Having visited and often written about Dutch designer Piet Oudolf’s garden on the High Line in many seasons – May, June, mid-summer and autumn; having blogged about his fabulous Lurie Garden in Chicago; but mostly having photographed and written about the seasons passing in the Oudolf-designed entry border at Toronto Botanical Garden, a few miles from my home, I was beyond excited to finally visit Oudolf Field at Hauser & Wirth Gallery at Dunslade Farm in Somerset, near Bruton. First we walked through the gallery, one of 21 galleries worldwide founded originally in Zurich in 1992 by Iwan and Manuela Wirth along with Manuela’s mother, art patron and collector Ursula Hauser. The Somerset gallery resulted from the renovation of a collection of old farm buildings and is located near the Wirths’ home. Like all their galleries, it features high-profile modern artists such as Americans Richard Jackson, below…
… and Paul McCarthy, whose silicone White Snow Dwarves, below, from the Ursula Hauser collection was displayed near the exit to the garden.
Leaving the gallery which was designed by Argentine-born architect Luis Laplace, visitors pass through a cloister garden designed by Piet Oudolf and featuring the sculpture Lemur Heads by Franz West. Unlike the meadow beyond, this space contains woodlanders and shade-tolerant species.
The small trees in this garden are paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera) with their fuzzy, globular female flowers.
Martagon lilies were just beginning to show colour.
We began with a talk from head gardener Mark Dumbelton, who spoke about the beginnings of the garden and expanded on some of its challenges, mainly around the soil. Indeed, when we visited England was on its way to enduring the hottest June on record since 1884, according to the Royal Meteorological Society, and watering was being done by hand. Behind Mark, I noticed the white inflorescences of….
Ornithogalum ponticum ‘Sochi’, a Russian native bulb that contrasts well with emerging grasses and makes a good cut flower.
Near the gallery is a naturalistic pond surrounded by pink flowering rush (Butomnus umbellatus).
You can see the pond at the left, below, on Piet’s colourful 2012 plan for the wildflower meadow in the Hauser & Wirth catalogue. Spread out over 1.5 acres are seventeen curved, informal planting beds separated by a central gravel path as well as lawn paths between the beds and surrounded by an existing hedge, beyond which Piet planted trees.
He explained his rationale for Oudolf Field in the video below.
With Mark’s talk finished, we were set loose in the meadow. I viewed it through spires of peach foxtail lily (Eremurus), a lovely perennial for early summer whose….
….. tall inflorescences never fail to attract the attention of visitors – and bees! This one looks like the Dutch cultivar Eremurus x isabellinus ‘Romance’.
I was intrigued by the ten turf circles in the central path through the meadow. The path lets visitors stroll from one end to the other, but the playful circles relieve the tedium of this long expanse of purposeful gravel.
They are so unlike Piet’s characteristic naturalistic style, but in fact they point to his pragmatic design knowledge and site adaptability. (Yes, he designs woodlands and knows shrubs and trees as well as his favourite perennials!)
I was reminded in studying these circles of my own visit to Piet and Anja’s garden in Hummelo, Netherlands in 1999 which was designed in part to reflect one of his early Dutch influences, the great designer Mien Ruys (1904-99), the so-called “mother of modernist gardens”. Both his famous hedges and circle gardens, below, were his interpretation of what has been called “contemporary formalism” by his frequent literary collaborator Noel Kingsbury.
I feel very fortunate to have spoken with Piet then, at the beginning of his international fame. I made a photo of him at their outdoor table with spring-flowering shrubs in flower around us. Anja was in their nursery (gone now) with customers, and their little dog sat in a chair nearby.
Back to Oudolf Field, the overwhelming mood here on June 9th was of soft pastel mauves and blues amidst the emerging green of the grasses and summer perennials. Eastern beebalm (Monarda bradburiana) native to the American southeast was in full flower in front of the blue blossoms of narrowleaf bluestar (Amsonia hubrichtii), a south-central American native that turns brilliant chartreuse-gold in autumn. Emerging through the grasses were the big starry globes of star-of-Persia allium (A.cristophii).
I had never seen Monarda bradburiana before spotting it in Piet’s design at the High Line years ago. Like many of the plants he uses – and sometimes introduces to commerce – it has withstood his field testing at Hummelo. This compact species has the good characteristics of the beebalms, including pollinator appeal, without the negative drawbacks, such as powdery mildew.
Early June, following the explosion of spring bulbs and before the summer abundance of flowering perennials is sometimes considered an “in-between” time in the garden. That quiet interlude is helped immensely by the many ornamental onions, and Piet uses them to great advantage in all his gardens, both for their flowers and later seedheads. Below, again, you see Allium cristophii along with the Corten steel edging used to delineate the beds.
After seeing Allium atropurpureum, below, amidst grasses, I came back to Canada and immediately ordered some for my own June garden.
Here is Allium atropurpureum with Amsonia hubrichtii.
… and with Oenothera lindheimeri, i.e. gaura.
Looking back to the gallery through the gardens, including dark-leaved penstemons.
Piet uses various low grasses as matrix plants, including Sporobolus heterolepis, below, and Sesleria autumnalis.
The weather was so warm the day we were there in this record-setting dry June, the assistant gardener was working full-time to water.
While the garden is situated within pre-existing hedges, Piet planted trees on the boundary to contain it further.
