March can be a wild and windy month, especially in the far south-west of Cornwall. So it was that we turned up at Trewidden to view the magnolias only to find the garden was closed owing to the inclement weather. All Cornish gardens of note rely heavily on shelter created by large trees and shrubs. Now, with many of the original plantings reaching maturity or senility, there is a very real danger that branches might sheer off and crush someone in a gale. Disappointing as it was to turn back, safety always comes first in these situations.

Having marvelled at the lipstick-coloured camellias gracing Trewidden’s sunken drive, The Beau and I were full of anticipation and determined to sate our appetite for spring flowers. A few days before I’d seen a couple of Instagram posts highlighting the marvellous display of magnolias in Morrab Gardens, a public park in Penzance. Remarkably, neither of us had visited before, so we loaded the dogs back into the car and set off for town.

Morrab Gardens sits just back from the town’s sweeping sea front, surrounded by some particularly fine houses. This sheltered enclave is home to an extensive collection of subtropical plants that have been gifted to the people of Penzance over the years by some of Cornwall’s most noted garden owners – the Bolithos of Trengwainton, The Williams’ of Trewidden, the Dorrien-Smiths at Tresco Abbey and Canon Boscawen, rector of Ludgvan and horticulturalist extraordinaire.

Morrab House and its walled gardens date back to 1841 when a wealthy brewer, Samuel Pidwell, purchased a grassy plot running down to the sea. An important man at the time, he invested in mining and the fledgling West Cornwall Railway. He was twice Mayor of Penzance. Following Pidwell’s early demise – he died at the age of 46 – Charles Campbell Ross, MP for St Ives and five times Mayor of Penzance purchased the handsome villa and lived there until 1881. Following a brief period when the house was let, during which time Ross lost his seat at parliament, Morrab House was eventually purchased by a Mr King, His Majesty’s Inspector of Schools in the district, for the princely sum of £2,800.

The next time Morrab House was sold, in July 1888, it was snapped up by the Penzance Corporation to provide a park for public recreation. Since 1867 the town had been accessible directly from London via the Great Western Railway, becoming extremely popular with holiday-makers. A park was needed to give Penzance the air of gentility expected of a Victorian seaside resort; Morrab offered the Corporation a head start. The Georgian-style villa became a library and a competition was launched to design a three acre park in the walled gardens. Competition was fierce, with ten designs shortlisted and four winners selected. A London designer, Reginald Upcher, was declared the overall winner, claiming 20 guineas for his trouble, equivalent to £21.

Upcher’s architypal Victorian park plan was faithfully followed and swiftly executed. His design included serpentine paths, expansive shrubberies, fountains and flower beds, all focussed around an elegant bandstand (finally installed in 1897). Taking advantage of the mild, almost frost-free climate, an already mature planting in Morrab Gardens was enriched with a palette of tender and hardy exotics. It must have created quite a stir as new plants flooded in from surrounding estates, many of which had been the first to successfully cultivate foreign species. The Victorians were fascinated by exotica and here was an opportunity to put Cornwall’s horticultural prowess on public display.

When the park opened in September 1889 the occasion was marked with a half day holiday and a procession through the streets. The Gardeners’ Chronicle wrote: ‘One of its features is a Palm-grove, where tourists may fancy themselves in the tropics or on Mediterranean shores.’ There are still numerous palms, mainly Chusan, possibly surviving from those original plantings, along with a wealth established shrubs and trees. The famous avenue of cabbage palms, Cordyline australis, has sadly been diminished by recent cold winters, with only a handful remaining. The extent of Cornwall’s typically mild climate is evident in just how early plants such as Hedychium and Canna start into growth, with many herbaceous plants not even taking the trouble to die down during the winter months.

On our mid-March visit there was more than enough to keep two plant enthusiasts happy for an hour or two. A favourite tree of mine, Drimys winterii was flowering in the lee of a wall, surrounded by wide-spreading camellias with large, heavy flowers. Towering above a collections of shrubs close to the bandstand, a mighty thicket of Tetrapanax rex had begun to produce new foliage.

