Month: September 2018

Over the past year we have planted 47 trees. How did that happen? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t plant many trees because our previous, much smaller garden, was surrounded by mature oaks casting continuous shade and causing me much exasperation. When we arrived in Shropshire the main garden was one open expanse of grass with a single, rather incongruous mature conifer, so no more battling with shade – bliss! Surely, I’d avoid planting trees?

So why have I planted so many? Well, although there was the view to the surrounding hills, there was nothing to draw the eye in the garden, save from the boring conifer. I drew up my garden plan and soon created the orchard with 16 trees then planted 14 ornamental trees on the northern and southern sides of the main garden, leaving a large open space in the centre with the view to the hills. A total of 30 trees – surely enough?  Yet as this year has progressed, and I wandered around the garden I found places where a few more trees would help create the structure of the garden … we have just finished planting another 17 trees!

I wanted to create a mini-woodland, so last autumn planted four trees: a weeping birch (betula pendula ‘Youngii’), a robinia (robinia pseudoacacia ‘Frisia’) and two small cotoneasters (cotoneaster ‘Hyrbridus Pendulus’) which marked the boundary of the woodland area from the open, potential meadow area. Early in the year I moved some snowdrops ‘in the green’ from the back of the shrub garden to this area – the beginning of my woodland underplanting.  I also planted a purple elder (sambucus nigra ‘Guincho Purple’) and a guelder rose (viburnum opulus) near the fence which separates the woodland area from the secluded garden. We have mowed paths through these trees and bushes and I have now planted four more trees to create a woodland feel: a sweet almond (prunus dulcis); a pink hawthorn (crataegus  Crimson Cloud); a flowering cherry (prunus ‘Amanogawa’) and a snowy mespilus (Amelanchier lamarckii, one of my favourite small trees). The framework of my Woodland Walk is now in place.

One of our first trees was a flamingo willow standard (salix integra ‘Hakuro Nishiki’), which I planted to give height to the new border in the secluded garden. As well as the variegated foliage I was delighted with the bright red stems throughout the winter. So, I have planted another three to create a row along the border; they contrast beautifully with the shady hedge beyond. The new ones suffered in the heat with many young leaves shrivelling, but after trimming off the dead tips they have all recovered and are looking healthy. They do a great job of separating the secluded area from the rest of the garden.

One part of my plan which has remained unchanged is a stand of three silver birches (betula jacquemontii) which I have planted on the opposite side from the woodland. Behind them I planted a group of the yellow barked dogwood, (the dogwood which has been so disappointing, but which are still growing). I’ll be supplementing this group with the cuttings which I am nurturing, as I hope that eventually their yellow stems will be a contrasting foil for the white trunks of the birches.

I originally planted just two specimen trees in the far south‑west and north‑west corners of the garden, a purple leaved acer (acer platanoides ‘Crimson King’) and one with leaves green above and purple beneath (acer pseudoplatanus Spaethii). Both are potentially large trees, but I have positioned them to frame the view of the hills. But as the summer progressed I decided that there was room for two more specimens in the northwest corner: a Japanese larch (larix kaempferi (leptolepis)) which already has attractive cones and is promised to soon grow into a tall majestic deciduous tree; and finally, a tulip tree (liriodendron tulipifera) with its unusually shaped leaves, a tree which has intrigued me for many years. Hopefully these large trees will withstand the winds of our exposed garden and eventually provide some protection for the garden.

Our garden now looks very different to the empty space we acquired. The conifer has been incorporated into the boundary between sections of the garden and no longer seems so obtrusive. And our new trees have given the garden its structure, height and interest. Most are quite small ornamental trees and, even though some will grow into large trees, I think they are positioned so that shade will not become a problem. I don’t intend to plant any more trees (though I would like an alder with red catkins, and I’ve always wanted a wedding cake tree …).

So far this blog chronicles progress: onwards and upwards. Tasks might be difficult, conditions might be challenging, but progress – positive progress – is being made. However, that of course, is not how gardening really is. There are setbacks: some inevitable, some unfortunate and some inexplicable. Two setbacks for me this summer have been nasturtiums and willow – both plants with reputations for being reliable, robust and resilient, but nevertheless I have been frustrated with the nasturtiums and disappointed with the willow.

The round border in front of the house is planted with heathers and conifers and for much of the year is quite boring. To inject some colour, I imagined bright orange nasturtiums scrambling over the prostrate blue juniper, a quick and easy solution. In the past I have grown nasturtiums from seed with no problem. Despite a new potting shed and plenty of time, only a handful germinated this year in Shropshire (too cold? poor quality seed? sparse sowing?).  I ended up planting out just four small seedlings which I watered assiduously and helped to ‘train’ them over the juniper; four plants should be sufficient and they started off well. Then, part-way through our summer heatwave I noticed they looked rather forlorn, so I rushed out watering can in hand, but realised they weren’t wilting, rather they were being eaten.

On closer inspection I discovered caterpillars: large, fat grey caterpillars and lots of them. Even closer inspection revealed hundreds of smaller (some tiny) caterpillars on the underside of the leaves along with what I assume to be large patches of butterfly eggs. I knew of the idea of growing nasturtiums around cabbages to attract cabbage whites away from the crop, but when I’d tried that in the past the nasturtiums had flourished despite plenty of cabbage white butterflies flitting about. Here, in my Shropshire garden, with no cabbages about at all, the delightful – and plentiful – white butterflies had decided to use the foliage and flowers of my nasturtiums to grow big and fat caterpillars. Frustrating!

My disappointment with willow is very specific. We have successfully planted a willow hedge from two‑feet rods, and four flamingo willow standard trees are growing well. So, some of our willow is thriving. But I hankered after a sward of coloured stems and had earmarked an area at the bottom of the garden to be a blaze of winter colour. Thus, last November, we planted twenty bareroot willows with orange (salix alba britzensis) and red (salix daphnoides) stems and ten yellow barked dogwoods (cornus stolonifera flaviramea).

In April, following advice found online and in reference books, I cut back the stems of the willow and the dogwood to a few inches to promote lots of new colourful stems.

All the dogwoods have regrown (albeit much slower than I’d anticipated) but of the twenty willows, thirteen have died and the remainder look very sorry for themselves. Why? We found it tricky planting them with their long and stiff roots into our clay soil – cracks in the soil are still visible around some. The area we planted had a number of large ants’ nests. The summer has been very hot and dry (though the grass and clover around them haven’t suffered). We didn’t clear away the grass and clover from around the young plants. Perhaps we shouldn’t have cut them back in their first year. For whatever reason the stems turned black, leaves dried and curled. Digging up the dead ones revealed dead roots, some white patches – maybe disease?  Certainly, there will be very few colourful stems this winter. Disappointing.

But all is not lost. Now that the heatwave is over – and the butterfly life-cycle has by and large been completed – the nasturtiums are recovering; indeed, a couple are flowering again. The willow plants, on the other hand, are not recovering. However, when I cut them back in April I put some of the colourful stems in a vase of water indoors. Others I pushed into pots of compost. In both situations the cuttings readily rooted. So, now I have several young colourful willows growing in pots, so can try again. This time I will plant out pot-grown plants, carefully prepare the ground – removing grass and clover (and ants) – keep well-watered and not cut back until more established. Hopefully I will get my sward of coloured stems – onwards and upwards as they say!