Young Horticulturists of the Year Bursary Reports

Winners of the IoH Young Horticulturist of the Year competition receive The Percy Thrower Bursary for travel and are asked to prepare for publication a report on their travels. 1998 winner Neil Robbins sent his report of his horticultural observations from a number of garden and botanic destinations abroad.

Tour de France (and Italy)!
By Neil Robbins (1998 winner)

Neil Robbins is plantaria manager at the Wyndley Garden Centre in Solihull.

My travels began in early September as the autumnal weather began to encroach. I proceeded down Northern France in the motorhome towards my first destination at Versailles.

Immensity of Versailles

The immense gardens of Versailles cover a total area of 6,000ha, of which most is forested and quite wild in appearance. The core part of the garden is 95ha of formal parterres, lakes, topiary and fountains that open out ahead facing westwards and breathtakingly disappearing as far as the eye can see.

Versailles it was soon apparent, is not a plantsman’s garden. Its beauty and interest I soon understood comes from its vast scale, design and manipulation of plants. Every plant is perfectly trimmed and tweaked into its formal setting, much the same as it has been since 1664, when Le Nôtre’s genius created Versailles. Parterres fill the upper terraces, low, perfectly formed Buxus sempervirens (box) hedges mark the edges of the beds. Corners are denoted by plump Taxus baccata (green yew) cones like marching armies of Daleks. Within the parterre beds is the only concession to colour, a rampant selection of summer annuals, intermingling, one area a blue, yellow, mauve and white scheme using nicotiana, salvia, poppies, rudbeckia and Ageratum ‘Tall Blue’ to great effect.

Looking over from the south parterre a close view of the Orangery is available. The building itself, 150m long, is maintained at the winter minimum of 6^oC. During the summer months, and indeed whilst I was there, all 1,200 citrus and palm trees (mainly Phoenix canariensis) were out on the south-facing terraces. A massive unenviable task to wheel them out in late May and then back in October, but definitely an enviable, priceless collection of plants I would be proud to possess.

Moving onto the lower terraces, the plant interest tends to ebb away, and the dominance of the 1,500m long grand canal exerts itself. From every angle there are grand, intricate and occasionally disturbing sculptures and cherubic fountains. Louis XIV must have pioneered the use of cherubs in gardens!

Further away from the palace, the forests close in around the grand canal. Mostly they consist of mature Aesculus hippocastanum, Tilia europaea, Fagus sylvatica, and Ailanthus altissima (tree of heaven). The gardens enjoy a similar climate to England (if we enjoy our climate!) although more extreme i.e. higher summer temperatures, lower temperatures in the winter. However, this is not a concern as the lack of diverse plants means, the plants here are unfazed by the seasons.

A climatic journey south

As I move my way down the centre of France, certain plant markers appear that indicate the mellowing of the climate. I’m talking of the landscape missed when one flies from Britain to the Mediterranean. One minute British weather–lashed plant life, the next, hot landscapes covered in olives, citrus and agaves. Obviously driving along through the landscape shows this process both graphically and gradually. The first marker plants noted were just south of Paris - abundant Campsis grandiflora in flower. In Britain it tends to look sickly and flowers poorly unless we have an excellent summer. Then some 320km south, Albizzia julibrissin with its delicate leaves and fluffy pink flowers, becomes abundant in gardens, while in Britain it would be lucky to live out doors at all. By the time I reached the sheltered haven of the Dordogne Valley (640km south of Paris) banana groves and Nerium oleander are a common sight.

Moving 960km south, I’m in the flat plain past Toulouse, in a semi-Mediterranean environment where sunflowers, grapes and orchards nestle together. Finally the Mediterranean, less than 1,600km away from my home in Tamworth. Now I am in a dream world of unlimited sunshine where my favourite plant subjects grow in optimum conditions. Nerium oleander, so familiar to holidaymakers, was still flowering strongly as it tends to for nine months of the year. Agave americana ‘Variegata’ moved stiffly in the sea breeze. Plumbago capensis (cape plumbago) scrambles in warm stony walls, with its flowers obscuring all foliage. Many palms, including Chamaerops humilis (European palm), Phoenix canariensis (Canary Island palm) and Trachycarpus fortunei (windmill palm) dot the landscape. Pencil-shaped Cupressus sempervirens (Italian cypress) and Pinus pinea (umbrella pines) cast their shadows onto pavements, Cycas revoluta (sago palm) radiate their ancient prehistoric leaves; the list is truly endless.