Walking towards Morrab House one passes through a damp glade filled with enormous tree ferns underplanted with Aspidistra elatior. This Victorian classic houseplant is perfectly happy growing outside in sheltered gardens, although it can look rather tatty. There are magnolias here, as well as on the main lawn. Everywhere you turn there are feathery rosettes of Geranium reuteri (formerly Geranium canariense) from the Canary Island and Madeira. This is not one of the tender geraniums I have in my garden, but I shall certainly try it now. Geranium reuteri resembles an especially large and vigorous herb Robert, with much smaller flowers than either G. palmatum or G. maderense, but equally pretty foliage.

Sheltered beneath the villa itself a granite retaining wall provides a sun-kissed environment for succulents, including the mighty Agave americana, opuntias, aloes and aeoniums. I’d love a similar feature in my own garden, but since the only way to achieve it would be to dismantle my greenhouse I might find it a wrench. It has, however, sown a seed in my mind.

We came to see the magnolias and we were not disappointed. A brisk and boisterous breeze off the sea means that Morrab’s magnolias have assumed an attractively low profile. This in turn imbues the trees with an air of antiquity which may or may not be an accurate reflection of their age. The shrubberies surrounding the main lawns are jam-packed with out-of-the-ordinary plants, some of which I could not identify and remain on my ‘must find out’ list (am I alone in having such a list I wonder?). Camellias are planted in abundance as is Pseudopanax laetus (a fantastic foliage shrub) and Luma apiculata, the Chilean myrtle.

It is something of a mistake to imagine that every example of our Victorian public park heritage is now desecrated and irrelevant. Naturally some simplification has been required to make parks viable in this era of drastic public spending cuts, but, assisted by a sympathetic local authority and the Friends of Morrab Gardens, it’s evident that this particular example of Victorian munificence is being actively managed and enormously appreciated by a new generation of visitors. Having reluctantly changed our plans, The Beau and I not only discovered a new special place, but also saved ourselves an entrance fee. Sometimes the best things in life really are free. TFG.

Morrab Gardens (Penzance, Cornwall, TR18 4DA) are open every day of the year during daylight hours. Parking is available on seafront and there’s a small, zebra-themed cafe at the park entrance. And why not?

January is a month when many of us dream of an escape to the sun. If we’re feeling flush we might take advantage of discounts and book a holiday. A few lucky folk may find themselves in a position to buy a property abroad – perhaps a modern villa with a pool, or a quaint cottage in the backstreets of a fishing village. But few of us will ever have the means to realise our dreams as James Deering did at Villa Vizcaya on the shores of Biscayne Bay, Miami.

James Deering was a retired industralist, socialite, and collector of art and antiquities. Though his family had made a vast fortune manufacturing farm machinery in the Mid West of the United States, their lifestyle was not ostentatious in any way. Deering was cultured and taught himself to read all the major European languages. Yet like many other American industrialists of the time, he was obscenely rich and wanted for nothing.

Deering remained a bachelor, a subject largely glossed over in written accounts of his life. Reading between the lines and listening carefully to one’s tour guide, it seems likely that he was discreetly homosexual (Deerings guests were neither oblivious to, nor entirely comfortable about the interconnecting bedrooms which permitted movements to go unseen from the main gallery). In all other respects he was every inch the gentleman, ‘a reticent man with impeccably proper manners, leavened by a sense of humour’. Deering was blessed with taste and the means to indulge it. Had it not been so, Vizcaya almost certainly would not have turned out to be a triumph.

Deering surrounded himself with beautiful, educated and flamboyant people, including the man he chose as his artistic advisor and travelling companion, Paul Chalfin. Chalfin studied briefly at Harvard before enrolling at the Art Students League of New York and subsequently the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, where he studied painting. Although he took great delight in being mistaken for an architect, he had no professional qualifications as such. He designed only one house, Villa Vizcaya, the magnificent mansion Deering would call home for just nine years.

The problem was that Deering suffered from pernicious anaemia. Post retirement from the family firm (by now in the hands of banking firm J.P. Morgan) his doctors prescribed sun and sea air to counter the effects of his debilitating condition. So it was that in 1910 he purchased a vast swathe of mangrove swamp and rockland hammock* at Coconut Grove, just south of the fledgling City of Miami and close to the estate of his brother, Charles. Chalfin’s services were enlisted to devise a masterplan for the site, after which the pair promptly set off for Europe to collect architectural ideas, art, antiquities, and furnishings for Deering’s new Florida home.

