Disappointed by last year's washed-out summer, Dan planted for heat this year, and chose one colour in particularI can't remember the last time I felt so fulfilled by the summer. The roses blew in the Mediterranean heat, the lettuce seedlings shrivelled, and at one point I was able to slide my fingers into cracks that had opened up in the ground. My fingertips emerged just damp and I hoped that the roots of my newly planted trees would be following the water as it retreated.
I saved my water for the vegetables and the flower garden, which has been brighter this year for the light and the heat. As I was deadheading the roses to encourage repeat action back in July, I was already aware that things would be different this year. The high summer colour was already charging the garden, which this year has been Mexican hot in its intensity. Bolting upright, the shards of golden Verbascum olympicum broke the flurry of self-seeding Shirley poppies; and Linum "Rubrum" fluttered among the Eschscholzias, the light reflected back at you in the sheen on their petals.
It was as a reaction to last year's appalling summer that I planned for more colour in the garden this year. I weighted it with orange – a colour I have always loved but that people are often afraid of, perhaps because it rarely occurs in our own wild flowers. Orange makes me think of spice markets in India and fragrant orange groves; it is a perfect base for a summer planting as it injects heat even when the clouds roll over.
The roses were the first of the oranges to appear, shifting the garden from spring to summer. "Summer Song" is one of my favourites and, despite its tendency to weakness, I grow it for flower alone. The blooms are a dark orange with a touch of brown to dampen it down. The soft orange flowers of "Morning Mist" are single and make a good complement to their fuller counterparts, and muddling them up in a bunch drives a wilder, more relaxed aesthetic.
Paler and cleaner in colour is "Pat Austin", with loose-petalled flowers that weight delicate stems to give the bush an informal quality. "Port Sunlight" is paler still with quartered, full-petalled flowers that fade to the colour of orange creams. If I had to choose one orange, it would be "Lady Emma Hamilton", which has dark foliage and soft orange flowers stained on the outsides with plum.
I grew enough Tagetes this year to interplant among the rows in my stockbeds, and they have been blazing ever since the peonies dropped in early July. I have grown "Cinnabar" for years now and cannot imagine being without it. The flowers are small and single, with a velvety red interior to the petals. All the other parts are a bright gold orange, the reverse of the petals making the interior appear darker, and anthers frilled upwards and out towards the sky. Keep it apart from the others if it is not to cross. Fergus Garrett from Great Dixter gave me the seed originally and this year I am growing some of his wild Tagetes patula. I have them beside me now in a jar with Eschscholzias so that I can see what I am writing about and they are electric – brighter even than the Californian poppy.
The true Tagetes patula is small-flowered and you can tolerate their intensity because they feel wild and unadulterated. Their growth is rangy too: by the end of the month they will be about waist height. I also have Tagetes erecta "Simba" in the mix for the contrast and flurry of petals. I can give or take most double Tagetes, but they are a dramatic in contrast to their wilder relatives.
I am growing the Mexican sunflower Tithonia rotundifolia "Torch" for the first time this year and feel I've made a new friend. I have it among Cosmos sulphureus "Ladybird", which flowers profusely at around knee height. The two seem perfectly combined, "Torch" rising up to a metre with petals of a rich bright orange, "Ladybird" fluttering around in support. Next year I will add some Helianthus "Velvet Queen" to take the combination higher, and keep my fingers crossed for another perfect summer.
*Get growing*
Deadhead Tagetes to keep the flowers coming. Relax deadheading at the end of the month to collect your own seed. Reported by guardian.co.uk 8 hours ago.
I saved my water for the vegetables and the flower garden, which has been brighter this year for the light and the heat. As I was deadheading the roses to encourage repeat action back in July, I was already aware that things would be different this year. The high summer colour was already charging the garden, which this year has been Mexican hot in its intensity. Bolting upright, the shards of golden Verbascum olympicum broke the flurry of self-seeding Shirley poppies; and Linum "Rubrum" fluttered among the Eschscholzias, the light reflected back at you in the sheen on their petals.
It was as a reaction to last year's appalling summer that I planned for more colour in the garden this year. I weighted it with orange – a colour I have always loved but that people are often afraid of, perhaps because it rarely occurs in our own wild flowers. Orange makes me think of spice markets in India and fragrant orange groves; it is a perfect base for a summer planting as it injects heat even when the clouds roll over.
The roses were the first of the oranges to appear, shifting the garden from spring to summer. "Summer Song" is one of my favourites and, despite its tendency to weakness, I grow it for flower alone. The blooms are a dark orange with a touch of brown to dampen it down. The soft orange flowers of "Morning Mist" are single and make a good complement to their fuller counterparts, and muddling them up in a bunch drives a wilder, more relaxed aesthetic.
Paler and cleaner in colour is "Pat Austin", with loose-petalled flowers that weight delicate stems to give the bush an informal quality. "Port Sunlight" is paler still with quartered, full-petalled flowers that fade to the colour of orange creams. If I had to choose one orange, it would be "Lady Emma Hamilton", which has dark foliage and soft orange flowers stained on the outsides with plum.
I grew enough Tagetes this year to interplant among the rows in my stockbeds, and they have been blazing ever since the peonies dropped in early July. I have grown "Cinnabar" for years now and cannot imagine being without it. The flowers are small and single, with a velvety red interior to the petals. All the other parts are a bright gold orange, the reverse of the petals making the interior appear darker, and anthers frilled upwards and out towards the sky. Keep it apart from the others if it is not to cross. Fergus Garrett from Great Dixter gave me the seed originally and this year I am growing some of his wild Tagetes patula. I have them beside me now in a jar with Eschscholzias so that I can see what I am writing about and they are electric – brighter even than the Californian poppy.
The true Tagetes patula is small-flowered and you can tolerate their intensity because they feel wild and unadulterated. Their growth is rangy too: by the end of the month they will be about waist height. I also have Tagetes erecta "Simba" in the mix for the contrast and flurry of petals. I can give or take most double Tagetes, but they are a dramatic in contrast to their wilder relatives.
I am growing the Mexican sunflower Tithonia rotundifolia "Torch" for the first time this year and feel I've made a new friend. I have it among Cosmos sulphureus "Ladybird", which flowers profusely at around knee height. The two seem perfectly combined, "Torch" rising up to a metre with petals of a rich bright orange, "Ladybird" fluttering around in support. Next year I will add some Helianthus "Velvet Queen" to take the combination higher, and keep my fingers crossed for another perfect summer.
*Get growing*
Deadhead Tagetes to keep the flowers coming. Relax deadheading at the end of the month to collect your own seed. Reported by guardian.co.uk 8 hours ago.