Gardening David Wheeler
NATURE’S LAST HURRAH
With spring-flowering bulbs planted, hedges trimmed for the last time this year and leaves swept, what else can the gardener look forward to in November? I’ve been chatting to chums…
To protect the privacy of two highprofile people, I won’t identify my favourite Mediterranean garden, hidden among hills at the end of a grassy track, studded with wild orchids, in the southwest corner of Mallorca. In May and June, colours and heady scents are intoxicating.
I’ve not seen it in November. The English owner tells me, ‘It is the time when everything is trimmed and tidied. There are usually some late roses and, with luck, Podranea ricasoliana, the pink trumpet vine, is still flowering. Closely clipped now, the evergreen and evergrey shrubs are a special delight, with all their different shapes and shadows, but there is not much other colour right now.’ Blissfully restful.
In Dublin, clinical geneticist and wizard gardener Willie Reardon says there’s ‘no hiding’ in November. ‘The canopy of our magnolia has fallen, exposing the felt-roofed carbuncle of a neighbour’s shed in all its infelicity – such is the fate of the suburban gardener.’
But Willie also sees the month’s advantages. With work done to rid paths of moss, it’s the moment for his Viburnum farreri to take centre stage.
‘The scent reaches me while I’m on my knees with wire brush and skinned knuckles. The plant itself is unremarkable, requiring little care, hidden throughout summer by the somewhat invasive Aster umbellatus, a magnet for late-summer insects. But once the aster has been cut back in late October, this viburnum has its moment. Every visitor marvels at its scent.’
Sally Gregson gardens in Somerset and has a small nursery specialising in hydrangeas and epimediums. ‘The end of autumn and the onset of winter is a very special time,’ she says. ‘All the chaotic growth of late summer is over and gone, and the very first winter flowers of Prunus x subhirtella “Autumnalis” are emerging on bare branches. In a sheltered, west-facing corner, a large pot of Camellia sasanqua is just cracking open its pale rose-pink buds to celebrate the season. And I have time to savour the beauty all around, and plan for next year.’ Again, restful; a time for inspirational contemplation.
Lord Cavendish’s family’s 16thcentury Cumbria estate Holker Hall (American guests giggle at its correct pronunciation, Hooker) is set in handsome countryside with gardens merging into parkland, framed by the Lakeland Hills and the expanse of Morecambe Bay, which in many a year helps to mitigate winter’s worst chills.
‘In north-west coastal gardens,’ he says, ‘winter rarely arrives before mid-december.’ Hugh Cavendish regards November as an extension of autumn, ‘with its beautiful, washed light, continued autumn colour and bright berries seen at their best. It is the time of year when evergreen trees and shrubs stand out and reveal their true value. To nominate just one: the mellow colours and texture of the fruiting sweet chestnut appeal to me greatly – as does its harvest.’
Hugh’s book A Time to Plant (2012) makes known the intimacies of a garden that is age-old yet continually evolving through the introduction of new plants. And since his daughter Lucy and her husband recently moved into the Hall, fresh innovations doubtless prepare these hallowed acres for yet another distinguished era.
For me, shielding through lockdown on England’s border with Wales, November brims with opportunities to plan ahead. Mañana is an important word in the gardener’s lexicon – for we all hope to do better tomorrow, next week, next month or next year.
David’s Instagram account is @hortusjournal