However, somewhat selfishly I’ve not been too bothered about the rain as I’ve had plenty to do in the greenhouse. As much as I love the changeover from staging to planting, most years I’m desperately trying to plant everything out or cram more into cold frames to free up the shelves in the greenhouse so I can take them out. However, this year it’s come together quite nicely as I got into a rhythm of moving seedlings on and out regularly. I’ve planted tomatoes, chillies, a lettuce called ‘Crisp Mint’ that is supposed to be virtually bolt-proof (and therefore hopefully can cope with the greenhouse), as well as some companion planting in the form of Tagetes and a couple of oregano plants I had left over from a division earlier in the year. In a few weeks I’ll take out a section of staging on the other side too where I’ll pop in a couple of cucumbers.

The other excitement this week was that we went to the Scampston Plant Fair - what a treat! It was our first time there, and to be honest - as much as we love Scampston - our expectations weren’t particularly high. Boy were we wrong - there was perhaps 30 or so stalls, each was a Yorkshire nursery that had amazing selections of plants. We came home with a car full (are you even remotely surprised?) including some newbies to me such as Adenophora White Blaze which looks like a cross between a Campanula and an exceptionally tall foxglove, a couple of new salvias - one called Black and Bloom that is supposedly a bluer and hardier version of Amistad, and one called Love and Wishes which, whilst the name makes me gag slightly, has flowers that remind me of chunky Leycesteria flowers - as well as a couple of new ferns, Trollius, Verbascum….I could go on, but I realise that a list of plants isn’t terribly compelling reading. There’s a video in one of my posts if you want to see them.

This time of year is when us vegetable growers need to keep our resolve; it feels like we’ve already spent months working on the veg patch, yet most of us still have little in the way of harvests (other than lettuce and herbs) to show for it. If this is you, don’t let instagram posts of trugs laden with all manner of vegetables get you down, you’re not alone. For starters, don’t forget that many of those pictures might not even come from the UK, but from gardens with different seasons to us like Australia. Also, if you read the post you might discover that people are posting photos from previous years and are ‘looking forward to this year’s harvest being this big again’ yada yada. The above is our veg patch at the moment and, whilst it’s a huge improvement on last year, I am starting to get frustrated that I’m still having to buy most of our fresh produce.

Therefore, it’s important first and foremost to celebrate wins. The number one thing I hate having to buy is lettuce - it’s usually disappointing and goes limp, mushy and gross within days if not hours. And - joy of joys - we’ve just hit that point in the year where we have plenty, which will continue now right through summer. No more bags of slime for the Heathcote household for at least six months. Now, not wanting to be too smug or complacent, I already have loads more salad plants both planted and as young seedlings to keep the leafy pickings coming, and will continue to sow a batch or two over the next few months. But this is an absolute win that I must be sure to celebrate. Something else that makes me happy in this photo is the garlic - it’s grown marvellously and is only about six weeks away from harvesting. The best bit is - and watch out, I am unbearably smug about this - we are still eating garlic that I grew last year! I grew masses as part of the Gardener’s World trial I did, and it’s stored incredibly well in an apple store (as in a rack of slatted shelves, not where you’d get a new iPhone) in the pantry. Bloody wonderful, pat on the back for me.

Ahem, where was I before I got into self-congratulatory mode? Ah yes, summer veg. This month sees a reduction in planting out and the start of the waiting game. This part is crucial - as well as regular watering, keep an eye on your crops in case they need assistance. It might be tying up, or perhaps thinning out. There are some plants - such as aubergines and sweet peppers - that struggle to grow and ripen if our summer is a short one. To help them along, you can prioritise fruits - once you have a few on the plant, nip out new flowers so that the plant can focus its energy on giving you a decent - albeit small - harvest. There’s no point in being greedy and trying to get every tiny fruit to full maturity - at best you’ll end up with a glut, but you may just end up with a mass of half grown, underripe vegetables (yes I’m saying this from bitter experience…).

Speaking of thinning, this also applies to fruit trees. Modern varieties are bred to be prolific, with the focus being on the size and quantity of fruit. This means that branches will often be laden with so much produce that they bend and snap, damaging the tree and wasting the fruit if it’s not fully developed. It’s far better to thin the fruit to two or three fruits per stem than to leave everything on, especially on immature trees. You may also need to add string and/or supports to certain branches. If in doubt, remove more fruit - I know it feels like sacrilege, but honestly, how many apples will you actually eat in the next six months?

Where possible - and this can be done with pretty much all fruit and veg - pick little and often. For example, with tomatoes there’s no need to wait for the whole vine to be ripe - in fact, doing so in high summer often means that by the time the tomatoes at the end are ripe, the ones at the top have split. Pick a meal’s worth at a time and go and eat it within minutes of harvesting. This mean’s you’re enjoying your produce at its absolute zenith - both in terms of taste and nutrition - and reducing gluts. It can feel desponding, after months of hard work in the veg patch, to then have to spend hours in the kitchen cooking and preserving huge hoards. Whilst this is infinitely preferable to wasting your produce - and let’s face it, what a great problem to have (“oh no, I’m so good at growing food that I have sooooo much to eat”) - it can feel less of a celebration than the harvest-and-eat-in-a-matter-of-minutes scenario.

Have you got that gardening journal yet? Unless you have an incredible memory, it really is worth finding a way of keeping track of various things in the garden that works for you. As much as I harp on about my treasured (and much used) garden journal, in reality the easiest way for most people to keep track is just by taking photos on your phone. These don’t have to be instagram worthy, they’re just a record of when things were ready to harvest (for help with planning next year) and, crucially, which varieties were which - hence the label in with the garlic. I keep notes on taste too, but other than that a photo contains everything you need for future reference. It’s so easy to inadvertently grow something again next year that was actually pretty crappy - especially if you still have seeds left - all because by next year you’ve forgotten that that was the variety that had no flavour or grew poorly.

As I’ve mentioned before, you don’t have to wait for something to ripen completely on the plant before harvesting. Get it 90-95% of the way there then cut it and bring it in to ripen on a sunny windowsill to make sure your precious harvest doesn’t get damaged or eaten. I do this with pumpkins and squashes, berries, apples, plums and more. As an added bonus they make a lovely display in the meantime.

Speaking of pretty displays, this also applies to drying crops. Herbs only take a couple of weeks to dry before they can be stored in jars for at least a year to get you right through to next year’s harvest. We use tons of herbs in cooking, and drying them is a Tom job - I grow them, he dries them (team work really does make the dream work) - and they make shop bought dried herbs look like dull confetti in comparison. Garlic and onions can also be dried by plaiting their stems and hanging them up to get the skins lovely and crispy for long term storage. You can leave them this way or, if you’d prefer to put them on racks, just lop off the stems after a few weeks.

The most important thing to do for your veg patch right now is to have faith. Plants are about to hit their stride - they want to live, grow and produce fruit (their way of procreating) - and with a bit of love, nurture and hope, you’ll be harvesting trug-fulls of delicious produce before you can say “homegrown”…OK, that’s a lie. I hate it when adverts say that (“you can sell your car, buy a new one, book a holiday and move house all before you can say “great value”), but you know what I mean…

There are still some crops that you can sow now for summer/autumn harvests, these are my favourites:

- Salad: Marvel of Four Seasons, Lollo Rosso, Crisp Mint, Amaze, Oakleaf

- Squashes: Uchiki-Kuri, Jill-Be-Little

- Pumpkins: Baby Bear (a new one for me this year that’s supposed to be good for seeds which we use a lot on salads)

- Swede: Marian

- Cabbage: now is the time to sow winter cabbages such as January King and Tundra.

Right, that’s your vegetable fix - next week it’s cut flowers, hope to see you then.

Rich x

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I had my annual pilgrimage to the Hay Literary Festival in South Wales last week. It’s such a joy! I’m an insatiable reader, and at Hay I get that same feel-good-goosebumpy-feeling of being surrounded by likeminded people who share a passion that I get at flower shows and on garden visits. The bonus with Hay is that it’s not a work thing (yet - that is the dream!), and I go with a dear friend of mine who, with four young children, is a tad busy, and so it’s a rare chance for her and me to have a three day catch up.

Whilst I miss Tom whenever I’m away, him being at home means I don’t have to give the dogs or garden a second thought as I know both will be well looked after. An added bonus of going away is that it’s such a treat to see sudden changes in the garden, having not seen it for several days. I had been getting impatient, scrolling through Substack and seeing everyone else’s beautiful foxgloves, peonies, roses etc in full swing (#GardenFomo!) but it’s something I need to get used to living pretty far north.

Not having to worry about the garden whilst I’m away is such a relief. Last year I was determined to get the new side garden all planted up in spring so that it had the whole year to find its feet. Now, I knew that we were going to France for the first week of May, but I thought that surely the weather would be kind enough to look after new plants? Nope, we had a bloody heatwave. Thankfully we’re blessed with wonderful neighbours, and the lady opposite assured me she really didn’t mind the hours of watering she put in (we bought her a lot of French delicacies to assuage my guilt!). But it was a reminder that although our gardens are sources of such joy, they can also be rather stressful blighters too!

Before I get on to June jobs, the results are in on my Chelsea chop experiment! Four weeks ago (yes smarty pants, I know that was actually pre-Chelsea, I’m a keen bean) I cut back all but one of our Nepeta plants. They looked ropey for the first couple of weeks, but they’ve bounced back beautifully and are now satisfyingly clumpy. The plant I didn’t chop back looks resplendent in its freely flowering frothiness, but it’s already lurching tipsily into its neighbours. It’s fine for this particular catmint, but the other plants would have been sprawling over the edge of the lawn had I not cut them back, turning the grass yellow. And so my conclusion? Well, perhaps it’s too early to conclude conclusively given that the chopped plants haven’t yet flowered, but so far I think this will become my new approach!

Right, here we go: jobs for June. The first task I’m giving you is rather lovely - make time to wander around your garden and look at your plants. They change so quickly this time of year that it’s easy to miss that perfect time of flowering. For me, appreciating the garden is an important reward for all of the hard work, but it’s also practical. It’s a way of working out what you want to do going forward. We’re approaching the time of year where it’s best not to do too much planting - by the end of June, most (albeit not all) additions are best left until after the height of summer. Therefore I’m using my trusty garden journal more than ever this month, noting what’s working and what isn’t. There are nowhere near enough Alliums in my life right now, so that will be addressed in due course - although the ones in the picture are outside my study window which is just so delightful.

Upon my return from Hay, Tom and I had a walk around the garden together (probably looking like a politically correct advert for a mortgage lender or something), with me excitedly cooing at everything that had come into flower, especially the foxgloves. Tom particularly liked the ones in the picture above, so I’ve marked them by tying a piece of string around the base of the stem. Then, when they go over and the seed has ripened, these are the ones I’ll sprinkle around freely for next year’s plants. It’s far from guaranteed they’ll come true, but it’s worth a go. I highly recommend that you mark things like this in some way - string, cane, whatever - as it’s so hard to remember which ones you loved once they’re all brown and crusty.

Speaking of string, your future self will thank you for each and every knot you tie this month. It’s so easy for long stems laden with flower buds to snap just as they start to bloom. Save yourself that heartache and don’t wait for the stems to become too wayward before tying them in. Our Rosa ‘Generous Gardener’ is attempting world (or at least farmhouse) domination, the thick maroon stems lengthening by the day - so I’m glad that we put up plenty of strong wires a few months ago, as now it’s a quick job to tie it in. The photo on the right is a natty trick that I use when stems are flopping around but aren’t quite up to the next wire yet. Tie a knot before you tie in the stem (look closely and you’ll see the knot behind the flower bud) and it will hold it firmly in place without the string slipping off the stem.

As I mentioned earlier, we’re reaching that point in the year where anything you plant out will be highly dependent on you for regular watering. I try to plant as little as possible in July or August, so it’s worth getting out everything you can in June. As it’s full of annuals, the veg patch needs regular watering through the summer anyway, so that’s less of a hassle adding in immature plants than the main borders (which even in hot weather I don’t want to be watering more than once a week). Now that we won’t be getting any more frosts it’s full steam ahead - get out your tenders!

Speaking of watering, there is a peril with regular light showers that plants dry out…yes you read that right! It’s deceptive how shallowly rain penetrates the soil unless it’s really heavy and/or sustained - particularly with pots, and for plants up against a wall or fence. It’s worth plunging a finger into the soil every now and then to check there is actually a decent amount of moisture in there. So, join me in being the crazy gardener that’s out there watering whilst it’s raining, and see if your neighbours give you a wide berth next time they pass you on the street too…

If you’re growing crops this year, June is when it’s worth starting to check on an almost daily basis if anything is ready. Picking little and often is much less work - both in harvesting and in cleaning, preserving/cooking etc - and also means you’re likely to pick something at its absolute zenith. Don’t forget that fruit will continue to ripen after picking, meaning you don’t need to wait for every inch of that perfectly formed strawberry to be bright red before picking. The last little bit of palest green will ripen on a sunny windowsill where it’s protected from birds who also wait for the perfect level of ripeness but are usually out of bed before you! This is why we don’t have to cover our berries - partly the quantity (we have enough to share with our winged friends), but also because we’ll pick a tad early and let them ripen indoors.

The biggest change in the kitchen garden this month is in the greenhouse. Next week is the big change over for us - one side of staging will come out, the beds will be slathered with a thick layer of mulch, and the first tomatoes will be planted - hurrah! Such an exciting time, and the tomatoes will romp away once in the ground. Not only do I find this reorganisation unutterably satisfying, it also gives me a great ‘indoor’ job for wet days - win win. The other greenhouse job I’ll be doing is sowing this month’s seeds - a much shorter list than previous months, but it’s still important to sow things like chard, carrots and salads for later in the year.

Nothing sharpens a garden quicker than edging the lawn. It’s worth doing properly - with a line and everything - to get a lovely crisp, neat edge to the lawn. We create a drop of about 10cm as this gives enough of a gap to stop the grass encroaching into the border, and means that for the rest of the year we’ll just have to trim the edges with edging shears rather than continuously using the edging spade.

The other cutting job to do is to prune spring flowering shrubs. It’s so easy to forget this amongst the plethora of June jobs, but in general the best time to prune trees and shrubs is straight after flowering (do check - as ever, there are exceptions). This includes many varieties of Viburnum, Choisya, Forsythia, Mahonia and Ceanothus. Just to reiterate - if you have one of these shrubs that hasn’t flowered yet, holster those secateurs! Otherwise you’ll just be lopping off this year’s flowers.

Do I need to mention weeding? It’s an obvious one I suppose, and I’ve consciously left it towards the bottom of this list. Personally I don’t worry about getting out every single weed. Every now and then I work through the borders cutting back spent stems and taking out any weeds that are large/obvious or particularly invasive like ground elder or bindweed. I don’t ferret around looking for every tiny weed to be eliminated, life’s too short.

Finally, if I may, there’s something that I’d love for you not to do this month…or any month for that matter. June often heralds the arrival en masse of greenfly, whitefly, aphids, flea beetles, lily beetles and more. Now, I’m the first to be irked by the damage these can cause, but I implore you not to use chemicals on them. The best thing you can do is to wait for the ladybirds, their larvae, and other predators who will arrive to sort it out. Or, you can blast them off with a hose whilst watering, or sometimes a jolly good shake disperses them (when harvesting for example).

Sometimes they bugger off on their own - with sweet peas cut for the house, for example, if you leave them in a jar of water in a dark place where there’s a chink of light (I use our potting shed with it’s ill-fitting door) then within a few hours, or overnight, they leave the flowers to head towards the light (not in a dying way - actually, probably to head back to the sweat pea plants in the garden). I know chemicals can seem like an instant solution, but they disrupt your garden’s intricate ecosystems in a myriad of ways and I promise you that’s not a price worth paying.

Alright, lecture over. Here’s what’s to come this month:

Summer Veg: making the most of the veg patch over the next few months

Cut Flowers: how to have vases of joy in your house all year round

Farm Tour: I’m aiming to draw a map of all 10 acres of our smallholding and explain the different areas we have with photos of each part (although this article may get bumped back to July if I don’t have time to draw a map I’m happy to send out!)

Sound good? The best way to make sure you don’t miss the articles is to subscribe - it’s free! And if, like me, you don’t like getting loads of emails, you can just go to your preferences settings and opt to view articles in the app/website instead of receiving the emails. Subscription numbers make a huge difference to writers on Substack, so thank you to everyone who does subscribe, I really appreciate it.

In the meantime, here’s to hoping for a Goldilocks June - not too warm, not too wet, but just right…

Rich x

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This little beauty has sent me down a paper trail of realisation. The other day a design client sent me some photos of the planting I did for them in spring last year (I always love getting these pics!) and it’s filled out wonderfully. In particular, the clumps of Iris ‘Perry’s Blue’ that I planted look magnificent - generous clouds of pale blue above vivid green sword-like foliage. I’ve seen the same variety (or something very similar if not) in a few other gardens lately and have been craving it ever since. I even stopped off in the Castle Howard nursery to see if they had it, but alas not…but thank goodness they didnt!

I planted some clumps of irises in our side garden last spring (can you see where this is going?) which didn’t flower last year. By now I had assumed they were Iris ’Tropic Night’, the variety I always used to use for planting design. However, to my utter delight they have started flowering this week and, hey presto, they’re Perry’s Blue! Looking through my spreadsheets and emails, the story has come back to me. My trade nursery was out of stock of Tropic Night, so they suggested Perry’s Blue. When I looked it up, it was love at first sight and so - as I have now belated recalled - I delightedly replied to the nursery that, yes that would be great for the client and also could they do a separate order for me to have 15 for our own garden (This often happens. Whilst ordering clients’ plants, I spend a chunk of what I’m earning from design work on ordering plants for us. I believe this is known as an occupational hazard). Joy of joys - I’m disproportionately delighted that, for once, my rubbish memory has led to a happy surprise.

Speaking of happy surprises, I’m always slightly shocked when cuttings actually take. Despite knowing the science behind it (don’t run off, I won’t bore you with it) and having been a professional gardener for quite some time, I still take cuttings with a vague air of being overly optimistic. It just seems so impossible that a stem will sprout roots, but then I guess considering how a tiny seed become a massive plant, this should be less surprising.

It is extraordinarily satisfying and I urge you to give it a go. I’ll cover cuttings properly in an article one day (if I remember - rubbish memory don’t forget) but I should say that this photo is rather ‘do as I say, not as I do’ - where possible you shouldn’t handle seedlings by their stems, but rather by their leaves (that will regrow if you damage them, unlike the stem), but I honestly don’t think I’ve ever snapped a stem yet. These were tips from Nepeta ‘Purrsian Blue’ that I took four weeks ago that have now rooted beautifully, giving me an extra 25 plants for free. They’re ideal front of border plants, being about a quarter of the size of the ubiquitous ‘Walker’s Low’, as they don’t flop.

The rest of the week has been planting out ready for the big change over - clearing a whole side of the greenhouse to get tomatoes, chillies, basil, lettuce and cucumbers in - which has also required some infrastructure (bean poles/supports and more brassica cages) and a leap of faith (after losing all my beans to slugs last year, I was nervous planting them out even though they’re already a foot tall). We also gave the paddock beds a good weeding, including one that Tom tackled that was totally overgrown with weeds that is the lovely tidy courgette and squash patch you see above. So satisfying (thank you Darling).

And so, to this week’s topic: preparing your garden for the summer. A quick point to mention first - I’m delighted to find that I have numerous subscribers and followers outside the UK, particularly in the States (hello!). If you are on a significantly different latitude to us here in England, you’ll need to adjust the months accordingly for this to be logical.

May and June hold the keys to a successful growing year. Whilst there are winter jobs that help you to get ahead, and April in particular is important to get the gardening season off to a strong start, it’s really these couple of months that are essential. Why? Well, most jobs that you’ve not tackled before May can often be squeezed in at the start of the month (if you have time that is).

Mulching is a prime example. Late winter is a great time to mulch the borders - or certainly the easiest. That gap between cutting down the old growth of last year and the appearance of spring bulbs makes it a quick job to dump the mulch on the borders and spread it. The one downside to this is that the winter weather - especially heavy downpours - can leech your mulch into the soil quicker than is ideal, meaning that by summer you may not have much of a layer left.

Now, this is not a bad thing - all of that wonderful nutrition and those essential microorganisms will be around the plant roots, doing them no-end of good. However, one of the benefits of mulching has been compromised: its ability to hold in moisture. Again, not all is lost by any stretch - the mulch will have improved your soil’s water retention capability. But…if you were to top it up now, you will notice a huge reduction in watering requirements over the summer. The key here is not to think of mulching as an annual job, but rather one that needs doing whenever you see bare soil, as I did a couple of weeks ago. Get it covered.

Keeping the soil covered is something I come back to time and again. In fact, I firmly believe it’s the single best thing that you can do for your garden. Whether you’re growing veg, fruit, ornamentals, annuals - whatever - protecting your soil has so many benefits. There was a garden that I used to manage before we moved to Yorkshire, and when I took it on there was a huge (and I mean HUGE!) border that had become baked earth, littered with cracks that looked like small canyons. The plants really struggled (except for weeds) which left the soil even more exposed. By adding a thick layer of bought-in farmyard manure, within a year the border was lush and much easier to manage.

