The garden in October
Kari-Astri Davies is enjoying persicaria foliage, mulling over tulip choices and delighting in autumn’s calm
OUR CAT IS making the most of the autumn sun. She has taken to hunkering down in the reused black plastic that covers a full compost bay. There, she lies for much of the day among ripening squash and garlands of leaves, which have escaped the confines of the adjacent squash frame.
Background foliage
Not everyone will see the attraction of persicaria, otherwise known as knotweed. In the same family as docks, polygonaceae, some do look a bit ‘docky’. However, a number continue to provide good background foliage as other plants fade away in early autumn.
The choice of P. amplexicaulis cultivars has expanded with the popularity of informal perennial planting styles. Starting into flower in July, some will go on and on. A word of warning though, from Imogen Checketts, former head gardener at Pensthorpe Natural Park in Norfolk, who relates how the Millennium Garden, an early Piet Oudolf design, had to be replanted some years ago because persicaria had aggressively taken over.
The most rumbustious persicaria in my garden is the dark red, thick-flowered ‘Dikke Floskes’, and I have started to hack bits off the knotted mound of roots in late spring to contain it. ‘White Eastfield’ and ‘Alba’, however, are more restrained in comparison. All grow in sunny conditions.
Persicaria ‘Indian Summer’ has an air of hydrangea about its leaves, some of which become red flushed. Its loose habit suits being among shady woodland plants. In October, small, red, bobbly flower heads appear.
Long, wiry wisps of red flowers also appear in autumn on Persicaria virginiana var. filiformis ‘Compton’s Red’ and ‘Lance Corporal’.
Various persicarias have a ‘V’ on the leaves, ranging from abstract chestnut dashes to a solid print. Persicaria runcinata ‘Purple Fantasy’ is one of the showier knotweeds; the arrow-shaped leaves display green, brown and cream shading. ‘Red Dragon’ is another striking plant; its purple-centred leaves develop rust and grey tones, the depth of colour depending on the amount of light the plants receive.
Tulip inspiration
Organised gardeners will already have received their spring flowering bulbs. Behind as usual, I tell myself tulips are best planted later anyway.
Tulips I will not be ordering again after this spring’s performance are the purple and off-white striped ‘Flaming Flag’, which was too dour and cold, while the dull maroon ‘Negrita Parrot’ looked sad.
I did develop a slight crush on the lavender-satin parrot ‘James Last’, however, and the raspberry-stippled, cream double ‘Silk Road’ was in flower for ages.
“the last gleam of sunshine fading away on the hilltops, the seep serene of the asters, and the long shadows of the mountains thrown across them”
Thomas Gray
This year, for inspiration, I have been looking at various cut flower farmers’ recommendations. Favourites include semi-double ‘Belicia’, the off-white petals sporting a crimson trim. Double ‘Shirley’ is similar, with purple edging and flushing. Eye-catching ‘Amazing Grace’ is emphatically pink. As the flowers age, the colours will subtly change. En masse, doubled tulips are reminiscent of peonies. The overall theme for next spring’s patio pots seems to be decidedly frou-frou.
Some gardeners are saying it is wasteful to throw away tulip bulbs every year, suggesting instead that, after flowering, they are planted in wilder areas of the garden, where they may or may not thrive, which is fine, but not all of us have the space. I grow a relatively small number in pots, so for now will continue to buy new tulip bulbs each year. Narcissus, crocus and muscari bulbs are saved for replanting in my spring pots, as they are more reliable and, hopefully, less prone to disease.
I am enjoying the peace that calm, sunny October days bring. Amid the drowsy hum of insects and passing late butterflies, I am slowly tidying and closing down the vegetable patch. I would like to get a manure mulch down over winter: the soil in the raised beds still seems to have poor fertility.
Clearing the unheated greenhouse of tomatoes and peppers has also begun; I can start to bring in the borderline-hardy shrubs. Cannas and some dahlias are being dug up and prepared for winter quarters in a dark, frost-free shed.
“The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky”
W B Yeats, Ô The Wild Swans at Coole’