August, Perch Hill & Sissinghurst

Summer is already closing down. The hedgerows are ripe with berries and haws, autumn cyclamen have nudged their heads through, and I’ve just spent a fortune on new school uniform. August has been intensely busy; not always enjoyably so. There’s been a lot of (too much) work, which makes school holidays a challenge. Living in the moment is difficult when there are too many calls on your time and energy, and this is particularly hard at this time of year, knowing that the light, the heat, the colour, will soon fade away into winter. So I’m looking forward to September, in the hope of a quieter few weeks, getting some essential tasks finished in the garden and allotment, and hopefully an Indian summer after the endless rain of July and changeability of August.

This post is a visual scrapbook of my August, including notes from the veg patch, my biannual pilgrimage to Perch Hill and Sissinghurst for creative inspiration, and other bits of messing about.

Allotment life

In short, after a lousy start, we’ve done OK on the allotment this summer. July rain helped enormously, creating an abundance of French and runner beans, excellent soft fruit (in particular the raspberries) and a good number of courgette. No kale this year, due to all the slugs and that rubbish compost, though there’s still chance of a winter harvest.

Perennial cut flowers now a riot of colour
Climbing beans (runner, French, borlotti) have thrived in the wet summer

The dahlias, snap dragon and gladioli are particularly happy this year, meaning I’m getting regular car boot-fulls of cut flowers. The colour way is definitely on the pink/white spectrum, and next year I’d like more orangey-red-peachy shades plus some light, airy stems. Special note to the sweet peas, which have thrived in pots in the gloom, and are still flowering now even as we near September.

A regular boot full of blooms and berries
Dahlias nudging up against sweet peas
Hot magentas with whites

It should be noted that any modest success I have is put into proportion by my Mum and Dad, who could be market gardeners really. Every trip home I am given a veg box heaving with tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, aubergine, lettuce, sweetcorn…

Every visit home leaves me with a veg box

Perch Hill, East Sussex

To Sussex, for the dahlia open day at Perch Hill (Sarah Raven’s cutting garden). It’s my fourth visit here, for this place is SO brilliant, so abundant, so creative in its planting combinations and colour, that it’s a joy to visit. Happily since learning that they have several full time gardeners (and pots of cash of course) I feel less bad about the comparison to my humble efforts.

Take aways for me this year are the coral/peach spectrum dahlias, which I would like more of, and the sheer number of pots with hot, vibrant shades of really quite common plants such as French marigold, achillea and fuchsia, which feels very achievable at home. The persicaria orientalis is amazing, towering over me with magenta colour.

The sensational dahlias beds
Ammi visnaga is as tall as me, crammed in with scabious and more dahlias in the cutting garden
Love the persicaria orientalis, a good eight feet tall and hot pink
Helpful plant ID stands are dotted around the garden
Enjoyed the clashing achillea crammed together into one bucket
The Oast garden is a jungle of hot-coloured abundance
Rich oranges and corals in the Dutch Garden

My stand out plant was actually not a flower at all, but this humble kale, called ‘dazzling blue’ – I presume it’s a cross between a cavolo nero and a blue kale, and planted next to orange marigolds looked amazing.

My star plant was actually this kale called Dazzling Blue – a beauty

Sissinghurst, Kent

On to Sissinghurst, the pinnacle of garden design – a place of romance, bohemia, artistry and of course serious hard graft for the people who keep it going. I wanted to soak up the beauty of the rose garden and see the newly planted dry garden (Delos) for the first time, but mainly my visit was to see what this place does at the end of summer, for Sissinghurst is famously a garden for June.

The answer is that the cottage garden is vibrant with jungle colour – oranges, reds, yellows, from more French marigolds, sunflowers, cannas and rudbeckias. Simply wonderful.

View to the rose garden from the tower
Looking over Delos, the newly recreated dry garden
Yellows and oranges in the cottage garden
Love this clash of red and orange

The other thing Sissinghurst does at this time of year is grow serious (I mean serious) amounts of fruit and veg. The kitchen garden is so vast and so productive that it’s kind of unreal; this isn’t your usual pretty-pretty National Trust veg patch, but a serious working market garden. That, and they coppice of course, a tradition that is rich in this part of Southern England but harder to find further north. As a family we are, naturally enough, extremely drawn to this sustainable method of wood production.

