The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
ALPINE JEWELS
Rocks, gravel and the right choices of plant bring an echo of great mountain ranges to your garden
At this time of year, I don’t need to look any further than the colourful jewels flowering in my wee Alpine garden. I can’t help feeling a bit guilty, though – the rock and gravel I use to give this its character help suppress weeds and make it such a low maintenance part of my wider garden that I sometimes just forget about it. However, it never lets me down, always putting on a show no matter what time of year.
Alpine gardens are mini rocky landscapes featuring plants that grow on mountains around the world like the Alps, Pyrenees and Himalayas.
Low growers like saxifrages have to grow clinging on to the rocks for dear life – as if they grew any taller, they would just be blown off the mountaintops.
Plants like oxalis grow in the tiny cracks and crevices of the rocks, their roots burrowing down deep to anchor themselves in.
And then growing in the grasslands and the meadows we have the likes of the stunning pasque flower. I get two for my money here as after the silky bud opens to reveal a lovely violet-coloured buttercup flower, it’s followed by a feathery seed head that lasts for weeks.
“Right plant for the right place” is the gardeners’ mantra when choosing plants – research or simply a good plant label should contain this essential information.
Thinking about the conditions in which alpines naturally grow, give them a gritty growing medium, whether it’s in a pot or the soil of your garden, and aim for around 50-50 soil/compost and grit.
Due to the constant freezing and thawing so high up, the rock of the mountains constantly erodes – causing smaller pieces to tumble and gather at the bottom, creating a scree.
A similar effect is created in the gravelled front and back gardens of our homes – plants like Veronica ‘Georgia Blue’ thrive in these gravelly conditions and help to soften up the gaps in between our stepping stones, adding a bit of appreciated colour.
To further help recreate this mountain scene in my back garden I’ve planted a few dwarf conifers to replicate the tree landscapes.
I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as I think I remember, but when I first took an interest in rock gardens there were lots of overgrown cultivars of the Lawson cypress from a surge of interest in these during the 1980s. Pretty dull and uninspiring stuff for me.
In recent years the nursery folk have been working hard creating attractive and unusual dwarf varieties from the giants of the forests.
The noble fir, Abies procera, can grow up to 70m tall. However in my Alpine garden, I have a cultivar called ‘Blaue Hexe’ which only puts on about 5cm every year.
Then I have Thuja orientalis ‘Franky Boy’. The foliage is like strands growing up the way and its yellow-green colour makes this specimen plant come to life over the winter months, providing welcome colour.
If you do find that your dwarf or slowgrowing conifers begin to outgrow their allotted space due to the nature of their growth, a discreet pruning cut or two can be easily disguised without upsetting the natural form of the plant.
Dwarf conifers are not just for alpine gardens. All conifers in general do very well in Scottish soil and climate, making some of the larger dwarf conifers an option for planting out in the garden.
Pinus schwerinii Wiethorst is the latest addition to my collection, looking an absolute gem. This is going to fit perfectly in the bottom border of my garden as it can grow up to 2.5m tall.
I look forward to seeing the effect of the needles shimmering with the wind of this very tight and compact plant. It looks so soft and cute, you just want to give it a cuddle!
Conifers also do very well in containers, so no problem to have a mini forest in your patio or balcony garden either.
I can’t take credit for one natural-looking container we have in our garden. My boy carved a bowl shape into a rotten trunk and then drilled a few drainage holes in the bottom to allow excess moisture to escape.
It was then planted with Cryptomeria japonica Sekkan. Although looking prickly, it has surprisingly soft foliage to touch that can darken to bronze in colder winters.
When growing conifers in a container, just make sure you use a specific tree and shrub compost, never allowing this to dry out.
Dawn Redwood Metasequoia glyptostroboides is one of my favourites. The genus only consisted in fossilised form until the late 1940s, when it was discovered growing in China.
Sadly another plant on the endangered list, it’s a deciduous conifer losing its needles overwinter with the light green foliage turning a golden-orange colour in autumn before dropping.
