For the past couple of months – bar a short trip to London to visit our two delightful little diversions* – I’ve been working hard in the garden. In winter time in Egypt it’s all go if only to catch up with everything you couldn’t get done in summer with the heat, exhaustion, holidays and so on!
Posts tagged ‘herbaceous borders’
I have been away for so long this summer; it seems like aeons since I was stacking protective “mulch” in the raised beds and frantically clipping borders ahead of going away. Now, six weeks later, I am back in the Jasmine Garden and it’s payback time.
This is stating the case quite mildly. Some plants have gone wild. We have bizarre and straggling roses, with mini-blooms atop meandering stems that reach above my head; the rosemary mother plant is about halfway across the lawn (which has flaked out almost completely in places); some hibiscus flowers are almost atop the hedge:
this means they are some 7 feet high, possibly more; the osteospermum is galloping across the path, even though it was well trimmed before I left. My old friends, the ornamental basil plants, are full of flowers in some places but in others have gone bohemian with wild flowering heads and long brown fronds full of seeds.
Some of my favourites, however, gave up the unequal struggle with the summer months in Egypt and faded away:
Dianthus – and this was a particularly lovely one – couldn’t cope whether in pots or in the borders, and I have lost several. What a pity! I have loved their grey-blue leaves and sweetly-scented flowers in colours from pure white to delicate pink to salmon-red and even deeply luxuriant crimson. Some had been with us for a few years, and I truly feel their loss.
But – and there is usually compensation of sorts somewhere in the wilderness – there are some high points in our now-wild borders, with their overgrown edges, rambling perennials and surreal roses. As I surveyed the front border I came across jasmine tumbling down from the top of the hedge, a mass of white flowers cascading through the shrubs and speckling the lawn below:
I was alerted first of all by the glorious fragrance in the air nearby; this is by far the best of the jasmines this year, though the climber over the gate is running it a close second and has now twined itself into the trees outside our garden, as well as over the gate, and, come to that, the jasmine on the pergola is doing well too.
And then, in the side border, a lovely surprise: our rounded-leaf frangipani has produced blossom this year. As far as I remember, this is the first time it has flowered so I suppose it is now fully at home in a new garden, a new country. We brought it as a small cutting from our garden in Doha some 7 or 8 years ago, asked the gardener to place it in the ground long before the herbaceous border existed, and then rather forgot about it. Now, we have a real beauty:
It is flowering long after the other, larger frangipani bought in a local nursery, and produces even more glorious blooms than the local variety, which also has more pointed leaves. Positioned close to blue plumbago (from South Africa), and the bottle brush tree (from Australia), with the Indian laurel hedge behind, this lovely tree is one small part of our international garden.
Meanwhile, all sorts of grasses and weeds I haven’t identified have sprung up all over, including in the new herb bed. I need to get to them before the heads of seed throw their loads to the winds, or I shall be scuppered for weeks to come.
So I am rolling up my sleeves to get on with tidying up and rescuing, composting and clipping, as fast as I can. I have to get a move on, not only in the borders: The raised beds urgently need attention as some of them are drowning in rampant chicory, tomato plants and basil, and the planting season is just around the corner. More on this in my next post.
The purpose of this post is not to blow my own trumpet. But a young visitor, who popped into our garden the other day, bowled me over with the comment: “You have a very pretty garden!”
At this time of year, when flowers (Hibiscus, Ipomoea, Jasmine) last barely a day and brilliant sunlight drains much of the colour from them, it’s hard to see great variety in the borders. But, look closely and you begin to see all sorts of attractive qualities.
For a start, there’s a certain variety in the contrasting colours and green tones of foliage, from the copper-red of the beefsteak plant (Acalypha wilkesiana) – below, top left, and right; to the delicate fresh green of Pelargonium Graveolens, also seen below:
There are also more flowers than you might realise at first glance, but you may have to look skywards or in out-of-the-way corners. Our lovely blue Ipomoea, for example, shyly emerges at the top back of the pergola (mea culpa: I placed it there!) which means it is best viewed from a bedroom window. But we also have lots of jasmine (Jasminum grandiflorum) tumbling down from the top of the hedge, and white bougainvillea contrasting wonderfully with the bright red of Hibisus chinensis standing tall at the back of the borders:
Sometimes, the detail of a cluster of flowers wins my heart, as with the delightful frangipani (Plumeria acuminata) whose tightly furled buds tinged with delicate pink contrast with the open flowers, shimmering white with yellow centres:
These sweetly perfumed, lovely trees, native to Central America, can grow to quite a size – maybe up to 7 or 8 metres. Ours are still quite young, but one in particular is generous with her blooms. The trees are very much part of the summer garden in the Middle East, and you see stands of them in El-Azhar Park. Another variety, P. rubra has spectacular deep red flowers, rather less scented.
There are other aspects of our garden to appreciate too: For one thing, the play of light and shade through the fruit trees illuminates the herbs (basil, rosemary) in the border as the sun goes down:
I rather hope our young visitor looked back across the front garden as he was making his way out: we only have a narrow strip of land in front of the house, but it has been planted to present a vista in both directions. One way, you look past our Calliandra tree to the lawn opening out beyond; in the other direction, the eye is led onwards to the palm tree (currently bearing a decent crop of Zaghloul dates, on the way to ripening).