The Pavilion, designed by Chilean architect Smiljan Radić and installed in March 2015, sits at the end of Oudolf Field and is intended to “create a dialogue between the gallery complex and pavilion and their relationship with the garden”. Radić says it is “part of a history of small romantic constructions seen in parks or large gardens, the so-called follies.” Built of white, translucent fibreglass with cedar flooring and set atop large quarry stones, visitors can view the garden from within the shell.
Heading into the gallery for lunch, I passed the attractive bar — a work of art in itself.
It was a lunch I would have enjoyed much more if I hadn’t been feeling the beginnings of what turned out to be my first case of Covid in more than 3 years– and the unexpected and sudden end later that night of my wonderful English garden tour. But I was so delighted to have experienced yet another masterpiece in the always-varied oeuvre of Piet Oudolf.
Of all the gardens I’ve visited that merit the phrase ‘world-class’, Sissinghurst is near the top, along with neighbouring Great Dixter which I wrote about in my last blog post. It’s not vast in scope, like Philadelphia’s Chanticleer (which I’ve written about a few times), nor does it have the artistic allure of Monet’s garden at Giverny (my spring visit is here), but it has the cult of personality of its founders, the enigmatic author Vita Sackville-West, seen below in a 1918 painting by William Strang, and her diplomat husband Harold Nicolson. In what has been called “an unconventional but harmonious marriage” during which they wrote a combined 70 books, they each had a series of same-sex affairs including Vita with fellow Bloomsbury Group writer Virginia Woolf, who in 1928 wrote Orlando: A Biography, inspired by her lover: a time-travel, gender-bending novel that has been adapted as a film and stage play .
Harold and Vita were also parents of two sons, Nigel and Ben, though Nigel remembered his mother for her frequent abandonments to be with her lovers. In 1973, he would publish ‘Portrait of a Marriage’, incorporating a memoir he found after his mother’s death exploring what she called her “duality” and her relationships with women, along with his own observations of his parents’ loving marriage. But together, Vita and Harold were deeply committed to the garden they designed on the large, run-down property they purchased in 1930. Vita was the romantic plantswoman; Harold was in charge of structure. He created formal rooms hedged in yew; she filled them with old French roses, peonies, irises and spring bulbs. Beyond her novels and books containing her epic poems ‘The Land’ (1926) and ‘The Garden’ (1946), she also penned a weekly column titled In Your Garden in The Observer from 1946 to 1957, later published as a 4-book anthology, below, and still available online.
Sissinghurst was the reason for my early June stay in Kent, courtesy of my London-based son Doug and his partner Tommy. Since we arrived early from our lovely Airbnb in nearby Biddenden and the garden only opens at 11 am, we had lots of time to cool our heels, walking from the parking lot on a path between the timber fence where native red campion (Silene dioica) competed with stinging nettles (Urtica dioica).
We passed the plant shop, where visitors could buy roses….
…. or any number of perennials, below.
We took a moment to gaze across the green fields of Sissinghurst’s 460 acres on the Weald of Kent, of which 5 are intensively gardened and 180 acres are woodland. Here, visitors can walk their dogs, bird-watch and hike to their heart’s content. And thanks to writer Adam Nicolson, Vita and Harold’s grandson (and the husband of British garden maven Sarah Raven), we have a beautifully-written recollection of the farm fields that enlivened Sissinghurst and gave it real purpose when he was a boy – and his own quest to return the working farm to the estate. This is from the excerpted first chapter of his lyrical book Sissinghurst – A Castle’s Unfinished History (2010).
“Remembering what had been here, I came to realize what had gone: the sense that the landscape around the house and garden was itself a rich and living organism. By 2004, all that had been rubbed away. An efficiently driven tourist business, with an exquisite garden at its center, was now set in the frame of a rather toughened and empty landscape. It sometimes seemed as if Sissinghurst had become something like a Titian in a car park.”
We settled into the restaurant until opening time. One of the charms of Sissinghurst Castle Garden, which is run by the National Trust but relies heavily on volunteers, is that there are small touches like the pretty bouquets of flowers from the cutting garden. This one features biennial dame’s rocket (Hesperis matronalis) and foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea) with annual cornflowers (Centaurea cyanus), golden alexanders (Smyrnium perfoliatum) and corn cockle (Agrostemma githago).
This posy featured many of the purples, blues and pinks that Vita adored.
There was a display of blue glass in one of the café windows, presumably part of Vita’s collection of coloured glass.
Attached to the Granary Restaurant are the oasthouse and rondels. Built around 1880, they were still in use to dry and store hops for beer-brewing in 1966, a vital part of the hop-farming industry of Kent which continues to this day. Author George Orwell (1984, Animal Farm) picked hops in the region in the summer of 1931.
Sissinghurst’s garden rooms are shown on the map below:
A – Priest’s House & White Garden; B – Delos; C – Top Courtyard, West Range and Purple Border; D – Entrance; E – Tower and Lower Courtyard; F – Yew Walk; G – Orchard; H – Rose Garden; I – South Cottage and Cottage Garden; J – Moat Walk and Azaleas; K – Nuttery; L – Herb Garden; M – Lime Walk
I was first in line when the gates opened at 11 am, and as someone who has made “colour in the garden” a focus of my work, I wasted no time heading into one of the gardening world’s best-known meccas, the White Garden. Wrote Vita Sackville-West: “I am trying to make a grey, green, and white garden. This is an experiment which I ardently hope may be successful, though I doubt it … All the same, I cannot help hoping that the great ghostly barn owl will sweep silently across a pale garden, next summer, in the twilight — the pale garden that I am now planting under the first flakes of snow. ”
June is the perfect time to see a White Garden, as I would also discover in the beautiful version designed by Mat Reese at Malverleys later in the week. There are numerous white-flowered perennials, such as the bearded iris (possibly ‘White City’) and peony (likely ‘Festiva Maxima’), below…..
