JEARRARD'S HERBAL
18th February 2024
Arisarum proboscideum
It has been a wet week. There is a bucket outside my back door and I have had to empty it repeatedly. The purpose of the bucket is to give a rough indication of the amount of rain that has
fallen and the answer is, lots. The days have been dank and cloudy. Yesterday I went down to the greenhouse and there were tiny droplets of water flying horizontally at high speed through the mist.
I didn't stay out for long. Stuck in the seasonal slime there was a single bright day on Friday which delivered both flowers and pictures of flowers.
I had to go hunting for the flowers of Arisarum proboscideum, they are almost entirely hidden by the leaves. It is an elfin monster in the garden, every little fragment of
rhizome that gets disturbed takes root and grows into a clump. At present it is doing no damage but I imagine that in 100 years time it will be a solid spring carpet across the ground.
In the meantime the flowers have a curious charm. A century ago E. A. Bowles described them as the hind-end of a mouse jumping down a hole and it's a good image, he clearly knew the plant well.
I was visiting his garden in Enfield a couple of weeks ago and there was no sign of the Arisarum. Perhaps the garden here will be safe after all.
18th February 2024
Crocus 'Ruby Giant'
Some plants are slow and some are fast, it doesn't seem to follow any particular pattern. The Arisarum creeps outwards quite slowly but it makes relentless progress.
The Crocus in the garden have been much slower. I wanted a sheet of Crocus tommasinianus under the trees and so thirty years or more ago I planted a selection of cultivars
as a trial. After a couple of years it was clear that they hated the environment, they had disappeared. I stopped planting Crocus.
Over the years, strange survivors have appeared, clinging to life. There are now a dozen or more of them scattered around the garden. It gave me foolish hope.
When I made the new herbaceous border, which is mostly rock and sunshine, I planted some more Crocus. They are hanging on. I think I have more flowers this year
than I had last. This one is 'Ruby Giant' but I have also planted some C. tommasinianus. I am hoping for an astonishing purple carpet in the weeks of spring before the weeds take control again.
Until that day comes I will content myself with some astonishing purple moments in the fleeting sunshine.
18th February 2024
Galanthus 'Blonde Inge'
Under cover of the mist and cloud, the season has been rolling onwards. The snowdrops are ending, the first phase of spring is over. When they started the season was
woven with chills, punctuated by warm moments. The balance has changed, the weather is warm and the chill is just a threat, the sort of thing a parent might use to coerce their children.
If you don't eat your greens, Jack Frost will return. It is very early in the year, it could still turn into a catastrophe but for now it is warm.
If the ice-monsters return, there will still be the last of the snowdrops to provide some cheer. 'Blonde Inge' is one of the 'slightly yellow' snowdrops. The pale colour is confined
to the markings on the inner segments. As well as being distinctive, she is fairly vigorous and it is about time I planted her out in the garden. I made a start in the mist.
I split a few of the clumps of 'Brenda Troyle' and spread them around more widely. I split up 'Poculiformis' to make a decent patch. It isn't the perfect time
to move snowdrops but it is one of those jobs that has to be done at a practical moment rather than waiting for the ideal time. I was passing, I had a spade in my hand, it was very practical.
As long as the clumps aren't split into small pieces they don't seem to mind.
18th February 2024
Magnolia x loebneri 'Merrill'
I was surprised to see the Arisarum flowering. I know that it is always very early but I wasn't expecting flowers as I checked below the leaves. The season has been moving onwards rapidly
despite the dark evenings of imagination. The local news has been reporting flowers on Magnolia in some of the large gardens. I knew they must be there by now, I just hadn't seen any yet.
On Friday I looked up into my own tree and saw what looked like a flower. I was astonished. I didn't believe it fully until I blew-up the photograph. The first
Magnolia x loebneri 'Merrill' has opened (has mostly opened). I went out to see it in its full splendour this morning and couldn't find it again.
If the weather permits then in the next couple of weeks it will be astonishing. The magnolia will have a few weeks of photogenic splendour before it covers the ground
in white petals. There is still time for frost, still time for snow even, but the garden has changed its attitude. It is no longer cowering under the threat of cold,
it has started giggling and tickling winter in the ribs.