"Celebrate the moment, with exuberant bedding”
It’s time to use these temporary tender plants with vision and panache, says Kendra Wilson
Last October I visited a medieval castle in Kent. It was perfectly formed and surrounded by a double moat. Its more recent surroundings included a rose garden, a sunken garden and an enormous amount of continental urns and statuary. So far, so Edwardian. It may seem strange then for anyone to be shocked by the sight of dwarf begonias, skirting around the foot of the castle like an apologetic doily. I am no William Robinson (who wrote enthusiastically on the “evils of the bedding system” from the 1860s on), but I was genuinely dismayed by this parsimonious effort, the kind of thing that continues to give bedding a bad name. Begonias are not the problem. Three hanging globes of peachy blossoms ranged across the front of my neighbour's house last summer and they were pure joy to behold. The proportions were fine, the exuberance impeccable. Begonias, fuchsias, zinnias and other tender plants only look good when they are handled with panache. The effort that goes into wheeling temporary plants on and off stage like a set design is only paid off when they are allowed to become serious shape shifters. Starting the year as cuttings and ending it high and wide, the size of church doors, is the best course for pelargoniums, plectranthus and salvias. Bedding can make all the difference between a merely pleasant border and a transcendant experience. Gardens that perform a function beyond the purely private rely on bedding because visitors want to take away something intangible that they won’t find at home. The romantic potential of a castle, an Arts and Crafts manor or an Oxford college demands to be intensified and turned into theatre. The head gardener must take on the role of theatre director, with a talent for time management and a duty of care for thousands of cuttings. Simon Bagnall of Worcester College, Oxford, is one such person. His ‘herbaceous border’ is anything but, containing instead tender exotics such as balloon plant milkweed (Gomphocarpus fruticosus), castor oil plants (Ricinus communis) and red banana trees (Ensete ventricosum ‘Maurelii’). One advantage of gardening with temporary plants, where the whole area is cleared at the end of the growing season, is that nothing’s invasive: exploding seeds, annual and perennial weeds are all easier to deal with. Simon has been creating an other-worldly atmosphere at Worcester College for decades but, unsurprisingly, he has a more down-toearth attitude to his own garden, where his large containers brim over with richly-coloured Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Rubenza’; and ‘Xanthos’ (above) planted with the acid green trumpets of Nicotiana langsdorffii. The smaller the space (and amount of time available), the greater the pot. This year he’s planting Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Popsocks’ with rusted orange Amaranthus cruentus ‘Hot Biscuits’, both available from Chiltern Seeds. Tulips and dahlias are the glamorous bookends of the growing season. They’re not often referred to as bedding, being in a class of their own. Whether or not you’re a tulip and dahlia fan, it’s hard to deny the seasonembracing intensity that these fabulous temporary plants can bring. Edible bedding – such as lettuce, tomatoes and sweet corn – has a similar effect of celebrating the moment. My only problem, and I suspect that other people feel the same, is with the word ‘bedding’. Along with flower beds, island beds and putting a garden to bed for winter, it implies a limited vision, of castles decorated with begonias.
“Begonias, fuchsias and zinnias only look good when handled with panache”