…. and lupines, softened by white-flowered umbellifers such as cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) and annual Ammi majus.
A statue stood in the shadow of a weeping silver pear tree (Pyrus salicifolia ‘Pendula). Alas, a sunny June day in England and Sissinghurst’s late opening time meant bright contrast for photography, but we garden tourists take what we can get.
Minoan lace flower (Orlaya grandiflora) has become increasingly popular as a self-seeding annual in gardens. White foxgloves and the white-flowered form of red valerian (Centranthus ruber ‘Albus’) add to the display, along with silvery artemisia.
Centaurea montana ‘Amethyst in Snow’ was introduced by my Facebook friend John Grimshaw of the Yorkshire Arboretum in 2000 and is now sold around the world, sometimes as ‘Purple Heart’.
When I was walking out of the White Garden past the Priest’s House to head into the new Delos Garden, I spied this bellflower growing on the wall. It is Dalmatian bellflower (Campanula portenschlagiana); perhaps unsurprisingly, it was once called C. muralis from the Latin ‘of walls’
Delos was a surprise. When we visited Sissinghurst for the first time more than 30 years ago, this part of the garden – originally inspired by a 1935 trip Vita and Harold made to the monument-rich Greek island – was not on view, or certainly unmemorable. In 2018, Sissinghurst head gardener Troy Scott-Smith asked landscape designer Dan Pearson to re-invent the space. Dan wrote a beautiful essay for his newsletter Dig Delve about the process, including a childhood recollection by Adam Nicolson.
An enthusiastic volunteer was on hand in the Delos Garden to help visitors with plant identification.
Wherever I went in England in June – including a visit to Dan Pearson’s garden the following week which I blogged about – I saw giant fennel. In Delos, Dan chose to use Ferula communis subsp. glauca. As he wrote in an essay in Dig Delve, “This is the most elegant of all, in my opinion, for its slender limbs and burnished dark green leaf. I have planted it amongst the rockscape of the re-imagined Delos Garden I recently designed at Sissinghurst.”
Like all giant fennels, it has a bright, yellow inflorescence.
In the garden stand three Greek marble altars originally brought from Delos in the 1820s, as Adam Nicolson recounted in Dig Delve. “There is one element that reaches further back into history than the dreams of the 1930s: three cylindrical Greek marble altars, originally carved in the 3rd or 4th century BC decorated around their waists with swags of grape, pomegranate and myrtle suspended between garlanded bull-heads – boukrania – which now stand at key intervals along the central street of the garden.”
Of their provenance, Adam wrote: “Harold Nicolson’s great-grandfather was Commodore William Gawen Rowan Hamilton, a naval commander in the first years of the nineteenth century, a heroic and romantic figure and passionate Philhellene, who spent the years from 1820 onwards in the eastern Mediterranean, winning the title of ‘Liberator of Greece’ by protecting the Greek rebels against the Turks From time to time during his cruises attacking pirates and fending off the Turk, he would land on an island or a piece of the Turkish-occupied mainland and quietly liberate an antiquity or two, sending them back to his liberal father-in-law in Ireland, Major-General Sir George Cockburn, a flamboyant antiquary who had made a collection of Greek statuary at Shanganagh, his castle outside Dublin.” It was when the Irish castle was sold in 1936 that Harold Nicholson purchased the Delian altars and brought them to Sissinghurst.
As an aside, these days Delos is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, its monuments safe from pirates of all stripes. When I visited in October 2011, below, it made me long to return in spring when the wildflowers were blooming.
Other Mediterranean flowers in the Delos garden include asphodels (Asphodeline lutea)….
…. pinks (Dianthus spp.)……
….. rock roses (Cistus) with happy hoverflies….
….. and the flamboyant red Paeonia perigrina with a visiting bumble bee.
Then it was out of the Delos Garden and off through the 16th century Tudor Tower that once held Vita’s writing room. Sissinghurst was owned by the Baker family from 1490. The first buildings were constructed around 1535 by Sir John Baker, Henry VIII’s Chancellor of the Exchequer. Sir John’s daughter Cicely married Thomas Sackville, 1st Earl of Dorset – thus a connection to Vita Sackville-West four centuries later. The tower, octagonal turret and a large courtyard house were built by Sir John’s son Richard Baker between 1560-1574; Queen Elizabeth I enjoyed a stay here at that time. The Baker family fortunes declined and two centuries later, the house and tower were requisitioned by the state to house 3,000 French prisoners-of-war during the Seven Years War 1756 -1763. There is still graffiti in French from those prisoners on the walls of the tower. Later it became a parish poorhouse and farm, including hop-growing. Around 1800, the main house was demolished by its new owner. When Vita and Harold bought Sissinghurst in 1930, she refurbished the three-storey tower, adding a fireplace to the ground floor room and creating a writing space and library for herself upstairs. It has recently been renovated, complete with her pink walls. During World War II, the tower was used as an observation post since the English Channel was effectively controlled by the Germans whose shelling of the Kent coastline and its towns, according to the BBC, led to the county being called “hellfire corner” and “bomb alley”. (Sissinghurst has a long history nicely encapsulated here by the National Trust who took over the property in 1967, five years after Vita’s death.)
