colour | Life in the English Cotswolds

Over the years, as part of my work as a garden creator, I’ve had the pleasure of planting several rose gardens, mostly on quite a modest scale. However, that changed four years ago when I was asked to design a garden from what was a steeply sloping area close to the house. I had just retired and so the client, whom I’d known for many years, agreed that I would only create the design and oversee the purchase of plants but everything else others would do. In effect, it meant that I had all the fun tasks without having to commit to working endless hours as their own team of builders and gardeners would do all the hard labour. Just as well, as the end design involved considerable earth moving and wall building…

*The rose garden will be in the middle section*

*The rose garden laid out but still some way to go before planting…*

The change of levels meant that a sizeable terrace was needed and at 25m x 8m (82ft x 26ft) I proposed that this would be the perfect place for a formal rose garden. Roses are beautiful when in flower but look dreary during the winter, especially when seen en masse. Here they would be hidden from view but during the warm, summer months their heavy scent would rise to entice the garden visitor to literally follow their nose. Reaching the steps that lead down to the parterre they are hit by a dazzling display of colour creating a (good) visual shock. With the shelter and warmth provided by the terrace walls and some yew hedging, the roses have thrived. The photo below was taken this week, just over three years since they were planted.

*The rose garden three years after planting*

Walking through the parterre I was pleased that I had decided to plant just four varieties, all with rich, vibrant blooms. However, it also made me ponder on the countless roses that I have grown over the years and which were, to me at least, the best. Could I restrict myself to just choosing ten? Well, here goes and not in any special order.

Queen of Sweden Surely this must be everybody’s idea of what the perfect rosebud should look like? It’s a tall, upright rose not unlike the Queen Elizabeth rose although I think it has the edge on that one. I have only ever grown it in one garden and perhaps unsurprisingly, the owners were Swedish. I like to think that hasn’t influenced my choice! It’s good as a cut flower and excellent as a buttonhole.

Rosa de Rescht I first came across this heavily scented moss rose in the garden of an elderly artist where she grew it as a low hedge lining a pathway. Over the years, I got to know her well and she told me it had been planted by her mother when she was a child, so it is obviously a long-lived and trouble-free variety. It is upright, suckers freely but in a good way which means that it never looks straggly or sparce. Best of all, the suckers flower true to type so can be used elsewhere. I was given some several years before the artist died and they have flourished in my own garden. They are disease free and I have discovered that they thrive equally well in semi-shade under trees. You can read more about this rose here.

Rosa Ghislaine de Feligonde This is quite a ‘new’ rose to me. A climber, I planted it to scramble along the top of a garden wall in a client’s garden where instead it sulked for about three years at its foot. I was about to remove it as a failure when it suddenly put on a spurt of growth to become the beauty that it is now. Is it slow to establish or was it just slow in that particular spot? I don’t know the answer but how glad I am that I didn’t condemn it to the bonfire.

Rosa Weichenblau The so-called ‘blue’ roses are not everybody’s cup-of-tea and I have mixed feelings about them. Some I love, others, I’m not so keen. That’s mostly down to colour as the blueness can vary in intensity. I like this rambling rose enough to have it in my own garden where it flowers happily along an old wooden fence filling the garden with perfume for a relatively short period of time. This one I tend to let travel where it wants as periodically quite large lengths of it suddenly die. I’ve never worked out quite why and it doesn’t really matter too much – I just prune it out and fill the space with the new growth which it regularly sends out.

*A love it or hate it rose: Weichenblau*

The Crocus Rose A pale, creamy beauty from David Austen. I grew this shrub rose in a border combined with apricot-coloured roses; the spaces in-between filled with tall spikes of blue campanula and purple salvias. All were contained behind a clipped box hedge and it created a lot of interest. One of the advantages of being a working gardener (I always feel the term ‘professional gardener’ sounds rather dismissive to all those very talented and knowledgeable home gardeners) is that I get the opportunity to experiment with both plants and planting styles and in many different sorts of soils. However, in this instance, I’ve never tried to recreate it despite its success.

Rosa x odorata ‘Mutabilis’ I find this a fascinating shrub rose as it has all the colours of the sunset in one flower: the buds start a very deep pink, the flowers open to a rich pink and gradually fade to apricot. The result is this multi-coloured rose which, with its single flowers being produced prolifically and over a very long period, the effect is mesmerising. It is an open shrub rose with rather wiry, lax branches and so it can get a bit straggly over time. I’ve found that it responds to quite hard pruning although it isn’t as fast to recover as the modern hybrid roses. In my present garden it copes with quite windy conditions, and in one place it has sneaked its way in amongst a wall-grown climbing rose where it has reached a height of five feet. I’ve never tried growing it solely in this way, it would be interesting to find out how it looked. This plant has had several name changes over the years so you may find it offered for sale as Rosa chinensis ‘Mutabilis’ or just Mutabilis Rose.

Gertrude Jekyll Named after the Edwardian garden designer, this vigorous rose is usually sold as a climber where it can reach ten feet. However, if pruned hard each winter and then pruned into shape, it can be grown as a modest sized shrub. Either way you’ll be treated to these superb blooms. I grow it as a climber but I do prune some stems quite hard to make sure that I have growth of all heights. Left to itself all the flowers will be high above eye level on long stems which make fabulous cut flower arrangements in tall vases.