Sissinghurst hosts the veg patch of dreams! Beans, squash and lettuce in abundance.
Sissinghurst has acres of coppiced hazel
The tradition of coppicing is rich in Kent and Sussex

August living

Work, harvesting and gardens aside, there has been a bit of messing about. A weekend in the Peaks, a visit to London, a few days in a yurt…

On top of Thorpe Cloud in the Peaks
Yurt life! It’s our second visit to the yurt at Dogwood Camping near Rye. This time we got wise and brought the mini oven, meaning that baked pancakes and fish-finger curry were on the menu (not on the same plate obviously).
Spotting fish in the Sissinghurst lake. The wider woodland at Sissinghurst is a revelation, well worth an explore, and completely free of visitors.
Playing soldiers in Kent parkland (you can just see Harry’s legs)
Messing about on the beach at Bexhill
Picnic at Dungeness

Also not pictured: rain storms, tantrums (from both child and parents), mud, over-priced ice cream, emergency trip to Morrisons for aforementioned fish fingers, big fat CLOSED sign at Knole (ffs), traffic jams, horrendous numbers of work WhatsApp messages at evenings/weekends, guilt at not being more available for work, guilt over not being more available for family, slugs, weeds, washing piles, YouTube videos.

Also this month:

Harvesting: French beans (purple ones particularly productive this year), courgettes, raspberries, blueberries. Runner beans I am leaving to pod up, then harvest as we would borlotti. No greens/kales this year. Dahlias, cosmos, snapdragon, glads, self-seeded cornflowers, last sweet peas. Every trip home I am gifted tomatoes, excellent cucumbers, beans, aubergine, peppers, blueberries…the list goes on.

Allotment: Put down three green manures to compare their efficacy. Squash doing well. Hops and crysanthemums have both succumbed to some kind of insect/virus attached. Sunflowers nearly out, though one has died after having its stem stripped by enterprising wasps. Could do with more perennials…dahlias, oranges/red/coral shades, plus rudbeckia, helianthus, that kind of thing.

Cooking and eating: Camp food – fish-finger curry, chicken goujon tacos, baked plum pancakes, thermos of tea. Lots of plums. Prepping bags and bags of soft fruit, apples from Clives, roast tomatoes and beans, and sweet corn for the freezer. It takes hours but I’ll be grateful for it come February.

Also: Reading Sarah Raven’s book about the making of Sissinghurst. Went back to the Agatha Christie’s but after four Poirots in a row I need a break from all the murders. No time for telly. Wondering what happened to my creative brain, for it is now full of tasks, emails and deadlines.

Dream vs reality

It ‘should’ be the season of abundance on the allotment, with buckets of cut-flowers and courgettes coming out of my eyes. But this year – not so much. Many plants are still tiddlers, and others are showing the effect of that cold dry spring.

We spent the midsummer solstice in Kent and Sussex, revisiting two old favourites (Perch Hill and Sissinghust) and discovering new creative inspiration at Dungeness. And whilst we had a lovely time I can’t help but notice the contrast in abundance between the gardens ‘down south’ and ours up in the Midlands. More of that later. For a while, let’s look at the dream gardens/cutting patches/kitchen gardens and see what inspirations can be taken for back home.

Perch Hill & Sissinghurst

Ah Perch Hill, garden of Sarah Raven, and Sissinghurst, home of Vita Sackville-West. Both of them exude femininity and abundance, but the soft edges are prevented from being overwhelmingly sickly by extravagantly expensive landscaping – this is not a criticism, merely an observation.

The oast garden at Perch Hill – crammed with plants, with plenty of structures to give height

Both gardens are massive of course, but because they are made of several garden rooms or areas, they still feel domestic. It’s easy to forget that it takes several full-time gardeners (and multi-million pound investment) to get them this good, so natural is the effect.

