Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature

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Visiting other people’s gardens is often an opportunity to see unfamiliar plants. Earlier in the summer I came across these orchids growing in the shade of some trees. They reminded me of the northern marsh orchid (Dactylorhiza purpurella), which I have seen growing in Scotland. As far as I remember, that one had a shorter flower spike with a flatter top than those you see here.

I’m fairly sure this is a Dactylorhiza of some kind, possibly a hybrid, since it was growing in a garden rather than in the wild. A Google image search showed that there are many marsh orchids and spotted orchids, both wild and hybridized, that have a similar appearance. I hoped to be able to identify this particular orchid, but, frustratingly, I didn’t see one with quite the same markings on the petals.

You may notice that there are also dark spotty markings on the leaves. Several species have these, including the heath spotted orchid and the common spotted orchid, the ‘spotted’ being a reference to the leaves. However, it seems that some species and hybrids can vary in whether they have these markings. So my attempt to identify these orchids is unsuccessful…too many possibilities and variations! But I have learned that there is a wide range of these beautiful orchids that are fairly easy to grow in the garden if you have reasonably moist soil.

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There are more lilies here this week. This time it’s the turn of the ‘Turk’s cap’ lilies, with their distinctively-shaped upswept petals. (Like the others, these were photographed while visiting Fullers Mill Garden in Suffolk. This garden has a gorgeous collection of lilies.)

As I mentioned in my last post, I don’t grow lilies because of their toxicity to cats, but if I could, then the lily above would be one that I’d love to have here. This beauty is the Lankong lily (Lilium lankongense), with graceful pink flowers that are spotted with a deep burgundy-red. I prefer these to the showier, more gaudily-coloured varieties like the one below, but both are a pleasure to photograph.

One of the first flowers I remember noticing as a small child was another brightly coloured Turk’s cap lily. That one was orange with dark spots – the tiger lily (Lilium lancifolium). We lived surrounded by moorland and low hills in Scotland’s northernmost county (Caithness), so to me this plant seemed improbably glamourous, and alien for such a place. (They are actually very cold-hardy and would have liked the moist, somewhat acid soil.) That lily grew in the shelter of a stone wall, protected from the blast of the wind and was tall enough for me to see the flowers at very close range. The sight of those exotic-looking orange flowers in that harsh and inhospitable landscape has stayed with me ever since.

Whether growing in a cold northerly garden or a warm southern one, I reckon these Turk’s cap lilies are amongst the most decorative flowers. Their curved petals (or ‘tepals’) and attractive spots seem designed to please, and gardeners can choose between flowers that are dainty and delicate or bright and bold. While they may not be suitable for my own garden and its feline company, I feel that they are well-worth the effort to see in other gardens. A real summer delight!

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Lilies are amongst the most glorious flowers in summertime. As a kittycat owner/servant, I don’t grow them in my own garden because they’re highly toxic to cats, but I do enjoy seeing them elsewhere.

The colours in lilies can be fabulous and look especially rich and vibrant in the sunshine. The deep pink lily in the top picture really stopped me in my tracks when I saw it. It’s a colour that I would love in my own garden (maybe I’ll find it in some other plant). This was one I simply had to photograph, and, luckily, it was just near enough in the border for me to take a reasonable close-up.

Yellow is a colour I like in my garden if it’s not veering towards orange. I prefer a clear, sharp, lemony yellow or a pale and delicate one. The colour of the lily above would be fine, and particularly lovely when light shines through the translucent petals. Most of the yellow in my own garden at this time of year comes from anthemis daisies and two varieties of evening primrose. (There’s also a recently-added pale yellow Iceland poppy, which I am hoping will seed itself around. It’s too small yet to make much impact, but it’s the daintiest little thing.)

Of course, lilies do white exquisitely well too. Delicate but sensuous, the symbol of purity throughout history and loved for its beauty…I had to stop and photograph this one too. If it wasn’t for their toxicity, I would grow lilies. But, even when I no longer have a cat of my own, I probably won’t. That’s because I’d like to know that I can enjoy the company of any of my neighbours’ cats without worry. So these are not for me, but I do think they’re divine .

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It can be difficult to get close enough to waterlily flowers for a decent photograph when they’re growing in a pond. My own pond is awkward to get at and taking a close-up photograph of the pink waterlily there risks a ducking for both me and my camera. (I should change the layout to make access easier.)

It was a plant photographer’s treat to come across these miniature waterlilies growing in large containers recently. The garden we were visiting wouldn’t have had room for a big pond, so the owners had found a good solution to allow them to grow these beautiful plants. It also allowed me to get right up to the waterlilies to photograph them.

These small waterlilies looked stunning in their big pots. Grown in this way, they’re easy to keep clear of blanket-weed and debris, presenting a perfect picture to the onlooker. Because they can be enjoyed at close quarters, every small detail of the flowers can be seen and appreciated.

I don’t know what the particular cultivars are here. A look around the online sellers shows that a good variety of colours are available, lots of red and a number of pinks, yellows, white and even orange. Seeing these has made me wonder if I should try one in the shallow water of my own pond. I don’t know the name of the waterlily that’s already there – it came from a friend’s pond a few years ago. I suspect that it should really be in a bigger pond and deeper water, so it may not last here for long. If it does grow too big, one or two of these small waterlilies might be a better choice in the long run. (You can see my pink waterlily here.)

