Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature

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Today I’m posting more photos of flowers that I’ve only ever seen at Fullers Mill. (There are lots of plants that I’ve seen for the first time there.) This plant is Galactites tomentosus, also known as purple milk thistle. The ‘purple’ in the common name is essential to avoid confusion with Silybum marianum, the plant more usually known by the name ‘milk thistle’.

Galactites tomentosus is an annual or biennial, depending on the growing conditions. It grows wild around the Mediterranean and, as you would expect, prefers sun and well-drained soil. Grown for the look of both its flowers and leaves, the seeds of this attractive thistle and a very striking white form (‘Alba’) are easily available online.

Like Silybum marianum, this thistle has green leaves that are strongly marked with white, giving it its common name. Last October I photographed the basal rosette of leaves of a young plant. These leaves persist through the winter, adding interest to gardens at a quiet time. (Although I have seen varying statements of its hardiness, some suggesting that it is fully hardy, and others saying that the leaves may die back in a severe winter.) The very prickly young plants that I saw last autumn will be amongst those that are in flower now.

It’s not just the leaves that are prickly; the photo below shows the spines on the buds and the outer bracts that surround the flowers. What a contrast to the soft appearance of the pinky-purple flowers and the downy fluff of the seeds! The plant adds a touch of drama to a border…but I’d reckon on even more drama if a gardener happens to get spiked on it while weeding nearby. Ouch!

That slight risk will be worth it for wildlife gardeners though. When I photographed it, I noticed that the flowers were very busy with bumblebees. Galactites attracts other pollinators too, including hoverflies, butterflies and moths. Later in the year, the seeds are eaten by goldfinches. It’s not just pretty, or prickly, but very useful too.

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On my frequent visits to Fullers Mill Garden (near Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk) I often see unfamiliar plants. The flower above caught my attention as something that I hadn’t seen before. It belongs to a Calycanthus, a shrub also known as Carolina allspice or sweetshrub.

The flowers look very different to anything I’ve seen on a shrub before. The first time I saw one was on a very still day. The flower was a softly faded deep rose and its petals (actually tepals) seemed rigid and sturdy, and somehow rather unreal in the stillness. At first glance that flower almost had the look of being finely carved out of wood. A strange impression, and one that I didn’t get when I saw them this year, as a lively breeze made sure that everything was in frequent movement.

That breeze means I cannot tell you what the scent was like. I think I missed out there! Sweetshrub is known for its fruity scent, described by the RHS as ‘combining hints of pineapple, strawberry and banana’. Next time I’ll need to have a good sniff at the flowers. (Actually, this looks like it may be either Calycanthus ‘Aphrodite’ or C. ‘Hartlage Wine’, both of which are said to also have scent from the leaves and bark…even more to have a good sniff at.)

As you can see from the photo below, the leaves are large in comparison to the flowers. Calycanthus are big shrubs, which can reach a height and spread of 3M or more…a bit much for my over-stuffed garden. So I may not have the space to grow one, but I know where to go to enjoy those magenta-plum flowers, and, if I’m lucky, perhaps the scent too.

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The brightly-coloured flowers shown here are Welsh poppies (Papaver cambricum, formerly known as Meconopsis cambrica). Their citrus-coloured orange and yellow tones brought a touch of liveliness to an otherwise green and quiet spot in a mix of sunshine and partial shade.

These perennial poppies are native to Wales, parts of the west of England and some areas of Western Europe. They are widely planted in gardens too. I grew the yellow one in my previous garden in Scotland, where it was suited to the generally moist soil. They can spread themselves around a lot from seed. However, I was usually happy to see them popping up when they brightened up the cooler, shady areas of that garden.

The Welsh poppy is a plant that I wouldn’t try to grow in my present garden, because the drier and hotter conditions here wouldn’t suit it. Instead I’d go for one of the other Papaver species that are more likely to cope with a very well-drained soil. Wild Papaver rhoeas, the annual field poppy, seeds itself around my garden, so one of its cultivars would probably do well. There’s the lovely P. rhoeas ‘Pandora’, whose petals are a mix of deep and rosy red, striped with a soft grey. Then there’s the delicate pastels or deeper colours of the Shirley poppy, and the very tempting silvery-blue shades of P. rhoeas ‘Amazing Grey’.

Another poppy that I’ll probably try is the gorgeous plum-purple Papaver somniferum ‘Lauren’s Grape’, which would look right at home amongst the other deep purple shades in my garden. (I’d like to see it contrasted with plants that have silvery leaves to add a dash of drama to a border.)

Other poppies that cope with dry conditions include the California poppy (Eschscholzia californica) – I see the annual orange flowers reappear every year as they seed themselves around a nearby garden. In the past I’ve grown a rosy-red cultivar called ‘Carmine King’ and it’s one that I’ll sow again. It’s one of many poppies that should do well here, so, happily, I have plenty to choose from.

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I haven’t seen white asphodel for years, perhaps because it’s not easily available to buy in UK garden centres. That seems a pity to me, because it likes sunny, well-drained sites, so would do well around here. (If I’m honest, I have to admit that I’d forgotten about this plant until I came across it at Fullers Mill recently.)

