Novel local connection

33 years ago this month some colleagues and I started a book club. Dozens of books later we are still reading, discussing, agreeing, disagreeing, laughing. Members have come and gone and now we are nine. We meet about eight times a year in the ground floor of the Royal Festival Hall and often notice other groups clutching their paperbacks and doing the same as us. This is a contrast with our early days when we would gather in each other’s houses and the host would cook and often miss out on the best bits of the discussion. After a few years, with most of us working in central London, it made sense to decamp to the South Bank. Other than a sojourn at Pizza Express on Exhibition Road whilst the RFH underwent refurbishment some years ago, the venue has remained unchanged. Of course we had to resort to Zoom for about a year during the pandemic, and it was a great relief when we were able to meet face to face again.

For the first time this year we went on a book club day trip to follow in the footsteps of Virginia Woolf whose Mrs Dalloway we had read a few months before. We visited Charleston Farmhouse near Lewes, home of her sister Vanessa Bell. The day was a joy and we’re planning a 2026 trip to Jane Austen’s Cottage at Chawton in Hampshire, inspired by having read Sense & Sensibility as well as her 250th anniversary this month.

In the early days of the book club, Penguin Classics were being sold for £1 each and we read several novels we might not otherwise have done. Wilkie Collins ‘The Woman in White’ was one. More recently we’ve tended to choose more contemporary authors, often those shortlisted for book awards. I’ve always been intrigued to hear how other book clubs go about choosing the next book. I know one model is for one person to choose the book and lead the discussion about it. Our system, if it can be called that, is for as many as want to, to suggest books perhaps recommended by friends or mentioned on the radio and to advocate for our chosen titles. Being pragmatic individuals with busy lives, shorter books often get the vote. Several of us listen to the chosen book or perhaps, as I sometimes do, operate a hybrid system where I read some chapters and read others.

Some books have disappeared without trace from memory, others have elicited quite heated discussions. Often those we’ve enjoyed least give rise to the liveliest debates. And then there are those books which have really struck a chord with all of us and made us want to find out more about the context and the characters. Such a book was our most recent read, The Painter’s Daughters by Emily Howes.

Cover of the book 'The Painter's Daughters' by Emily Howes, featuring two young women with a painted background and highlighted text.

The painter in the title is Thomas Gainsborough (1727-1788). He painted his two daughters Molly and Peg throughout his career and the book is a fictionalised account of their and their grandmother Meg’s stories. The author admits to having used artistic licence to alter key dates and characters to progress or enhance the tale. What emerges is a gripping story of a charismatic artist who moves to Bath to be close to the high society whose portraits he paints, leaving behind the more rustic and idyllic surroundings of Suffolk where the girls were born. It is clear from the start that the younger of the girls, Peg, realises from a young age that her sister Molly is vulnerable: prone to sleep walking and other episodes of unusual behaviour. She makes it her life’s mission to protect Molly and that relationship is at the core of the book. As is the source of Molly’s mental illness, inspired apparently by Margaret Gainsborough having been overheard to refer to herself as ‘the daughter of a prince’. Enter Prince Frederick, later Prince of Wales (1707-1751). The author surmises that Molly, like the future King George lll (Frederick’s first legitimate child), is suffering from porphyria, thought to be the cause of George lll’s ‘madness’.

Two young girls are depicted in a historical painting. One girl, wearing a white dress, reaches out towards a butterfly, while the other girl, in a yellow dress, holds her hand. The background features dark foliage, creating a serene atmosphere. — *The Painter’s Daughters Chasing a Butterfly (1756), National Gallery*

Portrait of two young girls, the daughters of Thomas Gainsborough, showing their kinship and innocence with soft expressions. — *The Painter’s Daughters Chasing a Butterfly (1756), National Gallery*

At this juncture you’d be forgiven for wondering what a historical novel about the family of a famous portrait artist has to do with gardens, horticulture etc. which make up the bulk of the posts by Weeds Roots & Leaves. You’ll be relieved to hear that it’s not just because a book contains leaves! As I read this highly readable and warm-hearted novel, I picked up references to familiar locations in Kew and Bath. Kew is my home patch and the Bath setting resonated with me as I’ve visited the city three times over the last 18 months. The action also takes place in Ipswich, Harwich and London.

BATH

View of a garden with a central circular planting bed, surrounded by gravel paths and greenery, featuring a large stone building with several windows in the background. — *The Georgian Garden to the rear of 4 The Circus*

The ‘new’ city of Bath which is still under construction when the Gainsborough family arrives, is vividly portrayed. The streets are awash with pale coloured mud, created by the dust from the Bath stone being used to build the grand houses occupied by Gainsborough’s clients. The large house on The Circus which the family move into when Gainsborough’s success grows, is described not altogether flatteringly as something akin to a new build. These days a Georgian home like that would be the ultimate Bath des res. When I went to Bath in July I was early for my appointment (receiving the Green Flag Award on behalf of Pensford Field Environmental Trust) and had time to explore. My route took me around The Circus as far as the Royal Crescent and back along Gravel Walk which runs along the rear of the houses on the south west of The Circus. Here I happened upon The Georgian Garden behind 4, The Circus, which has been recreated to the original plan of around 1760/1770. The rather austere, mainly evergreen, planting of box, yew and holly has been chosen to represent species used in gardens of that period. Perhaps the garden of the Gainboroughs’ house at 17, The Circus, had a similar layout?

A pathway surrounded by lush green trees, with a prominent large tree featuring a textured trunk, under a clear blue sky. — *The Gravel Walk, Bath: backing onto The Circus*. *The tree in foreground is a Monterey Cypress* *(Cupressus macrocarpa)*

KEW

A large red-brick historical building with multiple chimneys, situated on a green lawn, under a mostly clear sky.

Prince Frederick, later Prince of Wales, is strongly associated with Kew. An estrangement from his parents George (later King George ll) and Caroline was established early. In 1714, when he was seven, he was left behind in Hanover in 1714 when his parents came to England on the succession of George l to the throne. When summoned to join his family on George ll’s accession in 1728, the antipathy deepened, but in what might have been ‘a gesture of reconciliation’*, he leased a house a very short distance from the Dutch House (now Kew Palace) in what is now Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, intended as a rural retreat. Improvements to the house were carried out by architect William Kent including the white stucco rendering which gave rise to it being called The White House. Frederick clearly had plans for the grounds of his new house in Kew. He commissioned Italian statuary and is documented as having spent considerable sums on plants ordered from, amongst others, a nurseryman on Kew Green**. Frederick died in 1751 from complications thought to have arisen from an injury years before when he was struck in the chest by a cricket ball.

In a key episode in The Painter’s Daughters an important encounter between Frederick and Meg takes place during a cricket match on Kew Green.

A view of a café with a white fence, situated in a grassy area surrounded by trees, indicating a park setting. — *Kew Cricket Club pavilion on Kew Green today*

His widow Augusta, dowager Princess of Wales, dedicated herself to the improvement of the garden at the White House during the twenty years that she survived her husband. The Princess of Wales Conservatory, opened by Princess Diana in 1987, commemorates Princess Augusta. The White House was demolished in 1802. Its site is marked by a sundial on the lawn in front of Kew Palace.

A sundial stands in the foreground of a well-maintained lawn, with a large red-brick building visible in the background amidst sparse trees. — *The site of The White House*

A modern greenhouse with sloping glass roofs and a central entrance, surrounded by plants and gravel paths. — *The site of The White House*

The relationship between Gainsborough and his younger daughter Peg is touchingly portrayed in the book. He is constantly working or entertaining friends at parties where he plays the violin. She yearns to spend time with him and learn to paint like him so as to make him proud of her. She tries her best to master the craft, but has to concede she doesn’t have the talent. In a scene towards the end of his life, he tells her ‘I wanted you to paint’. Shortly afterwards the author states

He is buried at Kew, in the shadow of the church. His grave is set near to his friend, as he had asked. ‘Social to the last’, my mother says, drawing her black veil down from her bonnet.’

