Abominable Roses

I hate roses.

Sorry, that’s a bit of a generalisation as I don’t hate all roses, only those that are overly bred and too, too perfect. The large flowered Hybrid Teas, those picture-perfect roses with a million petals squashed into every bud, I particularly detest. You see them on every soppy Mother’s Day card and box of sweets, or plastered on the cover of those romantic novels written by some pink-clad, blue-rinsed duchess. Smaller flowered Floribundas, their floppy petalled, multi-headed cousins I can take or leave and normally do the latter. Big flowered climbers and ramblers I also detest with their ‘Look at me!’ attitude and need for constant tending.

These types of roses are, to the horticulture world, too much like the high maintenance girlfriends of some overpaid, talentless footballer. They’re all show when the conditions are right but give them too much rain, a little bit of wind and not enough attention, then they will look pretty dishevelled and sulk for weeks after.
Even if they do perform as expected they either look out of place amongst shrubs and perennials, or too garish and ghastly when displayed on their own in a bed.

Doubtless many of you won’t agree with me but I prefer my roses a little bit more on the wild-looking side, or at a push a bit old fashioned, but not dowdy.


Roses have been around in one form or another for the past few million years and we've been fiddling with them and cultivating them for the last few thousand. They grow wild in almost every corner of the northern hemisphere and although the Chinese were probably the first to grow them for decorative and medicinal purposes as well as their perfume, the Romans were probably the first to grow them extensively, most notably in the Middle East. If you want to see what fields of roses used for rose oil production look like, then take a trip away from the high rise resorts of Bulgaria’s Black Sea coast on your next holiday there and visit Kazanlak, where the scent of roses swamps the valley from late spring to the end of summer. I think they have a festival there too in June or July if you can drag yourselves from the beach.

Most of the roses in cultivation up until the end of the eighteenth century still looked at least like roses should with nice loose open heads and, usually, some scent. Then breeders both in Europe and in America got their hands on them and turned them into the monstrosities that most people relate to today. The last 100 years, in my opinion, have not been very kind to the rose.

The only concession I will grudgingly make to the modern breeding program is the fact that the newer hybrids flower longer than they previously did. But that doesn’t make everything all right in my mind. Anyway all that inbreeding can’t be good for any species. Isn’t it against some law, morally if not legally?

Again I’ve generalised a bit, as there are some rose breeders who have raised roses with a ‘wild’ look about them and haven’t given in to the demands of the fickle public. Other breeders such as David Austin have tried, and succeeded, in breeding roses that have an old fashioned look, but flower all summer with wonderful scent.

So they’re not all bad people.


My own garden contains a few roses and is awaiting another. The one that it’s waiting for is a rose called ‘William Lobb’ that has grown in my granny’s garden, which is now my aunt’s, for as long as I can remember. It was bred in 1855 (No, not by my granny!) and has purple-grey flowers and a strong scent. It’s fairly freely available in garden centres in the autumn but I’m getting some cuttings done from the original, via my mum’s garden.

I have a ‘Golden Wings’ in my front garden, which is relatively modern, as it was bred in the 1950s. It has large, single, pale yellow flowers for most of the summer and attracts wildlife such as bees and butterflies as well as trapping the occasional sweet wrapper or small child in its thorns.
As mentioned a few weeks ago, I have a ‘Kiftsgate’ romping over the back shed. This is covered in huge bunches of single white flowers for an all too brief a period in June and July and spends the rest of the time assaulting me as I go in and out of said shed.

‘Rhapsody in Blue’ is a very modern but old fashioned rose that is probably as close as you will get to a blue rose until the GM people get their hands on the rose gene code. It’s nicely scented and is currently fighting for survival in one of the raised beds in my back garden.

Last, but not least is a David Austin rose called ‘Claire Rose’ that I bought for my other half, for reasons you can guess, a few years back and currently sits in pot on the deck at the back of the house. It’s a very nice soft pink, scented variety that I dare not say anything nasty about, even if I thought it.