*Gertrude Jekyll, usually grown as a climber*

Blush Noisette Probably best described as a short climber. My experience is growing it in the corner of a high wall where I only tie in the occasional branch, the rest remaining free yet upright. It is smothered in these small, almost double flowers and if regularly dead-headed will flower throughout the summer. Completely trouble-free, it never seems to get attacked by disease or pests.

Rosa glauca Don’t be fooled by the garden catalogues showing a pretty pink almost star-like flower for, as can be seen in the lower left corner of the image below, they are fairly insignificant. This rose (sometimes sold as Rosa rubrifolia) is grown for the colour of its young leaves and stems, making it much more of a foliage plant. A shrub rose, if left to its own devices the colour fades: to maintain its colour interest it needs to be quite hard pruned during the winter to encourage new growth. In the photo below, I planted a trio of them in an herbaceous border with the poppy ‘Patty’s Plum’ in their centre. This poppy always collapses just as it flowers and, as I hoped, here it has become caught on the rose thorns saving me the task of staking and tying them in. I treat the roses as if they were herbaceous plants and so they are cut to within a few inches of the ground in early winter along with all the other plants in the border.

*The poppy ‘Patty’s Plum’ growing through Rosa* glauca

Dog Rose It may surprise you to find included here our wild rose of the hedgerows, Rosa canina. I’ve only ever grown it once and that is here in my own garden. Appearing as an unasked-for bird-sown seedling at the foot of iron estate fencing, any attempt I made at cutting it out only increased its vigour. I don’t like using weedkillers much and so I accepted defeat and decided to try and tame it instead. We have reached a truce: I prune out only the longest stems it continually produces and it, in return gives me a splendid, if short-lived display of beautiful pink and white blooms that the bees and other insects love. Left on, I then have another display of bright red rosehips through early winter after which, it has a severe haircut. The result has become the talking-point of our garden. As I have learnt over the years, sometimes the most unexpected plants or combination of plants give the greatest pleasure.

*A bird-sown wild Dog Rose* growing on a garden fence

There are certain flowers that I have been aware of all my life. I’m not sure if that proves that I was an extremely sensitive child or whether it is just because my parents and other relatives only ever talked about gardening. I can still see pansies growing in the circular bed beneath the apple tree and shrub roses either side of the archway that led to the vegetable garden. The strawberries grew along the right hand fence and the rhubarb in front of the chicken run and yet we moved from that house when I was just nine years old. But there is one thing that bothers me: I can recall the Iris, dark blue, growing tall and strong but I can’t remember if they were in the front or back garden. It doesn’t really matter, of course, but it seems odd that I can’t picture them when I can clearly remember my father telling me enthusiastically that “they come in all the colours of the rainbow.” Despite his passion for them he only ever grew the one colour (which is perhaps odder still) and it was only when I had a garden of my own that more and more colours started to creep in.

An idea that I had wanted to try out for some time, spurred on by this memory, was to plant a border devoted to iris of all colours – a rainbow border. This requires space, not because the plants take up much room but because they have quite a short flowering time, perhaps just two or three weeks. This makes such a border rather a luxury, especially in a small garden.

I garden for my living – a hobby turned into a career – and I have quite a number of clients with gardens, some of very many acres. It is in one of these that the rainbow border has been planted. Confidentiality prevents me from showing the completed border in its entirety so you will have to imagine wave after wave of varying shades of blues, whites, burnt ochres, burgundies, golds and purples. The effect is breath-taking as is one other thing I’d forgotten from childhood: scent although not all colours are fragrant and those that are vary in strength and quality. Spectacular they may be when in bloom but blink and they are gone for another twelve months. Fortunately, herbaceous borders bursting into flower draw attention away from what has now become a dull part of the garden.

In my own garden, I’ve had to be more restrained, poking them into odd spaces where they can get enough sun, yet they still offer surprises. This yellow variety, Butterscotch Kiss, is a good colour for it is not harsh; best of all its fragrance is overpowering, scenting the whole garden and wafting into rooms through open windows.

Although the Bearded Irises, Iris germanica, arefavourites, there is always room for smaller varieties. The tiniest are the early flowering Iris reticulata which tend to get lost in my borders so are grown in pots. They flower in February and March. The Dutch Irises are useful grown in the vegetable garden for cutting but also grow well in the flower garden, flowering about now. Both types are grown from corms (similar in appearance to bulbs), planted in the autumn. Iris unguicularis is a perennial, winter flowering iris, ideal for picking and often with a delicate perfume. In the photo below, it is growing in a pot indoors and flowering on Christmas Day. In the garden it wants to be placed at the foot of a wall and grown in poor, stony soil.

The bog Iris, Iris sibirica, grows well in wet soil but also adapts quite happily to the garden border providing it is kept well watered until established. Its leaves are grass-like and the flowers much daintier than their Bearded cousins.

Compared to the standard Iris sibirica above, Flight of Butterflies is more compact and has flowers with emphasised blue and white veining

There are numerous types, too, for the pond and these grow standing in several inches of water. Our native Yellow Flag, Iris pseudoacorus, is robust and can be too dominant in smaller areas of water. It is a lovely sight when seen in the wild – we have plenty here in the secret valley growing along the edge of the river, their broad rush like leaves making the perfect resting place for dragonflies .