Gainsborough’s grave stands close to the south elevation of St Anne’s church on Kew Green. According to the engraving on the tomb, he is buried with his wife Margaret and nephew Gainsborough Dupont, who also features as a character in the novel. The friend referred to is Joshua Kirby (1716-1774), who Gainsborough had met as a young man in Suffolk. He was an artist, draughtsman and architect who in 1770 designed a new north aisle for St Anne’s.

Grave of Thomas Gainsborough, with inscriptions detailing his life and the restoration tribute by E. M. Ward, located in Kew. — *Thomas Gainsborough’s grave*

Gravestones in a cemetery, with a flowering tree in the foreground, blue sky above, and part of a brick building visible on the right. — *Thomas Gainsborough’s grave*

BROCCOLI

Lest you think I have strayed too far from gardens and horticulture in this post, I should mention that during our discussion of The Painter’s Daughters one member of the book club reminded us that Gainsborough had used broccoli as his design for trees!

His landscapes were often painted at night by candlelight, using a tabletop arrangement of stones, pieces of mirrors, broccoli, and the like as a model.***

We’re having a rare Saturday morning book club meet up in early January in Room 34 of the National Gallery which houses its Gainsborough paintings to see his daughters’ portraits and perhaps identify some broccoli!

A portrait depicting a man in 18th-century attire, standing beside a woman dressed in a light blue gown, seated on a green bench under a large tree. A dog sits next to the man, with a scenic landscape of hills and fields in the background. — *Mr and Mrs Andrews (c. 1750), National Gallery*. Spot the broccoli!

Kew Gardens, 22 December 2025

*p 21 Ray Desmond Kew.

**Richard Butt. p 26 Ray Desmond Kew

***Michael Rosenthal, Thomas Gainsborough. Oxford University Press.

P.S. Mary (Molly) and Margaret (Peg) Gainsborough are not buried at St Anne’s in Kew but in the graveyard at St Mary’s, Hanwell.

Crinodendrons and the Impossible Garden*

Featured

How an apparently impossible subject on the north west coast of Scotland was made to produce good trees, shrubs, fruit and flowers
Title of a lecture delivered by Osgood Mackenzie in 1908

I don’t make a habit of peering over garden walls, but the wall was partly demolished, the house abandoned, and I’d glimpsed what looked like a large cultivated shrub amidst a wilderness of weeds. It was festooned with waxy scarlet flowers or fruit, I couldn’t tell which, shaped like teardrops suspended on long slender stems. This was in Kinsale in West Cork, about 25 years ago, and I was on holiday with my parents. We were just taking an evening stroll after supper and collectively fell in love with this plant and determined to find out what it was. This was long before plant identifier apps and it took a little while, on returning from the trip, to locate the mystery plant in the RHS Gardeners’ Encyclopedia of Plants & Flowers. I forget where, but I tracked down the plant and bought it for my mother’s birthday that year. It grew in their tiny courtyard garden in Petersfield for many years until the house was sold in 2013.

And the name of the shrub which so caught my imagination? Crinodendron hookerianum or Chile lantern tree. It is named for William Jackson Hooker*, who was appointed the first full-time director of Kew Gardens in 1841, and studied many plants from Chile. I believe that ‘crinodendron’ means lily tree. A specimen grows in a side border of the woodland garden at Kew near the boundary wall with Kew Road and always reminds me of my mother and that warm evening in Ireland.

I was thrilled last week to find a superb specimen of C. hookerianum growing by the front door of the garden lodge, which was to be our home for three nights while we explored Inverewe gardens in the north west of Scotland. This superb National Trust for Scotland garden’s south-facing location on Loch Ewe means it benefits, like the gardens of south west Ireland, from the warming influence of of the Gulf Stream. In the 1860s, the maker of the garden, Osgood Mackenzie, planted a shelter belt of Scots pines around the peninsula on which Inverewe stands, to maximise the unique climate in his garden to grow species which wouldn’t be expected to survive, let alone thrive, in a place on the same latitude as Hudson’s Bay. The garden lodge shrub was so high and wide it almost hid the front door of the house.

During the two days I was at Inverewe I tried to walk as many of the paths through the wooded areas of the peninsula on which the garden is located as I could, admiring the fabulous collection of plants favouring the peaty, acidic soil. Amongst the Rhododendrons and Azaleas, I found several towering Crinodendrons, some at least four metres high. On the last evening, I walked down to an exquisite little cove, Camas Glas, to see the sun setting over Lough Ewe, and as I walked back came across an exquisite pink flowered cultivar, C. hookerianum Ada Hoffman. My mother died 11 years ago last week and it seemed very fitting that my visit to a garden which I know she would have loved discovering should be bookended by this plant which she took such pleasure in.

Reading more on my return home from the garden, I find it is not a coincidence that Inverewe and Chile lie on the west coasts of their respective land masses. As I explain later in this post, there is there some similarity in climate between the north west coast of Scotland and the temperate regions of Chile. Even during my short visit to Inverewe I spotted several other plants hailing from Chile. I should mention here that almost every plant I encountered was clearly labelled with a Kew style black label citing its botanical name and region of origin.

These are some of the other Chilean plants I found during my two day exploration of the plant lover’s paradise that is Inverewe:

Senecio candicans: Known in the horticultural trade as Angel Wings, S. candicans is often sold for summer bedding as it makes a striking statement plant in a container, its velvety pearl-grey leaves a foil for cerise pink pelargoniums or burgundy coloured dahlias. But at Inverewe itspreads several feet across a gritty bed in the Rock Garden. The terraced Rock Garden is partly constructed from stone salvaged from the grand mansion built by Osgood Mackenzie’s mother Mary in the 1860s, which burnt down in 1914, to be replaced in the 1920s by the art deco style Inverewe House built by Mackenzie’s daughter Mairi and her second husband Ronald Harwood. The low-key but very evocative interpretation installed in the ground floor rooms by the National Trust for Scotland brings the house and Mairi’s lifestyle vividly alive.

Araucaria araucana: more commonly called the monkey puzzle tree. This uniquely formed coniferous tree has of course become a fairly common sight in suburban front gardens. At Inverewe young specimens have been planted on the cliff edges below the High Viewpoint overlooking Loch Ewe, their distinctive spiky limbs visible in the centre of this image. I’m always intrigued by the story of its ‘collection’ by naval doctor Archibald Menzies who accompanied George Vancouver on the voyage to map the west coast of the Americas (1790 – 1795). Invited to supper by a local dignitary who served a dessert made from the tree’s pine-nuts, Menzies is said to have popped a few seeds into his pocket which he sowed on the return voyage to London, delivering the germinated plants to Kew Gardens.

Vancouver’s name appears in the name of another plant I saw in Inverewe’s damp woodland areas: Vancouveria hexandra or duckfoot.

Jovellana violaceae, is native to Chile, its dainty mauve round bell-shaped flowers earning it the common name violet teacup flower. I haven’t come across this before and saw it growing in several places across the garden, where it spreads over rocks in sunny clearings in the woodland areas. A low-growing shrub, I read that it is vulnerable to below zero temperatures, and would need protection if grown in gardens without Inverewe’s benign climate.

Embrothrium coccineum or Chilean Firetree. Reading about the native habitat of this spectacular shrub is a fascinating geography lesson. It is endemic to a narrow strip of land along the coasts of Chile and Argentina called the Valdivian temperate rain forest, whose climate is influenced by the prevailing winds, the ‘westerlies’, which carry warm, equatorial waters and winds to the western coasts of South America. The flower heads of this evergreen shrub consist of tubular scarlet petals narrowing to slender ‘stems’ held together in a loose clusters. The specimen I came across was several metres high.