In contrast, a short trip inland and up into the Pyrenees revealed a different landscape with more of an alpine atmosphere about it. Moist coniferous forests interspersed with dense Castanea sativum (sweet chestnuts), the higher peaks reach over 3,000m and can be quite bleak, allowing only the most squat adventurous of plants to grow. On this day, for example it was 30^oC by the sea, yet only 7^oC at 2,800m.

Moving eastwards along the coast past innumerable Pinus halepensis (aleppo pine), Monaco beckoned and passing through (as it was impossible to park a 10m-long motorhome anywhere!) I was fixated by the clinical bedding schemes, palm-lined avenues and hanging gardens. Bridges, fly-overs and balconies were softened by an abundance of trailing flora. Especially popular was Hedera helix (common ivy) and Carpobrotus edulis (hottentot fig) with its heavy succulent branches. Monaco’s planting schemes were affluent and the word immaculate would not do it justice!

Hanbury Botanic Gardens (La Mortola, Italy)

The last rocky outcrop of Italy, as it borders France on the Mediterranean, was purchased in 1867 by Sir Thomas Hanbury and the garden he created, ‘La Mortola’, was to become one of the world’s most important botanic gardens, and by far my favourite garden outside of Britain.

The garden in its entirety covers only 18ha of very steep terrain, 9ha of which is just covered with aleppo pines. ‘Quattro Stagioni’ is perhaps the most breathtaking, and had me darting backward and forward in awe. My particular passion ‘agaves’, with dozens of species I’ve never come across before surrounded me, some towering with leaves up to 3m in length and 8cm with long spikes and serrations. Giants included the common A. americana and A. sisalana plus the branching Agave atenuata (swans neck agave). This wonderful genus tend to flower spectacularly with towering flower spikes erupting up to 6m in height. First the large flat bud, pushes up from the centre and throws up a sturdy spike. Only then, the side shoots like hands, open out to reveal the juicy flowers. Most species of agave die after fruiting but not before shedding their viable seed and pushing up young suckers to take over. Redundant carcasses of flowered agaves can be seen all around. Smaller, less feisty species can be found bordering the pathways, these are certainly more elegant and suitable as pot plants. These include A. victoria-reginae, A. filifera and A. parviflora (little princess agave).

Commercially, agaves do have some purpose: Agave sisalina has a strong fibre (sisal) and the Agave americana, is harvested for production of ‘Tequila’. Ironically, despite their abundance around the Mediterranean coast, agaves are all native to Central America, Mexico, Southern USA etc and some species in particular A. americana have naturalised, although all other species are quite at home with the climate when planted.

Aloes, Opuntia ficus-indica (prickly pear) and Echinocactus grussonii flank my way down the steep outcrop. A shady pergola heavily planted with various climbers is a welcome site on a hot day. This is completely planted with members of the Bignoniaceae family including Pandorea jasminiodes with its glossy pink trumpets.

Patches of Cyperus papyrus grow unhindered in supposedly the most northerly spot it can be grown outdoors, just before reaching the ‘Giardini dei Profumi’ (the Scented Garden), full of Rosmarinus sp and other Mediterranean, smelly specialties. As the slope evens out nearing the sea, the ‘exotic orchard’ unfolds with prize specimens, examples of which include Acca sellowiana (pineapple guava), Persea americana (avocado), Macadamia (nut), Diospyrus lotus (date plum) and Actinidia chinensis (kiwi).

Beyond this the sea crashes onto the rocks. Journeying back, the oily heady scent of Cistus ladanifer (sun rose) filled the air, half-way up is the ‘Foresta Australiana’, the collection of antipodean trees and shrubs. Particularly notable were the areas of bluey Eucalyptus sp underplanted with callistemon and melaleaca. A last favourite of mine from the Hanbury Gardens are the Furcraea, close relatives of the agaves. Furcraea have the interesting quirk of bulbils on the tall flower spike, each one a miniature replica of the parent plant. Naturally as these age on the stems, they are sprinkled about to start off on their own.

The Hanbury Gardens were created from scrubland in the late 1860s, and by 1912 was reported to contain 5,800 growing species. During WWII the entire area was a no man’s land and was completely vandalised and wrecked. Some mature specimens of Phoenix palms still have the scars of shell-fire and bullet holes. Now the garden is fully restored and in the hands of the University of Genoa.