I found this photo in a Heritage Records document for Sissinghurst.
Clambering up the back of the Tower was Lady Banks rose (Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’) …..
….. with its clusters of pale yellow roses.
The courtyard adjacent to the Tower contains Vita’s Purple Border. When I visited, it was filled with Gladiolus byzantinus subsp. byzantinus, below, also beloved by Christopher Lloyd and Fergus Garrett for the meadows at Great Dixter which I blogged about recently.
I loved the way the purple centres of Allium basalticum ‘Silver Spring’ echoed the colour of the gladioli.
There were so many lovely vignettes here, including the opium poppies (Papaver somniferum) with dame’s rocket (Hesperis matronalis), but time was a-marching.
Then it was into the Rose Garden, with its lush profusion of roses surrounded by early June flowers such as blue Italian alkanet (Anchusa azurea) with magenta foxgloves and euphorbia, below.
It was utterly magnificent – and a little heartbreaking for a photographer hoping for just one cloud to float by above to soften the shadows.
Vita loved her roses. This is ‘Fantin-Latour’, a Centifolia named for the Impressionist painter and introduced into the UK in 1945. Pruning and training of roses is taken very seriously at Sissinghurst. According to Sarah Raven, wife of Vita’s grandson Adam Nicolson, “The big leggy shrubs, which put out great, pliable, triffid arms that are easy to tie down and train, are bent on to hazel hoops arranged around the skirts of the plant. Roses with this lax habit include ‘Constance Spry’, ‘Fantin-Latour’, ‘Zéphirine Drouhin’, ‘Madame Isaac Pereire’…”
Irises play a starring role in the Rose Garden in June. This is the bearded iris ‘Shannopin’, a 1940 American introduction grown by Vita that looked utterly lovely with the alliums just going over.
Siberian iris (Iris sibirica) grow in the mix in the Rose Garden, here with dame’s rocket (Hesperis matronalis) and red campion (Silene dioica).
Annual honeywort (Cerinthe major ‘Purpurascens’) with its sensuous blue bracts is used extensively at Sissinghurst, here with ranunculus.
Yellow lupines make an appearance in the Rose Garden as well. (I’ve read the odd comment that yellow is discordant in this garden, but when you already have a Purple Border filled with purple, mauve, blue and pink flowers, it seems to me that the odd splash of yellow is perfectly fine.)
Moving out of the Rose Garden, I found the Lime Walk: an allée of pleached linden trees (Tilia platyphyllos ‘Rubra’). Unlike the rest of the gardens at Sissinghurst, this was all Harold Nicolson’s creation, not Vita’s – he called it “my life’s work”. It is underplanted with masses of spring bulbs, making overplanting difficult, thus it looked a little bare in early June.
The statue at its terminus is a Bacchante commissioned by the National Trust from sculptor Simon Smith who carved it using Carrara marble from the Cava di Michelangelo and installed it in 2016. On his page, the artist says: “The sculpture depicts a dancing girl, slightly drunk, who has suddenly noticed something in the distance”. What could it be?
If he were a little closer, she might have noticed the young man below, standing in a shade-dappled carpet of ferns in The Nuttery. In the spring of 1930, when Harold and Vita were considering whether to buy Sissinghurst with its ruined buildings, Harold wrote: ‘We come suddenly upon a nut walk and that settles it…’ The garden features 56 coppiced hazels (Corylus avellana) and a variety of woodland plants.
The Moat Walk features Wisteria floribunda ‘Alba’ espaliered on a brick wall facing an azalea bank across the lawn.
After the cool green of the Lime Walk and Nuttery, the South Cottage Garden — my final stop — was a burst of June sunshine with its warm palette of yellow, chartreuse, orange and red. I would have stayed here a long time if we hadn’t had to find lunch before visiting Great Dixter in the afternoon.
You can see a little of the South Cottage behind the geums and irises….
…. and the wallflowers. When Vita and Harold bought Sissinghurst in 1930, the cottage was a fragment of the ruins of the original 1570 house. They restored and extended it that decade and it became the intimate place where each had a bedroom and Harold had his office overlooking the garden.
The colours here seem to glow, including the lacy yellow fumitory (Corydalis lutea), hakonechloa grass and golden iris….
…. and the night-scented flowers of the unusual evening primrose Oenothera stricta ‘Sulphurea’.
Corn poppies (Papaver rhoeas) were sprinkled about….
…. and it was a thrill, in my final moments at Sissinghurst, to glimpse the last of all tulips to flower, the tall, blazing-red Tulipa sprengeri. What a joy this sunny June garden was, as were the pale flowers in the White Garden and the abundance of the Rose Garden.
I will leave the last words to Vita Sackville-West, from her poem The Garden (1945)
Sweet June. Is she of Summer or of Spring, Of adolescence or of middle-age? A girl first marvelling at touch of lovers Or else a woman growing ripely sage? Between the two she delicately hovers, Neither too rakish nor, as yet, mature. She’s not a matron yet, not fully sure; Neither too sober nor elaborate; Not come to her fat state. She has the leap of youth, she has the wild Surprising outburst of an earnest child. Sweet June, dear month, while yet delay Wistful reminders of a dearer May; June, poised between, and not yet satiate.
