Japanese Anemones: A Dilemma

Last year I bought two plants of the Japanese Anemone ‘Honorine Jobert’ while I was visiting Fullers Mill Garden, (which you can read about here). There had been one already in the garden when we first arrived, but somehow it died out, even though the pink Japanese Anemones nearby thrived.

The elegant white flowers on graceful tall stems captivated me. The stamens are a rich yellow and the petals have the slightest blush of pink on the reverse – just enough colour to add interest when I’m photographing them.

In the garden they are simply beautiful. One plant is in front of a weeping crab-apple that has dark red fruits. Beside is a gaura, whose butterfly-like white flowers are still on the go, creating a lovely early-autumn combination.

The other plant is apparently very happy in a little raised bed that is a temporary nursery area for plants that will go into a pond-side border.

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The backs of the petals of ‘September Charm’ are surprisingly hairy.

There were already some pink Japanese anemones in the garden. One is ‘September Charm’, which I planted as a division from a plant in my previous garden in Scotland. (This doesn’t really live up to its name here, because by September it has pretty much finished flowering. But I can forgive it for that because it starts to flower in late July, so it has been busily flowering for a good long time.)

The other pink anemone was already in the garden when we arrived and I believe it is ‘Hadspen Abundance’. This is an unusual flower, because the petals are very variable. Two of the five petals are smaller and slightly darker than the rest. In the particular flower below, the variance isn’t much, but I have seen the plant with much bigger differences between the two sets of petals. That can make the flowers look quite strange!

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‘Hadspen Abundance’ has irregularly-sized petals.

So by now you may be wondering what my dilemma is. (Or, if you are familiar with Japanese anemones, you may know exactly what I’m going to say…) The problem is, these enchanting plants are real thugs in garden borders.

My pink September Charm has run riot. It now has a huge spread in an area that nothing much wants to grow in because the conifers in the neighbouring garden had left the soil so impoverished. (The conifers are gone now, thank goodness.)

And as for Hadspen Abundance – well, let’s just say that now I understand why there wasn’t much more than it and some geraniums in the garden. It takes over and is difficult to remove. So now I want to add to the chaos… (Actually, I have added to the chaos – both white anemones are already in the ground.)

This all leaves me wondering what to do next. Re-plant them in large containers? Chance it and hope that they don’t smother everything else? Maybe I can leave the one in the temporary nursery-bed where it is – but it’s only a very small raised bed. I think it will be able to creep out of there! (Anemone roots are very efficient at spreading themselves around.) Big bottomless pots might be the answer, so I’ll have to see what I can find.

Meanwhile, I shall enjoy the flowers and take photographs of them whenever I get the opportunity. Let’s hope that I’m not writing about how they’ve taken over the entire garden at some point in the future!

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The white flower of ‘Honorine Jobert’ brightens a slightly shady spot.

Zingy Pinks

The colours you tend to associate with late summer and early autumn are mostly reds, oranges and yellows. But there have been some really brilliant pinks around too.

These pink flowers are not pale and delicate – instead they demand attention and can compete with any of the bright flowers around at the end of summer. (I love the softer pinks too, but they would get a bit lost at a time when so many of the other plants are shining so dazzlingly.)

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The rich colours of this alstroemeria add sparkle to garden borders.

Zinnias (top photo) are great to photograph – the colours are vivid and the central boss of the flower has plenty of intricate detail to add interest to the image. I’ve grown them when we lived in Scotland but not yet down here. (Here I’ve mostly planted perennials.) I really should plant some, because the garden gets lots of sun and they should be very happy in our well-drained soil.

Alstoemerias are a satisfying flower to photograph, with their striking markings and depth of colour. They’re not common in gardens here, but I’ve started to see more of them in garden centres. Next year I’ll be tempted to give them a try, especially now that there are some hardier varieties that have a good chance of making it through the winter here. (I’d like to plant a deep pink one, as in the photo above.)

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A slight hint of orange in this echinacea’s pink petals makes them more vibrant.