I also happened upon another plant connected to William Jackson Hooker: Ourisia macrophylla, the mountain foxglove. A woodland under-storey plant, it was described by Hooker in 1843, having been collected on Mt Egmont in New Zealand and the specimen brought to Kew. An evergreen perennial which favours shade and moist peaty soil, it was growing amongst tree roots lining a path leading to the jetty at the tip of the Inverewe Garden peninsula.

A random fact I picked up when researching this post, is that Sir William Jackson Hooker rented a house called Brick Farm in Kew, renaming it West Hall. Feeling an urge to peer over a garden wall again, on Sunday afternoon I wandered down what is now very much a suburban street to see what, if anything, remains of the house where Hooker and his family lived, a few minutes walk from Kew Green and the gardens he curated. And there it stands, a few metres from the South Circular Road, a whitewashed double-fronted house behind a very high wall almost entirely surrounded by mature trees and shrubs. How many of them date from Hooker’s time, I don’t know, and the high wall prevented my seeing if they included a Crinodendron. But I wouldn’t have made a detour to find one of the oldest houses in Kew had it not been for the magical garden at Inverewe.

Kew, Surrey 21 May 2025

Rousham: Arcadia in Oxfordshire

In 2021, when we were still in recovery from the pandemic and growing accustomed to both socialising and learning online, I undertook a course with Oxford Continuing Education on the subject of English Landscape Gardens 1650 to the present day. We were tasked with writing two assignments, the shorter of which was an account of an C18 landscape garden. I chose a garden in Oxfordshire which many people had recommended to me as unlike anything I would have seen anywhere else. The garden was Rousham, near Bicester, which I visited a few days after my birthday in early September 2017. The garden is indeed unique, not least for banning children under 15 and dogs!

In his recent British Gardens series for the BBC, Monty Don included Rousham in his seemingly helter skelter tour of gardens across England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. He clearly holds it in great affection and highlighted many of the same features which I highlighted in my essay, which follows.

Begun by Charles Bridgeman in the 1720s for Colonel Robert Dormer, the landscape at Rousham was further developed by William Kent for his brother General James Dormer (along with the house itself) from 1737. Kent retained much of Bridgeman’s layout such as the bowling green and riverside terrace, but he softened the outlines of the amphitheatre and transformed a series of descending formal pools into a cascade, the Vale of Venus.

Figure 2 Woodland edge, Rousham. 2 Sept 2017

Solitary classical statues (Apollo, Pan, Bacchus, Ceres, Mercury) at the edges of woodland beckon the visitor to the next episode in the garden, helping to create a mysterious atmosphere of a mythical realm at one remove from the world outside.

Well-lit lawns give way to shaded groves, the progression from light through shade to light again lending an air of drama to the landscape. A channelled rill snakes through the garden to the cascade, its route interrupted by a hexagonal plunge pool.

Kent borrowed neighbouring landscape by installing an eye-catcher on a hill visible from the bowling green at the rear of the house, emphasising the attractive view of the countryside beyond the estate. This feature consists of three arches in Gothick style. He continued this theme for Cuttle Mill, a building in the middle distance, which he fitted with a Gothick gable end.

Along a ridge overlooking the curve of the River Cherwell, stands a seven-arched arcade containing a shaded walkway, the Praeneste. General Dormer installed statue busts of his Roman heroes in the Praeneste, the only hint of a political message in this otherwise escapist garden. Many Whigs opposed to Sir Robert Walpole, prime minister from 1721 to 1742, installed pantheons or obelisks honouring classical heroes in their gardens, to contrast these ideal leadership figures with the, in their opinion, less than satisfactory current regime.

Nowhere in Kent’s Rousham is there a trace of the parterres which featured so strongly in the Baroque gardens of the previous century. Nor the serpentine walks through woodland which developed as the seventeenth century wore on. At Rousham there is no defined ‘landscape circuit’ as described by Uglow[1]. Most of the episodes in the garden can be entered and exited via different routes.

Like the early Hanoverian gardens of the first decades of the Eighteenth century, Rousham has elements of the naturalistic landscape design in vogue at that time. But what distinguishes it from those gardens is the dramatic flair introduced by William Kent who had first experimented with re-creating a classical landscape in his work for Lord Burlington at Chiswick House. At Rousham he succeeded in developing the conceit that when in residence the gentleman landowner is pursuing a rural idyll of the kind advocated by Virgil and Horace.

Within thirty years of its creation, the landscape at Rousham attracted the approval of Sir Horace Walpole, who described it in a letter to George Montagu as having

the sweetest little groves, streams, glades, porticoes, cascades, and river, imaginable; all the scenes are perfectly classic.[2]

We are fortunate that the early Eighteenth century garden at Rousham survives intact, as an example of Kent’s unique ability, described by Richardson, to combine designing ‘architectural caprices’ with ‘moulding physical space’. [3]

Footnotes

[1] Uglow J. (2004) A Little History of British Gardening p.131

[2] Wikipedia entry on Rousham. Letter from Walpole to George Montagu 19 July 1760

[3] Richardson T. (2007) The Arcadian Friends p.290

Bibliography

National Heritage List for England [Online] available at https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1000107, (Accessed 21 March 2021)

Richardson T. (2007) The Arcadian Friends, Bantam Press, London.

Wikipedia entry for Rousham [Online] https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=rousham+wiki&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8, (Accessed 21 March 2021)

Uglow J. (2004) A Little History of British Gardening, Chatto & Windus, London.

Postcript

To one side of the landscaped gardens at Rousham, sits a large walled garden, complete with dovecote. My images of that section of the garden follow.

Kew Gardens, 20 February 2025

Denmans

A pair of Adirondack chairs painted a deep blue stand either side of a table on which is a bottle of Famous Goose Scotch whisky. Tumblers of the spirit balance on one of the wide flat arms of each chair. To one side there is a tall terracotta oil jar. In the corner behind one of the chairs the tall stems of Agapanthus complement the bluish grey of the flint walls of the house. Slate paving slabs edge up against a gravel filled bed planted in a limited palette of purple, lime green and grey. Through the glass of the patio doors I see a figure sitting at a table lit by a desk lamp. He appears to be making notes with one hand and leafing through a large book with the other. A Matisse cut out figure print in the same blue as the chairs hangs on the wall beside him, alongside a painting of a plump ginger and white cat.

Joyce Robinson and John Brookes’ portraits hang in the cafe at Denmans

Let’s return to that scene later. In late April 2024 I went to Denmans Garden, the creation of two far-sighted garden makers. Denmans is situated between the westbound carriage of the A27 and the foot of the South Downs, roughly halfway between Arundel and Chichester in West Sussex. It’s a garden that feels very contemporary so it comes as something of a surprise to learn that the garden was started 70 years ago. Joyce Robinson and her husband Hugh built a house and operated a market garden at Denmans after buying the land in 1946. A few years later Mrs Robinson began to plant an ornamental garden alongside the productive part of the site. After a visit to the Greek island of Delos in May 1969 where she was charmed by the sight of flowers growing everywhere in the island’s gravel, she resolved to use gravel as a growing medium. Ten years later she extended the garden into an area that had been a cattle paddock, and made two dry riverbeds. Enter modernist garden designer John Brookes (1933-2018) who in 1979 converted the stable block into his home calling it Clock House and set up a school of garden design. In 1984 Mrs Robinson retired and John Brookes took over management of the garden.