My early June visit to Great Dixter, the renowned English garden of the late Christopher “Christo” Lloyd (1921-2006), now artfully and creatively managed by his dear friend, fellow iconoclast and head gardener Fergus Garrett, wasn’t on my original itinerary when my London-based eldest son Doug and his partner Tommy treated me to a weekend in Kent. Months earlier, I had asked them if it would be possible to visit Sissinghurst prior to my joining Portland-based Carex Tours the following week to visit gardens such as Dan Pearson’s Hillside, Malverleys, Yews Farm (you can click on the links to see my blogs on those lovely places), Oudolf Field and others. We stayed in a lovely Airbnb in the pastoral countryside near Biddenden, enjoyed a wine-tasting of Kent’s sparkling white wines at Balfour Winery and zipped around the narrow, hedge-lined byways in our rental car. But on our Sissinghurst morning, I realized how close we’d be to Dixter (just 11 miles into neighbouring East Sussex) and asked if there might be time to squeeze in a late afternoon visit between lunch and our dinner reservation. I had last visited Great Dixter 31 years earlier when Doug was studying at Cambridge but much had changed in that time.
So that is how on June 4th – without benefit of the highly recommended garden map, below…..
….or prior research, or even physical orientation on a frightfully sunny afternoon (the photographer’s curse, apologies in advance) – I found myself walking into the colourful profusion of the Barn Garden (the red arrow on the map above shows my entrance), with the 500-year old Great Barn directly ahead. Restored in 2012, it is now used for ‘green’ woodworking, rural crafts, and to house the boiler that heats the manor house. What I didn’t realize upon entering was that my view across to the Great Barn was actually over a lower central pool terrace with its own planting, called the Sunk Garden. But up here, the effect was of a classic English cottage garden, all tumble and charm, yet very carefully managed and edited throughout the season.
As I turned right, I walked towards the White Barn (you can see the juxtaposition of the two barns on the map above) with its espaliered fig tree on the wall. Flanking the path and cascading over it were white cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris), mauve sweet rocket (Hesperis matronalis), magenta Byzantine gladiolus (G. communis subsp. byzantinus), buttercups, daisies, lupines, foxgloves, alliums and poppies.
In the garden alongside the barn, I was treated to an eye-popping display of spring-blooming yellow alexanders (Smyrnium perfoliatum) punctuated with Byzantine gladiolus. Yellow alexanders has become popular in recent years as a brilliant foil to late tulips and early summer perennials and bulbs; a monocarpic plant, it takes two or three years to flower, then dies. At Dixter, its black seeds are carefully harvested as the finished plants are removed to be grown on as seedlings for the garden or to the nursery shop.
Further on, the scarlet ladybird poppies (Papaver commutatum) held their own nicely against the acid-chartreuse of the yellow alexanders.
This lovely poppy with its prominent black blotches seems to have more presence than its cousin, the corn poppy (Papaver rhoeas). I have photographed it paired beautifully with Orlaya grandiflora in the Gravel Garden at Chanticleer.
Mixed in are late spring garden favourites like peony.
I circled the Barn Garden until I was looking across the Sunk Garden at the White Barn through Ladybird poppies and yellow Baptisia. Here you can clearly see the arrangement of the garden, as well as the espaliered ‘Brunswick’ fig (Ficus carica) on the White Barn wall. Wrote Christopher Lloyd: “The fig trees against the far barn wall were a Lutyens touch which you meet on other properties where he worked. They are there for foliage effect and he used the many-fingered Brunswick fig as being one of the most decorative.” Sir Edwin Luytens, of course, was the renowned architect who renovated Great Dixter and designed some of the gardens for Christopher’s father and mother Nathaniel and Daisy Lloyd when they purchased the property in 1910.
The Sunk Garden was originally a lawn; during the First World War, it was turned into a vegetable garden. After the war, this octagonal pool was created…..
… in which grew a pretty combination of Siberian iris (Iris sibirica) and calla lily (Zantedeschia aethiopica).
The stone ledges in the Sunk Garden, featuring tiny Mexican daisy (Erigeron karvinskianus), were as artfully wild as the plantings above.
Leaving the Barn Garden I entered the Wall Garden. Here, hot oranges, golds and reds played off the colour of the bricks in the wall.
One of the horticultural legacies of Christopher Lloyd’s career is the introduction of a popular spurge called Euphorbia griffithii ‘Dixter’. I’m not sure if this is that cultivar, but it’s a good orange touch.
It’s not all blazing colour in the gardens; there are wonderful, small vignettes in shade that offer a little visual stillness, like this one featuring striped lily-of-the-valley (Convallaria majalis ‘Albostriata’).
And some perennials stand aloof from the crowd, like Thalictrum aquilegolium.
As I left the Wall Garden, I got a little lost. The scene below with its pretty white partners – Allium stipitatum ‘Mount Everest’, Orlaya grandiflora and oxeye daisy – might have been in the Peacock Garden; then again, perhaps the Blue Garden. With such a short time to visit, I just kept moving.
Here you see native cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) rising above all. It was in bloom wherever we drove throughout the Kent and Sussex countryside and Fergus Garrett uses it judiciously in the gardens for its airy effect, being careful to pull it before it goes to seed.
Biennial dyer’s woad (Isatis tinctoria) — a plant Fergus Garrett calls “much underestimated” — is also used for its great cloud of sulphur-yellow flowers in late spring. Here it partners with blue false indigo (Baptisia australis) and oxeye daisies.
