Gardens: dianthus, prettiest of pinks

Just for frills: Dianthus carthusianorum. Photograph: Alamy

It all began with a Sunday afternoon trip to Special Plants in Wiltshire. Being close by, it is an easy excursion. I can even walk if I am committed to the fact that I will probably have to drive back later to collect my booty. This time it was Dianthus ‘Elizabethan’ that broke my resolve. You can imagine the flowers appearing as a detail in a Dutch old master painting: pale chalk white with rounded edges to the petals, just outlined in carmine pink and an almost black blotch to the centre.

Four years on, I know the plant much better and forgive it its ranginess. Out of season it is easy to think it might not be worth it, but come early summer it galvanises. The long-stemmed flowers spill over their neighbours, and the scent of cloves is enough to perfume a room if you pick enough for a posy. ‘Elizabethan’ was joined quite quickly by about 10 varieties that I picked from the Allwoods website. I chose single- flowered varieties and have by a process of elimination or failure reduced the little trial to a handful.

The Cheddar pink, our native dianthus of limestone outcrops, dwindled and died on me without flowering. Despite my inclusion of sharp grit in the compost for drainage and keeping the pots in bright, dry positions, our Somerset moisture proved too much. Dianthus plumarius is diminutive but delightful with its fringed petals. I have jettisoned a number that were just too pretty. They would have looked lovely in a cottagey garden but I wanted the pinks either to pack a punch with bright, clear colour or to be a little mysterious neon.

I have grown ‘Neon Star’ in a pot for 10 years. The blue-green foliage fills the pot in a perfect dome when not in flower, and then erupts in short-stemmed flowers. They are brighter than a campion, eye-catching and perfumed. A potful will flower for a good six weeks.

Though not such a strong grower, ‘Solomon’ has the darkest ruby red base and frilled mauve fringes. ‘Unique’ has a plum base and bright pink flares, two to each petal.

The biennial Dianthus barbatus, or Sweet William, is easily raised from seed like wallflowers, sown direct in June and then transplanted in the autumn. They last a good three years. I use ‘Sooty’ through the filigree foliage of Anthriscus ‘Raven’s Wing’. Cut them back immediately after flowering and you might get a diminished but welcome second crop in the second half of the summer.

I am hoping the perennial Dianthus cruentus seeds about in my gravel garden. The tight green rosette needs light to the base, so grow it with low groundcovers such as Acaena. The flowers are bunched together tightly, each a dramatic red with dark calyxes. The long stems of Dianthus carthusianorum are finer still. To my complete delight, I saw these growing in a sunny south-facing meadow at the Inner Temple gardens in London. I already have seedlings in my frame ready and waiting for release.

Alys Fowler: looking after plants in the holidays

 

‘The trick with indoor plants is to slow growth down so they need very little care while you’re away.’ Photograph: Getty Images/Dorling Kindersley

I am going away. I am going to sit by the edge of a lake and drink Aperol. I am going to stand under mighty trees and wonder aloud about the men who planted them. I am going to marvel at intact 16th-century frescoes and peer behind the backs of fountains to better understand Renaissance hydraulics. While I am away, little things will grow, the sun will shine and everything will need watering.

If no one is around to water, or those around may be erratic (at best) at the job, then the only thing is to take matters into your own hands.

The trick with indoor plants is to slow growth down so they need very little care. Water all your houseplants well, then line the bath or sink with a thick wad of damp newspaper. Place your plants on this, so they remain damp and humid. Make sure they are away from direct light, and when you return your plants will have sat doing very little. You can leave them like this for a week. If you are going away for longer, put the plants on top of bricks and fill the bath to just above the top of the bricks. If the plants are in terracotta pots, capillary action will take care of watering for you.

You can make a smaller version of this with a washing-up bowl and a roasting tray (or something with similarly high sides). Turn the bowl upside down and lay over some capillary matting or an old towel. Drape one end of the towel in the water-filled tray. The plants will remain moist as long as the water lasts. This works just as well outside for young plug plants and seedlings.