Another way to cover the soil is with plants. Once your borders reach a critical mass you’ll notice that they thrive. This is partly due to root associations under ground, but it’s also because the plants form a protective canopy over the soil, meaning that it will dry out much slower. In spring, as I’ve mentioned before, I let forget-me-not romp away through the borders - partly because I love it, but also because it’s great at covering the soil quickly. However, give it another month or two and it will have turned black and need pulling out, exposing the soil. You could mulch the gaps, but if you get annuals planted now, they’ll be ready to take over when the earlier plants are done. This is a symbiotic benefit, as planting annuals amongst other plants that will give way in due course helps the annuals establish quicker.

Now, may I just bring your attention to the fact that this is an action shot - water pouring out of the spout - revealing that I did indeed go out in the pouring rain to take this shot. This things I do for you guys…you’re welcome.

Watering can become a real stress over summer, for plants and gardeners alike. The key is to store as much as you can - both in receptacles and in the soil. Beginning with the latter, it’s important not to let the soil dry out completely, otherwise it’s hard to re-wet it. This means sticking a finger into the soil regularly to check properly how dry it is. Mains water is a precious resource, and so we should all use it wisely, but plants are important too and so it is a good use of water when it’s needed. However, harvested rain water is free - for both the wallet and the conscience - and so I implore you to gather as much as you possibly can.

We’re fortunate to have plenty of space here, but that also means we have lots of areas to water. We use salvaged tanks that Tom repairs so that they hold masses of water, quickly filling from our large barn roofs. We’ve also put tanks strategically even where there aren’t downpipes (such as the front and side gardens), and then pump water to them from the tanks that fill quickly. We also do this with the six tanks (locals think we’re obsessed, and frankly they may have a point) we have around the greenhouse as the small (compared to the barns) roof isn’t terribly quick at filling them. This allows us to water freely, and was also vital last year when we had a hosepipe ban from June until the end of the year.

I know tanks like these wouldn’t work in a lot of settings, but my point is that there’s a real joy in having generous amounts of water stored. It’s worth considering where you can stash a water butt or two in the garden. The back of sheds and greenhouses are ideal as you can put gutters up to capture the water. Best of all is if you can siphon water from the house roof. Kits are easy to install - just requiring a hacksaw to add in a section to the downpipe which redirects rainfall into the water butt, and then when the butt is full, the water goes back to the drainpipe and down into the usual grids etc. Just remember that if you have open water butts, troughs or tanks, that thirsty animals can fall in, so ensure there is an escape ladder like the one Tom made for ours in the picture.

My final tip for summer preparations is to plant now for autumn flowers, like the aster above. Come September, social media, magazines, and garden centres will be full of ideas for ‘flowers right now’, but buying the plants then will either mean getting small plants that won’t flower much (if at all) this year, or spending a lot more on mature plants. By getting them in now, you can still buy them reasonably small yet have a mass of flowers later this year. It’s also a much easier settling in period for them - we’ll have plenty of cool wet weather throughout June (good old British weather!) that will give them chance to settle before the heat of high summer.

I appreciate that I’ve suggested a lot of tasks for what is already a busy time in the garden. But, the good news is that by thinking ahead now, getting your garden all set, it will make your life much easier during the hotter months when you just want to eat ice cream and frolic on the lawn rather than doing much in the way of serious gardening. It will also result in a garden that looks great all summer and well into autumn, as well as building long term soil health that will see your plants growing strongly, healthily and happily. Sound good? Then crack on, and I’ll see you next week when it will be JUNE!

Rich x

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All of this interest makes it a great time of year to get out and see other gardens. There are gardens worth visiting at any time of year of course, but before now it tends to be for something specific such as snowdrops, blossom etc. May heralds the start of garden visits where you don’t have to search for interest: it surrounds you. We went to Scampston Walled Garden near Malton this week, which is particularly special to me. It was one of the gardens that first inspired me to become a garden designer, and since moving to Yorkshire we’re now less than half an hour away.

There were lots of individual plants that caught my attention - I’ve been posting these as notes on Substack - but with Scampston it’s also the compositions I love. The overall garden is divided into ‘rooms’ with a perimeter walkway along the wall of the garden that is itself a (very) long border. There was a lovely mixture of the familiar and the new, and inevitably caused additions to my Plant Wishlist (a couple of different viburnums and an Iris) and also a sense of regret that I didn’t plant a load of alliums last year as they’re looking great (also added to the list).

Visiting other gardens doesn’t only give me plant inspiration - it also fuels my drive to get out into my own garden. So after Scampston I scurried outside to get planting. I wanted/needed to empty the cold frames so that we can pot on seedlings in the greenhouse, put those into the cold frames, and then in the next couple of weeks reduce the staging in the greenhouse so that I can plant out the tomatoes (this is where planning ahead is useful!).

I planted out my Malvern purchases including the hosta in the photo with the cutest name I’ve come across in a while: Hosta ‘Ruffled Mouse Ears’. Delightful. I also planted out a load of Ammi majus that have grown exceptionally well so far this year - a relief, as I can find them to be hit and miss some years. I’ve also bolstered the borders with some Matthiola (stocks) that I had grown for a cut flower patch, but that is now becoming a pumpkin/squash/courgette patch because I don’t want the maintenance of a cut flower patch (making good on the promise to myself that the paddock would be a low maintenance area!). I also finally got around to creating a narrow bed against the potting shed barn. The main reason for yet another bed (albeit a nice small one for once) is to grow a fig up one of our few south(ish) facing walls, but it also provided the perfect spot for some sunflowers (for Tom) and some Symphytum that I also grew from seed.

Whilst planting out, I had one of those wholesome experiences that makes life in a rural Yorkshire village so utterly marvellous. One of our (many) lovely neighbours stopped by for a chat over the garden wall, and Tom asked if we could buy a bale or two of straw from her family farm (as I’d asked him to source me some for the strawberries). Without missing a beat, she said that we don’t need to buy it, just wander on in to the farmyard whenever we want and help ourselves. This is the typical Yorkshire generosity that we’ve received ever since moving up here (especially from farmers), and it’s joyful to participate in this spirit of giving. I’m planning to take some strawberries to the farm when harvests start, which I think is a nice full-circle way of saying thank you.

And so to this week’s main topic: herbaceous perennials for May. Or, more specifically, those plants that I think really make a border sing at the moment and that I would be somewhat bereft were we not to have them in our garden. The borders are all at different stages: at the front, the left border is a bit ragged as the tulips have just finished, the right (pictured) is full but mostly with foliage and a blue froth from the forget-me-nots, awaiting the arrival of rose season. The side garden is filling out well too: the sunny side has the most gaps as it doesn’t reach its zenith until high summer and is awaiting annuals such as Cosmos to be planted, whilst the shadier border is lush with a hundred different shades of green.

Anything that flowers in May in the front borders has to associate well with the vivid blue of forget-me-not, as I let it romp away to its hearts content. This isn’t actually that difficult - the bright colours that would clash are mostly from summer flowers, but the Aquilegia and Polemonium blend beautifully with their soft purpley-blues. The aquilegias here are all ones that came with the garden, but fortunately they’re the type that I like (not too fussy a shaped flower, and tones of pink and purple rather than the red and yellow ones). I brought the Polemonium with us - it had grown merrily in a large planter for years, then I planted it out here and it’s romped away. Sometimes I find that cultivars are proportionately fussier/less vigorous the further away from the original species plant they are, but that’s not the case here (thankfully). It’s one of those plants that spreads without being a thug, stopping politely when it reaches another plant.

Next up are the thalictrums. I struggled to grow these in the last garden because, having read that they can grow in part-shade, I planted them too close to the hedge and didn’t give them enough light. Thankfully I’ve corrected that error here, giving them more space in borders that get good sunlight for over half the day, and boy-oh-boy are they grateful! They’re the epitome of the expression ‘day of the triffids’, and it’s exciting to watch them grow by the day at this time of year. Whilst not quite in flower yet here in North Yorkshire, they’re nevertheless a sight to behold even before they bloom. And, even when they finish flowering, they hold their form right into winter.

Another plant that adds pizazz to the border before reaching its peak is bronze fennel - Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’. Do you ever look at a border and think “this looks lovely - it’s colourful, varied, balanced - but it’s just missing something, that little je ne sais quoi”? Well I often find that the absent ingredient is froth. If all of the leaves are flat and broad, and all of the flowers quite solid and substantial, I find that adding something hazy completes the scene by softening it. As we head into summer this function will be fulfilled by umbelliferous flowers such as Ammi, as well as sprays of seedheads of grasses such as Calamagrostis (although, perhaps the best for this is Panicum ‘Frosted Explosion’). This time of year, the fresh, fizzing foliage of fennel does it for me, and the plant only gets more impressive as the season marches on.

Now, whilst the hotter coloured flowers tend to be high summer (think Crocosmia, Hemerocallis, Canna etc), there are options for this time of year too. As ever, I opt for the softer versions of reds, oranges and yellow, and geums provide this admirably. The one on the left, G. ‘Mai Tai’, is perfect for people who don’t like orange but want to add something peachy-toned into the borders. The one on the right, G. ‘Pink Petticoats’, is one of my recent purchases and I’m already in love. Although they’re already flowering, with regular deadheading geums will go on flowering throughout summer.

Speaking of softer yellows, it was only last year that I discovered the buttery joy of Trollius ‘Cheddar’ (also sold as T. ’Taleggio’, a much more apt name I might add, as there’s nothing cheesy, chunky or common about this plant!). It’s nice and compact, producing some of my favourite flowers both in the border but also to cut and bring indoors, where they’ll liven up a vase for over a week. They form a neat clump of foliage at the base, meaning they can sit quite neatly at the front of a border.

Finally, another groups of plants that add so much before hitting their stride are ornamental grasses. I tend to stick to Calamagrostis as it makes nice neat clumps and holds its seedheads strongly throughout autumn and winter. I particularly like the variegated forms, and find that - as with adding froth - they bring a different dimension to a border. Their masses of thin, strappy leaves give an extra layer of texture to the greenery for around nine months of the year. They clump up well and divide easily, making them an excellent way to bolster borders without blowing the budget.

Aquilegia - the ones here are all seedlings from before we bought the farm. They hybridise easily, so you never quite know what you’re going to get, which is why the best bet is to buy them in flower. My favourite that we had in the previous garden was ‘Munstead White’ - pure white flowers, nice and vigorous - but I’ve not been able to find it again to have it here.

Polemonium - the one in the photo is P. ‘Brise d’Anjou’. If you want slightly less variegation there’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ that has softer blue flowers, or the more usual form of ‘Purple Rain’, the foliage of which is a stunning ombre effect of forest green to chocolate brown.

Thalictrum - the ones in the photos are T. ‘Elin’ (left) and T. ‘White Cloud’ (right). We also have the smaller T. ‘Nimbus Pink’ which is ideal for smaller gardens, although I would highly recommend Elin as an alternative to a shrub even for small gardens as it adds height (up to 2.5m!) whilst only taking up around 75cm of the border.

Foeniculum vulgare - I like F. ‘Purpureum’ for it’s bronze tones. I try to add in foliage that’s not green throughout the border, as it makes the leaves that are green shine all the more. However, you can just use common fennel for the froth effect if you’re not a fan of the bronze.

Geum - another one that’s worth buying when in flower, as online photos often lose the subtlety of the colours, which vary quite significantly even between flowers on the same plant. We have the following cultivars: ‘Mai Tai’ (peach), ‘Totally Tangerine’ (orange…shock horror), ‘Pink Petticoats’ (do I have to say it?), and ‘Eden Valley Angel’ (soft yellow and shorter than the others). If you want bolder colours try ‘Lady Stratheden’ (yellow) or ‘Mrs J Bradshaw’ (red). Geums seem to being having a moment right now, with endless varieties popping up (Farmer Gracy have released a dessert-themed range that sound every bit as delicious as they look).

Trollius - as with geums, there are stronger tones available if ‘Cheddar’/’Taleggio’ is too subtle for you, such as ‘Lemon Queen’ and ‘Orange Princess’.

Calamagrostis - you can’t go far wrong with the ubiquitous Calamagrostis brachytricha, especially planted en masses in groups of odd numbers. They add height to the back of narrower borders, and structure to the middle of larger planting areas. For individual specimens - either smaller gaps, or large planters - I recommend a variegated form such as Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Overdam’ (which are the ones in the pictures).

There are tons of other perennials I could wax lyrically about for May interest, but I’ll leave it there. This was based on our garden, right now. If I were to write the same article in two weeks time I’m sure it would be different. For me, the key is finding plants that you love, and that bring something different to your garden. That’s the joy of a cottage style garden - you can get away with adding in ones of things, dotting in impulse purchases here and there, incorporating a broad variety of plants that strict planting schemes with regular repetition don’t have the flexibility for.

Next week I’m going to be writing about what I’ll be doing to prepare our garden for the summer ahead. As ever, the best way to make sure you don’t miss the article is to subscribe which, as ever, is totally free. In the meantime, I hear there’s a heatwave coming this weekend - enjoy.

Rich x

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Whilst I’m not planning to go to Chelsea this year, last week I attended the RHS Malvern Spring Festival, and - my oh my - what a treat it was! It was my first time at Malvern, and it wasn’t what I expected. I always thought of the RHS shows as garden design events first and foremost, but of course they’re not. Even Chelsea, where the show gardens commandeer the limelight, is actually called the RHS Chelsea Flower Show. Malvern is billed as a Spring Festival which sums it up perfectly - celebrating our sweet release from winter’s grasp.

Our first stop was the Floral Marquee which, if you’ve never been to an RHS show, is a gardener’s dream. Incredible displays and miniature gardens created by a wide range of nurseries showing plants off at their very best. Where Malvern beats Chelsea hands down is the shopping on offer - all of these nurseries bring a selection of plants to buy. There’s even a plant creche next door that you can leave purchases at whilst you continue to browse (helpful, but lethal on the wallet). The staging was so inventive and joyful - from picturesque seating areas to an actual pond - whilst serving a genuine purpose of showing how to use the plants on offer to their best effect.

Speaking of staging - I had to rein myself in when I saw this stand! As I wrote about a couple of weeks ago, I adore an Auricula theatre, despite their impracticalities. The black background really let the plants sing, and the gold frames were a clever touch. I resisted the temptation to populate an auditorium back home, but only just…

Where I showed less restraint was with the plethora of herbaceous perennials on offer. I bought some smaller hostas for a couple of narrow shady spots I need to fill, as well as three geums - albeit only two varieties…when I got home I realised I’d chosen the same plant twice from different stands! I blame it on the dazzling array on offer, but at least I clearly love Pink Petticoats (the Geum I bought twice, not lingerie). Geums in particular seemed to be the plant of the show, both on the stands and in the show gardens, a choice with which I wholeheartedly agree. Geums are undemanding yet floriferous, with colours and sizes available to suit all.

A theme throughout the show that I loved was that it covered a broad range of tastes. Whilst the majority of stands were selling herbaceous perennials, there were plenty showing more niche tastes such as unusual trees, bonsai, and carnivorous plants. These types of stands present a conundrum for the nurseries: they want (and need) to make sales, but there’s no getting around the fact that these aren’t terribly easy to grow, particularly the latter. Therefore, I suppose the balancing act is ensuring customers are well informed without putting them off.

One of the (many) great things about visiting shows is the thoughts that they provoke. These two stands challenged me to question how much effort it’s worth putting in to growing certain plants. I’ve tried Eucalyptus a few times with limited success. Whilst I’d love an endless supply of foliage for flower arrangements, they’re expensive to buy as mature plants, whilst smaller options take forever to get going. Meanwhile the Meconopsis is the most stunning colour, with the appearance of an ethereal blue Anemone flower that captivates me whenever I see it. However, it is notoriously picky about where it will thrive, which is why I’ve never attempted it.

I do wonder how many people bought plants at the show without checking the required conditions, which will inevitably end in disappointment. Whilst this is easily done with garden centre purchases, it should be less likely at a show like this as the nursery teams selling the plants are exceptionally generous with their knowledge and are only too happy to advise on the required conditions. Such advice is ignored at the purchaser’s peril, but it’s easy to see how people can get swept away by the beauty of a particular plant.

When we left the Floral Marquee I commented that it was worth going to the show just for that part of it, but of course that only made up a small part of the showground. Another small part, taking up no more than 10% of the site, was the show gardens. This was a smaller area than I anticipated, and was another reminder that this is not just a garden design show. There were only a handful of larger gardens, with a couple of them focussing on rustic, naturalistic styling. The ‘ruined barn’ in the Lifted by Birds garden was particularly impressive: it absolutely looked as though it had been gently crumbling in situ for decades as opposed to freshly constructed in the past few weeks.

It’s always a treat to be able to walk through a show garden, and thankfully the queues to do so were pretty short. I quite enjoy a theme, so this one appealed to me with it’s giant flower press marquee as well as an actual press where the designer invited the public to pick a flower as they walk through (could you imagine if people did that at Chelsea?? It wouldn’t just be the flowers losing their heads!) and add it to the press, which was a nice touch. I felt that it would have been a stronger message if the planting (which did look lovely) was more heavily focussed on flowers well-suited to pressing. Whilst I’m sure that those skilled in the art could successfully press Cirsium and Allium, there are plenty of more obvious choices. However, the pressed flowers in resin hanging in the tree were very sweet.

The large garden that commanded the most attention featured a Korean inspired pavilion reminiscent of a pagoda, which featured roof tiles made from salvaged plastic safety helmets. This was a prime example of the sacrifice of aesthetics on the altar of principles. If they’d looked like slate tiles it would have been very clever…but they really didn’t, and sadly detracted from the building. The planting was nice enough, but I found myself spending less time looking at this garden than some of the ones a quarter of its size, so perhaps this wasn’t one for me.

The garden I fell in love with was one of the smaller designs. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the intricate, delicate planting that looked both meticulously planned yet gloriously natural all at once. The multistem Betula nigra was the pièce de résistance, and balanced beautifully with the overall design - no small feat for such a large specimen. The designer told me he wanted to show how, even in a small space, there is room for both moisture loving and drought tolerant plants, whilst also highlighting the importance of slowing down water drainage (in this case using a swale). It was a masterclass in pairing beauty with an important message, and I’ve no doubt that we’ll be seeing Mr Olesen at some of the bigger shows in due course.

Whilst the show gardens were at risk of feeling like a side-show to the mass of trade and shopping stands, there was clearly a lot of love and attention given to their design. The smaller crowd sizes at Malvern compared to shows like Chelsea gives visitors the chance to spend more time appreciating the gardens, without feeling as though they’re holding up others waiting for their turn to get up close. I particularly enjoyed the designers who hadn’t worried about things looking too crisp, sharp and tidy - especially the dead hedge (a great solution to fencing for free on a larger scale) in the Lifted by Birds garden.

There were also elements that I appreciated even though they weren’t my thing. As with the variety in the Floral Marquee, there were elements of the show gardens that were for everyone. I know the wicker dog will have brought a smile to many a face (my lips may have twitched), and the little vignettes in some of the Blooming Borders categories were quaint, even if a bit twee and too curated for my tastes. But that’s exactly as it should be - if I loved everything on display, it would mean that the show is limited in its appeal. For me, the greatest virtue of these shows is that they inspire as broad a range of people to garden as possible. Long live the wicker dog.

In addition to plant inspiration, there was also a multitude of colour palettes to inspire visitors. There was a lot of blue and orange - the classic opposites-on-a-colour-wheel method of pairing colours - no doubt, in part at least, due to the ubiquitous Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’. There were bright combos for planters, as well as more unusual groupings. The combination bottom right was grounded in browns - not a shade I’d ever considered as a basis for a colour scheme - which highlights another joy of shows like this: making you think differently. (Spoiler alert, I didn’t rush home and plant loads of brown-leaved things.)

Now, in the interests of balanced writing, I’m going to comment on a few things that I didn’t particularly like, but first: a caveat. I hugely admire everyone who showed at Malvern. These types of shows take a huge amount of time, effort and expense, not to mention courage. The stress alone would put off most people - indeed, that’s the primary reason I’ve never seriously thought about applying to do a show garden myself. Therefore the next paragraph is just observational critique, and I hope it doesn’t come across as slating any of the designers as that is absolutely not my intention.

There were several of the planting schemes that screamed out ‘This Was Designed’ which I always feel detracts from the finished garden. Whilst planning is of course essential - never more so than for an RHS show garden - I think the key to great designing is that the finished effect looks natural. Sometimes it was excessive symmetry, sometimes the obvious colour blocking, and sometimes the plant positioning/spacing, all of which made it clear that they had been planted strictly according to the plan. The more successful planting schemes would also have been based on plans of course, but decisions on precise placement would have been made during planting to achieve a seamless look. When planting up any scheme, it’s important to know when to deviate from the plan, as real life is always different than plans on paper. There were also jarring elements - the metal poles and rattan footstool in the folly being a folly of their own - and the use of materials suitable only for very limited types of garden when there were so few show gardens to see.

