Shows to go (or not to go)

It's that time of year when there seems to be a gardening show every weekend. Next weekend is Gardeners' World Live at the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham (also the date of the Great Gardening Show at Loseley Park, in Surrey), the following weekend is the Cottesbrooke Plant Finders' Fair at Cottesbrooke in Northamptonshire, and the weekend after that is the Hampton Court Flower Show. At the end of July, there's the big RHS show at Tatton Park in Cheshire.

Have I got the energy to go to any of these?

I've never been to the Gardeners' World Live show and I think that situation might remain the same in 2010. It sounds great, but I'd probably go on the train, which means trailing any purchases halfway across London on the way home. Not an attractive proposition on a hot Saturday evening.

The Great Gardening Show at Loseley used to be good fun (and only 30 minutes from home by car) but it's under new management this year. The big attraction in previous years was that there were always quite a few nurseries selling later season stuff such as daylilies and cannas or even exotic plants.

Under new management, who knows? Looking through the list of exhibitors so far, it seems to be heavy on garden hardware and light on plants. Thank goodness for Horticulture Week, where I read about the change of management, because as far as I could see, it was being presented as exactly the same show. I may pass.

The idea of negotiating the North Circular and then driving two hours up the M1 (one of my least favourite motorways in Britain) puts me off going to Cottesbrooke. But I've heard so many people rave about it, I'm now quite tempted. I think I may pencil that one in.

Hampton Court is a must, rain or shine (and believe me, I've been in both). I get a press pass but unlike Chelsea, a media ticket is actually a bit of a drawback if you want to buy plants. Most of the exhibitors scuttle off as soon as they've set up. It's not worth their while to hang around all day on the off-chance that the odd hack might buy something.

Even if they haven't disappeared, the marquees tend to get roped off one by one while the judges go round. Far better to go on a normal day.

Have any of you got any thoughts on any of these shows? Is anyone planning to visit? Let me know your thoughts.

Fat, funny little birds

I feed the birds all year round in my garden. When we first moved in, seven years ago, there didn't seem to be any birds in the garden at all, which seemed strange as there are lots of mature trees.

Now the garden is alive with birdsong and although there is the odd casualty (thanks to Pushkin), I think on balance it's better to feed than not, even if you have a cat.

The conventional thinking used to be that you fed the birds in winter, when food was scarce. These days, evidence suggests - and it certainly seems to me - that birds appreciate a constant supply and flourish accordingly. However, even I used to scale down on the amount and variety of food available once the weather got warmer. It was only because I got a free packet of suet, or fat, balls with my bird food order the other day that I thought of hanging out fat balls at this time of year.

Goodness, what a revelation! The blue tits and great tits absolutely love them. They've abandoned the normal seed feeders and spend all their time hanging upside down and stuffing themselves. (Why don't birds get indigestion?)

They all have fledgelings to feed so dining out is a family affair. The fledgelings are just old enough to feed themselves, but it's still common to see a line of young ones (usually three or four) on a branch having food shoved into their mouths by their busy parents.

Very often, they perch on the branch above the fat feeder, but this morning I saw a row of little ones lined up precariously along a phormium leaf, which was bending under their weight. When a parent arrived with the takeaway, the leaf collapsed altogether and they all slid off the end. So funny!

The great tit family having breakfast. Sorry about the quality of the pictures - I don't have a tripod (or an incredibly good camera, come to that). There is also a blue tit family, so meal times are usually a blur of little birds rushing about. Underneath, (not in the picture) a fat woodpigeon struts to and fro as if he is on patrol, hoovering up crumbs.

I'm in love with my libertia

It's always a surprise to me that libertia is so little known to gardeners. It's one of the least temperamental plants I know: it's evergreen, it has lovely flowers, it's tough, it will grow in shade or sun, it will grow in the ground or in a pot. And all without any effort on my part whatsoever. I have three varieties in my garden - Libertia grandiflora, Libertia ixioides 'Taupo Blaze' and Libertia ixioides 'Goldfinger'. The most free-flowering is L. grandiflora (seen left against a backdrop of Cotinus coggygria foliage), which as its name suggests is also the biggest plant, with the biggest leaves.