Boot of Italy

Into the boot of Italy, the vegetation becomes indifferent: very, green, much less ‘Mediterranean-like’. Eventually, past the leaning tower of Pisa, fields of colour, pink, mauve, red, green and yellow unfolded. At the north end of Tuscany in the Arno valley is the nursery stock region of Pistoia. This is Italy’s largest nursery stock production area of mainly field-grown subjects, in the rich friable soil. Only some of the stock is suitable for growth in Britain, Photinia, Euonymus japonicus and x Cuppressocyparis leylandii ‘Castlewellan’ fill whole fields. Meanwhile Lagerstroemia indica (cape myrtle) provide hues of pink, mauve and claret red. Sadly the climate in Tamworth is too dull and cold to keep one myself. The nursery produce of the region is exported all over the European Union. Most is crammed onto articulated lorries and brought to nursery sites in Britain where it is cleaned up, labelled, then distributed out to retail sites.

Infinite plantings of Nerium oleander line the central reservations of the motorway all the way back up to Tuscany. It was rather like driving through a garden, emphasising the indestructibility of these wonderful shrubs that flower in the face of pollution and are constantly blasted by heavy traffic. During the northward journey, I had three days in a small hospital suffering the delights of ‘un-pastuerised mozzarella poisoning’. Perhaps I should have been examining what was growing on my food as well as what was growing all around me!

Soon feeling a little more lively I set out to examine the floral attributes of San Gimignano. A bustling tourist trap, best known for its Manhattan-style towers, yet also with its private courtyards with ample shade. To stare through the wrought iron into a haven of foliage brought instant relaxation and made me wish I was the other side of the railings Potted foliage included, Nephrolepis exaltata (ladder fern), Hosta sieboldiana ‘Elegans’, Asparagus sprengeri, Hedera helix (common ivy) and also Ficus pumila (creeping fig). Various shade-tolerating plants grew in cramped terracotta pots, perched on top giant olive jars. Reliable Impatiens (busy lizzies), Catharanthus roseus (Madagascar periwinkle) and zonal pelargoniums. Irrigation must have been a nightmare.

Most buildings were not in a position to have gardens, so cafes, restaurants and shops used their boundaries to show off their greenfingers. Heavy concrete tubs and troughs with a hard-wearing selection of shrubs: Euonymus japonicus ‘Ovatus’, Laurus nobilis (bay laurel), Viburnum tinus (laurustinus), marking their perimeters. Amazing 12m high Parthenocissus vetchii (Virginia creeper) were also cladding some of these tall buildings, emerging from the concrete pavement, with no apparent means of life support and aspiring to these heights!

The locality was heavily cultivated with the Chianti grape (very nice), olives and sunflowers (long-since harvested).

Lake Garda

My journey continued into Northern Italy and the surreal aspect of Lake Garda. Surreal in the way that the glacial snowy tops of the Alps are the backdrop to the muggy warmth of the lake area. Palm trees with a snow background made for a very interesting contrast.

Surrounded by mountains on all but the south side means the warming southerly winds keep the valley of Garda temperate and amenable for most Mediterranean plants. This situation also protects the area from the hostile cold northerly winds from the Continent. Warmth provided by the proximity of the lake is nominal as the lake is fed from the cold waters of the Dolomites. Garda has a location in fact that can sustain the likes of 10m high specimens of Magnolia grandiflora, Trachycarpu fortunei and Quercus ilex (holm oak).

French garden retail.

After visiting several garden centres across France I came to several conclusions.
The French are not so interested in the diversity of plants in their gardens, garden centres in France are very ‘no frills’. They sell plants but do not promote them in the way we do,their centres sell only horticultural products, no distantly related items to dilute the product range.

On the plant area of these centres the variety of plants is but a fraction of what the average UK garden centre would hold. Every centre seemed to stock exactly the same eg Hibiscus syriacus (tree hollyhock), Hydrangea macrophylla, and Juniperus species etc. The garden centres of France on the whole are quite monotonous and a little uninspiring, although I did manage to purchase a very sturdy specimen of Yucca flaccida ‘Ivory’ for import!

I had been fascinated by the various points of study, but by far my favourite were the Treasures of ‘La Mortola’ and my prickly passion the agaves.