What I love about both, but Perch Hill in particular, is the way everything is crammed together. Crammed! Perch Hill has two cutting gardens (one perennial and one annual), a veg patch, trial grounds, rose garden, oast garden, Dutch garden and wild meadow plus glasshouses. I don’t think there is an inch of spare soil anywhere. It’s not all tidy-tidy either – the perennial cutting garden was notably full of self-seeders and weeds, and looks all the better for it.

The perennial cutting garden at Perch Hill, taken 18 June – lupins, poppies, love in a mist, astrantia and peonies predominate

In mid June, peonies, lupins, astrantia and poppies take centre stage for cutting, giving way to the annuals (cosmos, ammi etc) and then later in the year to dahlias and chrysanthemums. The cutting year starts with the narcissi, leading to tulips and alliums, then to biennials of foxglove and sweet william. Succession of colour is the big story here; it’s something I certainly aspire to but have yet to work out how to actually achieve given our limited space for starting plants off.

Love these lupins but also love how jam-packed and actually slightly untidy it all is
Astranita is on the cut flower list for 2022

At Perch Hill they put in a ‘lasagne’ system of growing to make the most of space. Dahlias are in the same bed as spring bulbs (narcissi and tulips), with annuals in the top. So the bulbs coming up in March/April, giving way to June poppies, and then the dahlias take over in late summer. I think this is a fabulous idea but I wonder how well it translates in a cooler climate, where annuals often don’t flower until mid-July.

An abundance of poppies is planted over top of dahlias, supported with impressive grid structures of silver birch
The entrance at Sissinghurst, always full of gorgeous cut flowers

The key take-aways for me are:
– Everything takes SO LONG to get started where we are so I need to plan for this. Include early flowering narcissi such as Pheasants Eye for both the garden and cutting garden – they can go overtop of the dahlias – and more tulips for April colour
– Look at putting more flowers into pots in 2021, particularly early spring bulbs such as Iris reticulata
– Add astrantia, poppies, lupins and gladioli to the cutting patch
– Biennials into the garden as well as cutting patch
– Artichokes can be underplanted with tulips
– If something isn’t working then change it. Sounds obvious, but they talk about ripping out whole sections because the look isn’t right, something I would be shy to do because it would feel so wasteful.

Dungeness

What a contrast from the rolling green hills around Perch Hill and Sissinghurst to the mysterious landscape of Dungeness. We came partly to see Derek Jarman’s Prospect Cottage, and partly to see the weirdness of this pebble world of shacks and lighthouses framed by a nuclear power station.

Prospect Cottage is a lesson of right plant right place, but actually the planting is secondary in importance to the genius of an artist’s eye. The garden uses plants found all around Dungeness – vipers bugloss, poppies, sea kale – and each is its own miracle for surviving in this strange, barren landscape. But what makes the garden special is the placement of found objects washed in by the sea set inside circles of gravel in contrasting colours. Colour rules are broken with oranges clashing against reds and pinks. It could only have been made by a true artist.

Derek Jarman’s Prospect Cottage in Dungeness – all the Perch Hill colour rules are broken here, with clashing purple, pink, yellow, red and orange
The joy here is the exquisite placement of found objects and clumps of flowers set against the mysterious gravel landscape of Dungeness

This is not a garden to attempt to recreate – it would be impossible – but one to appreciate for the genius of its creator. Read more in this Guardian article.

The reality of home

Back we headed to Birmingham, and full of optimism, I head to the allotment sort of expecting it to have transformed in my absence into a garden of abundance. This, obviously, was not the case.

Now, there is some life now and we’re cropping vases of biennial foxgloves and sweet william, a few cornflowers plus the early annuals that my Mum grew undercover (cosmos, ammi). There’s also the very first broad beans, mange tout and chard. The few perennials I put in are doing just fine. But on the whole, this years veggies and the cut flowers are TINY. The courgettes have not really done anything since being planted out three weeks ago, and neither have the climbing beans or sweet peas. What’s going on?

