JEARRARD'S HERBAL
26th January 2025
Iris 'Katherine's Gold'.
The garden is full of optimism. Cold, wet, windy weather has tried to obscure that, but everywhere I go there is optimism bubbling through
the wintery soil. At present it is still almost entirely optimism, there isn't a lot else bursting through, but every tiny fragment of reality
that breaks through the frigid crust of winter is a cause for celebration. The bleakness of the season acts like a magnifying glass,
focussing closely on every tiny speck of promise. As a child I used to wonder what the point was of magnifying glasses. As I have grown older
I have come to appreciate them more. Who in their right mind decided to write the instructions for a microwave meal in tiny white letters on red cardboard?
In the garden I have come to appreciate winter for the same effect. A vase of Dutch iris in May hardly raises an eyebrow but I laid on the cold, wet ground
to get a good look at 'Katherine's Gold' and paid the inevitable price, willingly. I considered phoning the house to get help standing up
but decided that I could cope alone and nobody ever need know.
Just blown that one then.
26th January 2025
Helleborus x hybridus 'Crimson Ruffles' .
Perhaps garden awkwardness is the wintery theme of the week, suddenly Helleborus x hybridus 'Crimson Ruffles' is in flower.
It is a seed strain raised by Robin and Sue White. I bought my plant from them at Blackthorn Nursery and have kept it in a tub ever since.
I should have bought two at the time and raised a whole generation of crimson ruffled babies. It is a very good thing, flowering early,
with a good colour and dying down cleanly during summer. It is exactly what the hellebore border needs but I was stupid, I only bought one, there
is no generation of crimson babies to follow.
It isn't quite the perfect plant however. It flowers early but in the years I have had it there has only ever been a single flower spike in spring.
A single flower spike and a single flower. Sometimes I get a second bud that falls off, but usually just a single flower. I have tried to cross it but it has never set
seed.
The awkwardness? A year or so ago I finally moved all of the elderly hellebores in pots into the hellebore border, grubbling along on my hands and knees trying to
dig 15 litre holes with a spade. They all went in eventually, 'Crimson Ruffles' has flowered, it is all going to be good.
26th January 2025
Galanthus 'Melvillei' .
Snowdrops are now advancing onto the scene, beating back the stoic stasis of winter. I was at the Myddleton House snowdrop sale yesterday
and it confirmed my opinion of the season. There have been some early snowdrops but the majority are still to come.
The sale was heavily populated by plants in bud, watched with fervent anticipation by a hungry crowd, keen to see their unique identities
unfolded and revealed (or not as the case may be). Some bright sunshine helped. The distinctiveness of snowdrops can be measured on an ascending scale and in general
the price follows it.
'Melvillei' has made an early start. In early February 1982 I was in the gardens at East Lambrook Manor and bought 'Melvillei' from the owner.
It didn't last for long, probably objecting to being lifted in its prime. A couple of years later I replaced it from Broadleigh Gardens,
and this is that stock. It is a very old and reliable cultivar and here it is, threatening the grim weather with brightness.
26th January 2025
Camellia 'Winter's Interlude'.
The season is poised in precarious balance, like a see-saw with a rusty bearing. Everything is tipping towards spring without quite falling.
Storm Eowyn delivered the stressed screeching, before long there will be a sudden movement and the floral equivalent of a thud.
Spring will land with a bang. In the meantime the weather is warm and the outlook is warm. It is too early to hope that the
cold weather is passing, but it is time to start looking forward to the time when we can hope that the cold weather is passing.
While I am untangling that, 'Winter's Interlude' has produced another flush of flowers. I don't want it to be an interlude but I am being cautious
in what I hope for. If we get six inches of snow or an ice-storm in the next couple of weeks then I will shrug my shoulders with seasonal
sang-froid and stoke the fire.
Nevertheless I am looking forward to the flowers falling from 'Winter's Interlude' and the springtime promise of the tumbling petals.