Rather than rush headlong into construction, the pair took their time over the planning stages. Money was no object, and the realisation of Deering’s ambition was to be deeply convincing, if not highly indulgent. Inspiration was gathered from all over Italy, in particular Florence and Venice, as well as from Spain and France.

Whilst the chosen style for his mansion was Mediterranean Revival and the garden is most obviously Italianate, Deering was not oblivious to the beauty of his sub-tropical surroundings. He made provision for the inclusion and preservation of indigenous materials and plants throughout, in doing so creating a new hybrid style, an exciting fusion between Old World grandeur and New World freedom of expression. Vizcaya was to be executed with such total confidence that today one barely questions the incongruity of its situation. Looking out from the main terrace across the gleaming limestone quay to a derelict stone barge ‘moored’ in front, one could almost be in Venice. As illusions go, it’s among the most convincing.

Since Chalfin’s skills did not extend to architecture, he employed ‘gentleman architect’ Francis Burrall Hoffman Jr. to do the donkey work for him. (Later, when Chalfin claimed that ‘Hoffman did the plumbing, I did the house’, Hoffman threatened a lawsuit and Chalfin was forced to come clean.) The villa could so easily have ended up an ugly pastiche, but taste prevailed and the result was a tour de force of cultural appropriation. With a façade inspired by the Villa Rezzonico in Italy and an Andalusian-style internal courtyard (originally open to the elements but now covered), Vizcaya rose from the mangrove swamps to command the admiration of the Amercian elite, including silent film star Lillian Gish and the painter John Singer Sargent.

I fully expected that I would dislike Vizcaya, but could not fault it. It is every inch the perfect pastiche, an extravagant folly of the highest order and very pleasing to the eye. The main rooms are constructed well above sea level in order to command the landscapes beyond, but the basement level, including the swimming pool, has been seriously damaged by a series of hurricanes: there is still much to be repaired in the house and garden following Hurricane Irma in 2017.

Somewhat belatedly I arrive at the subject of the gardens, allowing me to introduce the fourth protagonist in the creation of Vizcaya and certainly the most overlooked. In 1914, shortly before building work was due to commence, Deering and Chalfin travelled to Italy. They were greatly impressed by the restored gardens at La Pietra, a villa owned by art and antiques dealer Sir Arthur Acton in the hills above Florence. The work had been completed by a young, Columbian-born landscape architect named Diego Suarez. Acton duly asked Suarez to show his American friends the best formal gardens in the region and the trio hit it off. Shortly afterwards, having travelled to the United States in the company of Lady Sybil Cutting, Suarez found himself unable to return to Italy due to the outbreak of World War I. Chalfin, adept at disguising his own lack of skill by surrounding himself with gifted people, promptly subcontracted Suarez to design Vizcaya’s extensive formal gardens.

Initially Suarez based his designs on the gardens at Villa Lante in Italy (the twin cascades that flank the approach to the house are clearly inspired by that garden). However, after visiting Miami for the first time, he was forced to make changes due to the low-lying topography of the site.

By constructing a raised feature called the Mound, he was able to create exaggerated perspective lines using low hedges and avenues of native oaks (Quercus laurifolia) rising towards a shady bosquet surrounding a triple-arched, open-sided Casino.

Suarez worked solidly on the garden between 1914 and 1917, when he walked out following a series of disagreements with Chalfin.

At one point over 1000 workers were employed in the creation of the house and gardens. When one considers the population of Miami at that time was only around 20,000, this is quite remarkable. As in England a small estate village and kitchen gardens had to be created to house staff and provide sufficient fruit and vegetables for the house and its many rich and influential guests.

Facing east toward the Atlantic, Suarez devised one of the estate’s most decadent and masculine features, the Secret Garden. Originally conceived as a protected space for the display of rare orchids, it quickly proved entirely unsuitable due to its proximity to the sea and exposure to the sun. Today it provides a scorching-hot haven for bromeliads, agaves, potted palms and salt-tolerant succulents, as well as being much beloved by fashion photographers.

