Cornus is our star!
As plants get older, especially trees and shrubs, they may outgrow their space. When we walk up the track at the moment, everyone has to bow their heads, and in some cases their backs, to continue up to the steps and then to the cottage. The culprit, although I find it difficult to blame it in any way, is a huge cornus ‘Norman Hadden’, that has extended its branches in every direction, and is at this moment far and away the most spectacular sight in the entire garden. Its spreading branches are laden with huge, white bracts, now changing subtly, pink day day by day, to soft by day, to soft pink.
There are hundreds – no, it must be thousands – of these enchanting ‘flowers’ and as you dodge underneath the branches, they take on different guises, sometimes silhouetted against a clear blue sky, sometimes full frontal.
The actual flowers are insignificant, held in the centre of the bracts. But the bracts themselves are substantial and during their lives change from white to pink.
There are numerous species and varieties of the flowering dogwood, some from the other side of the Atlantic, others from the Far East. Most thrive in neutral to acid soil but all dislike thin, alkaline soil.
When we first planted ours it was a twig of a thing, a rooted sucker from the plant at
‘My two make the garden here such a special place in midsummer’ It has reached epic proportions and is now far and away the most spectacular sight in the garden
Rosemoor, one of the originals that was, and still is, a magnificent tree. I desperately wanted it in my garden. When the little layer came home, we could never have imagined that one day it would reach the epic proportions it has attained. If half the paths in the garden have to be rerouted that would be preferable to robbing all who enjoy it of a lesser performance!
As I gaze at it from the bedroom window now it creates a magical picture. As you look down the central path in Alice’s garden it forms a dramatic and very fitting backdrop to the peonies, astilbe and gillenia.
Just across the way, actually in Alice’s garden, is another cornus, C. controversa ‘Variegata’. Its spreading, horizontal branches are arranged symmetrically around a central trunk, cantilevered and seemingly defying gravity. Our tree makes blossom in some years, and there may be blue-black fruit to follow, but its main attraction is its striking architecture and the brilliance of its foliage, particularly uplifting in a gloomy British summer. It has more than one persona, too – it was lovely in spring when its polished mahogany twigs were adorned with pointed, red- lacquered buds that unfurled almost overnight into illuminated shoots.
Eventually this cornus makes a tree that would demand centre stage in a small garden; if space is at a premium, C. alternifolia ‘Variegata’ is a mini-me, a look- alike but on a smaller scale.
We’re far more familiar with the cornus family through the shorter spreading forms of our own native dogwood C. sanguinea and its close cousin C. alba. We grow them in our gardens mainly for their coloured wood, which brightens up the winter scene.
But right now the only two cornus I can think of are my two, which make the garden here at Glebe Cottage such a special place in midsummer.