So as you can see roses can be versatile and, with all my ranting and raving, modern varieties can still have some charm, elegance and beauty. Plant them amongst shrubs and flowers, not just in a bed by themselves. Autumn to spring is the best time to source and buy them but now is a good time to spot them in flower.

There are plenty of books available to track down the names from descriptions or photos but if you go to a garden centre with a bloom they might be able to tell you the variety. Just be patient, as there are thousands of different varieties of roses.

Oh, and don’t tell them I sent you.

(First published August 2009)

So, Any Plans?

A few weeks ago I was talking about certain aspects of garden design, specifically where to site your house and what to do with regard to the positioning of windows, doors and such. I received some correspondence from people moaning that it was too late for all that in their case and what could they do to sort out their existing gardens, as they were getting a little fed up with them, especially over the last few years. And so, I've decided to once more delve in to the world of garden design to offer more of my opinions, if not necessarily advice. Mind you, if you’re lucky then they might just overlap.

At the moment, I'm in the same position as a lot of the above mentioned people who bought their homes 10 years ago or more. Yes lucky admittedly, but also getting somewhat bored with their gardens and in need of a redesign.

You see, we tend to change the inside of our houses relatively often. New flooring here, a fresh coat of paint there, declutter the living room, or put up new blinds or curtains. It’s all constantly changing. Usually people just layout their garden once, not long after they move in, and apart from the odd bit of maintenance they tend to leave it to, hopefully, age gracefully. Unfortunately gardens rarely do so. For sure the plants get bigger, yes the lawn fills out (usually with moss) and it all settles down, but whether you like it or not, it gets a little tired and dated looking after a while.

That’s the condition my own is in right now. You see I cut back everything a few weeks back and, a bit like finally trimming that big shock of hair that hides wrinkles and saggy skin, I can now see all the tired and worn areas of the garden. The deck and pergola are creaky and cracked, the railway sleepers are starting to rot and the plants, well some of the plants look as if they need to be put out of their misery sooner rather than later. They’ve out grown their space, they've lost their charm and many of them just don’t appeal to me anymore. (And I dare say they don’t appeal to my patient neighbours either as they creep over the wall and insinuate themselves into their gardens.)

Some of this is to do with boredom admittedly. No, not the plants getting bored obviously, but me. (Although the Fatsia at the bottom of the garden does seem to have gotten a little fidgety recently.) I’m tired of looking at the same plants day after day, as they are just greenery and never flower, which my other half constantly complains about anyway. I used to like this these type of plants but recently I have begun to prefer flowering ones a little more, so maybe she’s right. (Now there’s a statement that you won’t hear every day!) Anyway, for whatever reasons, I think I need a change of scenery, literally.

The first step down this road is planning. I have some ideas on what I would like to do, which I have gleaned from the many, many gardening books that are scattered around the house. Most are on garden design and to be honest, most I buy for the pictures or plans, not the text. (A couple of years ago I was on holiday in Italy and incensed and infuriated my better half by insisting on bringing back six different gardening magazines even though they were all in Italian, just for the pictures.) So at the moment I’m looking at pictures, scribbling down ideas and bookmarking pages. Leave plenty of time for research, and that’s the key. Think about what you want from the garden, what your family needs from it, what items you want to keep and, more importantly, what items you can dump. I know I will keep some plants either for sentimental reasons - yes I’m a big softy really - or because they give me some privacy in my semi-detached world but many will have to go.

You also need to think about when is the best time to do to certain tasks such as move plants or sow new ones and that’s where you might need some professional help, so ask someone in the know. In any case it’s often good to get another opinion. Sometimes when you’re too close to something you fail to see the obvious issues and changes that need to be made. It’s good to get some independent advice on what to do and how to go about it.

So if you’re planning on some changes in your garden then these are the key things to do at this stage.

• Look for ideas in books, on the Internet and in other gardens.
• Keep note of everything in a file
• Ask others for advice
• Take a critical look at what you have at the moment
• Be ruthless

Once you do all this you are well on the way to that garden makeover you so desperately want. All of this planning is so important and it’s pointless to even take your spade out of the shed before you know what you’re going to do with it.

