W/C May 7: clematis, wisteria, strawberries

A magnificent Montana

Mingling with the climbing hydrangea. Note to self: put something in this pot. Pic taken May 8, 2018

My garden is too small for a Clematis Montana really, but I decided I didn't care because I really wanted something that would cover this arch quickly. Maybe in a few years I'll regret planting a Montana Grandiflora when it won't stop growing, but for now I am okay with how rampant it is. If it does feel out of control at any point I'll cut it back to ground level and start again. It's only in year two, which seems wild given how big it is, and pleasingly it's already doing exactly what it's supposed to be doing: providing a cascade of these highly delightful white flowers from mid-late spring. And not only is it covering the arch it's planted under, it's making it along a nearby fence or two as well. This thing really takes care of business. I bought this plant impulsively at a garden centre so sort-of-accidentally bought one with a very mild scent, which I sliiiiightly regret. I love it a lot, but I'd love it even more if it was pungent. On the other side of the arch is a rose called Iceberg, growing with a honeysuckle (name unknown) given to me by my Dad as a cutting (this is why the name is unknown). The idea is that as the Montana fades these will start to come out, and the honeysuckle will fill this bit of the garden with a delightful pong.

A wisteria that won't flower

Wisteria on the left, Rosa Banksiae Lutea on the right. Pic taken May 13, 2018

Look at it. So luxurious and luscious and happy to be there. So immaculately pruned and tied in. So ridiculously vigorous you wonder, sometimes, if one day it'll pull the front of the house off. Hopefully not! But it does not flower, even now in it's fourth year on this wall. I think, having read up extensively on the delicate art that is caring for a wisteria, it's because it's not a grafted plant. I'm not 100% sure, as it was a gift, but there's no grafting mark on the stem, so at this stage I reckon it was grown from seed. And as we all know, it's the ones grown from seed that can take an extremely long time to flower. 20 years. 25 years. It's possible I'll never know. I still love it though. I love how it just totally greenifies the front of the house. I love how much it enjoys basking in the baking sunshine all summer. I actually love how high maintenance it is. I prune it, I reckon, four times a year (three summer prunes, one winter), because it puts on a preposterous amount of new growth, and the space I'm growing it in is quite small, so it can get quite untidy quite quickly. I also love it because I broke some rules when planting it. I put it in the ground quite close to the house, not the foot or so away that is recommended so it doesn't dry out and such like, and it's thrived anyway. (Fingers crossed its roots aren't eating through the foundations as I type). It's epic. Quite a humbling plant, I think. So big and wild. When it flowers I will probably pass out. Or just move house.

Seven strawberries

Special shoutout to the photobombing ant. Pic taken May 10, 2018

I like growing fruit and veg, mostly because it’s highly wholesome and deeply pure, but there are some things that maybe aren’t really worth it unless you have a big garden. Like, these strawberries. If I had 20 of these strawberry plants, and each of them produced 10 fruits, I would then have (counts fingers) 200 strawberries to enjoy over, perhaps, a couple of weeks. Eat them raw. Put them on a tart. Make ice cream. Give them to my one-year-old to taste, dislike, then throw on the floor. Whatever! I just have one plant, though, because I don’t have space for any more. But let me tell you: I will pick and eat every single one of these seven fruits with gusto. Raw, I imagine, for maximum purity.

Dan Pearson - what a hero

For one component of the Diploma in Garden Design I'm doing, I had to write about a picture of a garden "with which you feel you identify". I chose the above pic of many-award-winning garden designer Dan Pearson's old garden in Peckham, south east London, and wrote this:

This is one of many pictures from Dan Pearson’s book Home Ground: Sanctuary In The City with which I identify. The book as a whole is something of a bible to me. It documents his transformation of a small/medium sized garden in Peckham in south east London, which is exactly what I’ve been trying to do for the last three years with my own garden.

I love how dense his planting is, and how wild his garden seems, even though it is meticulously tended to and kept under extremely tight control. In this particular picture I love how everything that’s in flower has been planted en masse, so you get these large swathes of colour running through the border. I love that the colours in the foreground have been restricted to red and yellow - the colours of summer, of the colours of an especially ice cool long drink.

It’s also highly effective that this shock of colour has been planted in front of lots of very big, green plants that provide a backdrop to the strong colours, and also give depth to the border. The border looks gigantic, even though it is actually quite modest. There are also deep greens in the shady distance, nearer the house, which almost create the illusion of rolling hills. It’s great, though, that in the top left hand corner you get a clue as to where you actually are from the glimpse of terraced housing and the washing line pole.

I feel like I can hear this picture as I look at it, especially the bees going about their business among the day lilies and the birds in the trees on the other side of the decking. It looks warm enough for there to be crickets chirping. It’s also amazing how the Hemerocallis ‘Stafford’, in particular, looks like it’s arching its neck so it can drink the sun as it beats down onto the plants. And I love how you can tell how the plants would gently sway when kissed by a mild breeze.

The chair in the shade of the hornbeam is a nice touch. That area looks like a sort of viewing platform, from which you can watch the spectacular performance occurring in the border opposite. It looks like the perfect place to sit for a bit on what looks like a baking hot day.