My garden is a permanent compromise between my insatiable plantaholism and the promiscuity of plants, assisted by visiting wildlife.
There are many culprits for the random emergence of flowers and shrubs. Heritage is one. Land carries history. Seeds have capacity to lie dormant in the ground for millennia, certainly centuries , prepared to emerge if undisturbed or in some cases, like foxgloves and poppies , if disturbed . The magnificent displays of foxgloves in Thetford Forest in clear fell areas are a delight. It is the only explanation for the Broomrape that appeared in my garden last year. The Broomrape variety depends on the host plant . It was burgundy, similar to one which I had identified some years ago in the forest which was likely to be Yarrow Broomrape but Google suggested they are “renowned for being taxonomically challenging.” There is no Yarrow near where the flower appeared last year, but their seeds can remain dormant for twenty years or more, waiting for propitious conditions. This year they have not appeared.
Gravity is the usual assistant and the proximity of a parent. Some plants seed and disperse themselves so prolifically that there is always a parent nearby. Forget Me Nots, one of my favourite flowers, greet the spring with a mist of blue against which the bulbs, which I plant extravagantly every year, can shine. My father always referred to them as weeds. He liked a neat garden for most of his life until he fell in love with a field of Norfolk poppies. Thereafter his roses were surrounded by a carpet of scarlet in the early summer.
Nigella continues with the blue theme and also gives me edible seeds and attractive seed heads for winter interest and flower arrangements. I had never encountered Catanache before they appeared in my present garden. I fell in love with their blue flowers and silver seed heads and stems so I leave them if they are in convenient places, or move them if they are sitting in my gravel paths. However, it is not always easy to identify the smallest seedlings as their leaves do resemble grass when young.
Another wanton plant is Aquilegia Vulgaris; useful, pretty, and willing to grow in dry shade. I have tried to propagate specific varieties but they are promiscuous. Insects work hard with them to multiply with abandon, producing myriad varieties and colours, foiling any attempt I make to create a colour scheme. My gravel paths and any gap between paving stones or bricks provide a perfect home too. As seedlings their colour is unknowable so transplanting them, I know the effect will be random. I hate to discard young plants, so I usually pop them into the nearest vacant space in a flower bed. The colour that emerges is always a surprise, some more exciting than others. The deep purple I wish for is not the most prolific.
Fortunately, a range of purples is provided by the Salvias which have emerged in several beds where I know I did not plant them. When I try to identify them, my app. calls them variously Purple Wood Sage or Meadow Clary when there is very little difference that I can observe in the actual plants. When I look them up, the Meadow Clary is deemed to be rare. The Wood Sage are not the pale green flowered Wood Sage that I have found in woods. However, Google presents me with an image of Purple Wood Sage which is what my app. identified, or Salvia Nemorosa which is on sale as a garden variety. I do not remember buying them and there are several plants in different shades of purple, so I am still unsure if they are imports by the wind or birds or whether they are hybrids; the result of more promiscuity on the part of a plant I may have introduced.
I think most of the blame for random planting must go to birds, although they do have my assistance. I leave seedheads in the autumn to provide food for them and winter homes for insects. The selfish reason is that they are beautiful, and I use them in flower arrangements.
Across the road from me in the fields grow swathes of Verbascum Thapsus; commonly called Great Mullein. Growing as tall as 2 metres, often with many branches, they are a spectacular sight . One year I picked one, intending to draw it, attracted by the pattern of the seed heads along the stems. It was a large plant so I never brought it indoors leaving it outside my front door. I also never drew it. The following year a new plant emerged between the path and the wall of the conservatory, where the plant had lain. They are majestic plants beloved of bees and make a spectacular statement so it remained. The following year another rosette of silver green, velvet leaves appeared between the path and the bricks on the edge of the flower bed. This time it was in a more acceptable spot. As the branched stems emerged so did beautiful striped caterpillars, Mullein moth larvae. As the larvae grew larger, the lower leaves gradually disappeared. I watched their progress, happy to leave them all to their own devices. The plant flourished although one of the branches obviously sustained a new generation of moths. I found no pupae but as they pupate in the ground I was unlikely to see them.
I have enjoyed watching the individual flowers opening each day to be feasted upon by bees. The branches slewed across the path, requiring a battle to pass, a particular problem when it rained. I noticed a new seedling in the gravel path nearby and another on the edge of a flower bed. The one in the flower bed is happily placed so I am leaving it for next summer. The one in the path I was able to uproot and give to my cousin who visited. They are less common in Yorkshire where she lives.
A few Sisyrinchium Striatum were here when I arrived. They can be invasive but I like the primrose yellow flowers and pale green, iris- like, leaves. I leave the stems covered in seeds because I do find them attractive and believe they are good food for birds in winter, but in my free draining soil they take advantage. I particularly like the variegated variety, unfortunately, they seem less willing to propagate themselves.
Silene are well known as a thug in the garden. I have mixed views about them. Their capacity to seed themselves means they appear everywhere. The vivid magenta of the flowers and the silver leaves are a foil for other plants in the garden which, combined with their structure, provides a contrast and interesting winter feature. They are one of the plants with which I have to compromise. A few would be acceptable their profligacy is not.
In August Gaura blooms float like waves of pale pink butterflies across my flower beds. They were well behaved in my last garden, staying in place and mingling well with other more colourful plants. In this garden they seed themselves in the most inhospitable places, especially the gravel paths, and grow tall and leggy. They bend over when it rains, as the drops weigh down the stems, so I purchased Gaura lindheimeri ‘Gaudi Red, ‘a shorter, deep reddish leaved variety which remains upright and provides colour in later summer. I give away as many of the self- sown ones as possible.
Vivid green Fennel fronds pop up everywhere. I have never planted these so was surprised by their ubiquity. When the previous garden owners came to visit I found the answer. They had kept rabbits, which apparently adore Fennel. It had been grown for them. The seeds are a useful cooking bonus and the citrus yellow flowers are a lovely addition to flower arrangements but their capacity to reproduce with deep, strong roots means I try to keep them under control as soon as they appear.
Iris Foetidissima are another self-seeded favourite. The delicate colours of the flowers , the evergreen leaves and the scarlet seed pods are good value. They provide colour into winter and ornate additions to dried flower arrangements.
Honesty seeds itself prolifically. It is useful for shaded places and a couple of years ago I purchased a purple leaved variety at an HPS meeting. The plants were lovely with their leaves of purple, white and green. I wasn’t sure whether they would be as fruitful as their green leaved brethren so I saved the seeds and planted them. They made useful gifts for friends but I was disappointed in the plants which emerged with just a hint of purple . The following year I left them to their own devices and the resulting plants returned their previous beauty. This year I am leaving them as an attractive winter feature, encouraging them to see to their own propagation as they are obviously better at it than I am.
I am wondering whether my latest additions may be a mistake. At another HPS meeting I bought seeds for Erigeron Karvinskianus. This year these delicate plants are interspersed amongst the beds, and out of them. I love the effect as they flower profusely in the most inhospitable places but in years to come I suspect I may come to regret introducing them.
I know that not everyone would appreciate my approach to plants. It is not wildlife gardening, nor is it control but I regard it as symbiotic and a process of constant accommodation.
Sandra Walmsley