Finally I arrived at Great Dixter’s crown jewel, the Long Border. One of the original gardens conceived by Christopher Lloyd’s mother Daisy and maintained by her staff of 9 gardeners …..
Photo courtesy of the Great Dixter Charitable Trust
Fergus Garrett has described gardening at Dixter as “high octane”, and nowhere is that term more apt than in this border, which stretches 330 feet long (100 metres) and 15 feet deep (4.5 metres). Here are many of the plants seen elsewhere in the garden, but somehow exhibiting a more formal presence when arrayed in front of the clipped hedges. Like all the gardens here, the Long Border uses succession planting, taking advantage of the students and international ‘scholars’ who launch their careers here, to lift plants that are past their season and replace them with annuals and biennials. Or, as Fergus has said of this process, “high input, high output”. Self-seeding is encouraged, but monitored closely.
“Boldly go”. I borrowed this blog’s title from Star Trek but it applies equally to the colours at Great Dixter. Christopher Lloyd loved the bold and brash and was dismissive of the “good taste club”; I like that unafraid, idiosyncratic approach to gardening.
He wrote about the ladybird poppy, Papaver commutatum, in his book “Color for Adventurous Gardeners”, which is on my bookshelf, recommending it be planted under the white burnet Sanguisorba tenuifolia ‘Alba’. I think he would be just as thrilled to see it consorting boldly with yellow alexanders, below.
The foxgloves, below, are Digitalis purpurea ‘Sutton’s Apricot’. Seeds of this biennial are sold in glassine packages in Great Dixter’s shop.
I found a bit of shade in the Long Border and you can see how much better the plants look without the harsh contrast of full afternoon sun.
Yellow Jerusalem sage (Phlomis fruticosa) is used extensively in the Long Border, and plants are sold in the shop.The white allium is A. nigrum.
There were textural bits of shade in the Long Border that caught my eye, like the sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis) and euphorbia, below.
I love these green vignettes, with little pinpricks of colour.
Then there are the meadows. There is a striking contrast between the Arts and Crafts formality of the sculpted yews in the Topiary Lawn – once used as a practice golf-putting range by Nathaniel Lloyd – and the orchid-rich meadow in which they stand. As noted in the book Meadows at Great Dixter and Beyond by Christopher Lloyd, re-issued in 2016 with an introduction by Fergus Garrett, the Topiary lawn is one of “a dozen different meadow habitats” at Dixter, providing a high degree of biodiversity.
It was Daisy Lloyd who introduced the first meadows to Great Dixter and to her youngest son Christopher, below, the only one of her six children who shared her passion for gardening. He was a boy when the Lloyds took him to Munstead Wood to visit Gertrude Jekyll, who wrote later to say she hoped he’d grow up to be a great gardener. He was just 12 when his father died in 1933, at which time Daisy assumed management of the estate, in time helped by Christopher. She died in 1972 at age 91.
Photo courtesy of the Great Dixter Charitable Trust
When I was in the Topiary Lawn in early June, there were oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare); buttercups (Ranunculus repens); clover; a yellow, dandelion-like composite (possibly Hypochaeris radicata); mauve-pink common spotted orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsia); and yellow rattle (Rhinanthus minor). Earlier in spring, the meadows feature various species narcissus, snakeshead fritillary and camassia. Meadow-cutting is done in August and September, and the seed-rich hay is made available to locals to encourage them to reduce their lawns and embrace the great biodiversity of meadow gardening. Fergus Garrett also gives lectures to help gardeners in the meadow-making process.and his good friend, designer and writer Dan Pearson has been gifted meadow sweepings in exchange for lecturing at Dixter in the hope of introducing orchids to the meadows at Hillside, his Somerset garden.
Common spotted orchid is one of four orchid species to thrive at Great Dixter. The others are early purple (Orchis mascula), green-winged (Anacamptis morio) and twayblade (Neottia ovata).
Annual yellow rattle, aka hay rattle, is semi-parasitic to grasses, reducing their competition and enabling the orchids and other wildflowers to gain a stronger foothold.
Much has been written about the great biodiversity at Great Dixter. As Fergus Garrett writes in this Gardens Illustrated article, “Archaeologists, naturalists, ecologists, botanists and entomologists were commissioned to carry out the survey dividing the Great Dixter Estate into different zones such as the woodlands, pasture and meadows, formal ornamental gardens, ponds, and the Plant Fair Field. Each zone was surveyed and the findings fed to one principal ecologist who analysed and pulled the information together in a report. The results were astonishing. As expected, the wider estate with its ancient woodlands, pastures and meadows, and ponds was extremely rich. But, surprisingly the richest part of all was the ornamental garden.”
In longer grass, meadow cranesbill (Geranium pretense) and Byzantine gladiolus (G. communis subsp. byzantinus) thrive.
Christopher Lloyd was very fond of this rich-magenta gladiolus (which is sadly often sold as the paler, shorter G. italicus) and wrote in his book Garden Flowers (2000): “The gladiolus which most endears itself to me is the prolific G. communis subsp. byzantinus, long known as G. byzantinus… It tucks into many border positions where it will not get in the way after flowering, for example up against a group of border phloxes . . . . Another use of it I fancy is in a meadow community, where it holds its own well.”