Returning to my theme (I told you I love a theme!) of something for everyone, there was a decent amount on offer for people whose passion in horticulture lies beyond herbaceous borders. There were a few immaculate veg plots as well as greenhouses galore. In addition to there being more plants for sale outside, there was also every kind of plant support, tool, and garden ornament you can imagine (I skirted around most of these stalls, as I get Tom to make all of my supports, I own about fifteen spades, and as for garden ornaments…well, you can imagine how I feel on that score…).

The final feature of the festival I went to see was the Floral Tablescaping, and what a grand finale it was! Five sheds turned into dinner parties of dreams, with utterly magical arrangements adorning the table, seating and walls. Not only was this a floral celebration, adding another dimension to the show, but they also highlighted what an impact you can make in a small space. With more and more people buying houses with small gardens, this type of inspiration is more important than ever.

And that was my day at RHS Malvern! A huge amount packed into one day. Now, rather than my usual Rich’s Recommendations, I’m going to end on my top tips for visiting flower shows:

- Book your tickets as soon as they become available. Not just in case they sell out, but more so because going to these shows is one of those things that often stay on a one-day-wishlist but never make the leap into your diary. Get it booked.

- Whilst there can of course be joy in exploring gardens alone, going to a flower show is a wonderful way of spending time with people, especially those you don’t often get chance to spend a whole day with, and/or fellow garden enthusiasts. One of my absolute favourite parts of going to Malvern was spending the day with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, and discussing the gardens and plants together made me think about what we were seeing in different ways, as well as highlighting things I’d have missed otherwise.

- Get there early - we arrived just after the show had opened for the day, and despite heading straight for the floral marquee there were already plants selling out (I was delighted to bag the last Hosta ‘Ruffled Mouse Ears’).

- If it’s available, pay for premium parking. We were so close to the entrance that it was easy to pop back to drop off purchases, change jackets as the weather dictated etc. If not…

- …make use of the plant creche rather than lugging plants around all day. At Malvern there was even a porter service to take your plants back to the car for you, a really thoughtful addition, especially for those less mobile.

- Allow a full day. This may mean staying nearby the night before and/or day of, but it’s worth it so that you can wander around at a leisurely pace.

- Get a programme - even with a full day there, it’s hard to get around everything. Prioritise what you really want to see, including talks by famous names, and hit those bits first to make sure you don’t miss anything you’ll enjoy.

Can you tell that I loved it? I’ll definitely be returning to Malvern, but in the meantime I’ll be going to the RHS Sandringham Flower Show at the end of July so that will be an interesting comparison. I feel Sandringham may have the edge, as I love a royal residence (utterly predictable to anyone who knows me), but we shall see. In the meantime, I hope this has inspired you to get to a show - RHS or otherwise. There are lots of alternatives, including country shows, rare plant fairs and local events. Get online, get planning, and get inspired.

Normal service resumes next week, when I’ll be writing about my favourite perennials for May, hope to see you there.

Rich x

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No.

Don’t get me wrong - on the whole my views don’t change week to week, although (and I think this is a good thing), they do change over the longer term. I think it’s good to be flexible in our views; giving considerate thought to opinions that challenge our own isn’t always easy or perhaps even natural for many of us, but it’s a vital way in which we learn and improve. However, my focus in the garden and my favourite elements do change regularly, simply because I get swept up in the moment. There’s so much to love in a garden that the flavour of the month will always take top billing. I don’t think that makes us fickle; it makes us passionate gardeners.

Was that too deep? Apologies if the article started like a poor man’s philosophy lecture, but it sprung to mind because I was going to open with this: May is my most favourite of months. Then I realised that I’ll probably say the same about June, perhaps July (more because of my birthday than anything horticultural), and September is a great one too (especially for going on holiday). Oh and October is my favourite month for planting new borders. And I adore Christmas, so perhaps December is my favourite? You see my point - it’s easy to get caught up in the here and now, so please take this as a blanket apology across all of my articles if you spot inconsistency of opinion, most of which will be declarations of my ‘favourite’ something or other.

My favourite plant of spring has to be Camassia (at least for this paragraph anyway). Whilst there’s a huge choice of pinks, purples, yellow, oranges and reds when selecting plants, blues are less common, and spring is their season. Perhaps I love these plants because blue used to be my favourite colour - it’s now green (too predictable for a gardener?) or some days it’s yellow - or perhaps it’s because it’s rarer. Either way, Camassia come in a range of blues to please everyone, and they make stunning cut flowers. The plants themselves epitomise my style of gardening: reliably perennial, no staking required, drought tolerant - in other words, no hassle, yet they put on a show that just gets bigger and better every year.

The warm spring followed by Sunday’s deluge has triggered many plants to romp away into growth spurts, and none more so than the cardoon. It’s my favourite spring plant (just kidding)…but for architectural leaves it’s hard to beat. The flowers - both before and after they open - are stunning, no doubt, and adored by bees, but it’s the strong, serrated, silvery leaves that really do it for me. We’ve got two varieties here, the standard Cardunculus cynara as well as C. ‘Rouge d’Hiver’ (syn. Rouge d’Alger’) which is about two thirds of the size with more heavily serrated foliage that takes on a red hue come autumn. The latter is ideal if you want to try this statuesque goddess of a plant but have less space (although it will still take up a metre or so).

In complete and utter contrast is the humble Pulmonaria. Whilst cardoons thrive when basking in the sun, showing off their flawless figures like a #influencer on a #gifted beach holiday, pulmonaria are subtle and dignified. Their common name of lungwort feels self-deprecating: an ugly name for a pretty plant. In the photo above it’s doing what it does best - covering the ground in a partly shady border. These are my go-to for hiding plants with unseemly bottoms such as roses. They’re also ideal for mid border provided that the plants in front are either just as low growing, or don’t take off until late summer after the pulmonaria has finished flowering. The one in the picture is Pulmonaria ‘Opal’, and we also have P. saccharata ‘Mrs Moon’ which carries the same spotted leaves but has the more traditional flowering colours of pink, blue, and purple. Both are delightful and clump up nicely, ideal for splitting in the autumn and expanding their presence further.

Having started the article with a faux-philosophical air, perhaps this isn’t the best timing, but I thought I’d start adding in a quote of the month. Bare with me - I know that quotes can be a bit lofty and sound supercilious (great word, although just using it makes one guilty of it), but it’s more the thoughts that they trigger that I want to write about rather than throwing quotations around in an attempt to make a vapid mind look wise.

When you read books and magazines on the topic of your career - out of interest rather than obligation - it’s a sure sign you’ve picked the career for you. I read something to do with gardening pretty much every day, and often come across great little phrases and thoughts that I want to share. And so, drum roll please…

I tell you that without having the faintest intention of following the same advice when I feel otherwise inclined.

- Christopher Lloyd

I love this honesty - a trait throughout his writing that makes his books enduringly endearing - and I quite agree. Whilst giving advice is often based on what I do in practice, there are numerous reasons why that’s not always the case. When people ask for advice, they don’t want to hear seven different ways that a job can be tackled and the relative merits of each option. Most people just want to be given the most straight forward solution that is likely to provide decent results.

When I write for Gardener’s World magazine, they always encourage me to write in my own way, with a conversational tone, which is great (as you may have picked up in last week’s article, I do rather love my GW work!). However, I am conscious of the readership, which includes a huge amount of people brand new to gardening, with gardens every bit as diverse as the readers themselves. When I first started reading GW magazine I took everything the writers said as gospel, having no inkling of the nuances and differences of approaches and conditions in gardens. Therefore I always try to hedge my bets, aiming to give the most technically correct advice that is most suited for the widest range of gardens. That means it may well be at odds with what I do in practice.

That’s one of the reasons I enjoy writing these weekly Substack articles so much - the unlimited word count and different readership allow me to dip into the nuances, to openly diverge from the ‘rules’ and ‘best practice’. I always aim for accuracy across both formats of course, but here there’s more room for discussion and I’m able to start from the premise that the reader knows enough about gardening to understand when my approach is perhaps not suitable for their own garden.

Okay, enough chat, let’s get on with some actual gardening. May is a tricky one for me to write a general list of what you might want to be doing this month, as it very much depends on your own garden geographically and also whether you’re an impatient ‘let’s get cracking as soon as the snow stops’ type gardener (the way I garden too often) or more patient and gardening by the weather/temperature/conditions rather than month (the way I advise people to garden). Wherever you fall on that spectrum, May is a forgiving month. You can still catch up on seed sowing most things that ‘should’ have been sown in April or even as far back as March, you can still mulch (if you can get around the foliage), and it’s the time to try to keep on top of weeding so it doesn’t run away and become a chore all summer.

Our lawn feels as though it’s only 20% grass and about 50% dandelions (I may be exaggerating), and so every now and then I’ll spend an hour digging them out. Boring, but actually after a day of barrowing or digging it’s a welcome relief to put the radio on (Magic Musicals if you’re interested, not that I’m predictable or a stereotype or anything…) and do something mindless and easy. My weapon of choice is the hori hori. I’m not aiming for a remotely manicured lawn - it’ll always have loads of plants other than grass in there - nor do I seek to eradicate dandelions from our garden completely, as they’re a great food source for various pollinators. But dandelions spread exponentially - every year that I don’t get on top of them, thousands more swell their ranks. If you don’t have time to dig them out, going around and pulling the flowers off is a (very) temporary fix.

When someone mentions the RHS Chelsea Flower Show, what springs to mind? Gloriously inspiring gardens, designed by people at the top of their game? Packed crowds who spend more time taking photos of the gardens than actually looking at them? Celeb spotting? For me the first thing that comes to mind is the question: To chop or not to chop? The only plant I do it on every year is established sedums to prevent the summer flop. However, this year I’ve done it on our catmint, Nepeta ‘Walker’s Low’, although not on the lower N. ‘Purrsian Blue’. Whilst the diminutive latter stays upright all season, the former is a flopper, yet I struggle (psychologically) to chop it back in May to prevent this.

The reason is simple: spring is finally here. I’ve been waiting for lush plants bursting into flower since last autumn, why would I chop them when they’re about to bloom and make them look hideous for the next few weeks? However, that’s short term thinking. There’s plenty else to distract me at the moment, so I’m following my own advice - I’m an advocate of bold action in the garden - but have left one catmint in the border untouched just to compare. The list of candidates for the Chelsea Chop is extensive, including asters, Phlox, Achillea (which I don’t grow purely because of the flopping issue), Penstemon, Helenium and more.

Whether or not Chelsea is your bag, May is a great month for getting out to gardens and shows for inspiration, or even just for a rather jolly day out (if it has plants, coffee and cake I’m there). I’m off to RHS Malvern this week for the first time; I’ve consciously left various gaps in the borders knowing that I will of course be making purchases at the show. We’ve also got tickets for the RHS show at Sandringham in July, and plan to make my first visit to RHS Bridgewater this summer too. I think it’s so important to make time for these types of days out - it’s so easy to ring-fence free time throughout May, June and July for gardening at home, knowing how much there will be to do. But those dandelions can wait; it’s time to get out and see the (horticultural) world.

Articles Coming Up This Month

- RHS Malvern Flower Show - highlights from my visit

- Spring Borders - perennials that I wouldn’t be without in May

- Summer Preparations - what to do now to ease your garden through summer

Aside from all of the jobs to do in May, it’s also a month to make time to enjoy your garden. This is certainly one of those things that I say much more often than I do. However, given that May is my favourite month (or one of them…it’s certainly in my top ten), I shall endeavour to follow my own advice and spend more time drinking tea and eating cake in the garden now, before I start complaining that it’s too hot outside…

Whatever you’re doing in the garden this month, I wish you the loveliest of springs.

Rich x

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This weekend we had some neighbours round for a Sunday roast, and it was lovely to serve lamb that had come from our own fields (a local farmer’s sheep that graze on our land, we’ve not quite got round to getting our own flock…yet), and exciting to do a side of leeks, spinach, garlic (stored from last summer) and herbs that all came from the kitchen garden. Harvests this early in the year feel extra special to me, as over-wintering veg has often alluded me due to time, space or crop failures. It’s something I’ve wanted to work on for years, and it’s finally coming together.

An important part of growing our own is the cold frames where young plants harden off after getting going in the greenhouse. After my rant last week, my lovely husband cut me some boards to put under the cold frames to exclude slugs and so far they’re working a treat - hurrah!

As well as over-wintered veg, something else I want to get better at this year is taking cuttings. If, like me, you love growing from seed, then you may well derive immense satisfaction from other forms of propagation too include cuttings, layering, grafting (too technical for me) and division. I always divide perennials in autumn, and have taken cuttings before albeit sporadically. I want to boost our stock of stalwarts (partly for the garden but also because it’s lovely having spares to give away), so I’ve taken loads of cuttings of Nepeta - both the larger ‘Walker’s Low’ and the smaller variety ‘Purrsian Blue’ - as well as a couple of other bits that I won’t bother to name as I suspect they won’t root…

Whilst cuttings are time-sensitive and need to be done in a particular season, an element of the garden that can be tackled at any time is pots and planters. There’s one for every size of garden, every part of the garden and indeed every season. I adore pots; they give you such creative freedom and serve so many purposes: brightening up hardstanding, a good place to trial new plants, ways to use individual plants that would get lost in the borders, and a great place to grow on young trees and shrubs.

A lot of my views on pots are similar to my views on borders: the right plant in the right place, colour combinations, being generous with size, using a variety of heights and shapes, and to create displays that you love. I also try to make them low maintenance - fewer, larger pots reduces watering significantly, and I mainly use herbaceous perennials - plus shrubs and even trees - rather than annuals so I don’t have to re-do them every year. Whilst I don’t believe in ‘rules’ for creating pot combinations, I’m going to share my approach and try to explain my thought processes. I’ve done a few pot features for Gardener’s World magazine that make good examples, but neglected to take decent photos at the time - hence the inclusion of some photos of the magazine (yes, I keep literally everything of mine that ever appears in there!).

Let’s talk about size. As with most things in life, variety is the key. An arrangement of pots that are all the same size can look flat, whereas if you use a range of sizes it suddenly works. This grouping is tied together by the fact that they’re all terracotta, but there’s layers of interest. As a side note, I don’t recommend doing this - the ladder took so much watering; in the height of summer it was twice a day!

My favourite pots to do are large planters where you can effectively plant a mini garden. This is where I consider plant choice very much as I do for borders. You need at least three different types of plants: height (often a shrub or small tree - in the one above it’s a Ceanothus), mid tier (Heuchera and Carex) and something to soften the edge of the planter and/or trailing down it (in this case Verbena).

At the opposite end of the scale are small pots. Though they may be diminutive, they can still pack a punch - small but mighty, if you will. This planter is only about 10cm high, but by using a central upright grass surrounded by repetition, all adhering to a clear colour scheme, it worked really well - especially as a table centrepiece. This one really shows the power of colour - the deep red of the Carex, pansies and planter go really well with the yellows and whites.

The most common size pots I see are what I’d class as medium sized - 30-40cm tall, and similar in diameter. I’ve seen many people’s gardens full of pots this size, yet I think they’re actually the toughest size to use successfully. It can be tricky to find a combination of different plants that will fill the pot but have enough space to look good for several months, whilst a single plant can look a bit lonely if it’s not vigorous enough. Whichever way you go, be generous. I think that pots this size look best with one plant that will over-fill it - like this Pelargonium I loved at Sarah Raven’s garden (the queen of pots!). Also note what a difference it makes raising the pot up - literally putting it on a pedestal - and giving it space to breathe.

Having said that, you can of course have a mixture of plants in a medium sized pot. The reason I think this one worked so well was that I used the colour of the pot (a rather lovely gift from my parents) to guide the plant choices. The Senecio at the back echoes the zinc particularly well, but even the ends of the Stipa and veining of the Heuchera tie in too. This pot also shows that you don’t have to have colour to create an interesting pot - you can do it by choosing plants that have contrasting leaf shapes and textures. I often use variegated varieties in these types of pots too, as an extra layer of interest.

The key for pots of any size is proportion. There are design rules around this that explain it, but ultimately it comes down to feeling. It’s human nature to like balance - even if it’s not a conscious thing - which is why we feel ourselves drawn to some planters more than others. The one on the left here looks frumpy to me (partly, I admit, due to the poor camera angle). There’s no relation between the different components - the pot is taller than it is wide, yet the foliage is the opposite. The trunk is significantly smaller than both - which can work if it’s half or double in size, but here it isn’t. On the right, however, there is a better balance (which I would say of course, as the one on the right is mine!). There’s a clear bottom (pot), middle (lower planting and trunk) and top (foliage) that are all similar heights and flow on naturally one to the other.

This is another great example of proportion, my mother-in-law’s pot of Narcissus. The pot is almost exactly the same size and shape as the foliage (so satisfying), then the flowers floating on the top are about half the height again. I’m not saying you should get your measuring tape out when you plant up pots, it’s just being aware that our brains are wired to appreciate proportions even if we don’t consciously realise it. Having planting that mirrors either the same dimensions as the pot, or half/double or even thirds can have a surprisingly satisfying effect.

Apologies for the hideous background - I clearly couldn’t be bothered to move the charcoal or spray bottle etc when I took this picture in our old garden - but I’ve included it to show a few more points. Firstly, it’s a way of bringing interest to a boring wall. It’s also very shade tolerant, and highlights how effective repetition can be. I’ve used different ferns to vary the texture, whilst the pansies tie it all together and add a pop of colour.

I love this lead planter - it’s so useful and has had many iterations. This is what it looks like at the moment, having not been tinkered with for a year or so. The Senecio could do with filling out, but it neatly demonstrates another principle: find a planter that sits well in its space. The patina of the lead goes beautifully with the wall, the height sits nicely, and - again - a restrained colour palette makes it cohesive.

Okay, so far this article has been a lot of me basically saying ‘look at what wonderful things I’ve put together’ (which, I have to say, is very uncomfortable for me to write! I’ve deleted ‘in my opinion’ and ‘if I do say so myself’ so many times today). I think it’s also useful to look at planters I don’t think work and why.

This one is one I did for GW mag that I wasn’t pleased with. Do you see what I was going for? It has a clear colour scheme, and a variety of textures. However, there’s something ‘off’ - for me it’s the Aeonium. It’s dominating the Euphorbia, shading the Sedum like a flabby parasol, and just looks way out of proportion. Proof that following ‘the rules’ doesn’t always work. I knew at the time that the Aeonium was too big, but I craved an odd number of plants (another ‘rule’). I should have trusted my feelings and taken it out.

What do you think of this pot from Gordon Castle (incidentally, an utterly magical garden to visit if you’re ever that way)? It’s a show-stopper and I took a dozen photos of it from different angles. It’s impressive, no doubt, but whilst scrolling through my photos for this article it stopped me in my tracks. There’s something that I find unnerving about it. It feels unbalanced, and there’s something ‘looming’ about it, and the more I thought about it the more it reminded me of Medusa. I found it interesting, because ultimately the thing I don’t like about it now, although I liked it at the time, is just the feeling I get. And that’s it - sometimes, you can try to use rules and guides, but ultimately I suggest trusting your gut. If a pot combination feels right, go for it. If not, keep tinkering until you love it.

Speaking of love, this was a project I’d always wanted to do, but I never got around to it until GW asked me to do an Auricula Theatre feature. I’m ending the advice with this one because basically it breaks all of my own rules - and I think it’s good to do that sometimes. It’s lots of little pots, needed regular watering, only looked good for a few weeks of the year and yet…how glorious! It brought me so much joy and so was totally worth it.

Planters

Think outside the box when it comes to planters. There’s a massive choice at nurseries and garden centres, but my favourites are all ones that we’ve either made ourselves or upcycled something.

My absolute favourite is the one on the left, which was made Tom, but I realise that not everyone has a husband who can weld and do woodwork (where’s the smug-face emoji when you need it?). However, the one on the right was made by my own fair hands. I planted up a large black plastic pot, then cut a load of pallet planks to be just taller than the pot. I then joined these by tacking two lengths of strong wire across the back, so that I could wrap them around the pot, et voilà!

I love using old dustbins - much cheaper that fashionable dolly tubs, especially ones with holes in the bottom (which are better anyway, otherwise you need to drill drainage holes). This bin housed a prolific plum tree at our old house, whilst the lid made it to the dizzying heights of the cover of - sorry to drop it in there again, this is the last time for today I promise - Gardener’s World magazine. Just remember to make sure that whatever you use has excellent drainage so that water can get away, especially over winter.

Plants

A definitive plant list would be a whole other article in itself. Basically if it’ll fit in a pot, give it a go. I often have plants in a pot for a year or two before planting them out. This is a very economical way of bringing trees into the garden - buy them young, grow them on as a display in a pot, then plant them out.