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Visitors to Fullers Mill can rely on it as a place to see unusual plants. Recently I saw these flowers of Arisaema candidissimum (AKA ‘Jack in the pulpit’ or cobra lily) there, growing in a shady space under some trees. This is the first time I’ve seen this particular plant, although I’ve previously seen a darker arisaema in this garden.

It’s an odd-looking flower, with a tubular, curved spathe that is striped with pink inside. (Sometimes they can be plain white inside.) The outside of the spathe has a subtle green stripe and the leaves are large, strongly veined, and a lush green, which gives the plant a very exotic, tropical look. I’ve read that the flowers have a sweet scent, but couldn’t get close enough to them to experience it for myself. (These photographs have had quite a bit of cropping.)

Arisaema is not a plant that I’m likely to try in my own garden, given that it prefers a rich soil with plenty of humus (although I am working on that one). It also needs reliable moisture and dappled shade (not much of either of those here). I could try to grow arisaema in pots, but I’d prefer not to have something that would resent drying out – it’s too hot here these days!

It’s good to be able to enjoy the sight of an unfamiliar plant when I’m out on a garden visit. Fuller’s Mill is a garden that has rather different conditions to mine, even though it’s not far away from us, so there’s always something that we can’t grow here.

(You can see the darker Arisaema in this post.)

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Amongst all the frill and froth of a summer garden, it’s interesting to see the more sculptural presence of a plant like eryngium. Its spiky leaves contrast with the delicate petals around it, while their silvery sheen is an attractive compliment to any flower colour.

I have the much smaller Eryngium planum (blue eryngo) in my own garden, but it doesn’t have the same impact as this Eryngium giganteum. It’s a plant that I would like to make room for here, and I’m having fun imagining what I might pair it with. Small flowers held on long, airy stems could look interesting. I’d like to see what it would look like with the ‘butterflies’ of gaura floating around it and with another, dark-coloured plant to contrast with both. Or perhaps with the small spires of a blue-flowered veronica for a variation in both shape and colour…the possibilities are many.

This particular plant looks like it may be either ‘Miss Wilmott’s Ghost’ or its improved version, ‘Silver Ghost’. For those who haven’t heard the story, Ellen Wilmott loved this eryngium so much that she used to sprinkle the seeds secretly in the gardens she visited – resulting in silvery surprise plants later on. Whether the story is true or not, it remains a popular myth (and possibly the earliest version of ‘guerrilla gardening’).

This handsome plant would be a very welcome surprise in my own garden, but, in the absence of ghostly seed-sprinklers, I think I’ll need to go and buy my own. It’s a short-lived perennial or biennial which self-seeds in areas that suit it, so if I do plant it, I will probably find plenty of seedlings to keep it going. Perhaps Miss Wilmott would have approved.

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Purple flowers always get my attention. They may be dark and dramatic, like the irises above, or as delicate and pretty as the iris below. I saw (and admired) these on recent garden visits…and, of course, I wondered if there was any chance of finding space for them in my own garden.

I believe the bearded iris in the top photo may be ‘Superstition’. (An internet image search gives a variety of colourings for that cultivar, but most resemble this plant closely.) The darkest of flowers are borne on stems around 3ft high, making a great contrast with pale-coloured flowers. For even more contrast, neighbouring planting could be something light and delicate, with a haze of small flowers to counteract the visual weight of the larger iris flowers.

The second iris is the one I’d most like to grow here. Veining on flower petals is something I love to photograph and this is a beautiful example. The dark – almost black – purple against the white makes me think of ink on paper and the effect of the lines feels almost calligraphic. Such elegance! I like the way the veining is much softer on the standards, with just the palest lilac-purple tracery on the white ruffles. This plant appears to be Iris variegata var. reginae (AKA Iris germanica ‘Variegata Reginae’). I’ve never seen this iris before, so I haven’t seen it for sale around here, but if I do, I’ll be very tempted. (Or I could just buy it online…)

The petals of Iris variegata var. reginae have dark, calligraphic lines of inky purple on a white base.

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Around here, villages and towns have ‘open gardens’ in the summer. That’s a day when they will have a number of gardens that are open to visitors in aid of local charities. It sometimes means a lot of walking and (even with the maps we’re given) there can be a bit of detective work to find the gardens. Despite that, it’s a fascinating exploration of other people’s gardens and a fun way to get to know the local area better.

You soon see what the favoured plants for the season are too. At this point in the year there were no surprises. Our latest garden walkabout demonstrated the unmatched popularity of roses, the most-loved flower in UK gardens. Other must-haves were irises, alliums and lavender – all expected garden staples for June. (And all plants that I grow too.)

Some of the most frequently-grown of the plants were ones that we don’t have in our own garden. We saw beautiful peonies in a number of the gardens we visited, all at their frilly best. It seems that the two familiar lovelies here (‘Bowl of Beauty’ above, and ‘Sarah Bernhardt’ below) are very much cherished by our local gardeners. It’s easy to see why, and it’s a great pleasure to be able to enjoy the sight of flowers that we would otherwise miss out on. (It may even push me to create a space for a peony or two here…)