Tag: Erodium pelargonifolium

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May and then now, mid-July, in the front garden…

Anisodontea capenisis in the pink, Allium nigrum still waiting for the sun, Lupinus arboreus and masses of self-sown Nigella also waiting for the sun, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022

Two months later, it’s July 14th, and we are locked into an 8 day canicule with temperatures of 35c minimum during the day. Last week, in cooler times, I had the idea to take photographs in roughly the same spot as I had in May- to assess for myself what’s happening in the ‘garrigue-ish’ landscape at the front. This is my hot, stony, dry spot, totally exposed, which I started 18 months ago. I don’t water this at all, except in emergency in the first year of planting.

The May photograph above really shows how freshly green the plants are in mid May. The alliums hadn’t fully flowered and the Nigella makes a green froth weaving in and out of everything. The Lupinus arboreus alba with just a hint of blue, is just starting to flower.

July shows a more mature scene, although a little further down the slope than the May photo, and we are heading towards summer brown. In between, we have had had two belting weeks of 35-40c separated by cooler days and a lot of rain, especially rain at night with electric storms most nights. The plants that are coming through well are the Anisodontea capensis, still flowering and green, the Senecio Viravira, which has silvered up well, but the tree lupin is burnt away completely on the right hand side. The other great survivor is Phlomis chrysophylla to the centre of the photograph.

Senecio Viravira, silvering well, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2022

Senecio Viravira is a fabulous plant, always providing an accent anytime of the year. It is, however, very brittle, and easily breaks if brushed against. The good side of this is that plentiful cuttings can be taken from the broken bits which root easily in water. So, great though it is, it’s maybe best planted away from where feet or legs might go.

Anisodontea El Rayo,

This is a new Anisodontea to me, and it has been in the ground since April. ‘El Rayo’ has a deeper pink, and slightly larger, flower than the capensis, but it is looking as tough and resiliant as the older plant. Here it is below, two months later, and it is bushing out nicely, whilst continuing to flower splendidly.

Anisodontea ‘El Rayo’, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2022
Erodium ‘Stephanie’, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022

You don’t see Erodium Stephanie once the heat builds. It dies back but returns happily in the Spring. This is a new variety for me, and was only planted out in January this year. It’s a small but sturdy plant, with ferny foliage and makes a small clump eventually. If it behaves like Erodium pelargonifolium, which I grew from seed, it will really take off next year.

Phlomis ‘Le Sud’, Eryngium eburneum gathering height, Gaura and some of the many huge stones, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022

Further down the slope, are more cuttings from the old garden in Tostat. Phlomis ‘Le Sud’ simply adores Oloron. From a small cutting last year it has grown to well over a metre across and tall. Just starting to flower in mid May, it is over in mid July below, but the fantastic seed heads remain for months. Give it room, it needs it. Similarly, the Eryngium eburneums, that came as tiny babies and suffered until their tap roots got down into the rocky soil, but this year, were looking strong in May and flowering prodigiously in July. As the plants fatten and spread, there will be countless babies by next year, I am willing to bet good money on that.

The red Gaura is still struggling though. These were 3 plants planted out in early Spring this year, but they have not yet found their feet. A few feet away, the species plant, Gaura lindhemeri, is spreading and flowering profusely. This is the second group of red Gaura that I have planted, and it maybe that my slope is just too tough for them. Well, it’s three strikes and you’re out in my garden!

Phlomis ‘Le Sud’, Eryngium eburneum, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2022

Another plant new to me this Spring is Medicargo arborea. Small now, and I think not tender, it will make a sprawly bush with good roots for stony soil, being a member of the pea family. It looks good in the lower photo from July.

Medicago arborea, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022
Medicargo arborea, Oloron Sainte Marie, July 2022

And here is a real survivor that just deserves a little more more limelight, and an award for endurance. I had lost all my tree lupins in Tostat. But, in our last summer, I noticed that a tiny seedling had re-appeared and carefully dug it up. There must have been viable seed in the ground which got a cha,ce at life when I dug something up or planted something in. Amazing. Tree lupins are fabulous.

Lupinus arboreus close-up, Oloron Sainte Marie, May 2022
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Best February sighting…

Allium nigrum coming up, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

I loved this surprise. Having planted about 60 Allium nigrum and atropurpureum bulbs in late November on the stony, garrigue slope at the front, it was grand to see all of them, bar a few, poking through so strongly in early Feburary. Of course, weeks will pass while the stems elongate and finally the buds break, but it feels good to be at the beginning of that process.

First flower, Erodium pelargonifolium, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

These Erodium pelargoniflorums are one of my early year favourites. Easy to grow from seed, three years later, they are seriously clumping up, in fact I will need to chop some bits off next year as gardening is a little smaller scale here in Oloron. They are a beautiful emerald green presence, and happily die back in the summer to re-emerge in the winter. Such good house guests.