The Secret Garden was not the only unsuccessful element of Suarez’s plan. A sequence of small, enclosed gardens on the seaward side of the plot proved too pokey. Recently these have been inundated by sea water, requiring them to be replanted with salt-tolerant species. The Rose Garden is larger but no longer filled with roses and the watercourses are dry. As a consequence it feels rather parched and unloved. Beyond the Rose Garden a canal filled with inky-black water leads to a bridge with an absurdly high arch. Should one take the trouble to cross it, one is immediately confronted with a prison fence. Beyond the fence once lay the Lagoon Garden, long ago lost to development. It’s a disappointing end to the garden tour and perhaps why some visitors find Vizcaya slightly melancholy.

Modest to the last, Chalfin took full credit for the gardens. Only in the 1950s did Francis Burrall Hoffman Jr. reveal the truth, allowing Suarez to be acknowledged as the creator of one of the most significant formal gardens in the United States. The irony is that for each of the main protagonists – Deering, Chalfin, Hoffman and Suarez – Vizcaya was to be the greatest achievement of their lives and certainly the only one for which they would be remembered. Having moved to Vizcaya on Christmas Day 1916, Deering enjoyed his fantasy for a mere nine years before dying aboard the SS City of Paris in 1925, aged 65. Despite earning high praise for Vizcaya, Chalfin never landed another major project, although he returned in 1934 to advise on repairs following a major hurricane. Hoffman went to war in 1917 and on return continued designing houses for wealthy clients, although none as remarkable as the one that made his name. Suarez married Evelyn Marshall Field, the department store heiress, in 1937 and appears to have gone into diplomatic service after that.

Vizcaya today is a popular museum and tourist attraction, much as country houses are here in the UK. It is also Miami’s most sought after wedding venue. On any day of the week it’s almost impossible to avoid photographers and aspiring models draping themselves over crumbling walls or lounging on stone benches. The gardens are more than adequately maintained and by no means shabby, however Hurricane Irma took its toll, almost destroying the pretty tea house at one end of the quay and tossing obelisks and balustrades hither and thither around the breakwater barge. Many of the fountains no longer play and the wilder Lagoon Garden was lost in the 50s when Vizcaya was transferred to public ownership by Deering’s nieces. The cost of maintaining the estate in full would have been crippling in today’s climate, so it’s perhaps fortunate that parts were let go. The image below shows the lost portion of the garden in the top, left-hand corner, as well as fully-grown trees on the Venetian barge in front of the villa. When Deering was in residence guests would have been rowed out to this ornate artificial island on gondolas to dine beneath the stars.

What is perhaps saddest is that whilst the villa itself enjoyed its heyday, the gardens never did. They were completed in 1923, just two years before Deering’s death. Photographs from that time show a garden in its youth, all sharp, hard landscaping and lacking any softness.

Both Deering and Chalfin had sought to recreate the sense of history and antiquity they had fallen in love with on their travels and yet only now, around 100 years later, can that really be experienced in earnest. For all his wealth Deering could not buy his health, but in Vizcaya he bestowed upon his country one of the greatest and most theatrical houses and gardens of its age. TFG.

* Rockland hammock is a rich tropical hardwood forest on upland sites in areas where limestone is very near the surface and often exposed.

I’ve grown a little bored of the Chelsea Flower Show. There, I’ve said it. Once upon a time I used to love the anticipation, researching the show gardens, planning my visit, watching the television coverage and reviewing the event afterwards. Now I find I that I can scarcely be bothered. Could it be that I’ve visited too many times – I’ve been a regular now for 30 years – or is it that the show is failing to excite me anymore?

