They may be out of fashion, but Jane Powers still loves her annuals
There are gardeners who have never grown a single plant from seed, but still have perfectly lovely patches. Well, I suppose that's all fine and dandy, but as an ardent seed-sower I find this state of affairs a little bewildering. Or rather, I can understand that people may not want to hang around for years waiting for a perennial to flower or a tree to grow - especially as we move house more frequently, work harder, have less free time, and expect more instant gratification. But coaxing a seed to sprout, and nurturing a small seedling into a mighty plant is half the fun of gardening. And, it's worth reminding seed-shy gardeners that you don't always have to wait several seasons for something exciting to happen. Some plants sprint from seed to flower in a matter of months.
I'm talking about annuals, of course. These obliging plants germinate, grow stems and leaves, put forth flowers, form seeds, and expire over the course of one year - in other words, from seed to seed in less than 12 months.
There are big annuals and small annuals - from towering sunflowers to teeny violas; there are scramblers such as nasturtiums, and clamberers such as the purple bell vine, (Rhodochiton). There are annuals for everyone: gaudy gazanias for party people; almost-black-petalled poppies for the sophisticates; fragrant sweet pea for drifty, romantic types; and Brazilian, spider-flowered Cleome for those who fancy something weird and exotic-looking.
But the sad truth is that annuals have been out of fashion in recent times (although the tide is beginning to turn). For years the only annual allowed in posh gardens was the pretty, iridescent, green-blue-mauve-and-plum Cerinthe major 'Purpurascens', carefully grown from seed by a few gardeners who distributed pots of it among their friends as if they were platinum eggs. In fact, any eejit could grow Cerinthe from seed, but many folks had forgotten how, or were afraid to try.
All of which is a great shame, as annuals are among the most versatile of plants: for filling gaps in the border, for containers, for cut-flowers, for clothing bare soil while you decide on a more permanent scheme, and for interspersing among vegetables to enliven the kitchen garden and attract pollinating insects. They are are a boon for the cash-strapped gardener. A packet of seed costs a few euro, and half-a-dozen different varieties will light up a small garden for months on end. It must be said, however, that some annuals emit too much light - but this is easily avoided by taking two simple precautions.
One: don't buy packets of mixed colours, as the ensuing combination may end up being a chaotic rag bag instead of a tasteful tapestry (and impossible to match with anything else in the garden). And two: don't choose dwarf or compact varieties, as the closely-packed flowers concentrate the colour too richly and indigestibly. Taller plants offer up their colour in a more appetising and measured manner, and their movement in the breeze adds a lively dimension - which you won't get with dumpy plants that are too short and fat to budge. Dwarf plants have their place in parks, in graphic bedding schemes, where they act as floral paint on the ground.
At the other end of the yard-stick are the climbers, which include some of the most rewarding annuals, swarming upwards and covering an eyesore where a more slowly growing plant would inch its way up. Among my own favourites are the morning glories (Ipomoea), which, true to their name, produce a new flush of trumpets - blue, pink or purple - every morning. I'm also fond of the canary creeper (Tropaeolum peregrinum), a refined relation of the nasturtium, with dainty, yellow, winged flowers; and sweet peas, of course - which unlike most annuals need rich soil to perform well.
For many gardeners, the sweet pea is the top annual for fragrance: it has both good looks and a heady scent. My own first prize for perfect perfume, however, goes to an unprepossessing-looking thing whose pale mauve flowers crinkle up to almost nothing during daylight hours. Yet after sundown, night-scented stock (Matthiola bicornis), unfurls its ghostly blooms and fills the air with a sweet aroma that is redolent of coconuts, cloves and honey - and something indefinably intoxicating. Copying the idea of a clever friend, I grow a pot on my bedroom windowsill, and bring it in last thing at night, to perfume my dreams. jpowers@irish-times.ie
DIARY DATES
The National Garden Exhibition Centre once again presents its "Gardeners' Days Out" in Kilquade, Co Wicklow. Tim Wallis and other horticultural experts will offer talks, demonstrations and advice on selected Saturdays, from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Subjects include composting, mulching and pruning (March 19th); planting for year-round interest (April 2nd); garden features and furniture, lawn care, and water gardening (April 16th); container planting (May 7th). Fee: €35, includes morning coffee and a light lunch. Booking essential. 01-2819346 or www.garden exhibition.net