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And that brings me to Christopher Lloyd. Gardens are about people, of course, and Great Dixter, like nearby Sissinghurst, is known for its larger-than-life founding personality. Though I was never introduced to Christo, I did sit beside him in October 1989 at the Third Great Gardening Conference at the Civic Garden Centre in Toronto (now the Toronto Botanical Garden). He was due to speak at the conference, along with his dear friend Beth Chatto, but jet lag being what it is he nodded off a few times and I gazed fondly at the top of his silvery head bent beside me. Below is the advertisement for that event. Three years later, I visited Great Dixter but he was away on that May 1992 day.
You get a good sense of his crusty personality in this lovely memorial video by Allan Titchmarsh, produced in 2006:
It was during a 2001 lecture tour to North America marking his 80th birthday that Christopher and Fergus were hosted in Toronto by my friends, Geoffrey and Susan Dyer, both passionate gardeners. At the time, Geoffrey was on the board of the Civic Garden Centre, soon to be the Toronto Botanical Garden, and it was in their home that the seed of a possible future for Great Dixter was sown. As Geoffrey recalls: “We were having a drink in the evening and I just asked them quite casually, what’s going to happen (to Dixter)? I didn’t know the particulars of the ownership arrangement… but I knew he didn’t have a spouse and he didn’t have heirs… and the consequence of inheritance tax in the UK and that kind of thing is something people have to plan for.” When Cristopher replied that his accountant had been pressing him about future plans, Geoffrey said: “I’m not qualified in the UK but I’ve worked around that area fairly extensively in my law practice, so if there’s anything I can try to help with, I’d be happy to do it.” In fact, Geoffrey’s Toronto-based law practice specializes in estate and taxation law so he was the perfect person to pose questions to his guests about succession. That summer, the Dyers were invited to stay at Great Dixter where the first meetings to establish the Great Dixter Charitable Trust (GDCT) took place. Twenty-two years after that drink with Christopher Lloyd and Fergus Garrett, Geoffrey Dyer remains the Chairman of the GDCT, and writes the charity’s annual Review of the Year.
I last saw Fergus Garrett at an April 2018 lecture he gave to a packed house at the Toronto Botanical Garden, below. Says Geoffrey Dyer: “The Christopher Lloyd legacy is alive and well, but Fergus is Dixter today. His energy, his charisma, his intelligence, his vision – it’s absolutely huge.”
It was a pleasure to visit Great Dixter, to enjoy its bold plantings, and to reacquaint myself with the story of the people that have made it the great garden it remains today.
The 11th edition of my year of fairy crowns for June 13th features the indigo-blue spikes of woodland sage Salvia nemorosa ‘May Night’ (‘Mainacht’) and ‘Caradonna’; the soft lavender-blue of ‘Dropmore’ catmint (Nepeta x faassenii); the airy purple globes of Allium cristophii; the tiny white flowers of graceful Clematis recta ‘Purpurea’; the almost-hidden flowers of native ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius); and a few cheerful sprigs of old-fashioned yellow loosestrife (Lysimachia punctata).
My front yard pollinator garden begins its serious work in June, when the woodland sage (Salvia nemorosa) and catmint (Nepeta ‘Dropmore’) come into flower. It’s been a few weeks since the final brilliant tulips and camassia withered and the garden settled into a quiet green period.
Now the sage’s deep-blue or pink spikes and catmint’s pale-lavender racemes impart a soft quality to this little garden amidst the lush foliage of the emerging summer perennials.
The spiked flowers of the woodland sage and the cloud-like blossoms of catmint contrast beautifully with each other. Though neither is native to my region – both originate in Europe – I had no hesitation in including them in my garden. Interestingly, ‘Dropmore’ catmint is an ultra-hardy Canadian cultivar bred in 1932 by Dr. Frank Skinner in Dropmore, Manitoba, a cross between Nepeta mussinii and N. ucranica. Its silvery, mint-scented foliage forms a large, attractive clump and is easy to divide in spring. My woodland sages are a mix of no-name varieties, most of which were included in a four-pack of perennials, along with milkweed, to support monarch butterflies.
As a photographer, I have always had a keen interest in capturing the ageless evolutionary pact between flowers and insects that sees nectar and pollen exchanged for pollination services. Translated: I love photographing bees! And catmint with its bumble bees…
…. and sage with its honey bees are perfect models for insect photographers.
In the back garden, June brings the ebullient flowering of the herbaceous clematis, C. recta ‘Purpurea’. Unlike its vining cousins, this clematis – sometimes called ground virginsbower – is bushy and covered with masses of tiny, scented, white flower clusters.
Because its abundant, slender stems grow about 4 feet tall (1.3 m), it tends to collapse in a heap once in full bloom, so I added a filigreed, iron screen behind it to make it fall forward, at least. It benefits aesthetically from its juxtaposition with the white-edged hostas nearby.
It also attracts native bees and hoverflies and makes a useful, frothy filler in June bouquets.
There’s an old-fashioned perennial that flowers in one of my borders now called yellow loosestrife (Lysimachia punctata). It’s one of those plants gardeners buy before they develop ‘sophisticated’ taste, and later find a comfort because they come back reliably each year, have no pests, and ask no special care. They are tough.
In the border, yellow loosestrife nestles itself between large hostas, tolerates an insistent regiment of ostrich ferns at its back, and manages to hold off June’s ubiquitous weeds, including enchanter’s nightshade, garlic mustard and wood avens. Weeds, of course, are part of the gardener’s lot and early summer is paradoxically the most joyfully floriferous and alarmingly out-of-control time of the gardening year. If attacked now, weeds can be kept at a manageable level. Or, as I have discovered, they can be largely ignored and the “manageable level” becomes a moving target. The secret is not to stress too much.
