Highlights (and lowlights) from RHS Chelsea Flower Show
Planting schemes on Miria Harris’ Stroke Association garden
I am just going to get the lowlight over and done with first. I hated my dress. There, I’ve said it. And now we shall move on.
Thank you to Britt Willoughby and Project Giving Back for the photo
Highlights
To listen to Becca and me talking about this, you can, of course, listen here.
What I didn’t say in that podcast because it isn’t the sort of thing that one says out loud, is that the absolute highlight is the feeling special.
Human beings are social beings and all social species have a hierarchy. We are designed to care about status, and we like to pretend not to. Most of the time, I live with enough privilege to not have to think about this a huge amount and for it not to impinge on my conscious awareness (barring any particularly effective advertisements which have the capacity to make me feel like I haven’t made it and I need to buy a sense of belonging).
However, this is all laid out very overtly at something like Chelsea. Wednesday is not as good as Tuesday which is not as good as Monday. I thought I had won the lottery to have got a pass to Monday until I saw that someone I know had a ‘wander around on Sunday evening’ and I was utterly crushed.
Ok, not crushed, but you get the idea. Status is fragile but heady.
So, the absolutely honest answer to the best bit of Chelsea was having the rope unhooked and being ushered onto the hallowed interior of the garden to stand next to a famous designer. The gardening equivalent of the red carpet.
Tom Stuart-Smith & Charles Dowding
Enough about me, back to the plants.
My top three plants from Chelsea
Cow parsley
I rave about black cow parsley the whole time. Or the whole spring anyway. I adore the frothiness of the native one, but the dark one does add a lot of intrigue and drama. But Tom Stuart-Smith going for the lighter Anthriscus sylvestris made me reconsider.
I might be able to have the best of both worlds by going round and collecting seed from areas where I have both Anthriscus sylvestris and A ‘Ravenswing’ and so create a bit of a muddy mix. That is on my to do list today, given that the forecast thunderstorms have so far held off.
Cow parsley & the potting bench of dreams on the NGS garden by Tom Stuart-Smith
Yellow aquilegia
I predict that the cottage garden aquilegia will stage a massive comeback in about three or four years, but right now, all anyone wants are the Aquilegia chrysantha 'Yellow Queen' types. For good reason, because they glow. The A. ‘Denver Gold’ that I got from Derry Watkins last year are also looking incredible. A little paler than ‘Yellow Queen’ but with those wonderful long spurs.
Foxgloves
Unlike anything else. I can live without the pink ones because I find that very hard purple rather aggressive, but Digitalis mertonensis featured on lots of the trade stands, and D. purpurea ‘Alba’ absolutely shone and sparkled in the show gardens.
Honourable mention also to the Verbascum family, who did great work on many many stands and gardens.
& the two that I think should be
Peonies
Apart from the peony trade stand and a few scattered few and far between, I felt that peonies were noticeable by their absence. Becca thought to that their notorious fickleness was responsible (they are so often the nemesis of florists needing them for a particular date), and I did notice a white one in the NGS garden in tight bud. Maybe with a week of heat it would have made an appearance by the closing ceremony, but there are no guarantees with a peony. However, they are the highlight of my garden in May to such a degree that I simply couldn’t imagine having a show garden without them.
Weeds
Last year, I seem to recall an outcry/cheer when nettles were included on a show garden, and there was the odd buttercup here and there this year. (Although more often the domesticated version Ranunculus acris 'Citrinus' is the belle that is invited to the ball.) I am still processing my visit to Nant y Bedd and Sue’s genius at making a garden wild and yet still wonderful.
I am not sure where I draw that particular line; the nettles have encroached on a gateway, making going out the front gate a painful business, but I would be very happy to see slightly less raging capitalism and perfectionism, and a bit more wild.