And then back to my reality: weeds, disappointing growth and too much brown earth
This cut flower patch is still weeks behind those in Kent and Sussex but note the naturalised perennials and biennials in the background, now at full growth

A snoop around our neighbouring plots says that I can’t blame it all on the cold spring, for they have massive brassicas, dahlias, broad beans – it really is just us. Part of it is might be daily watering, which I am unable to do. Maybe I planted out too soon, when the ground was still cold. But I’m wondering if we need to take another look at how we start our plants off, for they seem to suffer from lack of sun and space in our wee terrace garden. I still have some strawflower, kohl rabi and savoy cabbage in the cold frame at home and they are struggling to get going; perhaps it’s lack of light when young. I don’t mean to moan, I am simply genuinely perplexed!

There is cropping to be had though – foxglove, sweet william, first dahlias, first cosmos, parsnip flower, first ammi, mange tout, broad beans and strawberries
Foxgloves, parsnip and ammi give heigh, sweet william, cornflowers and cosmos a hint of country romance

When we took on our allotment I was told it was a millennium project – never finished – and that is of course both the challenge and the joy. Always we can go back to the drawing board.

Also this week:
Harvesting: First broad beans, mange tout, first chard, lettuce, strawberries, redcurrants, foxgloves, sweet william, first cosmos, first cornflower, parsnip flower, ammi.
Eating and cooking: Far too much wine at Hema’s house (well it has been a year of no social life) but Patrick’s Trinidadian stew chicken is always a joy. Strawberries, nectarines, peaches and raspberries, eaten neat with yoghurt, ice cream or cream. So lovely to have the first spring veg, even if it is July. At Sissinghurst, a beautiful starter of potted shrimp with fennel – light and crunchy.
Also: We’re both working hard again now, as we exit lockdown. Talk of schools and reflection on how these early choices made for children profoundly affect lives.

Kent part 2: Sissinghurst and Great Dixter

Perch Hill shares a link with Sissinghurst castle, the home of Vita Sackville West, now managed by the National Trust. The link is familial (Sarah Raven’s husband is the grandson of Sackville West), but also  conceptual: in the Arts and Crafts tradition, Sissinghurst is split into several garden rooms, each planted with painterly swathes of colour.

Sissinghurst was meant to be a place of retreat for Sackville West, somewhere to write and be alone. I wonder what she’d made of the hundreds of thousands of people who today visit this Kent garden, inspired by its romantic heritage and beautiful planting. I also wonder, if Sissinghurst had not been created by an aristocrat known for affairs with women, including Virginia Woolf, would it get the same level of sustained attention? Perhaps not. But this is churlish; Sissinghurst is a wonderful place.

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Sissinghurst, home to Vita Sackville West

The NT go to great efforts to keep the gardens vibrant and in good order. As with so many Arts and Crafts gardens, Sissinghurst suffers from seasonal flowering (a rose will never look good in November), but the planting is so clever that as soon as one thing finishes, another springs into life. Easy to say, difficult to execute.

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Notes from the gardener

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A selection of flowers from the estate

The best view is from the top of the Elizabethan tower. From here, the garden rooms can be seen and understood as a whole: the strictly formal structure is softened by colour-led planting. The structure without the plants would look staid; the plants without the structure would look scruffy. This is the essence of Arts and Crafts gardening, famously championed by Gertrude Jekyll (although she was not involved with the creation of Sissinghurst).

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View from the tower down to the garden rooms

The marriage of two minds made this garden possible. I like the very modern feel of Vita and her husband, the diplomat Sir Harold Nicolson – the artistic sensibilities of Vita were tempered by the technical nous of Harold.

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The marriage of formal and free design

It’s easy to forget now that this generation of artist-gardeners were revolutionary. If Jekyll, Sackville West and their like were operating today, their work would be the subject of exhibitions in white-cube galleries and the Daily Mail would huff and puff about the new-fangled way of doing things.

Over at Great Dixter we see the work of a more contemporary revolutionary. Christopher Lloyd met Gertrude Jekyll as a child; she blessed him to continue as a gardener. He turned Great Dixter into a garden of world-wide renown and lived in the Edward Lutyens-designed house his entire life.

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Great Dixter

Don’t expect pretty-pretty gardening here though. Lloyd ripped out the Lutyens rose garden in the 1990s and was reported as saying: “We do not all want to float endlessly among silvers, greys and tender pinks in the gentle nicotiana-laden ambient of a summer’s gloaming. Some prefer a bright, brash midday glare with plenty of stuffing”. His garden rooms are crammed full of plants, colours loud and clashing.