Mrs Robinson herself called her planting style ‘glorious disarray’ and when John Brookes arrived he introduced a more disciplined structure in layout and planting by reshaping some beds and adding clipped topiary features, all the while retaining the curving contours of the garden. He referred to his planting style as ‘controlled disarray’. The garden feels informal, with spaces flowing naturally from one to the next. John Brookes wrote:

I often see people going round the garden here at Denmans with their noses almost amongst the planting, and while I can understand their interest in individual plants, I long to say to them: ‘Now stand back and look at the associations and contrasts between individual masses and then see the plants individually up close, afterwards’.
John Brookes A Landcape Legacy

I confess to being one of those garden visitors who focus on plants first, but there is something about Denmans which makes you slow down to appreciate the unpretentious elegance of the garden which I hope some of the images which follow illustrate.

Now let me share some of those plants which I had my ‘nose amongst’. I’m afraid I’ve not been able to identify all of them.

*Teucrium fruticans* or shrubby germander

But what of the scene I described at the beginning of this blog? In July last year I was delighted that Denmans was one of the RHS Partner Gardens featured in the Hampton Court Palace Garden Festival. Denmans Garden: Room Outside cleverly incorporated many of the elements of this Sussex garden and paid homage to its late custodian, John Brookes by showing him working on one of his many books, perhaps about to finish work for the day and enjoy a sundowner with a friend on the patio. The blue painted furniture and Mediterranean oil jar are trademark features of the garden, seen below in the garden itself. I shall certainly return to Denmans, where the joint legacy of Joyce Robinson and John Brookes is being lovingly maintained.

Kew Gardens 5 January 2025

A very special trip to Sainsbury’s

Woolbeding Gardens and West Dean Gardens in West Sussex

In this ‘Twixtmas’ period of short dark days with the promise of lengthening days around the corner, it’s a good time to reflect on garden visits this past year. Despite all good intentions, the number of blogs I write by no means reflects the number of gardens I visit. Inevitably some go unrecorded, save for a clutch of digital images, secured on the cloud but destined for obscurity unless I wrangle them into a blog such as that to follow here.

In late April I was on the road to West Sussex with a friend and colleague from Kew days, who is as comprehensive in her exploration of a new garden as am I. Not a plant or design detail goes unheeded or commented upon, meaning that visits take as long as necessary for us to feel we’ve not missed an important feature or tree! That’s not to say we don’t factor coffee, lunch and tea into the itinerary. These form an important part of the day and all the better if available in the garden to be visited.

We ambitiously plotted a course to two gardens near Midhurst, a stay in an Air BnB within a stone’s throw of Chichester Cathedral, and two gardens to the east of Chichester. In this and the next blog I’ll try to do justice to the gardens we explored. The first stop on the tour was the National Trust’s Woolbeding Gardens.

Because there is no parking at Woolbeding, a minibus picks you up in the car park of the Midhurst leisure centre. The jolly driver advised us that we were in good time for the opening of the glasshouse. As veterans of Kew’s visitor services team, and used to tracking the opening times of visitor attractions in the Gardens, we noted this and didn’t ask for further particulars. On having our membership cards scanned on arrival, we were again reminded of the glasshouse opening time and yet again in the cafe where we planned to orient ourselves over a coffee before setting off around the garden. We finally twigged that this wasn’t any old glasshouse, and that something rather special was about to happen. Trying not to be distracted by tempting borders to either side, we walked down to find a small cluster of people looking expectantly at a tall diamond-shaped glasshouse. Murmuring conversations petered away and above the sound of birdsong, we could hear a low mechanical hum whilst ten isosceles triangled panes of glass forming the upper section of the house slowly opened outwards, like the petals of a giant flower responding to the sun’s rays. After the process which took about three minutes in complete silence, it felt as though we’d taken part in some form of special ceremony.

Woolbeding is a curious blend of formal, landscape and contemporary gardens. At its heart is a C17 house which was leased to Simon Sainsbury in 1972, after being given to the National Trust in 1957 by the Lascelles family.

It is difficult to believe that the garden is barely 50 years old, especially the pleasure garden area called the Longwalk alongside the River Rother, which emulates the atmosphere and style of an C18 landscape garden, complete with ruined abbey, hermit’s hut, Chinese bridge, river god and gothic summerhouse. The abbey ruins were so authentic that it came as a shock to find they dated from the late 1990s! When I read the Longwalk was designed by Julian and Isabel Bannerman, I began to recognise their trademark theatricality, as exemplified in the Collector Earl’s garden at Arundel Castle. Yellow skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) and globeflower (Trollius europaeus) were echoed in the colour of the painted Chinese bridge. A gnarly rustic fountain in The Four Seasons garden stands within a flint edged circular pool fed by a deep rill whose banks are planted with ferns and primroses.

We doubled back to designer Lanning Roper’s formal garden rooms, several of which are created around water features. High yew and hornbeam hedging divide the rooms within the old walled garden. The Fountain Garden’s centrepiece is a Renaissance style octagonal fountain surmounted by a figure of Neptune and dolphins. The original C16 Italian statue is on loan to the V&A. Trellised trained fruit trees adorn a brick wall on one side of the Vegetable Garden. The topiary and abundant greenery in that garden give way to an austere symmetry in The Swimming Pool garden.

A striking polished steel sculpture/water feature designed by William Pye dominates the elevation of the house facing the formal garden rooms. Again, this reminded me of a garden elsewhere: the eight water sculptures in the Serpent Garden at Alnwick are the work of Pye. One of these, ‘Coanda’, resembles that at Woolbeding:

THIS SCULPTURE SHOWS THE COANDA EFFECT WHICH MAKES WATER CLING TO THE UNDERSIDE OF SMOOTH OVERHANGING SURFACES, APPEARING TO DEFY GRAVITY. THE COANDA EFFECT WAS DISCOVERED BY HENRI COANDA, A FAMOUS AERONAUTICAL ENGINEER WHO WENT ON TO DEVELOP A FLYING SAUCER. HE STUDIED SCULPTURE WITH RODIN AND ENGINEERING WITH ALEXANDRE EIFFEL.

Extract from the Alnwick Gardens website

Leaving the classical formality of the garden rooms, we crossed an expansive lawn dominated by an eye-catcher, the circular Tulip Folly atop a low mound.

The garden zones of the Silk Route garden emulate the habitats of the ancient trade route from Asia to Europe, taking in the Mediterranean climate of the Istanbul region, the alpine environment of the Anatolian Plateau, followed by Iran represented by old roses and onwards to the Himalayas. Then come plants typical of Central Asia before arriving in the Chinese temperate region. Varying substrates distinguish one zone from the next, with rocks and gravel reflecting the geology of the regions along the route. The planting and landscaping throughout the Silk Route garden appear resilient to climate change: good drainage to cope with heavy downpours and a choice of species that might withstand droughty conditions without additional irrigation. In concluding my current talk to garden clubs on the topic of resilient gardening, I suggest a few gardens to visit where this kind of gardening can be seen in practice. Naturally the Silk Route garden features in my list.

The Silk Route ‘s destination is China’s sub-tropical zone inside the Heatherwick Studio’s glasshouse, designed to resemble an Edwardian terrarium, its glass ‘sepals’ opening and closing to maintain the correct temperature and climatic conditions for plants such as bananas and tender gingers.

April showers somewhat marred the afternoon visit to West Dean Gardens, a garden that I visited frequently when my parents were alive, as it was easily accessible from Petersfield where they lived after retirement. It is beautifully set, with views across the River Rother to sheep-grazed meadows at the foot of the South Downs and the St Roche’s Arboretum beyond.

The imposing flint built mansion is home to the Sussex campus of the West Dean College of Arts, Design, Craft and Conservation. The extensive walled gardens contain many restored Victorian glasshouses as well as a cutting garden area planted with dozens of tulips. I was disappointed to find that the 100m plus long Edwardian pergola was undergoing restoration, but the water gardens welcomed the damp conditions and the woodland planting was as varied as I had remembered. There’s an excellent cafe and shop at West Dean and I confess we retreated there for an hour or so to escape the elements.