Beside the yellow loosestrife, I planted a few star-of-Persia alliums (Allium cristophii). They are now seeding through the border, their big, lilac umbels very attractive to bumble bees…..
….. and other native bees like Agapostemon virescens.
In a back corner of my garden is a large, native ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius) that blooms now with spirea-like clusters of small, white flowers that cover the shrub and attract native bees.
After the flowers fade, the seedheads turn an attractive red that seems like a second flowering (see below); in late autumn, the foliage turns yellow. Garden experts often describe ninebark as “coarse” and I have to agree; more problematic is that branches often die off and have to be removed. Like lilac, ninebark can be rejuvenated by pruning back the oldest stems to the ground, a practice that encourages the newer stems, more productive stems to grow.
Finally, a “quiet” little bouquet to celebrate this “quiet” time in the late spring garden, before the summer perennials hit their stride.
Last June, I was privileged to visit several gardens in the Denver area owned by horticultural professionals with connections to the city’s wonderful Denver Botanic Gardens. Home gardeners in the area know former Director of Horticulture Rob Proctor from his longstanding appearances on television, but he and partner David Macke have a stunning garden filled with colour, billowing borders and myriad beautiful seating areas. I wrote about their garden here. Plant collectors and alpine enthusiasts around the globe know Panayoti Kelaidis, Senior Curator and Director of Outreach for the DBG. I blogged here about the fabulous hillside garden he shares with his partner Jan Fas. Today I’m going to introduce you to the charming, plant-rich garden of DBG Curator of Native Plants and Associate Director of Horticulture Dan Johnson and his partner Tony Miles in Englewood. Let’s get off the bus and check out the heavenly “hell strip”, that bit of civic real estate formerly known as “the boulevard”. You don’t even have to go into the garden to understand that the homeowners here have some serious horticultural chops. I see penstemons, alliums, foxtail lily, columbines and so much more.
Looking the other way, there are California poppies and bearded irises… even a little pink rose!
A magenta pool of delosperma meanders through the sedum and alliums. In the background are white prickly poppies (Argemone sp).
I love a garden that bestows a gift on the street, and Dan and Tony’s garden has a spirit of ebullient generosity that makes their neighbourhood a joyous place. Verbascums, irises, alliums and opium poppies….
…..occupy a niche garden against a pretty stucco wall along the city sidewalk.
Here’s the adobe-flavoured front porch! It’s as if every cool garden accessory shop in the southwest decided to open a pop-up store here at this house in suburban Denver.
Let’s amble past the tall, blue ceramic pot with its palm, standing in its own boxwood-hedged corner….
…. and climb the steps so we can get a better look at the slumbering Medusa with her euphorbia dreadlocks and try to count all the pots on the ground and hanging from hooks….
….. containing specimens of cacti…. Hmmm, I’ve lost count. So let’s just enjoy the view and the sound of the wind-chimes and all the splashes of colour…..
…. and fine workmanship that turns a few plant hangers into a work of art.
When I visit a complex garden like this, I often wonder how much time the owners actually take to sit down and enjoy a meal or glass of wine, but this is a lovely spot…..
….. with the splash of the fountain in the container water garden nearby.
Let’s explore the front garden a little, with its mix of perennials in the shade of a big conifer…..
……and its birdhouse-toting elephants.
Our time here is so limited and we need to see the back of the garden, which is just beyond this cool arch and gate.
The back of the house is more about getting right into the garden….
…. past the corn poppies (Papaver rhoeas)….
…. and the potted agave…..
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…. with the yuccas nearby.
What an interesting journey awaits, and we can go in a few directions. Let’s head towards the purple shed way in the back left corner.
I love this combination of foxtail lily (Eremurus) and perfectly coordinated horned poppy (probably Glaucium corniculatum, though these Denver gardeners grow some interesting glauciums).
There are several water features, big and small, in the garden. This ever-pouring bottle emptying into a shell full of marbles is so simple and lovely.
There are little points of interest on the way, like this lovely bearded iris with spiral wire sculpures….
…. that perfectly echo the airy star-of-Persia alliums (Allium cristophii).
I like this carved panel, tucked into the fence and adorned with honeysuckle.
A little further along the path, we pass a drift of orange California poppies (Eschscholzia californica) and penstemons. Note the urn water feature at the left, spilling into the small pond, which in turn spills into the larger pond below.
We come finally to the larger koi pond and its iron sculpture.
The shed walls feature artfully-screened mirrors that reflect light and the leafy garden (and some tired bloggers relaxing and enjoying the view).
There are also some very cool tentacled pots filled with succulents adorning the wall.
On the other side of the garden from the pond are beds filled with June irises, poppies and alliums and more interesting sculptures….
…. including a glass globe artfully displayed on a cool sculptural column.
One of the sad realities of a garden tour is that the day is very tightly scheduled with lots of wonderful stops along the way. If I’d had the time, I would have made my way back to Dan and Tony’s garden in better light (and with fewer of my fellow bloggers in the garden), as I did with Rob Proctor and David Macke’s garden. I feel as if I only absorbed half of what these artists have done in this colourful paradise in Englewood. But it’s time to head back to the bus, past this little shady corner filled with textural foliage plants and another sculpture.
As I walk under a conifer, I catch a flash of movement above. Looking up, I see a little wren having its lunch on the boughs.
It seems that humans aren’t the only visitors that appreciate what this lovely Colorado garden has to offer.
