Planting good cheer

Steffie Shields delights in this month’s early return of colour to Lincolnshire gardens.

Many moons ago in 2001, a dear friend gave me a diary as a Christmas present.

A Gardener’s Book of Days was penned by that inspirational 20th-century designer, the late Rosemary Verey, and beautifully illustrated by renowned photographer Andrew Lawson.

My New Year resolve to keep a weekly record of happenings in our Old Orchard half-acre did not weaken that year. I kept it up for most of 2003, but then, sorry to confess, as I “walked the ground” to explore more gardens and historic designed landscapes further afield in search of stimulating stories, the urge to record our own patch declined.

Nevertheless, it has proved one of those magical gifts that keeps on giving. It’s impossible to calculate how many times since I have pulled my invaluable garden diary off the shelf to check up on a plant name, browse for ideas or just reflect and reminisce.

With Christmas festive cheer on the wane, and 2026 making its decidedly chilly, if sparkling sunshine appearance together with snow, I looked back to my first thoughts.

Week 3, January 2002. Winter is a wonderful time to make a clearance. The strong bones of the garden command the view. Simplify.
16th. First snowdrop under the cherry tree.
21st. First aconite under the old apple tree. Old conifer lollipop taken down… the garden is waking up apace. Therapeutic work removing debris and ivy stems from amongst the snowdrop clumps – setting the stage.
28th. First purple dart – Crocus tommasinianus.

I kept reasonably regular diary observations going those first years, with the same day first crocus sighting 28th Jan 2003. Then:

Jan 24th and 25th 2004, two glorious days of warm sun encourage me out to tidy away dead debris to set the stage for emerging new life. Happy work. Crocus beginning too, earlier and earlier, but snow is forecast this week. Hellebore unfolding.

A long-lasting love
My last entry noted: ‘22/01/06 First crocus’ – an interesting six days earlier than in 2002.

That unfamiliar delicate crocus was somehow slimmer and more elegant than other more rounded croci. Since those early days settling into our “forever” home and getting to know its garden setting, it remains a special, long-lasting love, standing out amongst other bulbs planted by its previous owners at the feet of a variegated holly and veteran cherry tree in the view towards the village church.

Originally introduced from Hungary and Bulgaria, this crocus was named in honour of an Italian-born career politician, Muzio de Tommasini (1794-1879), who was a passionate botanist exploring as he travelled across Europe. Over a fleeting quarter of a century, I have wondered whether these bulbs were originally brought back, together with snowdrop bulbs, by soldiers returning from the Crimea. This early crocus, probably a descendant now named by the RHS Crocus tommasinianus ‘Barr’s Purple’, is one of the easiest to naturalise in grass.

The mood lifts when its shades of delicate, rich purple-lilac petals open wide in each sudden spell of sunshine, to reveal vibrant orange stigma and stamens, beacons for bees in search of pollen amongst other fragrant flowers.

Its leaves have a striking silvery-white, central stripe that complements surrounding swathes of snowdrops. Colonies of “tommies” have now happily spread to several other corners of the garden.

In February’s depths of wintry doldrums, they can be relied on to bring heartening, perennial pops of welcome colour before more primroses begin to wake up.

Darling daffodils
That same February, 2006, I had my first glimpse of a darling daffodil purchased at Belton Garden Centre the previous September. Both the name Narcissus ‘Spring Dawn’, and the image on the packet, appealed. Each single flower on a medium high 25-centimetre stem displays creamy white perianth segments that cradle an elegant lemon-yellow trumpet. The name proved appropriate. This early herald of seasonal uplift is the first daffodil to flower in our February garden in picture-perfect harmony with our purple “tommies”.

Every autumn, I love to treat myself to various “new to me” spring bulbs. Our limestone garden soil drains well, with plenty of open, full sun locations, the perfect conditions for long-lasting spring bulbs to flourish. I generally plant them out in a combination of pots near to the family room for the first season to enjoy their progress, and to discover their exact colour and habit. After these newcomers have finished flowering, I choose the best spots to fit them in harmoniously amongst their neighbours.

A couple of years ago, mid-February, I came across a colony of early Lenten lilies, on the walk down to the Brightwater green meadow burial ground at Saxby. Normally starting to flower in early March, Narcissus pseudonarcissus lobularis are low-growing, wild daffodils rather than cultivated. With noticeably wavy petals, they are also known as Tenby daffodils; their subtle colour and gentle nodding added much to the natural serenity of the place.

Look out for similarly early flowering daffodils as you make excursions to open winter gardens this month.
I found Narcissus ‘W.P. Milner’ in the magnificently restored Easton Walled Gardens, an equally delicate 20cm high miniature, also bicolour, but reversed with outer pale-yellow petals cupping an almost white trumpet. Each bulb had been planted randomly as single specimens in amongst zillions of snowdrops in the meadow edges of the great lawn.

You will come across a charming variety of miniature irises amongst borders or set out in pots on a specimen table. Such as Iris reticulata ‘Pauline’, a warm plum purple, and Iris reticulata ‘Katherine Hodgkin’, with pretty, pale blue flowers, heavily veined with deeper blue falls, marked yellow at the base, cannot fail to cheer your winter walk.

A heavenly early spring rainbow awaits visitors to Doddington Hall gardens this month. This rich pageant was initiated by two previous forward-thinking, garden-loving generations, Ralph and Antonia Jarvis, the grandparents of today’s owner Claire Birch, followed by her parents the late Vicky and Anthony Jarvis.

The latter is estimated to have planted a total of over 150, 000 bulbs himself. Besides ubiquitous snowdrops, wood anemones and aconites, carpets of Cyclamen coum, Crocus tommasinianus, feature amidst drifts of Lent lilies and heritage daffodils to astound and amaze every onlooker.

One 2026 resolution, I intend going in search of the dwarf Narcissus ‘February Silver’ to add to my collection. Its yellow and white bicolour flowers closely resemble N. ‘Spring Dawn’, but this specimen is in fact smaller, at 20cm high. Narcissus cyclamineus is a dwarf Trumpet cultivar, native to Portugal and north-west Spain.

Out of curiosity, on Googling ‘good cheer’ for internet planting suggestions, I discovered a peony officially named ‘Good Cheer’ – but you would have to wait patiently for it to lift spirits: it only comes to flower in May!

In the meantime, I trust my diary musings might encourage readers to buy more spring bulbs to plant out in October, hopefully spreading more cheer to gardens throughout the county.

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