We arrived in Chichester in the rain to plan the next day’s garden touring. The apartment block we stayed in was beside the multi-storey where I always parked on trips to Chichester with my parents! The apartment itself overlooked the elegant spire of the cathedral and the Downs in the distance.

Kew, 28 December 2024

In search of Richard Turner

Victorian glasshouse with curved roofs against a blue sky

Curvilinear glasshouses at two Irish botanic gardens and the Palm House at Kew

Engineer and iron founder Richard Turner (1798–1881) built glasshouses in two Irish botanic gardens before collaborating with Decimus Burton in the construction of the Palm House in Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The first to be built was the Palm House at the Belfast Botanic Gardens completed in 1840. 1848 saw the completion of both the Curvilinear Range at the National Botanic Gardens in Dublin and the Palm House at Kew.

In early October I visited both the Irish gardens and was intrigued to observe how Turner’s glasshouses compared with Kew Gardens’ own Palm House. I had always understood there to be an Irish connection with the distinctive building at Kew that is often preceded by the adjective ‘iconic’, and erroneously thought that Decimus Burton was Irish. But a quick consultation with Wikipedia before my trip revealed that it was Dublin-born Turner who had mastered the art of creating curvilinear glasshouses through the use of wrought iron ribs linked with cast iron tubes. These glazing bars were light enough to support curving glass structures often likened in shape to the upturned hull of a ship.

Having used this innovative technology for a conservatory at a private estate in Fermanagh, Turner was engaged to build the Palm House at the Botanic Gardens, Belfast to a design by Charles Lanyon, and it was completed in 1840. The Curvilinear Range at the National Botanic Gardens of Ireland and the Palm House at Kew followed in 1848. According to historian of Kew, Ray Desmond, the collaborative relationship between Burton and Turner which resulted in Palm House at Kew was not without some tensions and once the glasshouse was completed, Turner’s role was relegated to ‘the subordinate role of a builder who had merely followed his architect’s plans’. This was despite his having devised a way to span 50 feet using the strength of wrought iron, meaning the central area was unimpeded by supporting columns. But Ray Desmond concludes that

an examination of all relevant archives reveals how much Burton was indebted to Turner’s engineering skills and ingenuity. Burton exercised a classical restraint on Turner’s tendency to decorative excess but, thankfully, did not entirely inhibit him. His scrolls and plant forms and the ubiquitous sunflower motif endow the ironwork with vivacity, even frivolity. The puritanical proclivities of Burton were counterpoised by Turner’s instinctive ebullience.

Because I started my Irish sojourn in Dublin, I’m going to take you first to the National Botanic Gardens of Ireland. Turner’s Curvilinear Range of intersecting glasshouses is located a short distance from the visitor centre and it didn’t take long to find some of Turner’s scrolls and plant forms both inside and outside the building. It’s one of two glasshouses open to the public, the other being the Palm House which dates from 1880 and, like the Tropical Ravine at Belfast (see below), is distinguished from its namesake at Kew by having a solid rather than glass rear wall.

The Curvilinear Range

The Palm House

There are many elements to Dublin’s botanic garden which occupies a relatively small area alongside historic Glasnevin Cemetery, and is intersected by the River Tolka, tributary of the Liffey. Those individual areas include a sloping walled garden with lean-to glasshouse and bothy linked by an intricate knot garden of box. Neat vegetable beds occupy the centre of the garden interspersed with handsome terracotta rhubarb forcers and pots stamped with the name Kiltrea of Enniscorthy in County Wexford. I was sad to read on Facebook that the pottery’s kilns are no longer firing and the potter’s wheel has stopped turning here at Kiltrea, the owners having retired.

On this side of the garden, which runs alongside the walls of Glasnevin Cemetery, and indeed includes a gateway into it, glimpses of the cemetery’s round tower appear through the trees. It was fascinating to explore Wild Ireland, where a range of natural areas have been replicated using characteristic soils and plants, including the distinctive limestone pavement of the Burren in County Clare, coastal habitat, various woodland habitats and a wetland area. Some of the 940 species endemic to Ireland are represented, including the strawberry tree, Arbutus unedo, which is such a feature of the woodlands around Killarney in County Kerry. Passing a colourful salvia border, I found the reconstruction of a Viking thatched hut, a reminder of early invaders of the country.

A steel sculpture looked familiar and I realised it resembled the Bootstrapping DNA sculpture outside the Jodrell Laboratory in Kew, the work of Charles Jencks, American landscape designer and architectural historian. The sculpture is called ?What is Life? and was installed to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the discovery of The Double Helix by James Watson and Francis Crick in 1953.

After four days in Dublin, I headed north to Belfast to spend time with friends from northern Virginia, London and Northamptonshire. Naturally the itinerary for this reunion visit had to include Belfast’s Botanic Gardens in the University Quarter. I visited the Botanic Gardens on a dank, drizzly morning, reassured to know that the impressive Ulster Museum is located within the Gardens, offering a cosy retreat should the rain intensify. The curving silhouette and decorative ironwork of the building indicated Richard Turner’s role in its construction. Like Kew’s Palm House it is betraying signs of age. Turner’s Palm House consists of two wings, the cool wing and the tropical wing.

By contrast to the jelly-moulded shape of the Palm House, the facade of the evocatively named Tropical Ravine across the way, looks so solid and Victorian in style that it’s a surprise to find a two storey glasshouse located behind the brickwork. The ground floor is the preserve of the horticultural team and steps lead up to the first floor (with a lift making it accessible for everyone). The perimeter walkway allows you to gaze across and down into both tropical and temperate zones and to appreciate the architectural structure of the plants featured. There’s a corner devoted to ferns, which must have appreciated the moisture generated by the misting system which operated every so often. Every day’s a school day as they say and here I learnt for the first time of John Templeton (1766-1825) known as The Father of Irish Botany.

Before I leave Ireland and return to Kew Gardens, allow me to take you on a detour to the north west of Belfast. Having revelled in the geological phenomenon of the Giant’s Causeway on the Antrim coast we returned to the city via the grounds of Gracehill House to see the avenue of beech trees planted by the Stuart family in the eighteenth century to impress visitors as they approached the entrance to their Georgian mansion. Known as the Dark Hedges, the highest branches of the trees entwine to form a tunnel almost perpendicular in form. The location was used in Game of Thrones in which it was called the King’s Road.

Knowing I was going to write this post this evening, I took several photographs of the inside of the Palm House at Kew yesterday, paying particular attention to Turner’s decorative ironwork. I suppose what strikes you with this extraordinary building is its scale, both in height and length. The building is shortly to undergo a major refurbishment, with the preparation for closure already underway.

Two ‘decant’ glasshouses are being built to house the plants from the Palm House while restoration works take place over the next several years. One is being built near the house itself and the other behind the scenes near the Tropical Nursery site.

My close-up of one of the sunflower motifs shows why the refurbishment project is necessary. Having worked at Kew while the Temperate House project took place, in the visitor information team, I fielded many comments expressing disappointment at the house being closed, and no doubt my successors will experience similar complaints about the Palm House in the months to come. But the years of negativity were forgotten when the building was re-opened in May 2018 to reveal the sparkling glasswork and paintwork of what was described in a song written to celebrate the re-opening as a ‘cathedral of light’. Roll on the day when the same can be said of a refurbished Palm House and the combined genius of Decimus Burton and Richard Turner can be admired once again.

Kew Gardens, 8 November 2024.

Postscript

Richard Turner’s ironworks in Ballsbridge in south Dublin produced not only the materials for the historic glasshouses I’ve written about in this post, but the decorative ironwork for the fanlights which adorn the front doors of the Georgian houses on Dublin’s Leeson Street. When I first started visiting Dublin with my family in the 1960s and 1970s, the tourist board produced a striking poster featuring the Georgian doors of Dublin and I’d like to think that one of them at least might have featured a fanlight made at the Turner ironworks. Here is my tribute to that classic poster.

