Having had a little time to sit down this week and look at plants in the garden there are some that seem to be to me much more than mere plants. They have a quality that is both restful and almost magical. One such is Alchemilla Mollis, which goes by the preferable name of 'lady's mantle'. I know it can be a ground cover thug, but it produces glorious wafty, clouds of lime green flowers that look stunning in borders, or cut, in vases. I love also the slightly acidic smell of it, and the way it looks brilliant with any colour at all. It is also incredibly generous in its growth.... no sooner have you cut it back than it is putting on new growth. But the most enchanting thing about it, is the way that the slightest bit of dew or rain beads on its leaves. In medieval times they used to believe that if you went out and collected the dew it helped your skin, and the water was popular with alchemists, who thought that the dew drops on its leaves could help their work. I just love the way that the water looks like small quicksilver drops of mercury. An absolute 'must have' plant in anyone's garden.

So very exciting.....

Those of you who know me at all will know how passionate I am about helping those who suffer from PTSD, combat stress or any of the myriad problems that beset our Service personnel when they are in as well as out of our Services. I am absolutely over the moon that I am going to be assisting the Stoll Foundation set up a Gardening Club. The aim of this is to help them improve their garden in London, grow plants and assist them with looking after their gardens, however they choose to do that. There are one or two other things in the pipeline too, but I have to be patient about that and cannot tell anyone yet.... watch this space.

Scents

I know it seems to be stating the blindingly obvious, but to me scent is one of the most important of our senses. And yet, it seems to be one of the least utilised within garden design. Scents are subtle, evocative things. Too much is so overpowering it can make us feel physically sick. Lavender in particular can do this; I know several people who have searing headaches if they release its perfume by crushing the leaves. Apparently this is becoming an increasing problem as lavendar is used more and more in 'natural' products such as soap, body lotions, washing powders etc. We ignore the potency of such natural oils and essences at our perils. But I diverge..... Scent brings back powerful memories, both good and bad. And planning for scent is perhaps a little more complex than most of us realise. There aer certain scents for certain times of the year; for certain times of the day and night; and for certain temperatures. All these elements affect the release of perfume from flowers, and to my mind a garden without scent is a garden without a soul. Certainly some of the scents that are the most lovely can come from the most unassuming shrubs imagineable. Winter flowering honeysuckle (Lonicera x purpusii)is a shrub that should be planted at the back of a border in all gardens. The lemony scent that is released in the winter sun is just glorious. It is deciduous, with largish leaves and an untidy habit - not pretty in summer, but worth planting for its winter scent. The other plant that I simply love is Elaegnus Ebbingei, a silvery leaved evergreen that produces small, insignificant white flowers in autumn and the most glorious scent. The flowers are so inconspicuous that it always catches me out, as I can never work out where the perfume, which is sweet and jasmine like, comes from. And then of course we have my favourite flower; the rose. A rose without perfume is a bit like eating a flavourless apple. Why would you bother? Chandos Beauty is a favourite with a heavy wonderful perfume that will scent a room. And I love its colour, creamy pink. Gorgeous. And at the moment, when walking down country lanes the perfume of honeysuckle pervades everywhere. Its heady scent brings back to me some of my happiest memories of time spent in the sun, in our glorious countryside. Think I am dreaming ..... well perhaps I was hallucinating, but I am sure that I did see something yellow in the sky today!

Rain!

