JEARRARD'S HERBAL
16th April 2023
Fritillaria meleagris .
The shadows of spring are darkening. It wasn't clear at the start of the week, mist and rain softened the prospect and the garden wallowed in greyness. Yesterday the sun came out,
it was magnificent. Bright colour shone from every surface, given form and punctuation by the dark shadows beneath. Rhododendron 'Scarlet Wonder' slouches almost invisibly behind the Galanthus
border and produces a beacon of scarlet flowers when the snowdrops have finished. A beam of sunshine showed the scarlet flowers studded through a cosmos of dark shadows yesterday,
the photo would have been astonishing. It was a contrast of extremes. The camera said no.
The sentiment was echoed by the fritillaries. I have a small meadow, a little more shaded than would be ideal, but it is damp. I thought that Fritillaria meleagris might do very well there.
I think the fritillaries resented my glib assumption. They said no. Last year I had three flowers from the three bulbs that have persisted for twenty years. This year I have three flower spikes,
but I have four flowers. They are becoming stronger, albeit very modestly.
I will plant a few more with proper humility. I'm not assuming that I can force a field of flowers just by spending money and digging holes. This time I will carefully plant a few more,
aspire to a gentle little patch in a dignified corner. This is the only fritillary I can hope to grow in a damp garden, it is an honoured guest.
16th April 2023
Arisaema ringens .
I should have learnt the lesson of uniqueness from Arisaema. They are not designed for mass-planting, they would probably look foolish anyway. Decades ago I had convinced myself that
Arisaema triphyllum would prosper under the trees at the top of the garden. I had raised a number of seedlings so I planted them up there to grow. They very rapidly
decided not to. Some Arisaema are on the borderlines of growable outdoors in the UK, most are not. Where they do succeed, they persist as single plants, exotic exclamation marks
emerging from the undergrowth.
Arisaema ringens travelled to the UK from its home in Japan, but it has settled in here well. I was given it by a friend in Hampshire. He has travelled to the USA and settled in well.
Things change, and they have changed for this Arisaema. For years I have grown it in the alpine house, keeping it dry in winter. Last year, as it started to grow, I split off a division and planted it outside
in the shade of an old pine tree where conditions seemed suitable. I have waited for forty years to have a suitable location to plant it. If it is an old pine tree, then I am a very ancient
gardener because I put it in as a sapling. It has become majestic, so one of us has improved with age.
The Arisaema outside has flowered. I may have found a suitable location at last. My advice for would-be Arisaema growers is 'first plant your pine tree'.
16th April 2023
Fuchsia 'Bronze Banks Peninsula' .
No such fuss with fuchsias, they are keen to please. Sometimes their chromatic enthusiasm can be a little wearing, like a small child who found a shiny black beetle in the garden, and wants to tell you about it - again.
The child and the fuchsias share an honest enthusiasm that raises the spirits. They expose my own jaded cynicism and that is what has set me on edge.
Not all fuchsias are relentlessly bright anyway. The species from New Zealand have dark, brooding flowers. F. 'Bronze Banks Peninsula' is flowering more profusely than ever before. It is
almost hardy here, persisting through most winters. I try to keep a plant in the greenhouse as insurance and this is it, in flower now from the old wood. Later in the season it will flower from the new growth
in a manner more typical for the genus.
The dark, sinister flowers shelter in the dark heart of the tangled, grasping stems. The brooding, shadowed leaves expand to steal the sunshine from the air. This is the wicked wonder of the dark
fuchsia forest.
But it is a Fuchsia, it's only kidding. It does darkness with a light peal of laughter and a jolly "Hey-ho".
16th April 2023
Trillium kurabayashii .
It is the contrast between dark and light that has characterised the week. The garden has been glazed in colour when the sun shines, reticulated with dark veins, like a butterfly's wings.
Under the trees at the top of the garden, Erythronium ' Pagoda' is preparing to flood through the trees in waves of custard yellow. The bluebells are thrusting through,
they will fill every space in a few weeks. The white and blue stars of Anemone nemorosa shine brightly back at the sun. It is a bright space, this is its brightest season
and it is the dark flowers of Trillium kurabayashii that have attracted me.
I can't grow Trillium. I have tried and lost, repeatedly. I would like to have loose clumps scattered under the trees but they are rather expensive for reckless planting.
I have tended to grow them in the alpine house to collect seed, grow more, and then plant them out. It didn't work. I killed them all. Trillium kurabayashii was the last survivor.
I planted the failing pot out in the garden last year; its emergence and flowering have been the greatest joy of this spectacular season. The garden reminds me that I shouldn't be quite
so precious about things.
I planted out my last surviving Cypripedium a few weeks ago, time will tell.