Lutyens in Dublin

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This morning London was enveloped in dank drizzle but I flew into a Dublin enjoying dazzling sunshine on the first day of October. I dumped my luggage at the hotel and set off to the west of the city to Islandbridge, Dublin 8. My walk took me along the quays on the south side of the River Liffey, with wonderful views across to the Custom House and the Four Courts, not to mention historic bridges like the Halfpenny Bridge footbridge. This was my Dublin born mother’s favourite landmark in the city and I was so happy to see it on a fine autumn afternoon.

The Custom House, the Four Courts and Halfpenny Bridge

Past Guinness’s vast St James’s Gate brewery I walked, then crossed the river and followed the road to the south of Phoenix Park, until I reached my destination, the Irish National War Memorial Gardens. I wasn’t prepared for the scale and grandeur of the place. The Gardens form the centrepiece of a peaceful park beside the river. The appoach is dotted with Lutyens’ distinctive wave-backed benches. Each bench is painted red, which lends the place an almost Japanese garden air, save for a circular domed temple in classical style. In 1929 Sir Edwin Lutyens was commissioned by the Irish Government to design a Garden of Remembrance and a War Memorial. Ironically, the project was completed in 1939 on the eve of WW2. The Gardens are dedicated to Irish soldiers who died during the First World War.

This aerial view of the Gardens conveys the symmetrical design adopted by Lutyens, each ‘wing’ of the design occupied by identical sunken rose gardens and pillared colonnades entwined with vines and wisteria linking granite ‘book rooms’. Sadly locked this afternoon, I’ve read that the rooms house Ireland’s Memorial Records, eight volumes listing the names of Irish soldiers who died in the Great War. From the photographs I’ve seen of these beautifully illuminated books, they are truly beautiful objects. The artist was Harry Clarke, whose usual medium was stained glass.

An expanse of lawn lies between the book rooms, two large circular pools containing obelisk fountains lie to either side of a low and very plain rectangular monument. Beyond this wide shallow steps lead to a simple stone cross. The exquisitely carved inscriptions on the walls around the cross, in Gaelic and English, refer to the 49,400 Irish soldiers lost between 1914 and 1918.

My maternal great grandfather, Edward O’Leary, and paternal grandfather, James Roche, Irish men both, fought in the First World War. Thankfully both survived, although Grandad Roche as I called him, was wounded on the Somme. But I can’t help thinking that they must have known some of the men listed in the books housed in the book rooms of the memorial.

The calm elegance of Lutyens’ Gardens and monuments provide a peaceful oasis on the outskirts of a busy city. But also serve to remind us of the scale of the losses of the First World War. How sad to think that WW1 was not the war to end all wars and that so many parts of the world are still mired in bloody conflicts.

Mark Street, Dublin 1 October 2024

The herbaceous borders around the perimeters of the rose gardens are going strong. Including the Romneya coulteri, this one looking for all the world like a crinkly fried egg.

Piers, Popes and Palaces

An evening visit to Hampton Court Palace

Had I been asked a fortnight ago to explain what links Hampton Court Palace and the Vatican, I would no doubt have trotted out some facts learnt long ago in A Level history about Henry VIII’s break from Rome, the falling out of favour of Cardinal Wolsey and rise of Thomas Cromwell, and Wolsey’s giving his grand palace beside the River Thames to the king to postpone his disgrace. But since 18 July, I’ve identified a personal connection between these mighty edifices.

The story starts in October 2021 when I went to Rome with a couple of friends. One friend’s sister’s Sicilian mother-in-law happened to be staying in the city at the same time with a friend whose friend (stick with me, it’s a bit convoluted) was a guide at the Vatican museums. She kindly offered to take us to see the Sistine Chapel before it opened to the public! We met her early one morning and were led swiftly through chamber after cavernous chamber of treasures (the Gallery of Geographical Maps in particular stays in my memory) until we reached the door to the chapel. There we remained for over an hour, our necks craning to study every detail in Michelangelo’s ceiling. After a few minutes a small party of German clerics arrived, awed into silence like ourselves. Then, almost imperceptibly, the chapel filled with people, murmuring softly then rising in volume to the brink of excited chatter, until a diminutive monk tolled a handbell and silence was restored. Surrounded by now with many dozens of fellow tourists we realised just how privileged we’d been to experience being almost the only people in that unique space only an hour before.

The week before last, with a group of friends, I joined about 16 other garden lovers for an after hours tour of the gardens at Hampton Court Palace, led by head gardener and estate manager Graham Dillamore, organised by the National Gardens Scheme. Although I’ve visited Hampton Court Palace on several occasions, the gardens and palace have always been thronged with visitors. We arrived at Hampton Court Palace in style, on the riverboat from Kingston Pier. It felt apt to travel to the palace by water, as Henry and his retinue would have done 500 years ago.

When Graham led us past the entrance to the palace out onto the towpath and after a short walk, opened a door leading directly into the gardens, I recalled that unforgettable Roman morning. We entered a silent garden, the day’s visitors had departed and we had the gardens to ourselves. To our left was the glasshouse which protects the Great Vine, the roots of which extend beneath the expanse of bare earth in front of us, its surface cracked following a few days of hot dry weather. We entered the glasshouse to admire the Black Hamburg grapevine trained high above us. Amidst the dahlia border which surrounds this corner of the garden, a life-size figure fashioned from bark leans on his spade, and shields his eyes from the sun. The high perimeter walls which once separated the palace grounds from the path along the Thames, were punctuated with arched openings in the C18, and are now decorated with handsome terracotta urns made by Whichford Pottery, planted with pelargoniums. Fruit trees are trained against the wall between the openings.

The tour progressed to two sunken pond gardens, both designed to be viewed from above. The first features elaborate knot parterres set in a hedged rectangle, a circular lily pond at its centre. Other than the deep pink roses planted within the knot garden, greens and whites predominate, with a few touches of pale mauve, the outer borders containing Veronicastrum, Acanthus and Hydrangeas. We were allowed to walk around the second sunken garden, its lower borders planted with a formal annual bedding scheme of silver-leaved Senecio, red pelargoniums and bushy sunflower plants. Graham explained that they are transitioning to more sustainable planting in the upper borders, with hardy cannas and bananas, Fatsia and Crocosmia. The mid-level is fringed with Heliotropium, part of Hampton Court’s collection of about 20 cultivars, one of its three National Plant Collections. The warm evening sun amplified the sweet cherry pie scent of the prolific purple flowers.

The next ‘compartment’ we reached was a narrow rectangular ‘orchard’ separated by a stone wall from a strip of ground which was planted earlier in the year with Phacelia as a green manure. It’s blue flowers of June, a magnet for bees, were now shrivelled and about to be hoed out. Next year Graham plans to introduce sunflowers into this space.

I loved the looser planting of Penstemon in shades of pink and mauve within the lavender and Santolina compartments of the knot garden. A warm breeze stirred the colourful blooms, the movement a contrast to the formality of the preceding sunken gardens.

*Lantana*: close-up of a specimen in a pot beside the Privy Garden.

I mentioned that Hampton Court holds three National Plant Collections, the others being of Lantana and the wonderfully named Queen Mary II Exoticks Collection. The latter represents the plants amassed by Queen Mary, who reigned with King William III from 1689-1694, for display at Hampton Court Palace, at the time one of the largest private collections of plants in the world. Many of them we saw planted in colourful pots on wooden boarding outside the Orangery, as shown here in an image from the Plant Heritage website.