My favourites for pots are:

Trees: Amelanchier, Olive, Plum, Apple, Hawthorn

Shrubs: Pittosporum, Euonymus ‘Emerald Gaiety’, Viburnum tinus, Lavender, Skimmia

Grasses: Stipa tenuissima, Carex oshimensis, Carex ‘Prairie Fire’

Perennials for mixed planting: Heuchera, Salvia, Geranium, Hosta, Anemone ‘Wild Swan’, Brunnera ‘Jack Frost’, Ferns, Tiarella ‘Spring Symphony’

Perennials for single variety pots: Pelargonium, Hosta, Gaura, Salvia ‘Nachtvlinder’

Edge and trailing plants: Erigeron, Saponaria, variegated ivy

Small plants: the alpine section of nurseries is great for rockery plants and sedums that are unusual and fascinating

Bulbs: Narcissus ‘Thalia’, Narcissus ‘Sailboat’, any variety of tulip planted en masse, Muscari ‘Baby’s breath’

You may notice I’ve not included any annuals. I do occasionally add them, but I like pots to last me a couple of years so if anything I’ll use them as fillers in the first year. Plants such as Senecio maritima and pansies are ideal and in sheltered positions often last more than a year.

Despite having tidied and added to all of our pots a few weeks ago, all of that has made me want to dash to the nursery and plant up a whole host more pots! But I shall resist, as next week I’m off to RHS Malvern where I’m sure to make a purchase or two. In the meantime, enjoy the lovely weather - and don’t forget to spend some time relaxing in your garden. You know what all work and no play does…

Rich x

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A kinder interpretation may have been that they knew I’d planned to write an article on crop protection this week and so provided me with evidence of what it looks like when pests attack. But before we get onto all that, there’s plenty that’s been happening in the garden this week that I wanted to write about.

This week I planted our potatoes, and this year have opted for a second early called Anya (the knobbly one in the pic) and a couple of main crops. Last year we had way too many potatoes, so I’ve cut down this year and only planted 17 seed potatoes in total. Come harvest time no doubt I’ll be lamenting not planting enough! As it’s quite a big bed I’m using, I also sowed some white mustard seed around the rest of the bed to act as a bit of ground cover until the potatoes get going. I’ve not read it anywhere, but we had spare seed and I want to try it, as it always feels that the potato bed is bare soil for quite a long time.

I also planted up our asparagus bed with four different varieties, ten crowns of each. This is where having plenty of space really is such a luxury - a 7m x 2.5m bed of asparagus that won’t be particularly productive for a few years yet, and even when it is the harvesting season is only a matter of weeks. But it’s worth it for this most magnificent of vegetables. I looked in three different books for advice on creating an asparagus bed (Monty Don, Charles Dowding and Carol Klein/RHS) and all three had quite different suggestions! I went with Charles and dug a 30cm wide hole about 15cm deep, making a bit of a mound in the middle to raise the crown up and let the roots dip down.

The asparagus went in the bed that was potatoes last year. A combination of the potatoes growing in there, plus a thorough weeding when we harvested them, plus several months under thick black plastic left the bed in great shape. Warm crumbly soil. BUT, there was a surprise! In the mayhem of last summer, somehow we managed to miss harvesting a whole row of potatoes! I think that the grass path had crept in, and perhaps the potato foliage had died back before the rest? No idea, but there was a clear row of them. And miraculously, the potatoes were in fine fettle - in fact they were in better condition than some we harvested at the right time last year! Not sure I could replicate this feet, but harvesting plump potatoes in April is quite a treat.

This looks like more wanton vandalism, but in fact it was me. Now is the perfect time to edit the bulbs in your borders. These bright red ones with the black centre seem to be resilient and one of the few tulips here that are not only reliably perennial but also increase year on year. Which is all well and good, except that…well I don’t really like them. Sorry, I know loads of people have these ones and I do get the appeal. They’re just not my bag, I prefer pastel shades when it comes to tulips. I know it seems like sacrilege pulling them up when in flower, but in reality it’s the only way they’re ever going to go. Once flowering is over it’s hard to tell or remember which are the undesirables. I also pulled out some daffodils that are too bright for me - the neighbours must think I’ve lost the plot…

I really do encourage you to be ruthless when it comes to plants that you don’t like. For bulbs it means getting rid of them whilst in flower (you could always pot them up and pass them on of course, but I feel a bit awkward doing that. “Here you go Doris, here’s some tulips that look crap in my garden, but they’re good enough for yours!”), taking a photo of the gap and writing yourself a note of what to order instead.

For larger plants like shrubs I counsel restraint. Wait to check it definitely doesn’t work, and then wait until you have a replacement bought to avoid leaving a large gap. I have two hydrangeas and a rose that we inherited with the garden that I’m employing this exact strategy with. I’m going to a couple of RHS flower shows this year and no doubt will pop back in at the David Austin garden on my way back from the Hay festival (again!), and so will be glad of the excuse to buy something I see, rather than buying a plant and wondering where I can wedge it in (or worse yet, resisting the temptation because I’m being sensible…yeuch).

And so to the main event: crop protection. I almost called this article ‘pest management’ but I didn’t because the word ‘pest’ has become something of a sensitive topic, so - if you’ll indulge me - I’m going to briefly give my thoughts on the debate. The RHS has asked gardeners to stop using the word ‘pest’ because it frames certain creatures such as slugs and snails as being purely negative with no purpose, whereas in fact they’re an important part of the ecosystem. I agree with the latter, but I don’t think that changing the language really helps. Whilst a rose by any other name smells just as sweet, a pest by any other name is still just as annoying.

For me, it’s being clear on our attitude towards pests. I define a ‘pest’ as a creature that causes damage to plants that has a significantly detrimental effect on a plant’s ability to fulfil its function, namely to be eaten or to put on a good show aesthetically. I don’t judge the pests for this - it’s in their nature - and I certainly don’t want to eradicate them for the sake of my garden. I just want to prevent them causing damage, and being able to group such creatures under one heading of ‘pests’ is just being practical.

We never use chemicals, slug pellets, or even techniques generally thought of to be more eco-friendly like beer traps. In fact we don’t do anything to harm pests directly, we manage them in one of two ways: prevention and/or encouraging natural predators.

Prevention first and foremost means growing strong healthy plants able to withstand light pest pressure. This makes sense anyway, as such plants also need less frequent watering, produce bigger yields etc. We also try to avoid inadvertently creating havens for the creatures in question. For example, I like to put individual 9cm pots into a plastic tray that holds a dozen or so as it makes it easier to move them all to the cold frame then out for planting. However, I know that if leave these on top of a large plastic watering tray in the greenhouse, the space between the two plastic surfaces is heaven for slugs, and so after watering I move them onto slatted or wire shelves.

The other form of prevention is physical barriers. The most common form is netting, but there is also glass - both greenhouses and cold frames offer young plants protection from winged things, be it pigeons eating leaves or butterflies laying eggs. You can also put a physical boundary between the soil and your plants, which is what we’re going to do with the cold frame where the brassicas and peas were eaten in the pic at the start of the article. At the moment the cold frame sits on stones directly on the ground, so I’m hoping a wooden base makes it impenetrable from below.

Speaking of physical barriers, here is my pièce de résistance: our new brassica cage. This is the culmination of a lot of discussion between Tom and me, having tried many - many - different options in the past. We both love to eat brassicas of all types, and so persevering against cabbage white butterfly has been somewhat of an obsession for me for the past decade. The tricky thing is creating a robust defence whilst allowing easy access for weeding and harvesting. I used to prioritise the latter, but now I’ve relented and accepted that it may take me an extra couple of minutes to reassemble the defences each time, but it’s pretty darn sturdy.

We’ve used scaffold poles - a smaller grade than that used in the building trade - as they’re super strong and durable, but with soft curved edges that won’t snag the net. The net itself is high quality, securely pegged down at the narrow ends, held in place by boards along the long lengths that can easily be moved for access. I have to say, I’m ruddy delighted - and will be correspondingly annoyed if they don’t work! But I’m sure they will; either way, you’ll be hearing about it in future articles!

A quick note on brassica nets - just be sure that when the plants are fully grown the leaves won’t touch the net. If they do, then cabbage white butterflies will lay their eggs on the leaves through the net, circumventing all of your hard work.

It’s always worth making defences robust and long term - after all, it’s unlikely that the pests will disappear - and so here, wire is your friend. These are three examples that we’ve put in recently to prevent larger pests…actually I’m going to rephrase that…larger creatures (because one of them is our spaniel and no matter what I said earlier about pests just being a word, I can’t bring myself to class my gorgeous Dashy as a pest!) from gaining access. From left to right:

1. The new fence we put around the veg patch has wire mesh behind the fencing pales that bends at a right angle at the base and comes out across the first foot or so of the ground to prevent rabbits digging under the fence. The grass is already growing through so it’ll soon be invisible.

2. The large grade wire mesh we’ve put on the gate and fence is to stop the dogs going into the side/front garden and trampling/eating everything. Other than the gate, the rest of the mesh on the fencing gets hidden by low level planting. We actually had to add an extra row of this, as when we just blocked off the bottom gap, Dash - despite being almost 11 years old - just leapt through the next gap up like a sprightly springbok. Fortunately she’s not attempted the third gap up…yet…

3. Under the bird table there was a large gap where nothing would grow because the pigeons kept stomping around for scraps. Therefore Tom made this cage with gaps plenty big enough for smaller birds to get in and out, but not the pigeons. I’ve put a couple of geums and an Osmanthus that will grow through the cage and quickly conceal it.

The other way that we try to limit plant damage is to employ natural pest control. The two best ways of doing this are also exceptionally good for general garden health: have a wide variety of plants, and nurture your soil. Lots of insects, particularly winged ones, find their preferred food source by scent, and so by planting a large block of plants all from the same family (say, brassicas for example) you’re making a beacon for these critters to home in on. This goes against our need for order and symmetry, but adding in some other plants can make a big difference.

The best plants for scent-defence are herbs, as they naturally have strong scents (hence being grown for their strong flavour). This is win-win, as you’re getting in another crop - eagle-eyed readers may have noticed in the brassica cage pic above that I’ve added in coriander and parsley plants either side of the brassicas as an extra line of defence. The other plants to add are pollinator-friendly flowers such as Calendula that attract insects like hoverflies, whose larvae eat a wide range of pests such as aphids.

Many natural predators live in the ground, and for them to thrive you need healthy, vibrant soil. This is achieved through minimal digging and regular mulching with high quality organic material. This feeds the unimaginably huge amount of life in the soil, including organisms such as nematodes that prey on slugs.

The other way of enticing natural predators is to build them a home. Even the tiniest of ponds can bring in frogs, birds and hedgehogs (amongst many others - ponds really do bring all the boys to the yard), all of which will be a huge help. The other must-have is a log pile. I’ve recently learned that one of the most prolific slug munchers is the humble beetle. I’ve also watched in fascination as ladybird’s ravage a hoard of aphids, and both they and beetles adore a log pile.

There is another option when it comes to pest control: don’t grow whatever it is that they destroy. This is the same decision to make as when plants don’t thrive in your conditions. Do you persevere and try to make conditions better, or give up? For me I’m willing to try everything to successfully grow brassicas (except going out at night with a torch and picking off slugs. Sleep is more important than cabbages). Conversely, despite quite liking lillies for their scent when cut and brought into the house, I can’t be bothered trying to get on top of lily beetle. In our previous garden I didn’t know any neighbours for miles around that grew lillies, yet the bright red blighters still found and systematically destroyed our lillies every year. As there are plenty of other flowers I love, I just don’t grow them any more.

As all of that was quite a lot to digest, here’s a quick checklist of how I suggest we should deal with pests:

- Can you create a discreet, permanent physical barrier that doesn’t detract visually or practically?

- Can you use planting to mask the scent?

- What are the pests natural predators and how can you entice them into your garden?

- Can you move the plants somewhere less accessible - off the ground, remove any trays, put on wire rack and/or under cover? This is particularly useful whilst annuals are young.

- Can you live with the damage? If it’s just some nibbled leaves of an ornamental, can you plant something in front to hide them?

- Is there something else you can grow instead that is more robust or from a completely different genus that is not prone to the same predation?

Pests can really get you down, but my approach to them is the same as how I view perennial weeds like ground elder. Give yourself a moment to rant and rave, but then be pragmatic about it. Learn to live with them and, importantly, accept that you’ll never get rid of them. Just manage them the best that you can, and try not to let them erode your joy of gardening too much.

The Most Amazing Brassica Cage The World Has Ever Seen (as I fondly call it in my head) is made from 27mm diameter scaffold/handrail poles that are widely available. Ours came from a marvellous metal merchants that we use for loads of things called Brundle, and the specific one we used is here. All of the fittings were from the same website.

The net I used is from Harrod Horticulture and is super strong. I used this on a previous iteration and, whilst the structural frame needed improvement, the netting itself lasted really well including when the whole frame was blown over a 2m high fence in a storm!

I cable tied the net to the top of the frame as well as the verticals, leaving all of the slack along the long edge so that it’s easy to lift up and out of the way without damaging the net. It will be taken down each winter to protect it, as otherwise snow sits on the top and distorts the net.

The wire mesh that we use across the garden comes from various builders merchants and is widely available. The key is to ensure that width of the wires is appropriate for what you want to exclude. Generally I go for the largest size that will still do the job, as this means fewer wires and therefore it’s less visible. Chicken wire does the job too but I find that the more rigid grid type mesh is neater and easier to work with.

I hope there’s something helpful in there for everyone. Us gardeners get asked for advice all the time, and about half of the questions I get asked start with “something has been eating my…”, so I hope this has been useful. Next week I’m going to try to distil my process of creating pot combinations into words, wish me luck!

Rich x

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I was strangely reluctant to start planting in the veg patch this year, almost nervous. So many plants struggled last year, and whilst I know the soil is in much better condition this year - which was the main aim of last year - I did have to give myself a mental prod to get on with it. Everything has survived its first few days so the signs are good. After today we’ve not got any more frosts in the next 10 day forecast so I’m starting to think we may have seen the back of them…we’ll see.

Speaking of anxiety around planting out, I’m holding back these beauties in the greenhouse for a couple of weeks yet. They’re two plants of Althaea cannabina which are tall (around 6ft) airy plants that I first saw in huge herbaceous borders in 2018 at Leeds Castle in Kent. There was something about the contrast between their graceful flowers and chaotic stems that entranced me. Even the name appeals to me (I do love a triple vowel).

I planted an Althaea in our previous garden but it didn’t survive; the tricky thing with tall plants like this is that of course they need to go fairly far back in the border and so it’s harder to keep an eye on them. I think the first attempt got swamped. These two were from seeds that I sowed in March last year and, having been rather shy last year, are now romping away gloriously. They’re hardy perennials, so would probably be fine if I planted them now, but I’m just going to mollycoddle them a few weeks longer.

This weekend we planted up a new seating area, which I used an an opportunity to plant some things that had been on my wish list for ages, as well as to try some new plants. The most exciting is Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’, a thornless scrambling rose with gorgeous buttery yellow flowers. I first saw this on Tom’s Aunt and Uncle’s house over a decade ago and it’s been on my ‘to buy’ list ever since. I finally have the perfect place for it and found a specimen taller than me at the local nursery. I also added two new clematises as well as a Teucrium fruticans, which I’d never even heard of before I saw it in the nursery, but is a shrub with silver leaves and gorgeous blue Salvia-esque flowers.

Something a lot of people will be planting around now is dahlia tubers, the main topic of this week’s article. I reckon they’re the number one marmite plant - or at least joint first with ornamental grasses perhaps. The name Dahlia usually brings to mind a showy (or brash, depending upon which side of the fence you sit) flower such as D. ‘Labyrinth’ above, or perhaps the now ubiquitous D. ‘Cafe Au Lait’. Love them or loath them, they are architectural marvels - the sheer size and intricacy is so impressive.

Initially I was captivated by these huge flowers, but I increasingly find myself drawn away from the showier blooms. In fact, I worry I’m becoming something of a dahlia snob, which is not my intention at all. I admire gardeners who love what they love, totally unabashedly. There’s a house not far from us where the front garden is rammed full of bright, clashing dahlias in summer, an utter riot of colour. It makes me smile every time I pass it - not only for how much the owner clearly loves their display, but also because I can imagine the contrasting comments made in the cars around me. Some will be in awe, some will be repulsed, and you know what? That’s fine - it’s good that we all like different plants. One of my favourite Monty Don quotes is: ‘too much good taste is bad for you’, and I think that sums up dahlias for me.

If, like me, you tend to lean towards the calmer end of the Dahlia spectrum, there is still a huge variety. The photo above is ‘Totally Tangerine’ (which I’ve always thought an odd name, as it’s definitely not totally tangerine by any stretch), and is a good alternative to Cosmos, the flowers being a similar size but on much sturdier stems, as well as being perennial of course. This size also works well in an arrangement. Whilst the dinner-plate sized dahlias look impressive in a vase, it’s tricky to use them with other flowers or foliage, whereas the smaller dahlias associate much easier with other pickings from the garden.

I sometimes find it nigh-on impossible to pick a favourite plant of any kind, but with dahlias it’s unusually easy. I give you Dahlia merckii. As with the rose I bought this week, Dahlia merckii also has a familial link, which always adds to my love of a plant. This time it’s my mother-in-law, who kindly bought me the three plants in our current garden. The picture doesn’t do it justice - this was a very young plant I put in our last garden. After a couple of years, if left in the ground (“left in the ground?!” I hear you cry! Yes I know, I’ll come to that) they bulk out and you get masses and masses of these gorgeous dainty flowers for months on end.

I really do think that there’s a dahlia for everyone. Whilst this article makes me look obsessed with pink flowers, dahlias also come in all shades of red - from deep burgundy so dark it’s almost black, to bright scarlet - as well as orange, yellow, white, cream, apricot, fuchsia, and many of these in combination with each other.

The key thing to remember about dahlias is that they are tender. If you do nothing to help them through winter, they may well perish. Traditionally, gardeners wait for the first frost to kill off the foliage, then lift the tubers, leave them upside down somewhere frost free like a shed for a few weeks until they dry out, and then cover them with sand or dry soil to keep them protected over winter. These are then replanted the next spring when frosts are coming to an end. I did this on a large scale for a client many years ago, and it works well but is labour intensive.

To that end, at home I didn’t have the time nor inclination. So I tried something I’d read about: mulch the ground where the dahlias are planted thickly (at least 2-3”). Not only did they survive, but by not being lifted each year, they grew much larger and stockier, producing masses more flowers but needing less support. Less work for more flowers and minimal staking? I’ve never looked back. However, I’ve never gardened on heavy clay or in a garden that floods - in those instances I would err on the side of lifting, or at least take cuttings as a precaution.

Dahlias can be grown in large pots - I’d add plenty of manure to keep them fed, and they’ll need a lot of watering. They also don’t become as large and floriferous as when they’re in the ground - I wouldn’t have a garden with both, as the potted version will look like the poor cousins of those in the ground. However, if you don’t have space in the ground, or want the ease of being able to protect a pot over winter, it’s definitely still worth doing so.

The single most important thing to do with dahlias to ensure masses of flowers is to pinch out the tips when you have a couple of pairs of leaves. This is true of many plants, and makes such a difference. Not only to you end up with more stems - and therefore more flowers - but it makes for a much stockier, more stable plant.

That’s not to say that they won’t still need supporting. The majority of dahlias will need something to prevent them being blown hither and thither by the wind - after all, they’re very much bred for their flowers first and foremost, many of which are huge and heavy. With so much dense, leafy growth, it’s perfectly possible to stake each main stem separately with a cane that is quickly hidden by the plant itself. Alternatively, a large hoop around all of the stems is also effective.

In terms of varieties, I’ve already mentioned my favourites in the article. It’s well worth taking your time and scrolling through all of the pages rather than getting carried away with the first few you see online. Even better, get to a nursery in summer when they’re in flower - which is actually a top tip for any plant if you can make the timing work. Flowers always look different in real life.

Most nurseries and garden centres sell dahlias, but the undisputed Queen of the Dahlia is Sarah Raven, so it’s definitely worth looking at her website for inspiration. It’s also worth checking your supermarket - not somewhere I usually shop for garden plants, but the most floriferous dahlia I’ve ever grown was D. ‘Crazy Love’ from Morrisons for about three quid.

I hope that’s excited the dahlia lovers amongst you, and perhaps given the dahlia naysayers a bit of encouragement to see if you can find one you like too.

Next week we’re on to crop protection. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the warmer, longer days.

Rich x

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This week has heralded my first harvest of tulips to add to a vase of hellebores and daffodils - a welcome burst of a bright colour other than yellow. (How ungrateful that sounds - mere weeks ago I was waxing lyrically about having daffodils in the house, but that was so last month!). I’m also feeling slightly unnerved. The garden feels under control. It never feels under control at this point of the year, and so I’m convinced there are some huge jobs I’ve forgotten…

In fact, we’re actually (dare I say it) ahead; we’ve already installed the raspberry supports, well before they need it. Which is, of course, what you should do, but most of us are usually chasing our tails on these kind of things. These are hazel poles supporting weld mesh that will stay in place permanently. The raspberry canes grow up and through it so that they are supported when they get tall, and we then just pull them back through when we cut them back. We used this method in our last garden and it works a treat.