For larger pots outdoors, you can either pray to the rain god or hedge your bets. If you can move all your pots to a shady corner, this will slow down respiration and thus growth. If you can’t do this, some makeshift shade netting, such as lace curtains, will work as well.

Make sure all your pots have saucers, so that if and when they are watered, at least the whole pot soaks up the excess. Also mulch the top of the pots with bark mulch or even just homemade compost to conserve moisture. You can make a temporary water feeder by recycling plastic water bottles (as large as you have). Fill the bottle with water and make a very small hole in the cap. Bury the bottle upside down in the pot and the water will slowly leak out, as long as the hole is tiny; too big and it will run through immediately.

If your pots are full of vegetables that don’t much like a week off watering, bribe your friends. Let them harvest whatever is available while you are away, or give them a cut of the future bounty. The more they pick things like runner beans and courgettes, the more there will be for you when you return.

The towpath is alive with the essence of summer

Florets from the saucer-sized elder flower. Forage now for elderflower cordial, or leave for elderberry wine later. Photograph: Yon Marsh Natural History/Alamy

The sky is a speedwell blue as I walk along the towpath of the Wheelock canal, which runs parallel to the river Weaver. Bottle-green and crimson narrowboats decorated with pots of geraniums and horseshoes pootle by. There are dandelions bold as brass in the grass. Cow parsley, or Queen Anne’s Lace, frills the bank. Peacock butterflies alight on a purple buddleia growing out of a stone wall flecked with burnt-orange and pale-grey lichen, showing their eye-spots.

I pass under a bridge and hear the rush of water from the lock; out the other side, an explosion of swallows alternating royal-blue backs and scarlet throats as they skim the water for insects. There is a female mallard, five balls of golden-brown fluff paddling furiously to keep up with her.

A bolt of turquoise-amber. I am always surprised how small the kingfisher is, but what an impression it makes, a jewel of a bird. Greek mythology tells that if a dead kingfisher is hung by twine it acts as a weather cock, turning its beak in the direction of the wind. There is little wind today, just a breeze wafting lines of washing in the yards of the cottages backing onto the canal.

Porches on the Towpath: bike trail right out the door!

A white horse grazes in a field of buttercups; further on, cows with treacle eyes chew grass, pausing to gawp at families in the nearby beer garden, pale flanks rising and falling, ears and tails twitching, the occasional soft fall of muck and moo.

There are cyclists, joggers, dog walkers and a gang of small boys on scooters. “Watch out for the stingers!” one cries, as they whizz past. A patch of nettles flare like green flames. Dog roses, pink as bubble-gum with sunshine-yellow stamens, wander wantonly over the hawthorn hedge, scrambling into trees.

Then I see the saucer-sized, creamy-white elderflowers, the essence of summer. Celtic lore has it that fairies will appear to those who stand under an elder tree on Midsummer’s Eve.

I think about foraging – canal pathways can be excellent places to look for wild food. Yet I leave the flowers; there will be berries for wine, come autumn time.

The Unfairness of Flowers

I would not hesitate a moment to sculpt this fine material and bring it to the opulence it naturally bears inside. This shape, like all sculptures, exists within the block itself prior to it having been carved, chiseled, and illuminated by knowing hands which seek to shed the darkness that shrouds lights in needs of attention.
How many thousands of lights that have gone undiscovered…and yet again, the gems that have had the opportunity to be known. Such as Giotto di Bondone, but a boy drawing pictures of the sheep he was shepherding when found by the Florentine painter Cimabue. Henceforth, his life was never the same for with the guidance from someone understanding, he managed to find not only the fruit of his talent, but also a name for himself in history.

Henceforth, there have things both lost and gained in this game of chance but had it not been for this possibility of a negative, these grand positives would have never come about. Sure, it may bring forth the question of fairness…but is fairness really a first and foremost concern given the other qualities that may be lost with it? That being greatness, of course.
A flower, totally unfair, with beauty like no other. Yet she understands these grave tragedies and majestic occurrences of life.
Of course, a dramatic reading of flowers and how they influence us is always fun, it keeps us aware of why they are so purposeful in our lives, for the next time you may be interested in using our online wholesale flower seller shop, with deliveries across the US nation, and including Canada.