And then there are the Hellebores. I left so many behind, which occasionally breaks my heart, but I am slowly and steadily adding to the few that I brought with me. I think that if there was only one spring flowering plant for me, the Hellebore would come in in a tiebreaker with the Erodium. I like narcissi, tulips and all the rest, but for sheer staying power and absolute reliability, they are outrun by the Hellebore and the Erodium.

If I was really smart, I would have made raised beds so that you don’t have to lie down or hold them by the neck to see their exquisite formations. This beautiful cream, more than white really, collared one came from the old garden, I adore the pale yellow and green glints in the collar. The thing about raising them up is that I also really appreciate their jungly foliage which carries on through the year, and it looks best at ground level with the rest of whatever you have around them. So I continue to bow to the Hellebore and get down to get up close and personal.

White collared Helleborus Orientalis, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

The brilliant white stamens on this one almost glow in the morning light.

Purple collared Helleborus Orientalis, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

This one is a new one this year, the delightful pointed petalled ‘Pretty Ellen White’ which also has delicate freckling, another adorable feature. This one was bought online here in France, and here we encounter the ‘naming problem’- that is, that the horticultural name in Latin and often the variety name in English, often gets mangled in the translation. So my flower looks entirely different from the flower on the link. With Hellebores, which are very promiscuous and prone to running away with strangers, it doesn’t massively matter- what matters is that you like what you are growing, and who knows, your own plants may be unique to you. Though too much interbreeding gets you pink mud coloured flowers- not so good.

Helleborus x hybridus ‘Pretty Ellen White’, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

This sternii Pewter form came from seed from Special Plants– who, not their fault, have had to stop sending seed to France, again. How I hate Brexit. Enough. Each of the four plants I grew is slightly different and perhaps Hellebores are just determined to be different. But the sternii features are also, though less glamorous than others, greatly to be appreciated. Tight, tough buds that break into this bruised colouring, and then, what glorious false-eyelash stamens which make a big statement on a small plant. Mine are growing in semi-shade not full sun, but seem to be doing fine.

Helleborus x sternii Pewter form, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

From a serious gardener friend in Yorkshire, comes this other x sternii plant. The bud has only just broken so I wait to see what happens to the stamens, but the other outstanding feature of x sternii is the foliage, strong, held up, sometimes silvery, but always striking.

Helleborus x sternii from Simon, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie

And a slightly romantic fuzzy focus, a wobble in the taking, of another small Hellebore from the old garden, which has, at times, looked unhappy in the new situation, but is beginning to bounce back. The variety is endless, you just have to go and play in Hellebore World.

Unknown double freckled hellebore, February 2022, Oloron Sainte Marie
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Smitten by carmine and orange…

Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

As the days begin to lengthen a little more, and the cold snap has gone for now, I feel myself getting excited by the prospects of new beginnings, and, of course, despite the many many plants big and small that we brought from Tostat, there is always the lure of something new. And, of course, I succumbed. Here, we have 3 areas of garden, each of which offers something different. Firstly, there is the sloping, sunny, stony area which has ‘garrigue’ planting written all over it in my mind. Then, next to that, is a gently sloping wooded area, with some small trees and quite a lot of fairly uninteresting shrubs and a massive clump of advancing bamboo. The bamboo will be attacked on all fronts by us and a friend with a sturdy digging machine- and we will continue to wage war on it over the next 5 years to eradicate it completely. We are going to get the dull shrubs out, and I am envisaging a mellow, semi woodland area, with wild grass, some sculptural evergreen planting, and bulbs, spring and autumn, planted at the foot of the old trees.

Then, at the back of the big barn, there is another area, which is south-facing, has a lovely partial view of the Pyrenees, and what looks like not bad soil at all. Here, with two metre stone walls all around and tree cover from next door on one side, I think the world is my oyster- and I reckon that it is not bone dry either- which gives me the chance to try out some plants that I have never dared to experiment with in Tostat.

Here are two shrubs that I fell for badly in the first week after Christmas. Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’ could, perhaps be quite blingy for some. It really is this astonishing colour. The deep carmine pussy willow buds got me completely. Look at the frozen raindrops on the emerging carmine colouring, and the hat-shaped bud coverings that are coming away as the colour deepens- I find it stunning. A keen amateur plantsman in Japan called Dr. Tsuneshige Rokujo found and selected this beautiful variety in the 1970s, naming it for the highest volcanic peak in Japan, Mount Aso. I am hugely impressed by the quality of the plant I bought from Coolplants, a Belgian nursery near Bruges. It is beautifully shaped and ready to go. Thank you, Cathy Portier of Coolplants.

