JEARRARD'S HERBAL
19th February 2023
Freesia viridis .
The balance of whispering has changed in the garden. For several weeks the garden has lain dormant. There have been small stirrings in the undergrowth,
the snowdrops have arrived and daffodils have pushed at the fallen leaf layer from below. Everything has whispered that spring is coming, afraid to say it too loudly
for fear of looking foolish. The balance has changed, spring has seized the garden, the sun has shone and the whisperers have switched to warnings
that it may well freeze again later. They may be right, spring is an erratic event, but any cold to come will be at the whim of the spirit of spring
rather than the manifestation of winter.
It has been a challenging year in the greenhouse. Hard radiation frosts did a lot of damage at the beginning of December and it is still uncertain
how serious it has been. I have started to clear up dead leaves from the Dendrobium. I hope that the canes have survived defoliation.
In the Nerine house things are looking good. The frosts were severe but they don't seem to have harmed the plants. This is the quiet
season for them, and there is little to see except leaves. A single cerise splash from Cyclamen coum has appeared in a pot of Haemanthus.
I may have re-used old compost, ot perhaps I scattered seed, I can't remember now.
Almost invisibly, among the leaves, Freesia viridis has flowered. My diary found it for me. It's the middle of February, Freesia viridis
will be in flower. I went to look and it was.
Evidently spring has arrived with sufficient force to re-animate the greenfly as well.
19th February 2023
Clivia gardenii .
The Dendrobium fill a bench in the lowest section of the greenhouse. It was once the section that was best sheltered in winter by a row of Leyland cypress.
I liked to think that the trees provided a little frost protection and so I used that part of the greenhouse for the most tender things. I can overlook the fact
that I have removed the Leyland's, the remaining shelter they provide is nothing but the warm glow of nostalgia. Still, that is where the Dendrobium remain.
Beside them I grow my small collection of Clivia. They have had a number of set-backs through the years. The beast from the east in 2018
damaged them, but they had started to recover. Clivia grow slowly, they aren't really tough enough for my greenhouse, but I was feeling optimistic.
The frost in December has burnt off a lot of leaves. I am hoping that the crowns of the plants are intact, only time will tell.
I had the courage to clear dead leaves from the Dendrobium but I left the Clivia alone. Before long there will be a sunny afternoon
and I can clear away the black mush to see what I still have. I will be able to face the prospect before long but I need a few calm days to prepare myself.
I am heartened by the appearance of this flower spike on Clivia gardenii. It is out of season, but it isn't dead.
Perhaps next week I will check to see how much other life remains. I don't think it has been a catastrophe, just a strong reminder
that I am pushing my luck in the greenhouse.
19th February 2023
Galanthus 'Trymlet' .
In the meantime the garden is providing plenty of distraction. Whenever there is time I try to clear new spaces to plant Galanthus.
I don't have a large collection by modern standards, but I have plenty. As they bulk up in the snowdrop bed I am trying to distribute them
around the garden where they can make little clusters and drifts. I did think that I could scatter them recklessly without a care. Those that I
could identify in later years will be obvious, and those that I can't distinguish won't matter.
I still think that the reasoning is sound, but I know I will be driven to distraction if I can't identify them. So planting them out is a slow process.
Spaces have to be found away from other snowdrops. Labels have to be clear and durable. I have cut back some Acer behind the house
and it has exposed a woodland bed, perfect for snowdrops. 'Trymlet' is one of those that have gone out. It is distinctive and it seems to be vigorous
so it is unlikely to be confused. The green-tipped flowers act as punctuation between other cultivars. I have labelled it and buried
another label under the clump that will appear if I ever dig them up. I have made a little map and filed it safely in my notes. If the GPS
on my phone was more accurate then I would have used the satellites to identify its longitude and latitude.
In short, I have tried to mark its position. If I still can't identify it in future, I really won't care. Possibly.
19th February 2023
Crocus tommasinianus .
I don't have a Crocus garden. Instead I have rabbits, deer, and in the last few months I have seen a lot more squirrels in the trees.
Shade, dampness and voracious vermin have combined to remove any Crocus that I have planted. It is a pity, because like all the other mammals in the garden,
I find Crocus difficult to resist. My most recent venture has involved planting corms into the new herbaceous border to strew the spring scene with lilac flowers.
I haven't seen any this year, but I am hopeful. To augment the display I have been scattering seed. Surely something must establish?
Around the garden there are a few remnants of previous attempts. Under the trees at the top of the garden I have a single Crocus tommasinianus,
that last survivor of fifty corms I planted decades ago. It has survived, even clumped slightly, but shown no signs of spreading. It has survived,
it is greedy to hope for any more. If I was confident that one in fifty would survive, then I would plant a thousand and take a chance, but I am not.
I put 200 in the herbaceous border, and so far nothing.
This clump is growing under one of my big sycamores. I grew a few in pots in the 1980's and at the end of the flowering season they were dumped in the garden.
Six clumps have survived. Perhaps that is the best strategy for future introductions. Get them growing in pots and then put them out. These plants have made big clumps,
but I have never seen seedlings and that is the only real hope for a significant spring display.
As you can tell, the bright optimism of spring is not without caution.