Can you guess what these are? I’ll give you a clue: they keep me from ranting and raving at an inanimate object…Nothing annoys me more in the garden than the hosepipe. Constantly kinking, knotting and leaking, they drive me up the wall. So here on the farm we invested in a larger gauge yellow hose (the type you see at garden centres) and a big metal reel on wheels, which is (for me) an utter dream. The downside is that it’s pretty heavy and prone to crushing plants as you drag the hose around (and then inevitably over) corners. Enter Tom, husband-extraordinaire. He’s made me these hose baffles (probably not their actual name, but I like it) for the corners of the beds that will hold the beast-of-a-pipe at bay. I’m utterly delighted.

This is my current dilemma. The cherry tree we planted last year has a wonderfully quirky shape, and if it matures in this sprawling way it’ll fulfil its intended screening purpose magnificently. However, it does feel like if rather than when. It’s so wobbly and feels as though I need to prune it. But honestly? I don’t know where to make the cut. There’s no obvious place wherever I look, I love it’s current shape, and unlike plants such as roses that are basically bulletproof, I have known cherries to die just from looking at them the wrong way (well, almost).

I was never going to prune it before flowering, as Prunus can be susceptible to silver leaf disease if pruned over winter, and now of course I don’t want to lose the blossom (although the thought of a branch in the house is tempting). Do you spot the real problem here? I have a myriad of excuses with which to indulge my hesitation. After all, it’s survived the Yorkshire winter winds, surely it’ll be fine? For now I’ll wait (that blossom is, after all, rather delightful). If I ever find the courage to prune the Prunus, I’ll let you know how it goes…

Fortunately most pruning decisions are much more straight forward, particularly if you know why you’re pruning - this helps with both timing and methodology. The key reasons are health, size and shape, and the improvement of flowers, leaves and stem colour. Many reasons overlap; in cutting out old, woody, unproductive stems you’ll improve air circulation (and therefore plant health), flowering and shape.

Spring is the ideal time to prune many shrubs and some trees. Cornus (shrubby forms), Cotinus, and Leycesteria can all be pruned now, and the following can be done once the risk of hard frosts has passed: Buddleja davidii, Eucalyptus, Euonymus, Fuchsia, Hebe, Hydrangea, Lavender, Perovskia, and Pittosporum. There are also a group of plants that can be pruned in spring but are best left until they’ve finished flowering, such as: Amelanchier, Ceanothus, Forsythia, Mahonia, Philadelphus, Ribes, and Viburnum.

The starting point for any pruning is to cut out dead, damaged and diseased material. Whilst this tidies the plant and improves air flow, the key reason is because unhealthy plant material - particularly wounds - are ripe for disease and unhelpful forms of fungi. Removing this to a nice clean cut from which the plant can properly heal is vital. For indecisive gardeners, it’s the perfect way to start the pruning, as no decision making is required - if it’s one of the three D’s, chop it out, no matter how ideally placed it is. We all get tempted to leave the wrong stem that’s in the right place, but resist that temptation. Chop it.

Perhaps the most obvious reason for pruning - and often the reason we head towards that particularly tree or shrub, loppers in hand - is because it’s grown too large. When pruning for size, there is a bit of science it’s useful to know about: apical dominance. Basically, the growth hormones in plants tend to be most concentrated at the tips of branches, particularly the leading central stem. By taking out the top (or all) of this stem, you force the growth hormones elsewhere - either to the next bud, or out to other branches, encouraging stronger growth.

This is why people often find that with many trees and shrubs they get top heavy. If you’re too shy with your pruning and only take off a little at the top, the growth hormones concentrate around the nearby buds. To keep a plant balanced and encourage growth from the bottom, what’s often needed is to cut out stems at various points across the whole plant. Now, this doesn’t apply to all trees and shrubs by any means, but a good way to check is to see if new growth sprouts from lower down the plant naturally. If it does, it’s a pretty reliable sign that pruning back low will encourage new growth towards the base, but it’s always worth checking the RHS website if you’re not sure.

When pruning for size, the key is to be thinking ahead to the new growth that will be produced as a result of the cut. If you cut to a bud, that bud will likely become a stem so make sure it’s facing in a direction you want a branch to grow in. If you’re pruning something like a Viburnum x bodnantense that will regrow vigorously, remember that it will quickly regrow a foot or more above the cut. For flowers at eye level, you need to allow for this and cut quite far down.

Certain plants are very shy of flowering if they don’t get pruned regularly - Wisteria being the classic example. But pruning doesn’t just affect flowering, it can be used to great effect for foliage and stems too. Annually pruning Cotinus coggygria hard back makes it produce much larger and more impressive leaves. Similarly, annually coppicing Cornus shrubs like ‘Midwinter Fire’ and ‘Elegantissima’ encourages them to produce new stems much stronger in colour for the winter months than if left to mature.

In terms of timing, there tend to be two main factors to consider at this time of year: frost and flowers. Many plants benefit from the extra protection of last year’s framework against frost, such as Hydrangea and Eucalyptus, and these are the types of plants where it’s best to stick to prescribed timings, i.e. after hard frosts have ended. However, many timings in books are for aesthetic purposes and are often to avoid cutting off stems that will bear this year’s flowers. That’s why many plants are pruned after flowering - it often won’t harm them being pruned earlier, but you’ll lose a year’s flowers. Therefore plants like Forsythia, Philadelphus and Viburnum can be pruned earlier if needed, which is useful if they require renovation.

As I’ve said before when writing about roses, it’s important to be brave, particularly if you have mature trees and shrubs that have not been pruned much (if at all) over the past few years. This is often the case when you buy a new house and inherit a mature garden. Before ripping out ugly or unhealthy looking shrubs, it’s worth giving them a jolly good pruning to see if it revitalises them - it often does (I always regretted not doing this with a corkscrew hazel in our last garden). Trust in the process and be brave.

- The RHS Pruning and Training book: my copy is from 2017 (I think it’s a reprint of the first edition from 1996) and after nearly ten years there’s still barely a month goes by where I don’t consult it. Super useful and clear for gardeners of all levels. If you don’t want to invest in a book, the RHS website is an excellent font of knowledge.

- Kit: it’s so important to find good pruning tools that suit you. It’s best to have a go of someone else’s if you can, a try before you buy kind of thing. My secateurs are Felco, snips are Niwaki, one pruning saw is Silky, one is Kent and Stowe, and my loppers are Fiskar. I’ve found that all of those brands make high quality kit that lasts years, even when used a huge amount as a professional gardener.

Right, I’ll leave it there as the sun has come out, and I do have quite a lot of seeds to sow. Oh, and I’ve still not finished putting up the rose wires…or finished prepping the bed for cut flowers…and I must get the nets ordered for the new brassica cages that I’m yet to assemble. What was I saying about being on top of things?? Famous last words!

Have a good week,

Rich x

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My April joy is the irrepressible flush of growth in the garden. It’s a romping month where it feels as though you could actually see plants growing if you stood still for long enough. Not that many of us stand still in the garden in April, although I do highly recommend giving it a go. And on that note - if you’ll humour me - I’d like to get philosophical…

“Know thyself.”

Two such powerful words, and sage advice for us all. However, if I may, I’d like to adapt it for the purposes of this week’s article (sorry Socrates…yes I Googled it, I’m not that guy).

“Know thy garden.”

Patient observation, trial and error, time spent pondering as you potter (preferably with a cuppa in hand). These are the secrets to success in any garden, yet because they involve no physical work, nor yield immediate, visible results, we often skip or rush our thinking time rather than basking in it luxuriantly as we should.

Understanding our gardens is about playing the long game. It’s working out why something died in that corner, why that shrub never seems to flower, or why the same variety of seeds is amazing one year then utter rubbish the next.

April is the most important month to know thy garden. The only thing predictable about April is its unpredictability. From sleet, snow and ice to gloriously working in shorts and t-shirt in baking sun, the weather can never seem to make up its mind, which has a fundamental impact on a wide range of gardening activity.

The biggest quandary posed by April’s vagaries of weather is when to plant out anything remotely tender. Whilst I’d love to give you a specific date, alas, that would be impossible. It’s a combination of hedging your bets, balancing the risks and at some point taking the plunge.

Let’s start with seedlings. You’ve lovingly sown them, they’ve obligingly germinated, you reward their efforts by potting them on, keeping them watered and sheltered under cover. But they’re teenagers now, they need to get out of the house, and you have to let them go. However, you can soften this transition to adulthood in the garden by adding in an extra step: the cold frame.

I find cold frames wonderfully reassuring, a similar feeling to going for a coffee in the Waitrose café. You’ve left the house, you’re out in the big wide world, yet it’s still warm and comforting, and a bit of a treat. For your teenage plants, it’s a little like student accommodation - gradually acclimatising plants to life outside of the coddling confines of the greenhouse, conservatory or window ledge.

Cold frames are also ideal if you’re remotely indecisive and, let’s face it, all of us gardeners are indecisive in April when it comes to working out if the last hard frost has passed yet. They’re also invaluable for creating more space in the greenhouse - which is why I have four cold frames (and still run out of space).

Almost everything I sow from seed will go into a cold frame for at least a couple of weeks before it goes into the garden. There are exceptions, especially when strongly growing plants are ready in the summer, but at this time of year it’s best not to gamble.

When Tom made me our biggest cold frame I told him to hold off on the lid, and in fact I’ve never asked him to make it. I find that just the shelter of the sides is often enough to protect anything vaguely hardy, but the open top means that the rain waters the plants much more evenly and consistently than is possible with a watering can. Plants often move from greenhouse to lidded cold frame and then on to the open cold frame, which works a treat.

If you don’t have a cold frame, conservatory or a spacious porch, then a roll of horticultural fleece is your next best option. When it’s really cold, use a double layer, or from mid April onwards a single layer is usually fine. Lie it gently atop your plants, making sure there’s enough slack for the plants to keep growing, then weigh down the edges of the fleece.

Whilst I’ve said I tend to leave plants in the cold frames for a couple of weeks, there is - again - no magical timeline that applies to every plant for when it’s ready to go out. Some parts of the garden are so sheltered that frosts don’t affect them, whereas other parts - especially shady areas - will stay chilly for days at a time. I’ve learned this partly through observation, but also of course through losing plants from being impatient. It’s all a learning curve, and none of us get it right every time.

The other key thing to know about your garden in April is which parts dry out first. Up until now, we’ve not really had to think about watering since October, and from May it’s often at the forefront of our minds. However, April - that tricksiest of months - can catch us out and cause a faltering start to certain areas of the garden.

Pots are the main ones to watch. It’s surprising how quickly they dry out in April, particularly smaller pots, and on gusty days that take the moisture away on the wind. The other areas - which, again, you’ll get used to if you look out for them - are pots or borders in a rain shadow. That foot or so of the bed, right at the back against the house, that stays dry in all but the most driving of rain. Keep an eye out - you might need to reach for the watering can earlier than you expect.

Whilst March is key for seed sowing, April moves up a gear both in terms of quantity but also size. The larger seeds - beans, courgettes, pumpkins etc - can be sown now as long as you have greenhouse/cold frame space to stash the rapidly growing plants until well into May, after all chance of frost has passed. If you don’t, then hold your horses a bit longer.

Now is also the time for potatoes. Some people will think I’m rather later on this - after all, seed potatoes appear in garden centres in February which, frankly, rather irritates me. So many people, understandably, take guidance from establishments such as garden centres, reasonably assuming that if it’s for sale, it must be the time to buy it. I get it - the first few months are tough for garden centres, and they need the sales, but do make sure you can keep anything you buy frost free if you buy it early.

If you buy your seed potatoes too early, you either have to store them without them sprouting, or plant them and risk them being killed off by frost. I wait until April, accepting that my first earlies may not be quite as early as is humanly possible, but not far behind. There are always plenty left to buy at this point, often already reduced which is a bonus.

Whilst autumn is the main bulb planting season, it’s also well worth getting a few summer flowering bulbs, tubers and corms that you can plant now. We’re talking gladioli, lillies, agapanthuses, and of course the most popular for planting this time of year - dahlias.

Gladiolus are best planted in the ground, and make wonderful cut flowers. There’s a huge range of colours, and as long as you plant them at the correct depth they’re usually pretty robust, requiring no staking. The scent of lillies is unparalleled, yet the bright red lily-beetle that always manages to find their name-sake is a nuisance, and the reason I no longer grow them (which is a shame, given that one of our dogs is called Lily!).

Agapanthus are traditionally sun-loving plants that thrive in warmer places like Jersey, yet there are plenty of varieties that are reliably perennial even in colder regions. They can grow perfectly well in the ground, but I only grow them in pots (their roots love being constrained) which I can then pop in the greenhouse over winter just to be sure.

Likewise, Dahlia is technically a tender plant, but, in direct opposition to Agapanthus, they relish the opportunity to spread their roots. Dahlias in the ground grow significantly larger, especially if they’re allowed to stay put over winter, being protected with mulch rather than lifted.

This month’s little joy is our first flush of cherry blossom, from the Prunus ‘Accolade’ that we planted last year. There are hundreds more tight buds waiting to unfurl, so I’m hopeful that we’ll have a good few weeks of this delight - especially as we can see it from the kitchen window.

April Articles

- Spring pruning: what to prune this month

- Dahlias: how to grow them and my favourite varieties

- Crop protection: how to feed yourself rather than the wildlife

- Pots: creating plant pot combinations

And so, in this busiest of months in the garden, I hope you’re able to take the time to get to know your garden a bit better. I’ll certainly be trying to follow my own advice - after all, this is only our second spring here on the farm, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Rich x

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In amongst mulching (team work really does make the dream work when endlessly barrowing up manure from the paddock, so Tom also gets a pat on the back), topping up bark paths, seed sowing, and potting on, this week’s big job has been planting up a new border. We actually de-turfed this last year (with help from Tom’s sister - this garden really is a family effort!), but building work on the barns next to it prevented it from becoming much beyond a weed bed in the end.

Eventually we’ll put in some kind of patio here for the dining table with planting surrounding it, but I can’t quite face starting another big project just yet. However, I didn’t want our turf-lifting efforts to go to waste, so we’ve planted some shrubs and perennials that we can lift and re-use when we do the area properly, which we’ll probably get around to doing this autumn.

Speaking of planting, spring is the opportune moment to bolster your borders. Getting the right plants in place now is the key to having colour throughout summer and autumn. I wanted to share ten of my favourite plants that flower for a long time, and thought I’d use the opportunity to show that you don’t need a large garden to achieve it.

This is a scale planting plan of a 1m x 1m border. Incidentally (if you’re interested) this is often how I start out doing planting plans for clients. The final versions I send out are much more professional (naturally) but this is a quick way of working out what to plant: scaled circles that are colour-matched to the predominant colour of the plant (usually flower but sometimes foliage). The plan assumes that there is a wall or fence at the back (top of the plan) that faces south or west. I’ve gone with my favourite colour palette of pinks, purples and blues.

Sweet Peas (Lathyrus odoratus) can flower for months, but you must pick them regularly, otherwise they go to seed and stop flowering. Picking flowers seems counterintuitive to a lot of people, especially if there’s not many flowers in the garden. I’m the opposite - I appreciate them much more in the house, and so cut plenty. Regardless of your position, pick sweet peas regularly; ideally, once a fortnight, cut every flower that’s open. I promise you within days plenty more will have taken their place, and in the meantime you’ll have a gorgeous posy bringing delicious scent into your home.

Many clematises flower for months and so are a great addition, especially in smaller gardens where a climbing rose might be too large. The key (as ever) is making the right selection: groups 2 and 3 tend to be better for longer flowering periods, and be sure to check that the size is about right. The colour in the plan is based on Clematis ‘Cézanne’, which would be perfect for this imaginary border as it only gets to 1.2m tall.

Dahlias are marmite plants, particularly because their very name usually evokes large, showy blooms. However, I’ve yet to meet anyone who doesn’t like my personal favourite: Dahlia merckii. The flowers are much smaller than most dahlias at only about 6-8cm wide, but D. merckii flowers just as prolifically as its flashier brethren. With a decent mulching in autumn, I find they survive fine in the ground over winter, coming back bigger and better than if the tubers are lifted.

Verbena bonariensis may be nothing revolutionary, but boy is it the very definition of a stalwart of the herbaceous border! They can flower from June right through to October and sometimes even into November. They’re a natty way of adding height without heft; their narrow stems (which have a quirky square cross-section) keep the plant nice and airy.

The only annuals I’ve included in this list are sweet peas and cosmos, both of which are utterly prolific as long as you remember to pinch them out when they’ve formed a few pairs of true leaves. This is particularly essential for Cosmos; it’s the difference between a narrow weedy plant and a bulky floriferous bush. As with sweet peas, cut the flowers for the vase or deadhead regularly to keep the flowers coming for months on end.

A less well known plant that I adore is Limonium latifolium (I’ve just added another dozen to our garden this past weekend!). My poor photography doesn’t do it justice; it produces a profusion of dainty mauve flowers that stay put for months on end. They’re also great for the vase, lasting weeks, and lending an airy grace to arrangements. They have a neat rosette of leaves that are tidy enough for the front of the border.

No garden is too small for a Rose. This beauty is ‘Scarborough Fair’, which I added to our garden after seeing it at the David Austin garden last year. It would also work in a small border like this, where it’s best to choose a shrub rose that gets no larger than a metre in either direction. By pruning it back low each year, you can keep it to within 50cm or so. Again, deadhead like a fiend to keep those blooms blooming.

The most common forms of catmint are incredibly useful but often sprawl over their neighbours or pathways in a rather undignified manner. Enter Nepeta ‘Purrsian Blue’ - a lovely short catmint that only gets about 20cm tall and stays upright, perfect for the front of the border. I’ve also got it in small pots with Erigeron and they make a handsome couple indeed.

Although it’s a perennial, I sow large batches of Erigeron karvinskianus every year, as I just cannot get enough of it! Don’t be put off by close up photos of a single flower (a deliberate omission here), as I know they look like a boring old daisy. The joy is in their profusion, a frothy white and pink foam bubbling over the edge of a border.

Erigeron can flower for 8 months and are easy to chop back if they creep too far. They’re also ideal for concealing unsightly bases of plants like shrub roses than can have an air of desolation about their bases. I adore the way that Erigeron seeds itself in our drystone walls and stone paths, but they’re easy to tug out if that’s not your thing.

And last but not…well, actually, it probably is ‘least’ in this floral catwalk…Alchemilla mollis. Whilst it’s not going to set the horticultural world alight, there’s a reason it’s a staple of many gardens. It’s easy, reliable, and flowers for ages - my kind of plant. The key is chopping back the flowers as soon as they finish. This tidies the plant, stops it seeding everywhere, and often results in a second flush of flowers in a month or so. The zingy lime green flowers simultaneous lift and calm everything around it, and they go with any colour scheme. A real ‘doer’.

And there we have it. I’ve not included Rich’s Recommendations this week as I’ve mentioned the relevant varieties within the articles, and in terms of sourcing - as ever - I recommend your local plant nursery as the first port of call.

Next week’s article - prepare yourself here to wonder where the heck the year is going - is all things April…or it will be if I can resist the garden’s siren call long enough to write it…

Rx

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“Keep it simple, and err on the side of growing less…”

“This year, I’m planning to grow very few of each variety…”

I’m quoting my own article from January, but as hints of sun start to tease us with a taste of spring I’m getting carried away. I’ve also remembered just how much I love growing from seed, so I may have ordered another 30 or so packets of things to sow. (It may have been 40 packets…)

I’ve covered the left-hand beds in the greenhouse with pallets and got out some racking and the staging from our old greenhouse to pretty much double the amount of seed trays I can have under cover. It makes all the difference at this point in the year having seeds under cover rather than outside or in a cold frame. I’ll come back to seeds shortly, but first…

A few highlights from this week. One of our Pulmonaria plants has burst into flower which is really rather lovely, and my first try at growing Eucomis has resulted in something rather alien-looking erupting from the ground. I also planted up my Ranunculus which look like tiny, wizened claws, and got a lovely shot of Dash promoting no-dig. The borders are coming along well with some help from Tom and my mother-in-law, and I’m currently trying to resist the temptation to plant up a whole new area that I promised myself would wait until Autumn.

And so on to this week’s topic: sowing seeds. This is the technical side, i.e. actually sowing seeds. For my thoughts on choosing varieties etc look back to my article from 14/1 which covers this in depth (and then some!). I thought it apt to cover this now as we’re entering prime seed sowing season. As the days lengthen and start to warm, seeds are germinating rapidly in the greenhouse. However, it’s generally still too early for sowing directly outside so I’ll cover that in April.

Speaking of timings - I generally follow what the seed packets suggest, erring on the side of sowing in the second month they suggest rather than at the earliest opportunity. The only downside of sowing early is that they’re taking up space for longer - I never have the issue that some people worry about of the seeds rotting. However, given that the weather is different every year, seeds will germinate at different times so I wouldn’t stress too much if you’re broadly within the packet’s recommended time frame.

