking open for an hour at lunchtime and then hiding away again.
Most of my snowdrops grow in large tubs. It gives me confidence that the varieties can be kept apart until I can recognise them reliably,
or until I can accept that the differences are beyond my ken. With every year that passes it becomes clearer that the snowdrops planted in the ground
are growing more vigorously and making more impact. I am planting them out slowly, but the cultivars have to be distinctive. Bulbs seem to move around in my garden,
appearing where they are least expected. I don't like confusion, though I am coming to accept it as inevitable.
Against that background, Galanthus 'Egret' is headed into the garden. It is a very ordinary snowdrop but the outer tepals turn upwards as the flower opens.
The effect is distinctive. Once it is in the garden I will spend every year wondering what it is and why I planted it. In the second week of Febuary it will all become clear
again. Oh, it's 'Egret'!
The ordinary becomes astonishing.
11th February 2024
Leucadendron 'Burgundy Sunset'
Leucadendrons are never ordinary, they have a starting point in "astonishing" and then slowly transcend mortal comprehension.
Leucadendron 'Burgundy Sunset' occupies a small part of the south wall of the house. It is a precious spot,
protected from the worst of the cold and wet. There are a thousand things that I would like to grow there but 'Burgundy Sunset' is secure.
It was killed in 2018 when the Beast from the East came ravening. No sooner was it clearly dead than I replaced it.
It is too wonderful to live without, the purple foliage darkens to warm black in the summer sunshing and the leaves are gently frosted with white hairs.
It is, in short, delightful.
When it flowers, in the earliest dawn of spring, it transcends aesthetics and becomes the elemental force of pure wonder. I am a fan.
That's why I grow it.
11th February 2024
Narcissus asturiensis 'Van Tubergen Clone'
Daffodils of any sort are still precious in the garden. The local fields of daffodils are still fields without daffodils. A few have been picked while in bud,
leaving an occasional yellow flower to emphasise the absence but the yellow fields to come are still green. A few cultivars in the garden have crept into flower
in the spring-that-might-be-spring (who knows) and they are very welcome.
Narcissus asturiensis 'Van Tubergen Clone' is just a way of referring to the plant of N. asturiensis that was distributed by Van Tubergen. In
one way it is just part of the variability of N. asturiensis but growers have recognised that in a hundred small ways it is slightly special and
that is enough to make it quietly outstanding. It is moderately exceptional. It is a fraction shorter than the majority. It makes more comfortable clumps than others of its ilk.
It is poised rather than posed. In a field of N. asturiensis it would be unmissable without standing out.
If the cold weather returns it will tuck its head down and wait for better times.
Seems like a good plan to me.