After all, any eejit can dig a hole. It takes a very special one to dig it in the right place.

(Originally Published October 2009)

Liam Kelly  

www.facebook.com/TheGreenSpaceGardenDesign

Tropical Roots

(Unpublished)

“Wha’s dis?” said the gum-chewing checkout girl on the till at the supermarket, as she gingerly picked up one of the strange root vegetables that I had placed on the counter with an assortment of other potential purchases.

“Em, I think it’s called an Eddoe,” I said, as I watched her hold it between her thumb and forefinger. She sniffed it tentatively and placed it back on the counter, wiping her hands on her uniform.

“Howdya spell da?” she asked, and sighed as she scratched her head with a pen extracted with some difficulty from behind her ear.

“E-D-D...”

“Howld on a mina’,” she interrupted and pressed some keys on the till before looking at me open mouthed with a semi-vacant expression.

“O-E,” I finished and she hit a few more keys.

She sighed again and stared at the screen for a moment.

“Are ya sure? Cos snaw on de compu-er.”

She tapped the screen with the pen, her mouth hanging open again.

“Pretty sure that’s what was on the sign,” I replied looking behind me, conscious of the growing queue of restless people that was forming on this, the only till open of the half dozen lined up at the exit of the store.

“Dya ee e?”

“Sorry?”

“Like cook e?”

“Oh. Sorry, yes you eat it.”

“Ri’” she said and poked it around the counter with her pen. Then she focused on an imaginary point a foot above my head before pressing some more buttons on her keyboard.

“Well der swee’ podayhoes now. Da’ll be five twen’y five for de loh. Are ya klekdin de stamps?”

‘Aah, No. Thanks,’ I replied shaking my head as I paid her.

“I hope de tays beher than de look,” she said, as she gave me back my change.

I was still shaking my head as I left the store.

She had a point mind you, as they are certainly not the most attractive looking of vegetables. They resemble something a cat had not so much dragged in as covered up in a litter tray.

Eddoes, or Taros, belong to a group of plants called Calocasia. They are native to southeastern Asia and the second part of its Latin name, esculenta, translates as ‘edible’. I first came across them in a previous existence when I sold the tubers as exotic perennials called Elephant’s Ears - not to be confused with Bergenia, which are also known by the same common name - that would grow up to a metre high with broad luxuriant leaves. Although they need winter protection, their jungle effect foliage was a wonderful contrast to grasses and bamboos that were becoming popular at the time, and still are. The flower bulb company who marketed these plants went bust a few years ago and I had forgotten about them until I spotted the exotic roots in a supermarket recently. Although labelled as Eddoes I knew them immediately as the Calocasia I had sold and grown in the past.

I had always recommended growing them in pots so that the could be overwintered easily by lifting the pots in to a shed and letting the leaves turn yellow before removing them to prevent the bulb rotting. I presumed they could be grown from the tubers I had found in the supermarket and sure enough, after a few weeks in pots on the windowsill they began to send out some spindly shoots that I knew will eventually turn into soft heart shaped leaves.

I cooked a few too, peeling them first, cutting them into strips and roasting them in the oven with a little olive oil before tossing them in a little sea salt and black pepper. They tasted vaguely earthy like mild potatoes with a slight sweet-nutty taste and a firm crunchy texture. Although quite tasty they were no match for a few roasted Maris Pipers so I’m not sure that they will be featuring high up in my diet over the coming years. (Not unless I discover they are a cure for hangovers at least.)

The reason they are popular as a food crop in other countries is because of their need for damp soil conditions and high humidity, something that potatoes would not generally tolerate. In tropical countries our staple the spud would collapse and die before you could say, “Have you any spray for potato bli… oh, never mind.” The Eddoe however will thrive and prosper in these conditions so it’s understandable why it and its close relatives are grown instead.

Indeed the tubers I bought in that supermarket had arrived here from Brazil, a country where I’m sure they sow potatoes but where a crop like this, that needs little care or attention can be easily grown by all.