Not wishing to be political, controversial, or activist-y, but I do want to address the plastic issue. We all know that there is a serious problem with plastics from an environmental point of view, and we’ve tried to reduce our plastic here on the farm - particularly single-use plastic. However, I also think we have to be practical. I’ve seen people on social media growing in cardboard toilet roll tubes, old yoghurt pots etc. and, whilst I applaud their efforts, for me this just isn’t practical.

I find that anything other than plastic doesn’t hold up to regular watering for the time that the seedling is in there (not to mention that for the thousands of seeds I sow a year we would have to get through an extraordinary amount of loo roll!). Whilst there may be the odd plastic pot we could re-purpose, they would be few and far between, and as they don’t tessellate like module trays, they waste precious space.

This is my solution. Good quality plastic module trays that can be used year after year. Most of mine are over ten years old; I don’t think I’ve bought any new ones for at least four or five years, and it’s very rare I ever have to throw them away. If you buy good quality, strong plastic trays then personally I feel you more than offset that plastic-debt by growing hundreds of plants in each one. Surely this is better for the environment than buying them all as fully grown plants shipped from goodness knows where?

A top tip for making your trays last longer - I have lots of these really solid full-size seed trays that the thinner module trays fit into. By moving your seedlings around in these, the module trays are far less likely to break, vastly extending their lifespan. These seed trays are virtually indestructible and so, again, are a great investment.

So, how do you choose what size module or tray to use? The smaller the module, the quicker it dries out. Therefore I only use the very small modules for plants that will cope with a bit of drought even from a young age. Think of things that seed themselves in the height of summer despite a lack of water: Erigeron and Nigella for example. The advantage of smaller cells is that you can sow significantly more plants in a smaller area, saving precious greenhouse space.

Full or half seed trays hold onto moisture the longest, but their downside is that whatever you sow in them needs pricking out, and so it’s very rare I use them. Don’t get me wrong, pricking out is straight forward and intensely satisfying. My issue with it is that most seedlings need pricking out at the optimal time, which often falls within a day or two, and I sometimes have a whole week of not having time to get in the greenhouse to do anything other than water. If you sow in modules - even if they need thinning, that’s a much quicker job than pricking out and repotting every seedling.

One of the the keys to success with growing plants from seed is the compost that you use. I tend to make my own seed mix for everything other than the biggest seeds. Whereas large seeds like peas are fine in multipurpose compost, smaller seeds need the right texture. The seed-mix needs to be light enough that the freshly germinated seed can push a shoot and a root through it, but firm enough to give support to that growth. It needs to hold moisture but also allow it to drain, and have air gaps all at the same time.

I find that ‘seed compost’ is too heavy and often becomes a solid clump. I use mostly multi-purpose compost with added John Innes as I find this well balanced for most seeds. I then add anything that will make it more like the soil in which the plant will eventually grow - whenever you can make conditions closer to nature, you’re more likely to have success. Therefore with plants that thrive in poor soil, add grit. For the wildflowers that I’ve just sown that will end up in our fields, I’ve added some top soil from the molehills in that field.

Whatever mix you use, it needs to be fine in texture. Therefore I crumble it between my hands over the module tray before sweeping it across the top until they’re all full. I don’t push the compost down. Instead, I give the tray a few firm taps on a hard surface, and find that this condenses the seed-mix enough to sow the seeds onto without compacting it.

Check the seed packet for planting depth. For anything requiring more than about 6mm I use my finger to make an indent into the middle of the module to roughly the right depth. Many seeds require only a few millimetres of compost covering them - be very sparse with this. I just gentle crumble a tiny dusting from my hand. Keep in mind that small seeds will fall through the tiny cracks in the compost, so they’re only going to get deeper.

Speaking of covering the seed, this is the part of the seed packet instructions I always follow carefully (I’ll admit which bits I ignore in a moment). Firstly, if it says to not cover the seed, this is because the seed needs light to germinate. These seeds really need to be under cover (i.e. greenhouse or windowsill) so that they don’t get blown away. Some seeds require grit or vermiculite - these, again, usually need light to germinate but can tolerate a bit of cover which helps to keep the seeds in place. Just be sure to use fine grit - that tiny seed will struggle to push through great bit pieces of gravel.

The other thing that some seed packets mention is stratification (chilling in the fridge or freezer to mimic winter weather) or scarification (physically breaking down the seed’s outer coating). If I’ve tried to grow a seed before with no joy, then I might try again following these instructions, but on the whole I find they’re rarely necessary. I certainly wouldn’t let them put you off just sowing them normally. Sweet peas are a prime example - so many people nick them with a knife, scratch them with sandpaper or soak them overnight first. I never ever do, and my sweet peas are, frankly, awesome. I give you exhibit A:

When it comes to sowing the seeds, don’t be swayed by how many are in the packet. Think about how many plants you want, and back yourself - plan for success, don’t assume you’ll have loads of failures and sow way more than you need. It’s a waste of time, compost and space. I allow a module per plant I want, sowing no more than an extra 10% of modules than plants required. The way I cover myself is the number of seeds I sow per module. I sow one for seeds bought this year, two for packets bought last year, and three for packets from two years ago. I ruthlessly throw away packets older than this as I’ve had too many failures from them. I find this system works well and accounts for the fact that the longer the seeds sit in a packet, the lower the rate of germination.

This of course relies on being able to sow seeds individually, which depends on your dexterity and eyesight. I tend to tip the seeds in my hand and pick them out individually where I can. However, when they’re too small there are a few things you can do to avoid over-sowing. Pinch a few between your index finger and thumb, and gentle rub them together over the compost as though you’re trying to add the tiniest bit of seasoning to a dish. Keep your eye trained on the compost - not your fingers - as it’s easier to spot them landing.

This is another way, and works perfectly for seeds that come in a smaller packet inside the main one. You need a clean edge, so cut it open if needs be. Then pinch together one end to create a narrow chute. Then just very gently tap the packet, altering the angle slightly, and it’s amazing how easily you sow the tiniest of seeds very accurately.

Now I realise this may all sound a ridiculous faff. But I’ve spent years honing the best way of sowing seeds for me, and I find that taking the time to sow them well not only produces a great success rate, but it also saves time later down the line in terms of thinning, pricking out etc. It’s worth the effort and once you get into the swing of it, it’s much quicker than it sounds. Yesterday I sowed 24 varieties of wild flowers into modules to (hopefully) create 444 plug plants (the marvellous number was pure coincidence). It took me less than three hours - partly, I suppose, because of practice, but largely just from being organised and having everything to hand.

Always pop in a label so you know what’s what - I’ve mentioned this before, but the most foolproof/weatherproof way I’ve found is using a label maker (see RR’s for a reminder of mine).

Finally a note on watering. As you’re filling your modules or seed trays, be conscious of the moisture content. Often there’s enough already in there so the seeds don’t need watering straight away. Seed-mix should be kept moist but not wet, and try to catch it just before it dries out. A seed uses up all of its energy to germinate, and as soon as it does so it’s reliant on easy access to water. Bear in mind that this often happens before you can see it, so as soon as seeds are sown, keep that compost moist.

Plant Labelling - my beloved label machine is a Brother P-Touch, the labels come from Ebay (the ones I use are 5”).

Seed Suppliers

If you’re fairly new to growing veg, or find a certain type of veg challenging to grow, go for F1 varieties as these are highly bred to be reliable both at germinating and cropping. I get the vast majority of my seeds, both edible and ornamental, from Chiltern Seeds as they are thoroughly trialled here in the UK and they have a massive choice, making it a one stop shop for everything. They have particularly interesting edible varieties, and their free, quirky (and chuckle-inducing) Veg Book always brightens the day when it arrives on the doormat.

I always recommend getting down to your local plant nursery for as much as you can - plants, compost and, if they sell them, seeds. This time of year more than any other they really appreciate every sale. Lots of people have their own range of seeds, like Sarah Raven and Jekka McVicar, so it’s worth keeping an eye out, especially if you’re ordering other things from them already. It’s also worth checking the shops in gardens that you visit as they often sell seed they’ve collected themselves (then you can convince yourself/your partner that you’re only buying even more seeds to help a good cause).

In terms of the brands (Thompson & Morgan, Unwins, Mr Fothergill etc) I think they’re all much of a muchness and some are in fact part of the same parent companies. I don’t have any issue with them, I just wouldn’t recommend one brand over another.

Do you know, I really thought this week’s article was going to be a short one! It’s surprising how much goes into something that seems as straight forward as seed sowing. However, having had so many seed-fails in the past, I know how much small changes can make a big difference to success, and the joy that successful growing can bring. And on that note, I wish you seed-sowing-joy!

Rx

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We’ve finished the new fence around the veg patch, and once the bark chip paths are topped up it will be ready and waiting for this year’s crops. I’ve also been able to get into the borders, cutting back and moving a few bits that I didn’t quite get around to in the autumn, ready for its March mulch. Now we’re into March there are plenty more seeds that need to be sown but I’m saving those for the inevitably rainy days we’ll get - whilst it may be bleak, at least it’s dry so I don’t mind togging up and getting outside.

This week’s article is all about soil. WAIT! Don’t run away yawning - not only is it utterly fundamental to the success of any garden, but once you start to understand the magical world within the ground, not to mention the incredible results you can achieve by improving it, you’ll be as fascinated by it as I am…maybe. I promise to try to keep it brief. In the meantime here’s a gratuitous picture of some flowers. I could say that this is here to illustrate the amazing results of soil improvement, but honestly? It’s just because a load of pictures of soil would be dull.

It’s easy to take soil for granted - not only is it just ‘there’, but it’s a dull browny-grey colour that can be cold, wet and grimy, and harbour slithering things. However, soil that has been nurtured becomes a sumptuous chocolatey colour, is light and fluffy and a pleasure to work with. Good soil improves plant hydration and nutrient access, makes weeding significantly less of a chore, and supports strong healthy growth less susceptible to pests and diseases.

The key is remembering that the majority of a plant’s requirements are provided by, or from within, the soil. Let’s start with the obvious - we all know that plants need water, almost all of which comes via the roots (a tiny percentage also comes through the leaves). Therefore it’s imperative that the soil can hold water; too sandy and it dries out quickly. Likewise if it’s baked solid, half the water runs across the surface, and a load more is lost down deep cracks that drain the liquid of life far out of reach of the roots. What you need is a soil that can hold water up to a certain point, but also lets it drain away when it is holding enough - exactly like a sponge.

The reason it’s imperative that water can get away is that roots need to be able to breathe. This is the bit that surprises a lot of people, and is the reason why a lot of plants perish in waterlogged soil (incidentally it’s also the cause of death in many a houseplant post-mortem). It’s not the roots rotting that causes the problem, it’s that they suffocate. Therefore having nice fluffy soil is not only more pleasant for us gardeners to work with, it’s hugely beneficial to plants as it allows for plenty of air to circulate in the soil.

So, how do we achieve this paradoxical, magically balanced soil that is moisture retentive yet free draining? The key is to mulch, but before we get to that we need to address the digging question. A lot of people swear by digging over their soil every year - much more so in vegetable gardens and allotments - and are nervous of not doing this given that they have had success with it in the past, which is totally understandable. There’s also a perceived sense of virtue with digging, as though not digging is lazy.

As ever, I think you should garden in the way that works best for you. Given that lots of people have always had success with digging, it obviously doesn’t destroy the soil (on a domestic scale - ploughing up fields year after year is a perhaps different matter). However (did you sense there was a ‘but’ coming?), I have followed no-dig principles for years and, having tried both methods, I’ve conclusively found that our soil is significantly healthier and much easier to work with by not digging it over every year.

Soil life is an infinitely complicated web of life: worms, fungi, and bacteria to name but a tiny fraction. There are unknowable amounts of symbiotic relationships within the soil, many of which are directly beneficial to plants. Therefore slicing a spade or spearing a fork through all of this and literally turning their world upside down is like an earthquake or tornado ripping through our homes and towns. This is why annual digging can be so damaging. Regularly double digging can be even more problematic as it mixes subsoil with topsoil unless you separate the two as you go.

Now, for more literal readers, the term ‘no-dig’ should more accurately be called ‘minimal-dig’ (which is less catchy, although in America it’s sometimes called ‘low-tillage’ which has a nice ring to it), as of course you can’t garden without doing any digging whatsoever. How would you weed or plant things in the ground? The idea is that you disturb the soil as minimally as possible, and feed the soil with a mulch of natural materials such as homemade compost and rotted manure. The soil life then breaks down this material, digests it, and moves it all around, creating an incredible soil for you.

There are also times when you do need to dig the soil over, primarily when creating a new bed in very poor soil. If you have borders where the soil is either extremely claggy (i.e. heavy clay) or totally solid and lifeless, it’s worth digging in a load of well rotted (ideally at least two years old) manure and/or homemade compost as a one off. There is a no-dig method below that you can use but it would take a lot longer to get going, and several more applications of mulch. Sometimes it’s worth the dig.

If you’re creating beds on grass that’s growing reasonably healthily, or on good soil that has lots of annual weeds, an alternative to digging is to lay down cardboard, and top this with a good 15cm of mulch. This will smother and kill the grass/weeds, and within a year the cardboard will have broken down into the soil so that the mulch can start to merge with the ground. We’ve done this on numerous beds here at the farm, but have also lifted turf on certain areas where we wanted to get planting larger rooted plants more quickly. As with most things in gardening, there’s no one-size-fits-all approach for everyone or even for every area of your garden.

A mulch is something that covers the soil - so technically the tarps that are currently on a couple of our beds in the paddock are mulches, as they’re excluding light to kill weeds as well as warming the soil ahead of spring planting. However, the term ‘mulch’ usually means some kind of organic matter, spread thickly (at least 10cm) across the soil and around plants to improve the soil. Whilst most people see mulch as a feed, in fact its primary virtue is in improving soil texture - moisture retention, aeration etc - which makes it easier for plants to access nutrients already in the soil itself.

For ornamental beds I use well rotted horse manure - we were extraordinarily luckily when we bought the farm to inherit a humongous pile of horse manure, the freshest of which had been added over seven years ago. Even having created umpteen beds and borders, we’re still not even halfway through it (thank goodness!). However, I appreciate not everyone has such glorious riches.

If you have a spot (such as an extra compost heap) where you can rot down manure, then asking local stables or farmyards for some of their waste is a great idea. You can then rot this down yourself for at least a year before using (by which point it’s much more pleasant to handle and won’t scorch your plants). However, if you don’t know much about the providence, just use this for ornamentals - whilst it’s likely to be fine for edibles, there can be various pathogens, antibiotics etc that can still be present after a couple of years. If you’re unsure, best not to risk it.

The easier alternative, albeit more expensive, is to buy in manure (the brands I recommend are in RR’s below). I find that manure improves beds quicker than homemade compost, especially in the first few years after their creation or after converting them to no dig. However, the most logical mulch to use is homemade compost - the ultimate form of recycling. You’re literally replacing the nutrients that the plants used last year back into the soil. In reality I use a combination of the two - whilst our manure is rotted enough to be safe on edibles, its chunky texture makes it hard work for small plug plants of lettuces etc. Therefore I mix some of each in a barrow before applying to the veg patch.

Finally a note on timing. Whilst March is a great time to mulch, as I’ve said before it’s better to do something outside the ideal timeframe than not to do it at all. Mulching in March is mainly for practical purposes - it’s much easier to get to the soil when you’ve cut back last year’s growth but this year’s is only just showing. It’s fine to cover perennials or summer bulbs that aren’t showing yet, but leave a gap around shrubs, trees and roses - keeping the mulch a few centimetres from the stems avoids the risk of rotting. However, I have mulched in most months of the year over the past - in the height of summer when beds are looking dried out, through to the depths of winter - and have never seen negative consequences as a result.

No-Dig

I’ve yet to find a source more thorough yet accessible than Charles Dowding’s No Dig book, and it’s still my bible on the subject.

Manure

In clients’ gardens where we’ve had to buy in mulch I’ve always used Westland’s Farmyard Manure. I’ve used literally hundreds of bags of this over the years in various gardens, and never had a bad batch. Most garden centres sell it, as do some DIY stores.

I’ve also seen that Sylvagrow now do a Farmyard Soil Improver - I’ve not used it, but all of their products are excellent, peat free, and use waste from responsible sources. If I had to buy some for our garden, this is the brand I would now use.

A quick note when shopping for manure (and indeed compost products generally): many bags mention ‘organic’ material. Be aware that this does not mean the product is organic in terms of being herbicide and pesticide free. Organic material just means that it contains the broken down remains of something that was once alive. If the product is organic in the non-spraying sense, it will shout about it loudly in its name rather than use the phrase ‘a good source of organic material’ or similar.

Well done for persevering to the end of the article! I know it’s not everyone’s bag. I was going to write an article about soil in January when there’s not much going on, but thought it would turn people off very quickly! I just can’t express enough how much of a difference it makes to your garden if you get your soil sorted out. Literally everything is easier - watering, weeding etc - so I promise it’s worth the effort.

Next week we’re onto something that gets everyone excited - sowing seeds! Hope to see you there.

Rich x

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The rise in temperatures and longer days is having a marked effect on the garden. Foliage of bulbs planted in November is noticeably taller with each day, and seeds are germinating quite happily. The first daffodils have erupted into flower here - and delightfully the first to flower are those right outside my study window. I wish I could tell you that I planted that specific variety in that specific place to burst into bloom just when I needed a hit of yellow…but that would be a lie. It was pure chance, which I often find produces just as much joy in a garden as careful planning. (The garden designer in me is screaming to delete that last sentence!)

We seem to be fortunate that in our little corner of North Yorkshire we don’t get quite as much rain as most of the country - although we get more than our fair share of snow, mist and fog. It means that our ground is already drying out, making it less of a slog to be getting on with jobs. The veg patch fence is coming on nicely - largely thanks to Tom and help from my Dad over the weekend. My contribution last week was mainly holding a spirit level for the verticals - about all I had the energy for thanks to a miserable cold that half of Britain seems to have at the moment. But no matter, I’m back to fighting fit now, ready to get the veg patch ship-shape before spring arrives in earnest.

A job list for March can be rather a daunting thing. As it straddles two very different seasons, the thought of getting all of those winter jobs finished whilst also cracking on with spring tasks can be a lot. However, I try to look at it a different way. March is a very forgiving month - it’s not too late to catch up with jobs that ought to have been done by now, but it’s also alright to get stuck into a few of the exciting jobs like seed sowing and border tidying. It sounds like a small difference in the way of looking at it - and it is - but gardening should be a joy, not a chore. When it feels overwhelming, try reframing it, and you might just feel an extra spring in your step as you head outside.

Let’s start with my favourite thing to do in the garden in March - actually, second favourite (my favourite is that day when it’s warm enough to sit outside with a coffee and a book for the first time that year) - which is tidying the borders. Years ago I would ‘put the garden to bed for the winter’, feeling the immense satisfaction that comes with a good pre-Christmas tidy of the borders. However, when I started doing Christmas floristry work I didn’t have the time. This was around the time when there was more and more talk of leaving as much in place as possible over winter for the wildlife.

When I left everything to die back and stay in place through winter, I found that, not only did the ‘untidy’ borders not bother me over winter as I thought they would, but actually significantly more plants survived. There are a whole host of plants that can be borderline tender - Verbena, many Salvia species, Agapanthus, and even Erigeron - that have a much better survival rate if they have their old stems left in place over winter. It may seem like scant protection but year after year proves that it does make a difference.

So now the job of removing all the old foliage and chopping back spent stems happens in March. The downside is that you’re working around bulb foliage - you have to be careful not to damage them, especially those just emerging from the soil that can be easy to miss. It also means that when I mulch the border after cutting back, it’s a bit more of a faff having the foliage to go around. However, I think the trade off is worth it for the extra plants that survive and also to have one less job in the run up to Christmas.

Whilst working through the borders, this is also when I’ll prune our shrub roses. This is one of those instances where I don’t quite practice what I preach…I always say to prune shrub roses alongside climbers in winter, ideally Jan or Feb. Now, in my defence, by some calendars it is still winter. But also, gardening advice gives a certain month because it’s easier for people to have firm guidance. The reality is that gardening jobs should depend on the conditions outside, not the calendar. However, this is much more complex, trickier to learn, and reliant on the gardener having time to do everything at that point.

The reality, as I’ve mentioned before, is that it’s better to do a job a week or two outside of the ideal timeframe than not to do it at all. I find it easier to prune shrub roses as I’m working through the border, and now that they’re all strongly in bud it’s actually easier to work out where to cut back to.

The other bit of pruning I’ll do as I work through the borders is Buddleia. I tend to cut them down to a couple of feet in late autumn, so that the winter winds don’t turn it into a sail and it rock the roots. It then needs cutting right back to a foot high before it starts growing again in spring. This can feel extremely harsh - you might be cutting back 90% of the plant - but if you don’t, then it will just get even taller next year and produce the bulk of it’s flowers out of sight, at the top of the plant. Be cruel to be kind, Buddleia are notoriously robust.