Salix gracilistyla ‘Mount Aso’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

I have never dared to grow Hamamelis- but have seriously lusted after one for years. So, along with the Salix, I ordered ‘Hamamelis Orange Beauty’ from Cathy Portier. This is a small but sturdy shrub, which should eventually form a beautiful mass of orange peel blossom in early Spring reaching a height and width of about 2 metres. I can’t wait. Both the Salix and the Hamamelis will be given special spots.

Hamamelis ‘Orange Beauty’, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

So this will be their new home. I have some ideas as to what to do here, but, apart from dragging the soil to loosen big weeds and unwanted grass, I am going to take some time to get to know how the site works. This will involve drinking many cups of tea there and much ruminating… As you can see, there is nothing at all there just now- not an experience I have ever had in a garden, so tantalising times are ahead…

Barn garden as it is now, Oloron Sainte Marie, January 2021

This photograph is from last Spring in Tostat, but features a fabulous small early spring perennial which I would recommend highly and is a deadcert and easy from seed. Erodium pelargonifolium has sprightly, bright green foliage which stands proudly no matter the weather, and the geranium-like pink flowers appear for easily three months of Spring. It will self-seed I hope. Seed can be got from Derry Watkins at Special Plants– but thanks to Brexit, I will no longer be able to buy seed from her unless I have a planned visit to the UK. A great big ‘darn’ is what I say.

Don’t get me started on Brexit. I will just have to get better at sourcing seeds in the EU.

Erodium pelargoniflorum, Tostat, January 2020
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The spirit of New Year…

Early morning rainbow, Tostat, end November 2019

It’s a New Year. Curious, isn’t it, how the cycle of the seasons is so compelling to us- we follow the patterns of changing seasons- and this time of the year is one that absolutely leads to re-examination, re-evaluation, pondering and pottering. I am an inveterate potterer, with more plans in my head than I will ever actually want to achieve. The garden in winter prompts structural thoughts because there is spareness and space where the summer and autumn plants have died back, and then, clarity emerges as growth re-appears, showing you which and what has survived, prospered and is ready for another year.

This winter, so far, apart from biblical rain and wind in November, has been quite kind to us. A few frosts, but nothing major, and my plan of over-wintering slightly tender plants in pots in the open barn has worked fine. Some plants have really surprised me- like the Leonotis leonorus which flowered even to the very tallest stem in November, living through the wind and the rain in the open barn- so I haven’t cut it back yet, it is still there at 2.5m tall, green and contented.

Some new plants have taken the weather in their stride. Salvia lyrata ‘Purple Knockout’ which looked a tad weedy when a baby plant, has toughened up outside retaining the glorious red-purple of the leaves and shaking off the frost. It looks like a really sturdy plant, more useful for the tough foliage and the colour than the small flowerspikes in the summer- but I am very impressed. An easy, reliable plant from seed sown in August and kept out of the heat.

Salvia lyrata ‘Purple Knockout’, Tostat, December 2019

I had a go at another Erodium from seed in the summer. Erodium pelargoniflorum, grown from seed from Special Plants, is not going to be giant, more of a tough baby at 40cms max tall, but again, showing itself to be well able to cope with winter conditions and still look very composed. I need to find somewhere to plant them to make a drift near the front, or they will be swamped by the big guys.

Erodium pelargoniflorum, Tostat, December 2019

I adore bronze fennel. In the Latin, Foeniculum vulgare purpureum, the plants sounds as though it will be reddish-purple, but bronze is a better description. The spring growth makes a fabulous cloud of frothy bronze foliage which is indescribably romantic with roses, and it usefully covers bare legs. Normally, it would self-seed all over the shop with me, but this very dry summer left me with only a few small plants, so now I have about 50 plants grown this summer from seed. Feast or famine.

Foeniculum vulgare Purpureum, Tostat, December 2019

Santolina etrusca does get more than a bit floppy by the end of summer, but the first few months of astoundingly vibrant, fresh green, just when you need it, is worth all the flopping. Trouble-free and needing nothing, it is a good, though modest plant. From seed, the tiniest seedlings dig in and make plants. Just choose a calm day to sow the seed and then again, wait for another one to transplant the seedlings.

Santolina etrusca, Tostat, November 2019

A donated plant that needed a home, I have been amazed by the winter behaviour of this unknown sedum. I stuffed it in a pot, literally, and it is as happy as can be- with cold temperatures producing this gorgeous red colouring. I have never been that taken with sedum, but this is changing my mind.

Unknown stonecrop or Sedum, Tostat, November 2019

There will have been some casualties despite the easy ride we have had so far. I used to fret, but now I take this as another challenge- there must be a plant out there that I would like to grow which will cope and survive. Another dig in the ribs from the garden.

A very Happy Gardening Year to you….