There is so much I want to do, and even need to do, but somehow just somehow, it is almost more than I can do to put one foot in front of the other. The way to hell and all of that...... Our grey skies are wondrous for those who want to stay curled up in bed - I wish. Looking at the pictures I posted only a few weeks ago, I can hardly believe that the weather was so hot and gorgeous. Mind you it brought its own problems (where would we be without the weather to complain about - well we would not be living in the UK that is for sure!). We went from gloopy mud to baked hard ground within the space of 3 weeks. I do not think I have ever had to plant in such contrary weather. In one garden, 4" of thick mud (so thick that my steel capped boots stuck regularly, and a small plaintive yelp could be heard across the flower beds as foot and boot parted company (luckily my arse did not end up in the mud, nor my face, although that did happen to someone else, who shall remain nameless) and I had to have a strong manly arm extended to grasp onto)to drought riven ground that even the rotivators had problems with. All of which begs a fundamental question - irrigation - whether it comes from the sky, the ground, or the tap. In our mad British weather it is absolutely essential; although you can bet your life on the fact that once it is installed it will rain for the requisite 30 days without ceasing, and your client will look skyward and deem it unecessary. It so is NOT. Nor does it have to be complicated or mind blowingly expensive. Leaky pipe is what we use, with a simple timer connected to a tap. It has saved the life of many a tree and plant, and it means that you can even plant when you should probably not ie. high summer because you can put the timer on, leave the irrigation and go away without worrying about a thing. It is in these dark dog days that I find that madly unfashionable colour orange so warming and cheerful. I know, I know,that it is a colour everyone loves to hate, but mix it with white and blues, and it lifts the spirit. The more draining and grey the colour of the sky the more upbeat it makes me feel..... And here, just to cheer you up is a wonderful selection of plants in a garden at Chelsea, to make you feel that there is sunshine... somewhere!

Highlight at Chelsea

There were a couple of absolute highlights for me at Chelsea. One was the delightful artisan gardens and in particular Kazuyuki Ishihara's Satoyama Life. How can such a small garden be so beautifully balanced? Exquisitely composed and full of detail and yet completely devoid of clutter,it was a miracle this garden got to show at all given the destruction of so much in the tsunami. The garden deservedly received a gold medal, and I would not be surprised if it was voted as People's Choice Award. When you look at this picture it is almost impossible to tell where the garden begins or ends, never mind comprehend that it was not there three weeks ago, and in two weeks time there will be no evidence left of its existence.

And then of course there is Diarmuid Gavin's garden? I know for many people his concept would be deemed incomplete, untidy, and 'what on earth is it anyway'. But he poses a real question, and for me an answer. As our cities become more and more crowded there is less and less room for gardens. The only way therefore is 'up'. A modern Hanging Gardens of Babylon, if you like. So I take my hat off to him for creating this, and for Westland Horticulture for taking up the challenge, because it must have been an epic act of construction for the contractors. And there is some really good planting. The problem is that it was impossible to see it, unless you were able to get in there. So thank you Diarmuid for making us think again - that after all is what designers are all about.

Chelsea

What a day of contrasts Tuesday was; bitterly cold to start with and then so hot that people were passing out! Who ever said the British weather was boring? Impressions? Well as one lady put it: 'If you put together grasses, stones and water you have a Chelsea show garden'. Harsh perhaps but fair. To put it in perspective, the weather conditions for Chelsea have been atrocious so many gardens had flowers that were yet to bloom - so with this hot weather by Thursday this week everything should be starting to look spectacular. However, when I went there were very low light levels, it was very cold and I have to say that none of the gardens made me either laugh (very important) out loud with delight, or stop dead stunned by the planting or beauty. For me the highlights were: Joe Swift's Homebase Teenage Cancer Trust Garden (above right) which had fabulous wooden structures that sang with warmth and contrasted and complimented the planting; and,

Chris Beardshaw's Furzey Garden (left) which may go some way to bringing azaleas, rhododendrons and shrubs back into fashion (long overdue), and yes Diarmuid Gavin's The Westland Magical Garden of which more late.

Sunshine?

Looking out of the window the sky is overcast and it is 'mizzling' as we used to call it. That rain that soaks you through without noticing..... not quite drizzle, and once it is set in, it tends to stay for the day. So to brighten up the day and start the week on a positive note, I thought I would post a picture of some Red Campion (Silene dioica) and the beautiful bluebells (hyacinthoides non-scripta)that are

peppering our banks and woods at the moment. The origin of the name of Red (or White) Campion delights me on such a day. Silenus was the drunken, happy god of the woodlands in Greek mythology. Entirely appropriate for a flower that creates splashes of colour along the banks of lanes. As for our beautiful bluebell, which is under threat from hybrisation (sounds like an electric car) and/or the Spanish bluebell, they are finally blooming despite dire warnings about an early spring. The miserable April we had has put their flowering back and they are only just carpeting the woods and banks around me, like an inverted sky.

This weekend I also sighted my first Orange-tip butterflies - such pretty butterflies and much less commonly sighted around here than the Peacocks and Red Admirals.