Gardening
HERBACEOUS PERENNIALS
I don’t know if Oldie wine writer Bill Knott reads this column or if, like me, has an enthusiasm for books by fellow wine scribe Simon Loftus, traveller, former wine trader and restaurateur. Regardless, here’s Simon, from a collection of 1985 page-turning vintage essays entitled Anatomy of the Wine Trade:
‘Gardeners and wine lovers have a lot in common. Sensual and aesthetic pleasure is at the heart of the matter, the delight in colour and scent and taste, but there is also an intellectual challenge: the fascination of species and sub-species, of identifying, classifying, comparing varieties; of knowing the meaning of thousands of mysterious names. And then there are the pottering pleasures: browsing through catalogues; rummaging through junk shops for glasses or flowerpots… conversation… You learn generosity (plantsmen and wine lovers regard their treasures as things to be shared, not hoarded) and you learn patience: planting trees, like laying down claret, is an act of faith.’
No apologies for quoting Mr L at length, because those well-known sensualities shared by both fields of interest are seldom voiced so keenly. (Simon’s words, by the way, serve as an introduction to reminiscences of Sybille Bedford, wine-imbiber from the age of six – true! – the pages of whose books are wetted with myriad vinous episodes.)
The link between wine and gardening is strongly fortified in the Loftus family. In 1990, Simon’s ‘charismatic’ younger brother, Michael, founded the remarkable Suffolk nursery Woottens of Wenhaston. It boasts one of the largest collections of herbaceous hardy perennials in East Anglia, specialising in irises, day lilies, auriculas, pelargoniums, geraniums and violas, many of which enrich my own garden and greenhouse. Since Michael’s early death (in 2012, aged 63) the nursery – now owned by former staff members – opens only on the first weekend of each month but offers a first-class mail-order service.
Michael’s other enduring legacies include his plantsman’s handbooks (he disliked the word ‘catalogue’); each is a true collector’s item, exquisitely illustrated, ‘quirkily informative and full of personal opinions’. Lucky owners of these precious, hefty volumes should ensure that when their shelves come to be cleared, arrangements have been made for them to be inherited by someone passionate about the twin crafts of gardening and bookmaking.
Many of Woottens’ violas are heavenly scented in milk-parlour hues of butter and cream, or blues rainbowing from the colour of a pallid winter-morning sky to deepest sapphire; some bear seductive names such as ‘Aspasia’ (Pericles’s lover), ‘Mauve Radiance’, ‘Roscastle Black’ and the irresistible ‘Freckles’. Ah, then there are the agapanthus… But right now my thoughts turn to the auriculas – more than 600 varieties. Flowering specimens were, and presumably still are, displayed hugger-mugger under glass to protect the mealy-leafed and farina-dusted ones from being spoilt by rain.
These small, highly bred, outrageously handsome plants have been seriously collected and sometimes elaborately presented – in ‘auricula theatres’ with dark or mirrored backdrops – for centuries. They remain favoured subjects for the botanical artist, and shows devoted to them are held up and down the country in spring. There are no better plants for a gardener lately bereft of a garden.
The National Auricula & Primula Society website gives exhibition dates, regional groups, and a bibliography for both expert and rookie growers, as well as a gallery of breathtaking images: ‘edged’, ‘self’, ‘striped’, ‘fancy’, ‘alpine’, ‘double’ and ‘border’ kinds – worldrecognised auricula classifications to rouse and elucidate, rivalling perhaps a few of those intoxicating words found only in the wine-lover’s lexicon.