HOW good and how welcome the hazel is right now with its elegant, dangling, pale-yellow, male catkins. Common in hedgerows and woodlands, especially on alkaline soils, the hazel has long been revered in folklore: the tree of wisdom and nine hazels of wisdom were reputed to grow at the source of the river Boyne. It has been around a very long time - since the end of the last glaciation - so it is quite entitled to be wise. And hazel twigs were used by diviners to find sources of water.
There are not many hazels in modern gardens; in old orchards and nutteries they occasionally survive. A pleasant purple-leaved form of the common hazel is sometimes planted for its ornamental value, lovely catkins in spring and dark foliage in summer and autumn. This is Corylus avellana `Frusco-Rubra'. It is important to get the name right as this is the purple hazel. Very often the purple filbert is made to do duty for it and it is not such a nice thing, being coarser and of a less refined colour.
Much more common in gardens is the corkscrew hazel with its curiously twisted, turned and contorted branches. Hung with catkins, it has charm and is just the sort of thing to cut and bring indoors to adorn a vase. The combination of misshapen twigs, stems and limp dangling catkins always appeals. One branch is a ready-made flower arrangement and needs no further adornment. Looking exotic, it might be thought to hail from the distant East but, in fact, it originated in the vary adjacent East - a hedgerow in Gloucestershire.
Found about 1863, cuttings ever since have been grafted on to a root stock of the common hazel. It grows quite vigorously to 10 or 12 feet and when parading its stuff in March is a pleasing and attractive addition to the garden.
HE pity is that prior to producing its dangly adornments the twisted branches simply look distressed and uncomfortable. Bad as things are in that state. it looks really weird and sick when the leaves appear. The heavy, coarse foliage is puckered and twisted as the virus which first caused the stems to gyrate also affected the leaves and results in a thoroughly unpleasant spectacle. A large, plant is especially offensive and confrontation when in leaf and ideally one should not have to see it at all. So the trick is to plant the corkscrew hazel where it will be seen in March and will hardly be noticed at other times. Not an easy matter.
I was so put off by the behaviour of a plant that I happily got rid of it a few years ago. Not only did it offend by parading a heavy dumpy mass of misshapen leaves but it had a propensity to throw long vigorous suckers from the root stock. The combination got the better of me and I took pleasure in seeing it off Now I can admire the March display in other gardens without feeling that I must have it myself.
I had tried to make it more attractive in summer by growing the Scottish flame flower through it - Tropaeolum speciosum. The slightly pernickety flame flower took off but, instead of hiding the hazel, it only drew attention to it and the refined trefoil leaves of the creeper simply accentuated the ugliness of the host. Every time I tried to admire or enjoy the little scarlet flowers, hanging in swathes, I was repulsed by the very thing I had sought to hide.
It was a useful lesson; the more one tries to hide an ugly sight, the more one is inclined to draw attention to it.