THERE’S HUMPHREY ABOUT

Spring is definitely springing. Daffodils are taking over from snowdrops, cherry blossom is indeed “cheery” blossom and one of my favourite things is in all its glory – my carpet of comfrey!

I spent two years planting comfrey around the cottage as ground cover, and now it is so rewarding at this time of year with the daffs growing up through it.

It’s not the common comfrey, Symphytum officinale, but Symphytum tuberosum (tuberous comfrey) a much smaller species about a foot tall, with masses of creamy yellow flowers.

It grows as “eagerly” as the common comfrey, which is what makes it such good ground cover, is also drought tolerant, (don’t even go there) and the bees love it. It is what I call a “hard-working plant”. My favourite type.

Mentioning bees – that reminds me – please leave your dandelion heads intact for the bees – raising the blades on your mowers if necessary for that first cut – it’s easier on the machine and the person using it too.

Dandelion flowers provide an essential source of early food for the bees, which are out foraging after their winter hibernation and need to build up energy and stores. Thank you.

Back to comfrey, it belongs to the borage family and the apothecary’s plant was grown for the healing qualities of its roots, which would be ground up into a poultice and liberally applied to broken bones or open wounds, hence the common name, knitbone.

I also grow another variety, S. orientale, an elegant comfrey growing to 3 ft high, with bright green leaves and an open crosier of lovely white flowers.

Unlike S. tuberosum, it forms a neat clump, and self seeds in a restrained manner. And the late plantswoman Beth Chatto once told me that one of her favourite varieties was the robust, moisture-loving S. asperum (prickly comfrey), which she grew in her woodland garden.

This tall comfrey, which can reach 5ft in height, has gentian blue flowers encased in ruby red buds, but is a plant for the wild(er) garden.

I was recently advising a client to include comfrey in their garden and couldn’t resist telling her that my brother calls comfrey, ‘Humphrey’.

“Oh how sweet,” she replied. “How old is he?”

“51,” I had to confess.