I love a task where future-Rich will thank me, and March is replete with such opportunities. A key one is plant supports. Getting them in place now means that the plant will grow through it naturally, the support will disappear, and the stems will be supported in a free-flowing way rather than constrained because I’ve left it too late and have had to hastily string them up. I’ve tried loads of different types of supports over the years, and I find a mixture to be most effective.

For plants that have distinct, individual spires (such as Delphinium), I use an individual cane or pole per stem, and tie it in with string. However, I use these sparingly as this is the most time consuming method and also too many canes can detract from the show, especially in narrower borders. Fortunately I have a husband who can weld (amongst many other useful talents), and so he can make attractive supports that need less hiding. He made the one above (left) to hold in the wayward stems of Knautia - if you’re able to craft your own supports (from willow, for example) it’s well worth the effort. Not only do they look more attractive than shop bought, but they can also be made to fit the exact plant and space required.

For most plants requiring support I use half or full hoops. Again, we make the ones in the pictures above ourselves. Although we now have slightly more sophisticated kit, originally we used to just cut the metal rods (ordered online in 6m lengths, very cheap) with a hacksaw, create the half-hoop by bending it around a large tree, then stand on a plank across the hoop and pull up the legs to make the bend. This way we’ve been able to make custom sized ones. Top tip here - always have two legs. I tried supports with one leg and a loop (like I’d seen in the garden centre) and they’re rubbish, as they swing around too much.

Whichever type of support you use, get it in now if you can, it’s so much easier. But how do you know if something is going to need support? For most plants I actually try them without supports first as it’s surprising how many dainty looking stems can withstand wind (Francoa sonchifolia for example). Bear in mind that the same plants grown in two different borders can have different requirements - either because it’s sheltered from the wind, and/or because it gets more sun/rain and grows more strongly. To reduce the amount of supporting required I think it’s worth trying new plants without for their first year, but keeping a close eye with a stake at the ready when they reach their peak.

This is prime seed-sowing month. I’d still hold off on quick-growing tenders like courgette and squash, but it’s fair game for a huge amount of other plants both edible and ornamental. I got ahead in Feb, but I’ve still got plenty to sow this month including Brussels sprouts, kale, lettuce, beetroot, celeriac, carrots, celery, chives, Nicotiana, Cosmos, Calendula, Nasturium, Sunflowers, and Cerinthe.

This month’s little joy are some Chionodoxa that have piggy-backed their way into the garden. A friend is downsizing their borders and very kindly gave us lots of plants last autumn. Nestled amongst this one were some bulbs of this gorgeous bright blue little flower - an unexpected treat as I walked around the corner.

Coming up this month

- Soil: digging versus no-dig, and the joy of mulching

- Seed Sowing: top tips for successful growing

- Flower Power: what to plant now for a blooming good summer.

And so the spring of 2026 begins! It’s glorious sunshine here today, so I’m going to get away from the laptop and make the most of gardening without thermals.

Have a good week,

Rich x

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As February draws to a close, the snowdrops have hit their peak. The above is less than half of this particular patch in one of our fields - they are simply wondrous, proving that when plants are happy (in this case tucked under a huge old Sycamore tree) they will thrive. With March peering over the horizon, spring bulbs are teasing us with their long slender stems, tightly holding onto their flowers in buds for now, only giving the merest hint of the colour yet to come.

The oldest part of our house is around a metre lower inside than the ground level outside, and whilst this obviously presents problems, it also presents opportunities. In autumn I moved my desk next to a window, and the ground level difference allows me to see plants through the window that would usually hide below the windowsill. I deliberately planted certain perennials to take advantage of this - Salvia ‘Nachtvlinder’ under the window of my husband’s office window for example, knowing it’s one of his favourites - but there are also some surprises. There are some daffodils under the window next to me (totally unintentional) and, with a backdrop of the yew hedge (home to a brood of sparrows) it’s all rather lovely - even this early in the year.

Whilst this might look unassuming (or down right uninteresting) to some, those in the know will share my excitement. This is the first leaf of a new patch of wild garlic that I’ve planted. There’s an area of the kitchen garden that’s shaded by (another) huge sycamore. I enjoy a good theme, and so wanted to keep the planting here edible. I was always in awe of a copse at Tom’s childhood home that, come spring, would be filled with the heady fragrance of wild garlic, and so I’m attempting to replicated it. I planted some rather unassuming bulbs in autumn - so unassuming, in fact, that I added some more plants ‘in the green’ a few weeks ago. I’m delighted to see that both have flourished - they are now being thoroughly mollycoddled with careful weeding and wood chip mulch, as well as cane markers to ensure they don’t get forgotten when mowing season begins.

Frosty leaves and a low winter-sun’s rays streaming through the trees are two absolute delights of the colder months, neither of which would be possible without evergreens. These stalwarts bring so much to the garden throughout the year, and never more so than now. The key, as with everything in gardening (and perhaps even life itself!) is balance. Filling a garden with evergreens makes for an incredible view in winter, but would be fairly static, and lack the summer interest most of us crave. The solution is to select your evergreens sparingly, and consider the whole gardening year when positioning them.

This is a client’s garden that was heavily shrub-based. I introduced summer interest between the evergreens - such as the dahlias between two different types of Euonymus - to create more of a year round balance. I love this picture, as it defies the norm. Dahlia flowers are spotlight hoggers - come summer, instagram feeds of anyone remotely interested in gardening or floristry will be bombarded with images of huge, showy dahlia flowers. But here they’re just the icing on the cake. The stars of this photo are the foliage - yellow, green, white, black, purple - neatly demonstrating how shrubs and trees grown for foliage don’t have to be shoved to the back of a border. They may be added for winter interest, but they can certainly hold their own in the other seasons too.

Whilst colour is the obvious contrast in planting, there’s also textural contrast that adds huge amounts to borders. Now, I took the image above in July, but interestingly over half of the plants in it are evergreens (if you imagine a diagonal line, bottom left to top right, everything above that line holds its leaves all year round). Whilst annuals and herbaceous perennials tend to look their best in groups of three, fives, and sevens, evergreen shrubs, grasses and ferns can stand alone. This give you the freedom to diversify - if you only have a small space, buy ones of plants with contrasting textures to enjoy.

The term ‘evergreens’ often refers primarily to shrubs, although there are trees, grasses, ferns and herbaceous perennials that also hold their leaves all year round. The reason that shrubs are so well suited to fulfilling this role, however, is that they’re just the right size to have a big impact in winter, without hogging too much space the rest of the year. Enter the Hebe, an absolute favourite of mine - so much so that I’m not even holding back until Rich’s Recommendations to focus on it.

Hebe’s come in numerous shades of green (above left is H. sutherlandii, on the right is H. rakaiensis), purples and pinks, as well as smaller and larger leaves. All tend to grow into a lovely mound 30-50cm high that can be clipped like topiary or left to its own devices. The reason I love the two above in particular is that they’re both very pleasing shades of green and show off other plants (or indeed staddle stones) to full effect. The nice thing about Hebe is that it doesn’t dominate, and sits politely in any sized herbaceous border, allowing you to bring evergreen to the fore, whereas the majority of evergreen shrubs have to go further back due to their eventual size.

Ornamental grasses are the marmite of planting design - I’m firmly in the ‘love them’ camp - and can be a great addition to evergreen planting. However, a word of caution. A lot of ‘evergreen’ grasses do in fact have an off-season, and are decidedly not green all year round. The photo above is Luzula sylvatica ‘Solar Flair’ that, by summer, was useful for nothing more than a dog bed (as demonstrated here by Dash). I’ll pop some better options in RR’s below, but I highly recommend looking out for evergreen grasses in gardens you visit, ideally over a couple of different seasons, before selecting them for your own garden.

Ferns are similar on the evergreen front to grasses - the evergreen ones definitely have more off-days than evergreen shrubs, but perhaps less so than grasses. Where ferns really come into their own is in shady corners where other plants struggle to grow. I like having a mixture of evergreen and deciduous ferns - whilst all of them add new leaves each year, those that lose their leaves over winter show off the exquisite process of unfurling new fronds to much greater effect than their evergreen brethren.

Finally, there’s a certain evergreen that I’ve yet to mention, which may be surprising given that it’s perhaps the most common evergreen in British gardens. Buxus sempervirens, or simply ‘box’ to most of us, was fairly ubiquitous until recently. Its steady growth, aptitude for clipping into the perfect shape, and neat evergreen foliage made it the perfect plant for hedges and topiary. However, box blight and box moth caterpillar have made it devilishly tricky to keep in good health. There are treatments that can help, but fundamentally I think it’s more hassle than it’s worth so I really wouldn’t suggest planting it any more. However, what I would recommend is…

I’ve grouped my recommendations for evergreens by border position; the smaller shrubs, herbaceous perennials and grasses also all work in pots.

Back of Border

- Yew - my favourite alternative to box hedging, I actually prefer the intricacy that the smaller leaves of Taxus baccata produce.

- Osmanthus heterophyllus ‘Goshiki’ - looks like a variegated holly but much nicer and better behaved as it stays a shrub rather than growing into a huge tree.

- Acuba japonica - a nice alternative to Laurel, can cope with almost any amount of shade. The variegated variety ‘Crotonifolia’ adds more year-round colour.

Middle of Border

- Sarcococca confusa - handy for dry shady spots where other shrubs struggle, has beautifully scented flowers in winter.

- Ceanothus - usually grown for its glorious blue flowers, the foliage is neat and tidy all year round.

- Euphorbia amydaloides var. robbiae - my favourite Euphorbia, adds zest to the border especially when it flowers in early summer.

Polystichum setiferum - this fern is rather large, reaching over a metre in height. Perfect in the shade of a mature tree.

- Bergenia cordifolia - bulletproof plant that thrives where many don’t such as dry shade.

Luzula nivea - this is not the Luzula that Dash was using as a bed, it’s much finer and can tolerate a summer cutback when it gets tatty to reinvigorate itself.

Front of Border

- Hebe sutherlandii is my favourite but it’s worth shopping around the different types.

- Euonymus ‘Emerald Gaiety’ - my favourite variegated plant as the edges are a true white rather than cream. Grows in a lovely low mound that edges paths and borders perfectly.

- Helleborus - prized for their sumptuous winter flowers, their palmate leaves add textural interest for the rest of the year.

- Polypodium vulgare - great little fern, ideal for shady spots

- Saxifraga x urbium - perfect for sunny spots, it forms neat rosettes of evergreen leaves from which spout slender branching stems topped with dainty flowers come summer.

- Carex ‘Ice Dance’ - the smaller Carex are ideal for front of border year-round greenery (please avoid the larger Carex species as they spread like mad!). This one has white lengthways-stripes to add to its charms.

Well there you have it, another week - and another month - done! When talking about plants, the word ‘evergreen’ has such dreary connotations, but I hope this article has shown that they can be anything but dull. The key is to look beyond the usuals - Laurel, Box, etc - and choose plants where ‘evergreen’ is just one of their many virtues.

Next week we’ll be on to all things March, which will probably require pretending that we’re actually in spring despite the weather having not quite got the memo.

Rich x

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Also this weekend, Tom and I came up with what I suspect may be a genius solution to our brassica protection problem. I want something that is solid enough not to be blown around, but portable so it can be moved to different beds year to year. It must also give easy access for weeding and harvesting, yet be robust against cabbage white butterflies (I don’t ask much!). So we’ve designed a system using scaffold poles (around half the diameter of the ones used for building) and connectors. Watch this space…

We also decided not to go ahead with putting in metal edging around the berry beds, at least not yet. This is one of those decisions in gardening where you have to weigh up the convenience (much easier strimming against a proper edge) versus the cost (pretty high!). In the end we’ve just cut in a good edge on the beds to create a drop, which should keep the soil contained and make mowing easier than last year. It’s all about compromise.

February is the key month for pruning wisterias, making it an ideal topic to brighten up this week’s column! I’ve been lucky to work with some incredible specimens of Wisteria* as a professional gardener, some of which have taken up to a week to prune each year as they’re so huge. The ones in the photo above ran alongside a client’s swimming pool, and were a beautiful example of contrasting the two main wisteria colours of purple of white.

*For anyone who, like me, loves a bit of technicality when it comes to words: both the latin and common name is the same for wisteria. Latin names for a plant’s genus (the first word) should be capitalised and in italics. So for eagled-eyed readers who spot that I sometimes use ‘Wisteria’, and sometimes it’s just ‘wisteria’, that’s why. I’d hate for you to think it’s poor editing (don’t you know me at all by now??).

Wisteria are grown first and foremost for their flowers which hang in pendant racemes that often bloom before the plant is fully in leaf. Their scent is incredible - it’s up there with sweet peas as one of the most delightfully intoxicating fragrances in the garden. Whilst the flowers are usually described as purple, white or pink, they are almost always a mixture of colours; even the ‘pure’ white varieties usually have pretty yellow markings.

Wisterias are very easy to train, and so they are ideal to frame a feature, such as this gorgeous stone archway at Hestercombe. The gnarly old stems at the base make a sculptural feature by themselves, from which grows the framework of two to four year old stems that will produce the flowers in early summer. The key is to remember that the flowers will dangle a foot or so below the stems - so ensure you leave enough height when selecting and tying in branches.

Here’s two very different ways of growing wisteria that I saw on a trip to RHS Wisley many years ago. On the left it’s been trained as a standard, forming a tree. Whilst it looks stunning, growing it like this does need very sturdy supports as generally Wisteria are not very good at carrying their own weight. A much easier solution is the photo on the right, where it’s been left to rambling along a wall. I say ‘it’s been left’ - I’m sure it’s carefully trained in fact, but it looks so natural growing this way. It’s something I hope to emulate one day (I just don’t think our dry-stone walls would take it in the state they’re currently in!).

However you grow it, there are two key requirements for growing wisterias: sun and support. Wisteria basks in full-on south-facing sun but will also be fine facing west. Any less sun than this will inhibit its flowering. Wisterias are extremely long lived (they can live for over a century), and whilst new growth is whippy, the main stems get incredibly thick and heavy. Therefore it’s imperative to plan ahead and get strong supports in early, rather than trying to retrofit them behind an established plant. As with many sun-loving plants, Wisteria also likes good drainage, so it’s worth adding grit if your soil is heavy clay. Excessive moisture and nutrients tends to produce an abundance of foliage over flowers.

This is the wisteria that we planted at our old house. The patio doors faced due south, and so that room always got roasting in the summer, and it was often too hot to sit outside in the full sun too (I know, a rarity in England!). So a wisteria was the perfect solution, as it had a canopy of foliage over summer, but then it was back to bare stems over winter which allowed plenty of light into the house through the darker months.

Wisterias don’t take long to get established, and you might even be lucky enough to inherit a mature one. However, it’s important to check that it works for you. The photo above is a garden I used to work in, and each year the wisteria was a huge cause for excitement - I mean, just look at it! Gorgeous! But there was a problem…and a problem which, in the end, led me to suggest to the client that we chop down this wisteria and take out the pergola. It sounds extreme (“Heresy!” I hear you cry!) - I wouldn’t have thought it when I started there, but the client agreed with me that it was absolutely the right thing to do…

This was the problem. The flowers lasted two to three weeks in June, but then the rest of the summer it looked like this. It made the patio feel dank and uninviting - to the point that the client would never sit under there, despite it being perfectly situated next to the house. It also blocked the best views in the whole garden - both from the patio and the house - inadvertently screening the incredible borders that we spent so much time and money on. No amount of summer clipping back was going to sort the problem, and the wisteria plants (it was made up of seven individual plants) were far too mature to move. Taking it out felt like utter sacrilege, but it opened the space up beautifully.

It’s a prime example of the importance of considering all options to make your garden work for you. I know loads of people would be horrified at what we did, but it made the client much happier and made the space useable, two of my top priorities for garden design. The planting in the beds around the old pergola thrived as a result, flowering much better, and there was another huge wall full of wisteria nearby so, importantly, there was still plenty of alternative food sources for insects and pollinators.

This, if I do say so myself (given that it was me that pruned it), is the perfect way to train and prune a wisteria in February. The main stem is nice and central, with strong horizontals either side at regular intervals. Side shoots on the horizontals are all pruned back to two buds which, over the years, creates little spurs. This is where the flowers are formed. If your wisteria doesn’t flower, it’s probably because they’re not being pruned back enough in winter. Winter is also when any renovation or large branch removal should be done.

In summer any whippy shoots can be cut back, and everything else should be cut back to seven buds (a video of how I prune wisterias in summer is on my instagram here).

Wisterias are an investment - not so much in cash terms as they’re quite reasonable for what they give you, but more so of time. You want to get it right first time. I implore you to resist the temptation to dash off to the garden centre and buy the first one you see. Whilst you absolutely should buy your wisteria locally if you can, do a bit of research first.

The two most commonly sold species are Wisteria floribunda and Wisteria sinensis, both of which have a range of colours, the main difference being that the latter is significantly more vigorous. The variety we grew in our last garden was Wisteria floribunda ‘Kuchi-Beni’, whilst here on the farm I’ve planted a Wisteria sinensis (its original species form) to cloak an entire end of the house and hopefully wrap around a bit too.

Don’t be put off by the ‘final height’ measurement when looking at Wisteria. For example, the one I’ve planted at the end of our house has a ‘final height’ of 30m - clearly our house isn’t that tall! This is just the tallest the plant can get in absolutely ideal conditions and doesn’t take into account pruning, or the fact that a large proportion of the stems will be horizontal. In reality you can keep the growth in check through pruning, keeping the plant at half of its potential full height/length quite easily.

And so, if you don’t have a wisteria already I hope that’s inspired you to think of them if you need something for a nice big sunny wall. If you don’t have space for a wisteria, then there will definitely be something for you in next week’s article, where I’ll be extolling the virtues of evergreens.

Rich x

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This week is all about getting ahead for the gardening year: ordering, planting and prepping. The stunners in the picture above are Ranunculus and are super easy to grow. These were some I grew five or six years ago, and I was stunned at how amazing they looked in their first year. Sadly they weren’t particularly perennial for me and I never got around to replacing them…until now! I’ve ordered some tubers (they look oddly sinister, like gnarly claws) that will give us luscious pickings come summer. The flowers look like petite peonies, and this time I’ve gone for one that’s creamy pink, and the other that can only be described as a delicious chocolatey colour - yum.

I’ve planted the final bare root currants and gooseberries - we only grow red gooseberries, as I’m still haunted by the trout-pucker-inducing green ones from Nana’s garden when I was a child! I’ve underplanted them all with strawberries propagated from existing plants, which, in addition to their fruit, will suppress weeds and hold moisture in the soil. Tom and I have berries every morning with breakfast, so these plants (which take up half the beds in the paddock) will save us an absolute fortune.

This is a shot of the veg patch from last year (it looks so sad right now that I didn’t want to share a current picture of it!). It did okay for its first year, but there were three issues:

1. We have more critters nibbling away at the plants than we did in our previous garden, which is a learning curve.

2. We created the beds using well rotted horse manure. Whilst that works well for ornamentals, a lot of young veg plants like salads struggled to cope with the cloddy texture.

3. We had a hose pipe ban from June to December, and with so much else needing to be done it didn’t get watered as much as it needed

Points 2 and 3 should be remedied this year, as having a year of growing something in it (even if we didn’t harvest masses) hugely improved the soil’s texture and moisture holding ability, and we have masses of water tanks in the kitchen garden now. This year I’ll mulch with a mixture of manure, top soil (made from turf we lifted) and homemade compost, and rake it much finer.

For the issue of critters, I hastily put up a chicken wire fence. It helped, but this year we need something more permanent. The reason we didn’t do this to start with was that I wanted a year of growing to make sure I’d planned the beds at the right size. Thankfully it’s just about right, although it does need a path right the way around the whole thing. Therefore, at the weekend we measured up for a picket-style fence (which will have chicken wire attached) and a gate, which we’ll hopefully then put in over the next few weeks.

Growing Berries

If you have space to grow berries (and you certainly don’t need a paddock like us - we grew masses in our last garden too) they’re a great addition. If I had to pick between growing veg or fruit, I think I’d actually pick fruit (although I shudder at the very thought of having to make such an awful decision!). Most people opt for veg first and foremost. Fruit is much less maintenance as it’s perennial, and it’s generally pretty expensive to buy at the supermarket, so growing your own saves a noticeable amount on your shopping bill.

All berries are hungry blighters, so they need annual mulching with well rotted manure or homemade compost. I think what puts a lot of people off is that they think they need a fruit cage. I’ve never found this to be an issue - I’m not saying the birds don’t steal some, and of course it’s different wherever you garden. But I’ve never covered ours and we’ve had massive harvests, so I heartily recommend trying. You can buy most berries bare root which makes them cheap and easy to add to your garden.

Blackberries

Blackberries are one of the few fruits that don’t need much sun - I grew some very happily in our last garden on a fence that faced due north. This makes them ideal for small gardens - you just need 2-3m of bare wall or fence, often a spot where nothing else will grow due to lack of sun (note: it does still need a bit of sun, but a few hours a day in summer is fine).