Queen Mary II Exoticks Collection
© Hampton Court Palace

The Privy Garden: image courtesy of Historic Royal Palaces website

The enclosed ‘rooms’ of the tour to this point now gave way to the elegant expanse of the Privy Garden. Elements from three countries were reflected in the design of this garden made for William III in 1702, which was reconstructed in 1995. Italian sculptures and Dutch plants decorate the areas surrounding the intricate gravelled patterns in the French style. The narrow yew obelisks are 2m tall, demonstrating the vast scale of the Privy Garden. The original yews grew out of shape when the formality of the Privy Garden fell out of fashion, and were re-planted in the Great Fountain Garden opposite the eastern facade of the palace, where they were clipped into their now distinctive mushroom forms. They are clearly visible from the Long Water, the huge rectangular pond on either side of which the RHS show is staged.

From the Privy Garden, Graham guided us away from the gardens through the palace building, sunlit courtyards giving way to dimly lit interiors, shadowy stairwells looming overhead: a walk back through time from the 18th to the 16th century as we approached the earliest part of the building. En route, we lingered in Fountain Court to admire the baroque architecture, decorated with masks of mythical characters such as Bacchus and Medusa. We learnt that no mains water is used in the gardens at Hampton Court, instead the water features are fed from the Longford River, an artificial watercourse 12 miles long leading from the River Colne near Heathrow.

Fountain Court. Image courtesy of Eric Farnworth

I went yesterday to the National Portrait Gallery to see Six Lives, an exhibition about Henry VIII’s six wives and their influence upon popular culture. Frequent mention was made of Hampton Court. Third wife Jane Seymour died at the palace shortly after giving birth to Prince Edward. Fifth wife Katherine Howard was arrested there after discovery of her infidelity. Here are a couple of the exhibits: a transport poster from 1922 and a fragment of a heraldic shield depicting Jane Seymour’s emblem, a phoenix rising out of a castle from which Tudor roses and a crowned hawthorn tree bloom. It was originally set in the bridge at the west front of Hampton Court.

Our evening tour concentrated on the south eastern corner of the site. I shall return as soon as I can to explore the rest of the gardens. In the meantime, thank you to the National Gardens Scheme for arranging the tour and Graham Dillamore for sharing his knowledge and time and guiding us through these world famous gardens.

Kew Gardens, 2 August 2024

More tea, vicar?

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Saving and sowing the seeds of the cup-and-saucer vine, plus a day spent with Plant Heritage

It’s 10pm on the 1st of January, and before going to bed I see that the outer case of the cup-and-saucer vine (Cobaea scandens) seedpod I saved in October is dry and brittle, its four seams parting slightly. The twining flower stem and shrivelled leaves cling to the base of the pod. I gently prise the four curving lobes apart to reveal the treasure within: four chambers comprising satin coated beds of pith on which flattish brown seeds overlap one another, resembling hibernating dormice snuggled together for warmth. As I shake the seeds onto a sheet of kitchen paper they fall easily from their resting place. About 1.5cm long, similar in scale to pumpkin seeds, the plump tan storage area of each seed flattens out to a darker brown wavy margin. Certain that the seeds are thoroughly dry, I pop them into a small plastic clip-lock box.

Fast-forward to early March, and the heated propagator is in play, having already accelerated the germination of tomato and sweet-pea seeds. I station sow the 17 saved seeds into individual seed tray cells and wait. By 19 March every seed has germinated, the seed leaves thrusting upwards on fleshy red speckled stalks. I prick them out into 9cm pots and place them on the shelf above the window in the shed for protection.

Thankfully there have been few frosts and the seedlings have survived. Most of them were sold for £1 each at the plant sale held on Good Friday by my client in Richmond, the proceeds of which were donated to Parkinsons UK. I’ve kept back three plants: one of which I shall grow again on the south-facing fence, once the danger of frost has passed and the others I’ll take to clients looking to clothe a wall or fence this summer, albeit with a half-hardy annual. The plants have now reached a similar stage to the form in which I bought the ‘mother’ plant a year ago at a garden centre in Sherborne, Dorset. The true leaves have developed and measure about 11cm long, with four rich green leaflets arranged in pairs and two tiny ‘stipules’ or outgrowths near the base of the leaf stalk. The leaf stalk ends with a terminal leaflet. I can just see a couple of further leaves unfurling at the junction of the two leaves. When mature, the leaflets end in a tendril with tiny hooks with which it clings to its support.

Once planted in situ, the cup-and-saucer vine, also commonly known as cathedral bell, will spread quickly and the flowers begin to emerge during July. They emerge pale green, maturing to a deep shade of purple. I picked a bunch last August to submit to the Kew Horticultural Society’s annual flower & produce show and was delighted to be awarded third prize in the category of, if I remember rightly, a vase of a single species of annuals.

Like their cousins in the Polemoniaceae, the phlox family, the flowers of the cup-and-saucer vine are fragrant, though the scent is not as pervasive. They originate in Mexico and the genus, Cobaea, was named for Bernabé Cobó (1582-1657), a Spanish Jesuit missionary and writer based in Peru. Cobó’s most notable contribution to botany was to describe the bark of the cinchona tree and its use as a remedy for malarial fever in his Historia del Nuevo Mundo.

In 1875, Charles Darwin made a study of a number of climbing plants, to see how they reacted to the stimuli of light and touch. His findings were published in The movements and habits of climbing plants in 1906, and included his observation of the cup-and-saucer vine. Here he noted the exceptionally long tendrils (11 inches in old money), and their capacity to revolve rapidly, as well as the arrangement of tiny hooks with which they cling to the surface on which they grow. On one tendril, he counted 94 ‘of these beautifully constructed little hooks‘ with the hook at the end of the tendril being ‘formed of a hard, translucent, woody substance, and as sharp as the finest needle‘. He also noted that ‘every part of every branchlet is highly sensitive on all sides to a slight touch, and bends in a few minutes towards the touched side’.

What a remarkable plant this is, which deserves to be better known. It thrived last year in its south-facing position and it’s good to know that when I plant one of the seedlings in late May, it’s a direct descendant of that plant I bought a year ago. I recently heard Carol Klein describing the miracle of raising plants from seed and I couldn’t agree more. Furthermore, it’s sustainable, because you’re not buying a new plant in the inevitable plastic pot, but re-using old pots.

Still on the subject of seeds, a month ago I spent the day volunteering for Plant Heritage, the charity which seeks to ensure the cultivated plants we grow now will be available to future generations for cultural, medical, culinary and aesthetic use. The staff at Stone Pine, the HQ of the charity in the village of Wisley in Surrey, were very welcoming. The office we four volunteers worked in overlooked RHS Wisley though we were too busy sorting and cleaning seeds saved in the Sir Harold Hillier Arboretum to admire the view! The other volunteers were very experienced and it was fascinating to learn how to sift through the piles of seeds, removing chaff and so on. Many of the shrub fruits were challenging to deal with, being large and quite leathery.

I spent the day working through a large heap of Lilium regale seeds, trying to neither sneeze nor laugh too enthusiastically, and risk blowing away the fruits of my labours. The final stage of the process was to decant the seeds into small waxed paper bags and then into brown envelopes ready for labelling. The seed packets will be sold throughout the summer at Plant Heritage events and at garden shows and plant sales, to raise funds for the charity. I plan to return for another day’s volunteering in May and am looking forward to more planty conversation and the opportunity to contribute to the work of such a worthwhile cause.

Kew Gardens, 17 April 2024

Round-up of 2023: part 2 July to December

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Reviewing last year through images of the gardens I visited and worked in has emphasised to me how much of my life is occupied with gardens and gardening. And how uplifting it is to be involved in the gardening world on a day to day basis. I’m excited about the year to come, which I plan to make as fulfilling as the one that has just finished. Here’s a summary of the last six months of 2023.