I’m aware that admitting to being tired of Chelsea is unlikely to make me any friends at the RHS, and I am certain many would feel more positive about it. Perhaps my malaise reflects more on me that it does on the show, but lately I find that I buy a ticket for Chelsea because I must, for fear of missing out, rather than because I want to. Along with many others, I was intrigued to discover how the RHS (Royal Horticultural Society) would navigate the postponement of the show from May until September, a first since the event was inaugurated in 1913. It would have been logical for visitors to expect a cavalcade of autumn colour; chrysanthemums, dahlias, sunflowers; pumpkins, pears and tomatoes; berries, hips and haws. They were there, if you looked hard enough, but in woefully small numbers. Rather than reinvent the show for an autumn season, we were presented with ‘Chelsea Lite’ ….. or maybe that should be ‘Chelsea Minus’. There was no diminution of quality, thank heavens, but fewer gardens, fewer exhibitors in the great pavilion and a gross proliferation of trade stands proffering goods priced way beyond the means of the majority of visitors. Whilst Chelsea’s elitism is never more than thinly veiled, it was magnified threefold by a reduction in number of gardens and floral exhibits. In some respects Chelsea 2021 felt like little more than an outdoor shopping event for London’s wealthiest residents.

I do appreciate that rescheduling a show on the scale of Chelsea must be a gargantuan task. However, it’s been a long time coming and the RHS would have known that expectations were high. Covid has impacted almost every element of commerce, causing problems with materials, production and supply chains, but visitors are neither very interested by that, nor particularly sympathetic. They wanted something to help them forget their troubles, reconnect with society and reignite their imagination. Though there were a handful of new exhibitors showcasing wares more suited to the latter part of the year, there were not nearly enough. In most of the show gardens it felt as though planting plans had been adjusted to accommodate plants with autumn interest out of necessity, rather than to celebrate their particular beauty. There were grasses (when aren’t there?), rudbeckia, echinacea, salvia and a smattering of crocosmia and hydrangea, but precious few cosmos, chrysanthemum and coleus. Where were the great displays of pumpkins and gourds, apples and pears, potatoes and tomatoes? The opportunity was ripe (sorry) for a heavenly harvest festival at Chelsea 2021. Instead it was left to the king of such things, Medwyn Williams, to stage the only major exhibit of exhibition-quality vegetables, and a fine one it was too. Why weren’t new exhibitors incentivised or compelled to come to Chelsea this September? Perhaps they were and just found the challenge too onerous for a one-off autumn event? I wanted dazzling dahlias and colourful chrysanths, bowers of fuchsia and an embarrassment of tender exotics. I was disappointed.

The amount of space left over in the Great Pavilion may also stand testament to the extent to which the act of gardening has been orientated towards spring. I know it and the nurserymen know it – spring is when the money is made. Despite autumn being one of the best times for planning and planting a garden, that message just hasn’t been communicated well enough to the gardening public. It’s spring, not autumn, that’s always touted as the start of the gardening year and that’s lead to a dearth of good quality plants available for sale later in the year. Visit a garden centre for inspiration now, and I guarantee you’ll be disappointed, if not confronted by Christmas decorations. Autumn presents the horticultural industry with a significant opportunity to extend its season and create a second sales peak, and Chelsea was the greatest chance in years to highlight that. The offer was left on the table.

I can’t help but wonder whether the RHS has been too distracted by other activities such as the opening of RHS Hilltop at Wisley and their new northern garden at Bridgewater near Manchester to give the displaced Chelsea Flower Show proper focus. I’d suggest that if the RHS wishes to continue extending its vice-like grip on all things horticultural in the UK, it needs to keep an eye on its crown jewels.

Lest I sound too negative, there were some positive changes to Chelsea for 2021. QR codes have come of age. The monochrome uber-chessboards replaced printed plant lists and pamphlets on many of the stands. I’d be interested to know what the ‘click-through’ rate was on these (I generally couldn’t be bothered), but I certainly welcome the reduction in paper waste. Houseplants were finally given the platform they deserve in the form of a series of posh sheds crammed with fabulous foliage. These were brilliantly and inventively presented, drawing crowds to the extent that this area of the show became uncomfortably congested. Hopefully this popular plant category will be celebrated again in May, perhaps at the expense of some of the grotesquely overblown trade stands. The introduction of balcony gardens as a garden category was welcome. Sadly the results were mundane, samey and hard to view. I wondered whether the designers had sight of each others’ plans in order to make sure each offered something different. The results were nice, but not very stimulating.