The echinacea above is one of a group that I bought from a nearby nursery, all in different colours. I think that they are getting used to  me coming in to look for something new to photograph! The echinaceas were fun – big, bold daisies with a lot of presence and very attractive colours. This one has just the tiniest amount of orange in the pink of its petals and that makes the colour shimmer in the sun.

My last flower is probably opening up to be more orange than pink – it would have been interesting to see the fully-open dahlia. But I loved it at this stage, when it was still partly folded up on itself and showing the pink reverse of its petals. The pink and orange together have a great feeling of energy, a really lively sizzle of colour that would add excitement to any border.

This year I’ve been lucky  enough to see lots of lovely plants while I’ve been out visiting gardens. They’ve given me a lot of inspiration for what I’d like to grow here and inspiration for photographs too. There will certainly be room in the garden for some of the more intense pinks!

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A two-tone pink and orange dahlia flower gets ready to dazzle.

Tropical Beauty: Rio Dipladenia

It has been raining heavily here for over a week. The garden needed the rain, but it has made planting spring bulbs and dividing up plants impossible for the moment. But, luckily, it hasn’t stopped me from photographing flowers.

When I first came across this dipladenia plant in a local garden centre, I thought it was a mandevilla, which I’d seen in books and magazines.

It turns out that the two are very closely related but different. Mandevillas grow taller than dipladenia, and will climb. Dipladenias, on the other hand, are shorter and bushier and will trail unless you train them to be upright. (They can also be recognised by their smoother, more rounded leaves – the leaves of mandevilla are narrow and comparatively rough.)

By chance, the ‘Rio’ dipladenia appears to be a good choice to grow here because it is small enough to grow happily in a pot in the conservatory. (They’re supposed to be good in a hanging basket too.)

Usually I’m quick to ask questions at the garden centre if I’m unfamiliar with a plant. I like to know that I’ll be able to give it the right conditions. But this time, I’ll admit, I just looked at the label and thought, ‘Oh, that’s exciting!’ So far, taking a chance has worked out well because the plant is still small but covered in flowers. That makes me a happy photographer, with something to keep me busy on a rainy day!

Flowers of Rio Dipladenia 'Hot Pink'
My impulse buy has worked out well!

Frothy Lace: Wild Carrot

Lacy, dainty flowers held on stems that curve inwards into a concave shape, both when the flowers are just opening and later, when the seeds are forming  – this is the wild carrot (Daucus carota).

If you live in the USA, you may know this flower as ‘Queen Anne’s lace’, but in the UK we also call it ‘bishop’s lace’ or ‘bird’s nest’. (You can see why, from the photo above.) Just to add to the name confusion, Queen Anne’s Lace is a name also used for an entirely different plant in the UK (Anthriscus sylvestris, aka cow parsley).

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Here, the tiny flowers are still folded shut. As the flowers open, the umbel will become less concave and flatten out.

Whatever name you know it by, the wild carrot, in its white-flowered form, is often seen growing along the edges of roads and fields. In recent years, new pink and burgundy-flowered cultivars have been developed and the plant has become popular in gardens.

Here I grow it for the light, airy feel that it adds to garden borders. I’m also growing it to photograph. There’s plenty to inspire me: delicate umbels of tiny flowers contrasting with the almost spiky-looking bracts below them, colours ranging from palest pinks to deep, dark reds, and that distinctive ‘bird’s nest’ shape.

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Open flowers of Daucus carota ‘Dara’

Photographing the flowers in the garden can be a bit tricky. The large, lightweight flower heads tend to move in the slightest breeze, so getting a reasonably sharp photograph can take a lot of patience! They’re worth the effort though, and I know that I’ll go back to them again and again for more photographs.

Next year, when I hope to have a larger number of the flowers in the garden, I will cut some and bring them indoors to photograph in the studio. No breezes there! (Apparently they make a good cut flower, lasting well if you sear the stem ends in boiling water for a few seconds.)

Right now, the seeds of these plants are ready to gather. So I will collect them – some to sow now and some to sow next spring – in the hope of having lots more of this delightful plant.

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The newly-emerging wild carrot flowers in springtime.