The key for training blackberries is understanding how they fruit. Berries appear on sideshoots grown in the current year, but the sideshoots themselves grow out of last year’s long, strong, whippy stems. Therefore it’s imperative to keep one and two year growth separate, as illustrated above. The orange stems (2) are new growth from the current year, tied in to the middle, keeping them safe ready for next year. The green stems are last years growth that will bear fruit this year. These can be wrapped around each other in ‘ropes’ (1), tied-in individually (3), or curved at the top into an ’n’ or ‘w’ shape to maximise space (4).

In winter, the old shoots that fruited last year are cut back right to the ground. New shoots (that had been tied into the middle) are then spread out left and right, leaving a space in the centre. When the blackberry sends out new long stems this summer, they will be tied into the middle ready for the whole process to start again.

Strawberries

Strawberries can be grown on the smallest of plots - they can even be grown successfully in a pot. In a border, a strawberry plant only takes up about 40cm, and they’re well behaved enough to sit in an ornamental border if you don’t have a separate veg patch. Now, I know that one plant will only yield you a dessert-or-two’s worth of fruit. However, I absolutely guarantee you that those strawberries will be the most delicious and memorable fruit you eat that year, which - to me - makes it worth it, especially given that they are zero hassle.

I grow strawberries the old fashioned way; once they come into flower, I put straw under the plants (yep, that’s how they got their name) which keeps the fruit off the soil to stop it spoiling. Just remember to remove the straw again (good for the compost heap) in autumn, otherwise it becomes a haven for slugs etc. When the plant sends out runners it’s best to keep cutting these off as they take energy away from fruit production. However, once every 3 years I let some runners grow, pegging down the rosette of leaves they create, to produce new plants. I’ll then replace all of the previous plants with these new ones come late winter/early spring. This is because strawberry plants are most prolific for their first 2-3 years.

Raspberries

I’ll be honest, there’s not much use trying to grow raspberries unless you have a bit of space; they sucker and spread, so it’s hard to contain them to a really small spot. In our last garden we had a raised bed that was about 3m x 1m, and within a few years of planting 20 canes we were harvesting a punnet of raspberries a day at their peak. We’d freeze the huge surplus and be eating them well into winter. We started off with red and yellow ones, but the yellow fruits were smaller and the plants less vigorous, so we gradually thinned them out - I now stick to red.

There are two types of raspberries - summer fruiting and autumn fruiting. It’s best to have a mixture of the two, to prolong your harvests, but do keep them labelled which are which. Whilst you cut all autumn fruiting canes to the ground in winter, you must leave summer fruiters in place, having pruned out the fruited stems in late autumn (if you get this wrong, in reality the summer fruiting ones will just fruit later; not the end of the world, but it rather defeats their point). Raspberries need support as they get so tall - my husband came up with the ingenious idea of suspending weld mesh, which we subsequently saw in an RHS garden (above), and it works wonderfully well.

A quick note: from looking at other Substacks, I’ve realised that I don’t need to post the whole link! So going forward, links will be embedded - just click anything underlined to take you to the website I’m talking about.

The ranunculus I’ve ordered are ‘Elegance Pastello’ and ‘Elegance Cioccolato’ from Farmer Gracy - this is the first time for me growing these ones though, so I’ll let you know how I get on (or if I never mention them again, assume they were a disaster!).

All of our berry and currant plants came from our utterly wonderful local nursery Rogers (who do mail order). I can’t recommend them highly enough - everything is grown on site, and the bare root plants live in the ground until ordered, so they lift them just for you, ensuring they’re as fresh as possible.

Blackberries - I highly recommend getting thornless varieties. They’re plenty vigorous enough and make tying them in and pruning significantly less annoying. I have ‘Loch Ness’ and ‘Obsidian’. Like the former of these two, any with a Scottish name are adapted to thriving with less light and so are ideal for shady walls.

Strawberries - in previous gardens most of ours were propagations given to us from other people, which is lovely. However, by buying (as I did for our new garden) you can choose specific varieties. I’ve found ‘Malling Opal’ to give wonderful huge fruits in their first year (and they were such a bargain, £1.65 for five bare root plants!). If you have space for multiple varieties, try to vary them between early, mid, late and ‘everbearing’ types.

Raspberries - I’d stick to red varieties, unless you want the yellow ones to add golden flourishes to desserts. They spread quickly so you don’t need many to start a patch (4-6 canes per square metre is plenty). If you have space, have some summer fruiting (I have Polka and Autumn Bliss) and some autumn fruiting (Octavia and Glen Ample are good). If you’ve only got space for one type, go for autumn fruiting - they’re more straight forward to prune and tend to have bigger yields.

And that’s it for another week! Along with the usual updates on what’s happening here, next week’s article will be full of gorgeous pics of Wisteria and top tips on how to grow it.

Thanks for reading,

Rich x

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Welcome to February - the month of Valentines, crap weather, and yearning for Spring….but don’t despair, for this year will be different! I’m determined to help you find joy in this mankiest of months by sharing my top tips for getting outside (it’s absolutely one of those things where the thought of it is worse than the thing itself, like cleaning the bathroom).

This Week in the Garden

It would be utterly remiss of me not to mention snowdrops in a winter gardening article. We’re fortunate to have inherited masses of them here on the farm - there’s a huge sycamore in one of the fields and beneath it is a magical carpet of white throughout February. However, the meagre clump above is even more special. Under the copper beech hedge we put in last year I planted a row of snowdrops, half of which came from Tom’s childhood home, the other half from our last garden in Leicestershire.

Snowdrops are always lauded this time of year for their ability to hold delicate, pure white flowers in the roughest of seasons, but I also love them because they’re an easy one to pass on to others. Plants that come from family, friends or a previous garden enjoy an elevated status, bringing even more joy, and none are as easy to share as the humble snowdrop. Once they finish flowering, but whilst still in leaf, just lift a clump and tease out one half - planting the other half back - wrap in newspaper and pass them on. Snowdrops clump up surprisingly quickly, and I expect our meagre clump will become a riotous mass in no time at all.

On Friday I replaced the plant labels in the berry beds with ones of a more modest size - I’d done the classic thing of ordering label holders online, not realising how comically large they were until they arrived! When popping the replacements in the ground I realised just how much work the berry beds needed. Fortunately my husband came to the rescue, and between us we managed to get loads of the weeding done, renewed two of the paths, and tied in last years blackberry stems (the ones that will fruit this year). We also moved some of the young raspberry canes to create an extra berry bed - thankfully I was rather over-zealous with the amount of canes I planted last year, so had plenty to thin out and move, instead of buying more.

Getting outside

My inner dialogue throughout Feb goes something like this: “There’s so much to do outside! But brr, it’s chilly. It would be good to get ahead for Spring though? But I can literally hear the icy wind. Mind you, I could really do with some fresh air. But it looks a little too fresh actually. Ooh quick, the sun is peeking through! I’ll just pop on my thermals, an extra pair of socks, my woolly ha…oh, now it’s started snowing…”

One of the hardest parts of gardening through winter is getting outside in the first place. The irony for me of course is that, having been a professional gardener for years, I’m used to having to be outside in virtually all weathers. Which illustrates my point - much of it is psychological. So much of it comes down to that internal conversation, but there are many things you can do to make it easier on yourself:

• Waterproof dungarees - a discovery of my husband’s which I quickly latched onto. They keep you warm and dry, and cover your lower back when kneeling. They have the added bonus of making it much easier when you go back inside for a cuppa as you can just strip them off rather than traipsing through the house in muddy attire (or having to ditch your dirty jeans at the back door - brr!).

• Thermals - distinctly unsexy but they make such a difference. I have two types - skin tight ones (base layers) and baggier ones (long john style), the former being the warmer of the two.

• Extra socks - I wear trainer socks under my normal winter socks, and if I’m feeling extra chilly I’ll wear welly socks too. Yep, I’m a triple-socker.

• Gloves - on wet days I wear disposable rubber gloves (that I reuse 10+ times) under my gardening gloves, and wrist warmers over the top to cover that annoying gap between sleeve and glove.

• Rubber mat - when standing sowing seeds etc, standing on rubber makes a huge difference compared to standing on cold concrete or slabs.

• Get motivated - read gardening books and magazines (or Substack articles!), particularly those that follow a garden through the year and talk about winter jobs.

• Set a time limit - even half an hour makes a tangible difference. I tend to do it in music rather than time - I’ll aim to listen to a whole album, playlist or podcast.

Staying Inside

Despite our best efforts, sometimes the weather utterly thwarts us. Whilst we can bundle up against the wind, prune roses when there’s a light frost, or waterproof ourselves during drizzle, there are some days where it’s just not worth the slog. When everywhere is covered in snow it’s a physical impossibility to garden, but also when there’s driving rain or stormy weather, it’s just not worth it. These are the days that I save indoor gardening jobs for:

• Planning: you may have gathered by now that I’m a planner. I find it immensely satisfying, and it often saves both time and money in the long run. Work out what/where/when you want to grow this year - do all of this on miserable weather days so that you’re ready to get outside when the sun does return (and I promise you it will, unlikely as it seems some days).

• Once you’ve planned, go out and buy your seeds/plants/equipment. There’s nothing more annoying than finally having a sunny day to get out in the garden only to realise you’ve not got what you need.

• Indoor gardening - if you don’t have a dedicated space like a potting shed, the compost tray in the picture above is ideal for gardening in the house. It contains the mess and allows you to sow seeds or pot plants on with the comfort of central heating (dreamy).

Sowing Seeds in February

Speaking of sowing seeds…as ever in gardening, there’s conflicting advice on when to sow seeds. Take tomatoes for example - many packets say to sow from January, but my no-dig hero Charles Dowding specifically suggests not to sow your tomatoes in February. I followed his advice last year and it was ages before I harvested my first tomato. However, when I was reading the RHS magazine over breakfast this morning, Rachel de Thame said the opposite - she advocates sowing tomatoes, chillies and aubergines now but holding back on sowing much else. I hugely admire both of these gardeners (much of our veg is grown inline with Charles’s methods), but it shows that in gardening, sometimes you have to just find what works best for you.

The main reason people suggest not sowing seeds too early is the risk that seeds germinate when there’s not enough sunlight to support strong growth in the early stages. This is exacerbated if you use a propagator to break seed dormancy. So, whilst sticking broadly to the ‘sowing time’ on the seed packets, I get seeds into the compost and then leave them to germinate (in our unheated greenhouse) when they deem the time is right. The key is not drenching the compost, to avoid the seeds rotting. This approach does require you to have somewhere frost free for them to keep growing over the next few months - if you don’t, then you do need to be selective.

Seeds I absolutely would not sow now are plants that grow very quickly but are not hardy enough to put outside until all risk of frost has passed - courgettes, squashes, beans etc. None of these will be sown before April. But, having already sown my sweet peas and onions, I’ll be sowing my tomatoes, some herbs and some ornamentals this month - which I’ve done year after year with no problem. I prefer to get ahead and sow as much as I can in the quieter months to save time come spring, but I appreciate that I’m lucky enough to have plenty of greenhouse and cold frame space. It’s all about finding what works for you.

This month’s little joy

The humble Hebe. Technically it’s actually a Veronica, but for some reason most of us still call it a Hebe. It sits there quietly for much of the year, with pretty little flowers in early summer, but it’s in the winter months that I cherish it the most. They ask for nothing - they can be clipped if they get too large, but they don’t even need that. Yet this time of year, they add a strong, reassuring presence to the border. They come in a range of greens - from glaucous grey-green to zingy lime - as well as purplish hues, and add a gloriously crisp texture at a time when much of the garden feels like sodden mush. They will also grow merrily in a pot for years - as this one was before I planted it out. All hail the Hebe - sorry, Veronica…

- Dungarees - mine are Kaiwaka Stormforce Bib Overtrousers. They’re rather pricey but I must have worn them a hundred times already and - except for the mud - they’re still as good as new.

- Gardening Gloves - I think gardening gloves are an oddly personal thing, a bit like a man’s wallet. It’s worth trying all different types and brands to find ones you love. I use DIY gloves most of the time as they’re comfortable and cheap (as I get through so many pairs in a year, no matter how ‘ultra-tough’ they’re advertised to be). For what it’s worth, the ones I use are here: https://amzn.eu/d/05g4YbQH but I do also like a pair of part-leather gardening gloves for dealing with thorny plants like roses, such as these: https://www.rhsplants.co.uk/product/_/rhs-gold-leaf-soft-touch-gloves/classid.2000006848/

- Inspirational books - I’m currently re-reading Monty Don’s ‘Gardening at Longmeadow’ which is broken down into months. I’ll do a proper book recommendation section in a future article, but the garden writers that motivate me to get outside in all weathers are Monty, Charles Dowding, Sarah Raven and Beth Chatto.

- Compost tray - I bought mine from the garden centre, but if you Google ‘Potting Tray’ you’ll see a wide range. I think it’s best to buy in person though so you can check the plastic is nice and sturdy, especially if you’ll be taking it indoors. If it’s flimsy, it’ll inevitably crack when you’re carrying it inside full of compost…

- Hebes - the one in the picture is Veronica rakaensis, or for a more silver leafed one try Veronica pinguifolia ‘Sutherlandii’ (both of which are still sometimes sold under their old name of Hebe instead of Veronica).

Coming Up This Month

- Growing berries: how to grow blackberries, raspberries and strawberries - even in small spaces.

- Wonderful Wisteria: how to choose varieties, different ways of growing them, and how to give them their winter prune.

- Evergreens: my top tips for using evergreens in the border to bring year-round verdant joy

I hope that’s inspired you to keep on gardening through winter - I assure you, anything you get done now will reap dividends later in the year. It’s particularly dank here today and I have a strong urge to hunker down next to the fire with the dogs, a blanket, and a hot chocolate…but no, I shall practice what I preach. I’m going to shelter in the potting shed and sow some seeds. Come spring, when I’m overrun with gardening jobs, I’ll be oh so glad that I did.

Rich x

We’ve reached the final week of January - hurrah! That’s one dreary winter month down, one to go. I don’t want to wish away a sixth of every year, but the grey days of Jan and Feb do get rather wearying…which is why these are the months where motivation to get on with garden jobs is key.

This is when I’m glad that I ordered bare root plants back in November. Their arrival precipitates action, as they can only be out of the ground for a couple of weeks. Naturally, once I was togged up and got going it was lovely being outside - and that’s what I’ll be reminding myself throughout February.

This week I planted some replacement copper beech plants in a hedge we planted bare root last winter. 5 out of the 40 plants failed which isn’t bad - I always allow for around a 15% failure rate, so we weren’t far off. I thanked my summer-self for having had the foresight to tie string around those that didn’t come into leaf. By this point of the year the dormant and the dead look very similar, so pulling out the stringed plants made the whole thing into a satisfyingly quick job.

The other hedging plants I put in the other day were the leftovers from the big hedge we planted last week. It’s always worth ordering 10-15% more plants than you need and planting them in a spare bit of border, as these can be lifted later in the year to replace any failures. I have a ‘nursery bed’ at the bottom of the paddock for just such an occasion - it’s much easier than keeping spare plants in pots as they don’t need watering anywhere near as often.

The other day I popped to my local nursery and the garden centre to get a few new plants to brighten up the house. The Prayer Plant above is for my desk - I couldn’t resist the intricately decorated leaves. The background looks like a foresty watercolour painting, with great sweeps of fuchsia flicks on top of it. I also couldn’t resist the new pot - in a way the pot you choose is more important than the plant, as it should last forever. Nothing draws focus away from a gorgeous plant (indoors or out) more than a crappy pot.

The reason I’m writing about houseplants now is because I think January is a great time to re-pot existing plants and go for a nice shopping trip at a time I’m not really buying plants for outside. Now, some of the literature (and social media) will tell you that you should leave houseplants well alone through winter, and to be honest, yes, some plants might prefer that. The logic is that the fresh compost gives the plants a hit of nutrients and makes them grow when there’s insufficient sunlight to support that growth.

However, as I promised in the introduction to this Substack series, my advice is practical. The timeframes given for gardening jobs are the ideal timeframes. If you can do the job in that particular month, great. However, the majority of the time it’s better to do the job at some point than not at all. During the warmer months, I’m outside - I’m not tending to houseplants. So if I don’t do them now, they won’t get done for another year. I’ve done this for years and my houseplants (mostly) thrive.

I re-pot my houseplants in the bath. No that’s not a typo - nor do I sit in the tub surrounded by bubbles and soil. Around half of our houseplants live in the bathroom - there’s a lovely big window sill for them and they love the steam from the shower. Therefore, rather than carrying all of them - some of which are rather large by this point - outside, I do it in the bathroom. I bring in a trug of compost and grit and work in the (empty!) bath, which contains the mess and is easy to clean afterwards.

To re-pot or not to re-pot though, that is the question. If a plant is happy with life and has space to continue growing (or I don’t want to encourage it to get much bigger) I leave it alone. I add liquid feed to their water from March to October, so they do get fresh nutrients. However, sometimes the artificial nutrients just aren’t enough - they need the real thing. So if it’s been struggling, or it’s bursting out of its pot, or it’s a young plant I’m actively trying to grow quickly, I’ll re-pot it.

To re-pot, I gently rub away as much soil as I can around the rootball, pop a layer of peat-free multipurpose compost on the bottom of the pot, put the plant in and fill back around with more fresh compost. This allows me to refresh the compost whilst reusing the existing pot. I find that peat-free multipurpose with a bit of added grit works well for houseplants as it has enough drainage to stop them getting too soaked. Exceptions are sun-addicts like cactuses (in which case I do 50/50 compost and grit) and orchids (I buy the proper orchid potting mix).

Houseplants - like all plants - need natural light to grow all year round. This is normally not a problem in summer, but in winter you do need think about it. So a simple test - in the middle of a January day, turn all the lights off in the house, and see where you can comfortably read a book. How close to the window do you need to be? How different is it with every step away from it? This shows you the importance of the placement of houseplants, and highlights why you might need to move them closer to windows over winter.

The picture above is an alcove in our sitting room, approximately 15ft away from the nearest window. I put the Peace Lily there before Christmas to brighten the alcove whilst guests were here, fully expecting it to start looking unhappy within weeks. Miraculously it’s fine (this is why I adore Peace Lillies, they seem to cope anywhere!), but it’s a good illustration. The photo on the right was taken at around 10:30am - look how dark it is! It’s barely getting any natural light, and so what I was planning to do was, every now and then, alternate it with another Peace Lily I have that lives closer to a window. This is a good way of brightening up spots in your house that don’t get much light: buy two plants the same, in similar sized pots, so you can swap them back and forth as needed.

A quick point about window sills and curtains. I’ve read time and time again, ‘do not leave plants behind curtains over winter!’. The reason being that, when you draw them at night, curtains trap cold air behind them. Some plants would indeed hate this, but I’ve always just left the plants where they are (I can’t be bothered to move them every single night) and I’ve never ever lost a plant because of it. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but our house is very old and draughty and the plants survive. It’s an example of where I suggest trying out things for yourself rather than accepting every ‘rule’ about gardening that you come across.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You thought this was a gardening article, so why on earth am I showing you my ultra-trendy, super-sexy gloves?? Well dear reader, you will be amazed to learn that I don’t wear these on the streets of Yorkshire, they are in fact Houseplant Dusting Gloves. Yep, that’s actually a thing, and they fully warrant the capitalisation. They seem ridiculous but they are utterly wonderful.

A layer of dust reduces the amount of light reaching the leaf, significantly inhibiting a plant’s ability to breath and photosynthesise (i.e. make food). It’s my number one tip for healthy houseplants - especially in winter - and you get the immediate bonus of them looking lush and verdant. After years of using damp kitchen towel, these gloves are…well, I don’t want to throw around terms like ‘life changing’ for fear of judgement, but just trust me on this. Try them.

First things first - I know most of you will be just dying to find out where you can get yourselves a pair of snazzy furry gloves. I got mine from the garden centre, but Crocus also sell them: https://www.crocus.co.uk/product/_/houseplant-dust-remover-gloves/classid.2000050118/

Houseplants - I’ll cover varieties in a future article, but a few tips for sourcing them. I’m always keen to encourage people to buy as many plants as possible from local, independent nurseries. Many of them operate on a financial knife-edge which is such a shame as they’re great repositories of horticultural passion and knowledge. So please support them if you can. Lots of garden centres have a good range too.

But, from one extreme to the other, I do have to recommend Crocus.co.uk - they’re kind of like the Amazon of horticulture. They stock everything, although unlike Amazon they’re often more expensive than other places. Nevertheless, their range of houseplants is absolutely unrivalled, and they give good info about what the plant needs. If you’ve not bought plants online before, don’t be put off. The packaging nowadays is very clever, and even delicate, fully grown plants tend to arrive in perfect condition.

Compost - ‘houseplant compost’ is really expensive, and I find that good quality, peat-free, multipurpose compost works perfectly well. I use Sylvagrow - it has a lovely light texture that most houseplants love. I mix in potting grit for extra drainage - for leafy houseplants it’s 90/10 compost to grit, for succulents it’s closer to 50/50.

And that, my fellow gardeners, is January done! Next week will be all things February - hope to see you there.

Rich x