So I think I’ll stick with it for its ornamental value. With its toes sitting in the pond it will make a welcome addition to the jungle of my back garden. Not to mention the fact that it takes a lot of the nutrients out of a pond that would normally cause algae and green water. (I just need to remember to bring it in to my shed for the winter.) Not bad value for fifty cent “swee’ padayhoes” as they’re know in certain retail circles.

Welcome to the jungle!

Walking in the Woods

(Published in 2009)

We went for a wonderful walk in the woods last week. (There’s alliteration that would make my old English teacher proud!) It was a nice crisp, clear afternoon and I had just collected Ryan from school. So when we got home he quickly changed out of his uniform, my better half wrapped up our one year old daughter, Katy, in something warm and way too pink and after throwing the buggy in the boot we set off on the short drive to our local forest park, a couple of miles from our house in suburbia.

The path weaves through some trees before passing by a grassed picnic area near a small lake and on through a larger, densely wooded area before returning back to the start by a slightly different route. To do the whole circuit is a bit of a walk so we tend only do two-thirds of it, as small legs are not able for much more than that. Neither are Ryan and Katy’s for that matter.

As we walked, pushing Katy’s buggy, Ryan ran ahead a little to scout the way before returning to us with something exciting to impart such as a collection of feathers that marked the demise of a pigeon or a fallen branch that ‘looks a bit like a monster’. It really was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, even Katy got in on the act. She wobbled along the path in her new shoes looking like a mini pink Michelin man in her padded jacket, pointing and grunting at anything that moved including a couple of startled joggers she encountered.

The thing is, we didn’t actually see too many people. There were a few cars in the car park but apart from the joggers the only other person we saw was a man walking his dog. It seemed strange to me that the place was so quiet. Sure it was a weekday and yes it was a little cool but not overly so, so why were there not more people about?

It’s a wonderful place to learn about nature and how plants, and animals of course, function in their natural environment. It’s an ideal place to see what happens in autumn when the leaves start to fall from the trees and the various fungi peep through the detritus on the forest floor or perch precariously from a rotting log. At the risk of sounding like David Attenborough, the life cycle of many things surround us in places such as these, and it’s a bit like a living classroom as far a teaching about nature is concerned. Just without the uniforms and Ben 10 lunch boxes.

I must say we are as guilty as everyone else with regard to bringing our kids ‘back to nature’. We don’t get out to these places as often as we should and it’s only when we do get here that I realise what our kids are missing out on.

I grew up in the countryside and learned about nature from what I saw around me in the fields, ditches and woods. Myself, my sisters and our friends would traipse through the local countryside in all seasons and weather, for no reason other than it was the only thing to do. Especially if you wanted to avoid doing things like homework, housework or any other chores. I guess we absorbed nature while we were out and about. It soaked into our bodies as we climbed oak trees, waded through streams and on one memorable occasion found a decomposing fox in a field and poked it with sticks until we got bored, which was a good while later.

Now I live in the town. My children will grow up as ‘Townies’, that pale-faced race we shunned when we were kids (Is that a racist comment?), and I fear that in this bubble-wrapping, child-cosseting, health and safety-fied world we now live in that they won’t experience nature. Learning about it and from it at the same time. I worry that they’ll never get to poke that dead fox with a stick. Does any of that make sense?

This all relates back to gardening of course, in case you thought I had once again gone off on a tangent. You need to know about nature and how it works before you can understand why a shrub flowers at a certain time, why plants berry, why some trees loose their leaves or why moss grows in your lawn. This is because a lot of gardening is not knowledge as such but absorbed common sense from a knowing how nature works.

I think I have a good bit of catching up to do with Ryan but I still have time. Katy should be easier as she’s so young and she might absorb things a little easier. That is providing we can loose the pink, puffy, nature-deflecting look she currently has.

Perhaps I can still knock that ‘Townieness’ out of them to some degree!

So today we’re off to the woods again and hopefully we’ll see something new. Maybe some ripened hazelnuts, a rabbit burrow or something else new and exciting to a now five year old. Although I’m not sure if he’s up to a dead fox yet, and I doubt if his teacher would like it on the nature table either!