If you can imagine a small phormium (about 2ft high) with white, orchid-like flowers held on long stems, that's a pretty good description. With 'Taupo Blaze' and 'Goldfinger', the leaves are slimmer and grassier, and the flowers are smaller. 'Goldfinger', as the name suggests, has brilliant copper-gold foliage, while 'Taupo Blaze' has brownish leaves.

'Taupo Blaze' in flower around the frog pond

Libertia also pretty reliable as to flowering time. Normally it's in full froth by 14 May. Having said that, this year it only got going towards the end of the month thanks to the late spring.

So what's not to love about libertia? Well, L grandiflora seeds itself all over the place. It seems particularly to like seeding itself into the lawn. The leaves have a habit of looking rather tatty rather quickly, and while you're supposed to be able to divide it (like many other perennials), I've never had any success with this. Seedlings are a much more reliable way of propagating it.

L ixioides is much better behaved, but doesn't flower in the same exuberant way.

You can stop libertia seeding itself about by cutting off the seedheads, of course. But when you've got as much of it as I have, this is quite a time-consuming operation and it's impossible to catch them all.

Besides, when the flowers are newly shed, the seedheads are quite attractive, like a small bunch of green berries. I always think they look so nice, I'll leave them for a couple of weeks and then - oops! - two months later they've ripened and are busy finding new little homes for themselves. I still love them, though.

Great Dixter

This is the real secret of life - to be completely
engaged with what you are doing in the here and now.
And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.
Alan Watts, Work as Play

I suddenly realised today what exactly it is about being in a garden that I enjoy so much. It is that sense of living for the moment. And not just living for the moment, but - in very special gardens - a sense of stepping into another world.

I find it very difficult to switch off. I annoy myself by always thinking ahead, anticipating the next chore or task or problem, instead of sitting still and enjoying the "here and now".

This is what makes Great Dixter a very special garden for me. It's not the most manicured garden you'll ever see, or the biggest. But it is certainly one of the most magical. Every time I've visited I've had that sense of time stopping, of being aware of nothing more than the colours of the flowers, the hum of insects and the birdsong. It's the most relaxing feeling in the world.

Dixter is very much a working garden, but the sight of a member of staff busy in one of the borders, or pruning a climber seems only to heighten the sense of being in a different universe.

What matters is not the mortgage or the recession but how wonderful that golden elm looks against the clipped castellations of the yew hedge. The only urgency is to breathe in the scent of the velvety wallflowers glowing amidst the orange tulips. The only reason to move is to explore the paths that lead you on through yet more flowers - tulips, forget-me-nots, magnolia, lunaria - guarded by the solemn yews.

I can't tell you how much pleasure it gave me to show Great Dixter to Gail and Frances, two innocents from Tennessee abroad in the land of afternoon tea at "harf parst four".

St Augustine once said that "he who sings praises twice". (Actually, he didn't say it quite as concisely as that, but never mind; that's what he meant.) I think St Augustine, who himself found his faith in a garden, would have to agree that she who visits a garden with other gardeners has twice the enjoyment.

Indeed, she (or he) who visits a garden with other garden bloggers has one hundred times the pleasure, for each account, from each different perspective, and the comments they inspire, reflect off each other like mirrors to provide an endless picture of an experience.

Thank you, Gail and Frances. It was a pleasure and a privilege to share some time and some gardens with you.

The yew hedges, which offer tantalising glimpses of gardens beyond

A wheelbarrow sits beneath a pergola, waiting for the next load of clippings

A blaze of tulips. Great Dixter doesn't go in for labels, so I have no idea what variety these are

A golden elm glows like neon against a yew hedge. This tree, one of the gardeners told us, had Dutch elm disease, and had been radically cut back. It has since put out new shoots and seems to be recovering. I read somewhere that elms that are kept clipped, for example in a hedge, withstand the disease better, because the Dutch Elm beetles feed on dead wood.

I think this is Tulipa 'Portofino', which garden writer Nigel Colborn says are "loathsome" and reminded him of blood seeping through bandages. I'm obviously lacking in taste - I thought they were gorgeous. They reminded me of raspberry ripple ice cream.

Frances with a cute little kitty!

These are oast houses, which are common in Sussex and Kent, and were used in the olden days to dry hops for beer. Hops are still grown in Kent, but the picking is now mechanised and the drying is done on an industrial scale.