The white, star-shaped flowers, each petal with its central brown pinstripe, are most attractive. They’re a bit like a camassia in form, but the flowers last for longer. White asphodel (Asphodelus albus) is a native Mediterranean plant that can flower from late spring into June and July.

Many years ago I did try growing asphodel in my garden in Scotland. I had great hopes of being able to take lots of photographs of these unusually-marked flowers. Sadly, it was not to be, because the plant didn’t survive its first winter. It’s said to be hardy down to between -5°C and -10°C, so probably wasn’t killed by winter cold. The soil in our Scottish garden was fairly heavy clay and could get quite wet in winter, so I think it’s more likely that the roots simply rotted.

It’s a plant that would probably be very happy growing in this garden, so I could try growing it again here. If you’re tempted to try it too, just be aware that it is somewhat toxic to both humans and animals, so might not be a good choice if you have little children or pets that are inclined to put things in their mouths. (That’s true of a surprising number of garden plants!) Now I shall be on the lookout for these delightfully striped flowers again…

The brown pinstripe adds to the good looks of the flowers and buds of white asphodel.

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I’ve written about flowers changing colour before, so you may be aware that it’s something that intrigues me. This peony, which looks likely to be ‘Coral Sunset’ or ‘Coral Charm’, is a plant that I hadn’t come across until I saw it at Fullers Mill a few days ago.

The progression in colours is the result of aging as the flower matures. As it opens from the bud, the flower starts off as a deep coral colour, gradually lightening to a more peachy colour and eventually turns a pale cream (top photo) before the petals drop. With all the variations in colour together, the shrub makes a spectacular sight.

Flowers can fade in some plants after they have been pollinated. The plant no longer needs to maintain the pigments in the aging flowers and can put its energies elsewhere. The loss of colour may also be a signal to bees to leave these flowers alone and seek pollen in those that are more strongly-coloured, therefore fresher. (Other factors can affect colour in some flowers, such as soil pH, light levels, temperature, and the need to attract different kinds of pollinators.)

The reasons for colour change are based on the needs of the plant, however it has a great attraction for gardeners. Nature’s floral displays are aimed at pollinators but we love them too. (I just wish I’d been able to get a bit closer to this peony, so that I could have photographed some close-ups of the darker flowers…maybe next time!)

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The rain over the last week or two has been welcome and has left the garden refreshed and green. During winter we had a lot of rain here and it meant that there was enough moisture in the soil to get everything off to a good start in early spring. There was lots of blossom on the ornamental cherry and the fruit trees and all the early spring plants flowered well. But recently we have had a dry spell that left growth sparse and plants looking a bit tired.

After a few days of rain, all the plants seem to have bulked up. Everything is greener and bigger. It feels as if I’ve turned my back for a moment and all the spaces in the garden have suddenly filled in. Now I’ll have to start playing referee and cut back some plants that are trying to smother their neighbours.

These Siberian irises have benefitted from the few days of damp weather, which has left them perked up and vibrant. They are growing in a very small ‘bog garden’, created from an old tent groundsheet that retains some moisture in the soil around them…as long as I remember to water it!

When I was much younger, I realised that I had become a keen gardener when I welcomed the rain. Years later, we are dealing with a much hotter and drier climate here. (We are just entering a heatwave this weekend.) Now I know just how precious the rain can be! Of course, that doesn’t stop me from taking pleasure in the opportunity to sit outside and enjoy the plants around me on a warm and sunny day.

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A visit to Fullers Mill a couple of weeks ago allowed me to discover that they have an attractive collection of ‘bleeding hearts’ flowers, both Dicentra formosa cultivars and the Lamprocapnos spectabilis that you see above. (In the past, both of these were in the same genus, but scientists decided that Dicentra spectabilis really wasn’t a Dicentra after all, and called it Lamprocapnos. This new, tongue-twisty name was not the best news for us gardeners, and I’m using copy and paste to make sure I spell it right.)

As you can see from the photos below, they certainly look like they are very closely related. But the Dicentra has smaller leaves that emerge straight from the ground, whereas the Lamprocapnos has leaves on long stems that also hold the flowers. The flower stems of Dicentras do not have any leaves. So much for that, I doubt that the bee enjoying the Lamprocapnos cares!

The photo below, from a post a couple of years ago, shows a close up of Dicentra flowers and it’s easy to see why the very similar Lamprocapnos flowers were thought to be the same genus for so long. The plant here is one from my own garden, Dicentra formosa ‘Aurora’. It’s really too hot for it here but it’s surviving. It may do a bit better if I transfer it to a place with more shade.

When I still lived in Scotland, I grew Dicentra formosa ‘Langtrees’ in the garden. It’s a lovely white flowered cultivar, very similar to ‘Aurora’, but with much more grey/blue leaves. I found it at Fullers Mill too, looking great in the moist soil and with some shade from nearby trees. My plant in Scotland spread a long way over time, but used to die down in hot summers, making an awkward gap in the border. Sadly, I don’t think it would manage to spread very far in this garden.

If I had better, cooler conditions for growing Dicentra, the plant below is one that I’d be very tempted by. I don’t know its name, but there are several red and dark pink cultivars available, including ‘Bacchanal’, Cox’s Dark Red’ and ‘Filigree’. Ah, now, if only my garden was a bit cooler, these lovely flowers and delicate leaves would be sure to make my heart happy!