I’ll never have a large enough garden for the 40m-high parent, but I do have room for the variety Chubby which grows to three metres – despite its unfortunate name!
Brian Cunningham is a presenter on the BBC’s Beechgrove Garden. Follow him on Instagram @gingergairdner
It was one of those heads or tails days. Even as I drove through Strathdon, I still hadn’t decided whether to tackle the circuit of Ben Newe from the west or the east. There had been snow blowing through in Glenshee, then sunshine and blue skies at Braemar with the ridges and contours of Lochnagar sparkling above the tree cover. The high Cairngorms were looking at their best, too, but the wind hadn’t completely made up its mind on direction of travel. I had been warned about the heavily potholed approach to the forestry car park near Altdachie, so in the end I chose to come in from the entrance just shy of the entrance to the ruin of Glenbuchat Castle.
Ten minutes into the walk and I was wondering whether that had been the wiser choice.
The track started off fine, but the branch I took heading off uphill to the right quickly deteriorated – first into a waterlogged and muddy surface, then further up into deep ruts, the inevitable result of heavy machinery taking down and clearing storm-damaged trees.
It made for awkward walking as it curved to the left to run alongside an old wall, but it gradually improved and there was also the significant consolation of the views of the vast green patchwork behind and to the right becoming more expansive with every step forward.
I kept straight on where the line appeared to turn right – this would hopefully be used on the return journey – still climbing steadily on a constant upward trajectory.
The underfoot conditions continued to improve, but I still had to dodge round a few fallen trees.
Overhead, a buzzard circled lazily as it silently patrolled its territory, and I caught flashes of white off to the right, the tails of a posse of deer pogo-ing across the heather-choked slope.
The path started to cut across the side of the hill and then descend slightly. The final short push to the summit was via a narrow hill path which could be easy to miss as it cuts back to the right, but a wooden post opposite was a good marker.
The summit conjured up a feeling of both civilisation and isolation at the same time, a smart circular cairn on an outcrop containing a trig pillar and bench boards perched on the rocks to either side, a welcome seating arrangement after a weary ascent.
The views in every direction were sensational, but the wide-open northern aspect down to Glenbuchat and the rolling landscape beyond were hard to beat.
Off in the distance the heights of The Buck were easy to pick out.
The rear of the outcrop contains a shelf which holds a permanent pool of water.
This was once regarded as a holy well with curative properties and visitors were said to have often left coins or charms as an offering.
The hill’s name is even believed to be derived from “nemeton”, the ancient Celtic word for a sacred space often found in natural areas.
It would be all too easy to sit there and daydream in the sunshine, but time was pushing on and there was a circuit to complete. I dropped back down to the junction I had passed earlier where a signpost pointed the way into the trees.
This didn’t look inviting at first, a muddy trail changing into a somewhat indistinct grassy one, disappearing into a dark passage with trees squeezing in on both sides and squeezing out the light at the same time.
It turned out not to be too bad and, apart from having to work my way round a couple of fallen trees, there was no problem and there was soon light at the end of the tunnel.
Emerging back into the sunshine, I joined the more solid track which zigzagged downhill around the minor height of Meall Beag to rejoin the inward route.
ROUTE
Walk back down to main track from car park and turn right. Follow track round to right then as it takes sharp turn left at next corner, break off right on rougher path heading steadily uphill.
Keep right (arrows) at next junction and continue to edge of tree line, then keep going uphill with trees to left and walled field to right.
Ignore path going off left (this is used on return) and keep heading straight on. Path starts veering off left and shortly after it begins to descend, watch for narrow hill path ( just beside wooden post) cutting back on right. Follow this as it weaves steeply up to reach big cairn and trig pillar at summit. Retrace steps back to track then downhill to reach path passed earlier. Turn right into trees (marker post) and follow through darker woodland to emerge at forest road. Head downhill on track, straight at first then series of zigzags, to reach inward route and turn left back to car park.
Alan Rowan is a well-known author and walker. You can follow his regular mountain adventures at munromoonwalker.com