The vivid yellow of a sumach provides a dramatic backdrop to traditional spring pastels. Would you have put these colours together? No, nor me, but they work, don't they? I think it's because the purple of the tulips is just blue enough to be a pleasing contrast.

A stately rheum spreads its leaves in the sunshine. Rheum is definitely the plant of the year for me. I've seen it everywhere: Malvern, the Chelsea Flower Show, Sissinghurst, Great Dixter. Of course, I now have to have one.

Ooops, we've just got time for a quick detour on the way home. I couldn't let Frances and Gail go back to America without showing them a real medieval English castle, complete with turrets and moat. This is Bodiam Castle, a ruin, but quite beautiful.

It was shut by the time we got there, so we contented ourselves with strolling round the moat. It looks an idyllic scene in the evening sunshine, doesn't it? It was freezing.

Frances and Gail being attacked by man-eating mallards.

Show time, part 3. A quick whiz round Wizzers

As I said in my last post, VP and Patientgardener were staying with me ahead of their visit to the Chelsea Flower Show, and when we finally got home from Rob's party, the talk turned to what they might do before they went to the show.

They had afternoon tickets for Chelsea, which meant admission from 3.30pm onwards. They'd arranged to have lunch with some friends first, but that left the morning free.

The Chelsea Physic Garden perhaps? No, it didn't open until midday. (Why?!)

The Museum of Garden History? Hmm, trouble is, the museum is a fairly brisk trot from the nearest tube or mainline station, and none of the buses from my area go directly there. (If you want to go shopping in the King's Road, however, I'm very well placed...)

I did some brisk calculation and decided there was just time for me to drive VP and Patientgardener to the Royal Horticultural Society's garden at Wisley (or Wizzers, as Arabella Sock calls it), give them a superfast tour and be home in time for lunch (or in my case, work).

I have never been round Wisley so fast. I have never been to Wisley without spending hours dithering in the garden centre. I have never been to Wisley without browsing in the wonderful bookshop. I have never been to Wisley without having a cup of tea and a piece of carrot cake. It just shows that everything is possible.

Wizzers is only half an hour from me by car, so to a certain extent, I use it as my local garden centre (although my local garden centre, which is within walking distance, is also very good). I was really touched by how thrilled VP and Patientgardener were at the thought of going and I was delighted that the weather was sunny and warm.

Wisley was on good form. Admittedly it was a little early for a lot of the planting, particularly the herbaceous borders, the Piet Oudolf borders and the Tom Stuart-Smith borders around the Glasshouse. (Wisley is a great late-summer garden.) But it was good to see Cleve West's children's garden being used by an enthusiastic group of primary school kids and the Penelope Hobhouse garden looked mistily beautiful. We even had time for a quick look at the rhododendrons and azaleas on Battleston Hill.

Wisteria overhangs a view of the canal, designed by Geoffrey Jellicoe

The rock garden, one of my favourite places. I love gardens that have winding paths and secret waterfalls

Aloes and other succulents in the arid zone of the Glasshouse

Looking down on foliage from the viewing platform in the tropical section of the Glasshouse

Clouds of nepeta line the central path in the garden designed by Penelope Hobhouse.

Isn't this the most amazing tree? All three of us were entranced by it. It's Toona sinensis 'Flamingo', or Chinese mahogany, according to VP.

Show time, part 2. Rob's party

So, I'd been to press day at the Chelsea Flower Show (see previous post), I'd scuttled home to write my piece for The Independent and now it was time to pick up VP and Patientgardener from the tube station.

They were going to Chelsea the following day, and were staying with me overnight.

To celebrate, Rob had decided to hold a drinks party in his new shop, The Garden Sage, which is about 10 minutes from me by car.

The weather was fabulous on Monday and the evening was warm and sunny. Rob's shop has folding doors so it was an ideal place to wander in and out, looking at the plants and sipping Pimm's. The conversation centred around Chelsea (of course), tropical plants and GCSE biology (Julia's students are doing exams at the moment.)

This is just to prove to our American friends that we do occasionally get good weather in the UK. Clockwise from left: Julia (in the white linen trousers), Liam (Rob's business partner), Rob, Patientgardener and me (with the oh-so-fashionable orange nail varnish. That's what I tell everyone who says: "Yuk, what a lurid colour". Who cares, it covers the dirt.)

Patientgardener (aka Helen) offers Ms B (aka Barbara) a taste of her echeveria.