JUNE — TOM HOWARD

Verbena verbena, gal where you been so long?

When I first started planning the grassy bit of the garden - which currently features 20 or so Calamagrostis Karl Foerster baking happily away in the hot London summer - all I really wanted was to be able to take pictures of some Verbena Bonariensis mingling happily with it, like an empty carton of Ribena in a wheat field. And here we have it. There's something very enticing about a flower that's hidden from view a little, like it's being coy. I love the way using grasses allows you to be subtle with colour, and have splashes of it in there like it's a special treat, rather than there being an abundance of it. Too much colour can get a little garish if you ask me. These verbena are self-seeded, as most of the successful verbena in my garden seem to be (the ones I plant in a specific place tend to die after one year). Self-seeding plants that die after a year and then pop up somewhere else the following year are, I'm sure you'll agree, the most convincing evidence I've ever seen that there is an afterlife. A side note about self-seeding Verbena Bonariensis: in my front garden they have managed to breach the boundaries, and are sprouting from cracks in the pavement all along the road I live on. I consider this a great achievement, and one day I hope I'm remembered as the guy who helped the London Borough of Lewisham become the Verbena Bonariensis capital of the world.

Jesus don't want me for a sunflower

Grew this magnificent, rusty, slightly bedraggled monster from seed, and look at it now. I've only ever grown small things from seed, really - nasturtiums, sweet peas, garden peas, carrots, spring onions, wild flowers - so I feel like I've entered a brave new world. I always mean to grow more things from seed, and I admire the dedication and frugality of people who do, but you need space and time for that sort of thing. Anyway, Velvet Queen is the name of this guy (I didn't choose it, it came free with an issue of Gardeners' World magazine). It's in a pot, and it was one of four, but the others all got ravaged by snails or snapped by wind. But this one has made it, and gets to bask in the sun on a daily basis as a reward. I kind of thought my kids would be at least a tiny bit interested in this flower, given that it's big and orange and exactly the flower you get in every drawing of every garden in every book for children. But no.

Bee in phlomis

You can hear what this bee is thinking, and this bee is thinking: "YUMMY".

View from the porch door

I planted this Persicaria Polymorpha after reading Dan Pearson's advice that planting a big plant in a small space can be exciting. He's right! This is the PP's second year in this position, and I reckon it's doubled in size for this summer. I really love it. I love how imposing it is, I love the flower spikes, and I love how it guards the door like a dog, or a bouncer. I love how good a job it does of bringing the outside in. It's like it's knocking on the door, trying to get through. I also love how you have to interact with it to leave the house, or come into the house. You cannot ignore it. You have to engage with it, even just to push it out the way. It doesn't smell, which is a shame by a doorway, but the Non Climbing Climber rose is on the other stuff and that whiffs something special, so it's okay. I'll be honest - the angle of this pic makes it look sliiiiightly more imposing than it actually is, but only slightly. Here's the truth (NCC visible on the right there):

This pic's not as good. Pic taken June 7 2018.

I call this one: red geum in front of black bin

Geum, bin, cardboard box. Pic taken June 7, 2018

I didn't think it was possible for anything to make this bin look good, but here we are. The red of the geum actually looks really great against the black of the bin, doesn't it. An absolutely classic colour combination of course, and I'd love to claim to have planned it, but it's a very happy accident. This geum, by the way, came from my Dad (so I don't know the name). It lived in a small crate for a few years, then I split it into four last autumn. One died, one's in a pot, one's in a raised bed, and this one is in the ground. This one's the best by miles. It has the most flowers, strong stems that don't flop in the slightest, and it's been in flowers for weeks already. Dead pleased with it. I've actually planted a nice yellow Geum Lady Stratheden next to it, but the joy of that colour clash perhaps won't arrive until next year.

Canna get you out of my head

On a date in Elephant And Castle with a canna lily. Pic taken: June 2, 2018 — On a date in Elephant And Castle with a canna lily. Pic taken: June 2, 2018

Sometimes it feels like fate when you end up in possession of certain plants. It's not, of course, because fate is nonsense. But it feels like that. If only for a minute. At any given time I have a list of plants in my head that I want but for whatever reason haven't got round to buying yet. Then, when I end up in a place where the exact thing I've been lusting after is for sale, I have no choice but to purchase. Last weekend, on Saturday June 2, I did an Urban Gardening course at Walworth Garden in Southwark, and very good it was too (more to come on this at a later date). The garden operates as a charity, helping people in the local area with horticultural training and therapy, and since current CEO and head gardener Oli has been in charge, it's been operating as a garden centre too. This canna lily was on sale for £10, so I went and bloody bought it didn't I. As you can see from the pic I took it to the pub for a pint of cider, and we had a highly productive chat about exactly what I am expecting from it in the garden. Mostly: garish colour. Excellently, the lady who served me the booze was well into the plant and stroked the red leaves like they were a dog's ears. Once it gets going the flowers will be bright orange, and I'm gonna stick it in a pot on a shelf on a north facing wall that's been painted white, alongside some dahlias, salvias and grasses (also in pots) and see what happens. I am anticipating great vibes.