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A great forest of these loomed six foot high

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Close-knit and exuberant

If Sissinghurst is a garden for artists, Dixter is a garden for plants-people. It’s dedicated now to teaching and there’s also a workshop for green woodwork. Incidentally, Kent is full of locally-produced green wood products, from fences to gateposts. Much of it is made from hazel, which is coppiced and fast-growing.

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Hazel grove at Sissinghurst

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Green wood hurdles at Great Dixter

The combination of the artistic eye, structured design, technical ability and working with the landscape: this is the essence of the great Kent gardens.

www.nationaltrust.org.uk/sissinghurst-castle-garden

www.greatdixter.co.uk

Kent part 1: Perch Hill

Confession: I have a girl crush. I’ve been ruthlessly marketed to and have fallen like a sucker. In short, I’ve been got by Sarah Raven.

If you’re not aware of Sarah Raven, she’s a writer, broadcaster and gardener who also has a very successful business selling seeds, plants, cookery and gardening classes and a certain kind of lifestyle.

My family do not understand this crush. It’s because they don’t tick the demographic boxes: my Mum’s too good at gardening to fall for all the pretty pictures in the seed catalogue, and the men are, well, men. As someone who works in marketing, I am woefully aware that I’m falling for a clever branding exercise…but nonetheless I’m willing to be seduced.

So we went to Kent to poke around Perch Hill, the public face of Sarah Raven, and whilst there also took a look at those classic gardens, Sissinghurst and Great Dixter.

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Perch Hill, the public-facing garden of Sarah Raven. There’s spaces devoted to veg, herbs, flowers for cutting, plus many opportunities to spend hard-earned cash.

The concept behind Perch Hill makes a huge amount of sense to me. The point is this: grow flowers for cutting (TICK!). Grow veg for eating (TICK!). Grow the two together so that your garden is pretty (TICK!). Cook what you grow (TICK! TICK! TICK!). Grow stuff all year round so there’s always something to eat (I’m still working on that bit).

Perch Hill is made up of lots of smaller garden rooms, devoted to flowers, veg, herbs and so on. I’ve come away with several ideas for next year’s allotmenting.

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The cutting garden is framed by rusted arches

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A classic view of Kent with oast house, tiling and wood

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Grasses break up the flowers in the cutting garden

First idea to pinch: bright sweet peas were grown against firm meshing. On the allotments a lot of people use flimsy net reclaimed from building sites, but this looks smarter and more able to survive a few years of Brummie weather.

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Idea to steal: sweet peas grow in abundance up semi-permanent willow structures fitted with wire mesh

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This planting style looks familiar… bishop’s finger with white cosmos

The flimsy mesh though would be useful in holding up floppy flowers:

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Idea to steal: The cosmos and other tall flowers are grown through mesh to stop them flopping over

In the cutting garden, flowers are grown in blocks through supportive string frameworks. This dahlia caught my eye, a vivid lurid orange.

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Dahlias are out in Kent. This one is called Happy Halloween.

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Idea to steal: Dahlias are grown in blocks through string support. I think this is easier to do than a lot of individual staking.

I have a lot of white flowers this year, which frame the purple lavender, nigella and sweet peas well. Next year I’d like more bright colours, possibly including this extravagant cosmos.

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I am PINK and PROUD

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Agapanthus give shots of blue colour

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Drifts of lavender line the paths

Over to the veg. There were still baby courgette plants pushing through the soil, and masses of kale and brassicas. Plus a few surprises including quinoa, which I’ve never seen in plant-form before.

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To the veg: we’re growing this variety of onion, but there’s still a way to go before ours get this big

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Cavalo nero envy. Mine are still seedlings, the first sowing have been scoffed by the slug

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This is quinoa! It’s a long flower spike. Who knew?

There’s also a massive greenhouse and converted barn, home to the cookery school and shop. The antiqued vases gave me a mental note to take a look in charity shops for old glass at a fraction of the price.

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Matt cannot stay away from wood; these massive doors frame the barn.

The crush continues…

www.sarahraven.com