July

Seamus luxuriated on the garden bench in the summer sun whilst at NT Osterley the produce was fattening up beautifully in the vegetable plot in the walled garden. I went to the RHS Hampton Court Palace Garden Festival for the first time in several years to enjoy the show gardens and displays in the marquees. One highlight was the RHS Wildlife Garden designed by Jo Thompson, where the presence of dozens of small skipper butterflies was a testament to the wildlife friendly planting scheme. The assistance dog I captured in the photo was very taken with them too! At Pensford Field the wildflowers flourished and the trustees arranged summer activities including a butterfly talk and a summer picnic, the latter captured by a drone-borne camera. The daylilies and white Verbascums (V. chaixii Album) in the large herbaceous border in my Richmond client’s garden were a joyful sight. Hydrangeas and star jasmine attracted attention away from the parched lawn in another garden, which despite my best efforts has always struggled because of the shade cast and moisture taken by the mature trees in the neighbouring gardens.

August

Extreme heat then a damp start to the month saw off the sweetpeas with powdery mildew, but the rain freshened up the garden and turned it into something of a jungle for Seamus whose obsession with the residents of the pond intensified. My plant of the month was a tall intensely blue salvia (S. patens Guanajuato) which went on to flower well into November, despite an inauspicious start on the sale bench at North Hill Nurseries. Astrantia major also thrived, a seedling from a client’s garden the year before. I saved, then sowed, its seeds at the end of August and now have a dozen or so small plants which I hope will form part of the stock at a client’s charity plant sale in April.

A kind friend took me for a picnic tea at Highclere Castle, the location for Downton Abbey. The towers and turrets of the house rise dramatically from the surrounding parkland and meadows. Like many grand estates, the walled garden is located at some distance from the house. Here the dark greens of the parkland trees give way to colourful herbaceous borders.

From High Victorian style to the simplicity of the Arts & Crafts movement later in the month when I went to Rodmarton Manor and Kelmscott Manor. Inspired by a visit to the Emery Walker House in June, where I noticed a watercolour of Rodmarton, both the house and the garden are elegantly spare in style and very beautiful. William Morris’s spirit pervades Kelmscott Manor which has been lovingly restored by the Society of Antiquaries of London. The house dates from the C16 and is a treasure trove of furniture and textiles collected or designed and made by Morris and his family. This exercise of reviewing the past year has reminded me that both these properties deserve a separate blog post. Watch this space.

I entered some exhibits into The Kew Horticultural Society’s annual Flower & Produce Show on the Bank Holiday weekend and was delighted to receive two second prizes and one third for, respectively, a selection of herbaceous perennials, a single Annabelle hydrangea head and a vase of cup & saucer vine flowers. I’m afraid the produce from the allotment plot did not warrant competition with the high standard of the entries to the show.

September

Audley End in Essex was the venue for BBC Gardeners’ World Autumn fair and the first of these fairs I’ve attended. I went with a fellow freelance local gardener, Liz, and we had a great day chatting to the exhibitors. The palatial mansion formed an elegant backdrop to the show and I particularly liked a ‘dry’ show garden where sun-loving plants were planted into a substrate topped with pebbles, larger rounded stones providing variation in height and texture. Back at the allotment, my plot yielded a good crop of potatoes and in a client’s garden I was very happy to see how well my pot planting scheme had turned out. Zonal pelargoniums, Mexican fleabane (Erigeron karvinskianus), purple nemesia and Senecio cineraria ‘Silver Dust’ made for a generous and colourful display. At the rear of the same garden, Rudbeckia Goldsturm fulfilled the client’s brief for a bright colour scheme.

The splendid Lords’ Robing Room in the Palace of Westminster was the location for a recording of Radio 4’s Gardeners’ Question Time for which I was fortunate to get free tickets through BBC shows and tours. The show was eventually aired in November, to coincide with the publication of a report into the state of the UK’s horticulture industry by the House of Lords’ Horticultural Sector Committee. It was fascinating to see the show being recorded and to hear the answers by the panel (Matthew Wilson, Dr Chris Thorogood and Christine Walkden) to the audience questions. At home, the China rose Rosa mutabilis which I’d planted in a large pot earlier in the summer, was awash with flowers, the lax petals ranging from pale lemon to watery pink. Caryopteris clandonensis proved once again to be the best flowering shrub at this time of year for attracting pollinators. We revelled in Tom Hart Dyke’s zest for the exotic specimens in his care in The World Garden at Lullingstone Castle when he welcomed a group of us from the Garden Media Guild.

Having heard Xa Tollemache speak at the Garden Museum in 2022 about A Garden Well Placed, her account of creating the garden at Helmingham Hall near Woodbridge in Suffolk, and how doing so inspired to become a professional garden designer, it was good to visit the place where her career began. The exuberantly planted walled garden complements the moated Elizabethan house which resembles something from a fairytale.

October

Giving a talk about wildlife gardening to the friends of Pensford Field conservation area was great fun and I’ve recently been invited back (in May) when I’ll be taking about adapting our gardens and gardening practices to the changing climate. Reading the biography of Ellen Willmott led to visiting Kingston Water Gardens when they opened for the NGS.

On the last day of the month I went to Leonardslee Lakes & Gardens in West Sussex to admire the autumn foliage reflected in the seven lakes which run through the landscaped estate. Sitting in the bird hide beside one of the lakes, we saw a female Sika deer and her fawn tread gently in front of us whilst we held our breath and savoured the magical experience. I was charmed too by the delightful scenes of Edwardian country life in the village and at the big house, captured in the 1:12 scale models in the ‘Beyond the Dolls’ House’ exhibition. The dense tapestry of planting almost obscures the Pulhamite stone structures which form the basis of the Rock Garden created in 1900. I was particularly interested to see this artificial material again, having so recently been to the Kingston Water Gardens where it was used for the area around the Fernery. Leonardslee is one of the three Sussex gardens associated with the Loder family.

The Loder family boasted many gifted gardeners. Combined, they founded three significant gardens in Sussex, passing down a love of plants and botany throughout generations.
Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew website

Leonardslee is the creation of Sir Edmund Loder. His father Sir Robert started the garden at High Beeches which was further developed by brother Wilfrid and his son Giles. Another brother, Sir Edmund Loder, bought the Wakehurst estate in 1902, administered by Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew and home to part of its living collection of rare plants.

November

As we hurtled towards Christmas, there was still a surprising amount of colour evident in the garden at NT Osterley, due no doubt to the mild weather which characterised last autumn. On 17 November, two salvias shone out in the long border of the walled garden: Salvia Amistad and S. confertiflora. Earlier in the month the alluring but poisonous Aconitum napellus dominated a bed near the Garden House in Mrs Child’s Flower Garden. Visiting a friend in Oundle, Northants I couldn’t resist being photographed outside a houseplant shop whose strapline echoes my own sentiments. At home, Rosa Sceptr’d Isle flowered until late in the month and one afternoon the garden was illuminated by a rainbow which arced over the scarlet hips of Rosa Rambling Rector. We spent a morning planting bulbs in Pensford Field (snowdrops, native daffodils, snakehead fritillaries, wood anemones) and admired the autumnal tints ringing the wildlife pond.

December

Visiting family in south Somerset, I went to NT Montacute House and marvelled at the monumental cloud-pruned yews. As ever, the final garden visit of the year was to Christmas at Kew, where the lit trail didn’t disappoint.

With the start of the year dominated by domestic issues around a boiler failure and kitchen refurbishment, publication of this blog has taken far longer than intended. As I write this on a chilly February evening, I know that in the darkness outside, spring bulbs are nosing yup through the soil. Late last evening, I opened the back door and beyond the welcome sound of heavy rain (it’s been bone dry for a few weeks), I detected frogs croaking their welcome to the season to come.

Kew Gardens 7 February 2024