ALL the rarest plants in the world do not a garden make. Curiosities and additives and variegations do not automatically blend and combine to form a beautiful set piece; too often they form a tense and restless scene which is far removed from the ideal. But perhaps my ideal, a place of calm and soothing tranquillity where sensual excitements and stimulations are interspersed with interludes of pleasing repose, does not meet with everyone's vision of Eden.
A visit to a friend's garden once more reinforced the necessity for a plan or a theme and the importance of restraint. Restraint in the numbers of different plant species and varieties fewer different items and just more of the same. Complete indulgence in filling the place, instead of one penstemon there were dozens, all the very same plant in bold repeating groups to form a rhythm. Not many of us have such courage, we would generally opt for one of every possible penstemon so that we might purr with self satisfaction at counting them like some miser gratified at having a dozen or so more than someone else.
The garden I admired had taken its theme from one penstemon, probably the easiest of them all Penstemon `Garnet'. The deep garnet wine red colouring of the tubular flowers set the note for the overall colour scheme and the choice of trees, roses, shrubs, flowers and foliage was dictated by their ability to blend, contrast and enhance the long lasting flowers of `Garnet', a most admirable sub shrub often regarded as a perennial herbaceous plant in all but the very coldest of gardens. In average conditions this penstemon will remain evergreen through winter and in my experience is the hardiest of the family. Cold spring winds and late frosts can cut back stems so the plant is best given a trim in spring to encourage new growth. In a sunny spot in fertile soil it will thrive, making a rounded mound two feet high covered with flowers from June through to autumn.
Teamed up with `Garnet' was a supporting cast of silver grey and purple foliage. In the background the purple plum Prunus pissardi nigra, a standard tree about 12 feet high, took up the colouring of purple leaved barbary Berberis thunbergii atropourpurea and the smoke bush Cotinus coggygria `Royal Purple'. These two shrubs created a rich foliage effect in the middle of the border, lightly pruned and growing to four or five feet. Near the front shrub of sage with purplish green leaves echoed the colouring of loose grey underside.
There were silvers in plenty: spilling out on the path were pools of lambs lugs Stachys byzantine, an old fashioned thing we might sometimes despise but here was in its element. In the centre and weaving to and fro were the silvery leaves of shrubby and herbaceous artemisias bringing a lightness which contrasted with an array of flowers other than our penstemon, the colouring being wine, red, pink, mauve, purple and blue.
There was nothing too precious and no hint of a rarefied boudoir colouring but rather a feeling of strength and crimson richness.
Here an array of herbaceous salvias and veronicas provided blues and mauve as did geraniums and then Geranium endressii extended to pink and Geranium psilostemon to magenta crimson. A few old roses took up this theme and the Dublin rose Souvenir de St Anne's carried the colouring to palest pink. White shasta daisies and white phloxes making a cool contrast set off the peerless ruby red scabious Kneutia macedonico, one of the longest blooming border flowers. The thin airy stems up to three or four feet high hold small pin cushion flowers from June to September in tones very similar to Penstemon Garnet. At the front, tall arching stems of wand flowers Dieroma stood three feet high. Leaning out gracefully they had been positioned perfectly where the elegant thin stems reached above the grassy leaves, dropping bells of mauve and magenta. They broke up the low frontal line in bold rhythmic clumps and here was part of the secret brought forward - repetition. In beyond was Lobelia tupa, another prized possession almost six feet high with pale green felted leaves setting off soft red flowers.
A nice and lively contrast was the use of one yellow daisy at intervals and it was the best of all yellow daisies, the pale, lemony yellow Anthimis tinctoria E.C. Buxton. It provided sunshine and brightness in a delightful and sophisticated tapestry. The gardener had meticulously and carefully sought out the ingredients, ruthlessly rejecting many so that a perfect composition might give the necessary thrills, excitement and calm repose.