Only six large show gardens were staged, all of them good, a few of them great. My personal favourite was the the Trailfinders 50th Anniversary Garden designed by Johnathan Snow. Gardens evoking foreign landscapes are terribly difficult to pull off in the heart of London, but Johnathan achieved his goal with great aplomb. Both John and I have visited Nepal and other regions of the Himalaya, and we were both transported back to the foothills by this gently sloping garden. Colourful prayer flags strung haphazardly between the trees were the perfect visual cue; the planting and use of water was also masterful. If I could have taken any garden home, it would have been this one. My second favourite was probably the Guangzhou Garden which was awarded a gold medal and Best Show Garden. I have been to Guangzhou more times than I care to recall and have never experienced anything quite so beautiful. However, if this garden is representative of the way forward for the environment in this part of southern China I am all for it. Limpid water deliciously planted with marginals occupied a large part of the plot, so perhaps not the most practical of gardens for a family (unless they were ducks), but joyful to look at nevertheless. Designers Peter Chmiel with Chin-Jung Chen excelled themselves with a muted, semi-wild planting scheme and some of the tallest, most delicate structures I can recall in a Chelsea show garden. (When I have more time I promise to cover the show garden fully, as they are certainly worth more than my paragraph here.)

Whilst not all bad, I was still bored: having John there for company was definitely the highlight of my day. Every year the same layout; trade stands, gardens and exhibitors on the same pitches. I know why this is, but to a regular show-goer it feels like Groundhog Day. The RHS really need to mix things up a bit. We see the same old celebs, ageing more or less gracefully, and experience the same shocking service from the hospitality providers. This last point really riles me up, since after paying a princely sum to get in, visitors are subjected to stratospheric prices for appalling service from completely untrained staff. They’re then required to sit on the grass (the free M&G Investment bag is perfect for protecting one’s derrière from dampness) in order to consume their overpriced refreshments. And then, to top it all, there’s the filming. The BBC’s presence at Chelsea is deeply intrusive, bordering on unacceptable when you’ve paid so much to get in. If I was ushered not-so-politely out of the way once, it was tens of times. Production teams litter the gardens discussing their plans while presenters preen and practice before each take. Perhaps filming should take place before the show opens or after it closes and not during the event? The TV coverage is undeniably great – perhaps the best way to enjoy the show – but at what detriment to the punters?

Herein lies the question, an idea sown in my mind by my friend, the photographer Marianne Majerus: what is the Chelsea Flower Show actually for? To my mind it’s a public showcase for the finest horticulture in the land, if not the world, and that’s why I go. For others it’s entertainment – a nice days out among flowers and gardens, paid for personally or by a generous sponsor. The BBC treat it like a film set, in order to bring the joy of Chelsea to a much wider audience globally. For a few, it’s still a place to be seen, and increasingly it has become a place for purveyors of garden buildings and ornaments to sell their hyper-expensive wares to a very niche consumer. For the RHS I expect Chelsea is not only a revenue stream in itself, but also a major reason why members sign up in the first place. None of these reasons for being is wrong, but one can only think that perhaps Chelsea is trying to be too many things to too many people.

I would like to see the Chelsea Flower Show shaken up a bit – a new layout, a refresh of the whole flower / garden show concept. Perhaps it even requires a new location to create breathing space, or would it then just become the Hampton Court Flower Show? Or maybe it should just be smaller and more focussed towards excellence and trendsetting. And if the RHS really can’t refresh Chelsea, then perhaps the UK needs a decent rival garden show with an imaginative sponsor? There must be one out there. I’d love to hear what you think, or if you feel I am talking nonsense.

The reality is that things are unlikely to change other than little by little. Chelsea is too ingrained in tradition and the gardening calendar to withstand alteration in a major way, as we’ve experienced this year. It will return to May, the voids will be filled with what was there before and exhibitors will return to their familiar pitches. Hospitality will continue to be chronic, unless you can afford to book one of the on-site restaurants (maybe they are chronic too, but I’ll never earn enough to find out), and inexplicably plummy people will still buy tweed gilets and ugly horse sculptures made of driftwood. Chelsea is a juggernaut that’s had to swerve because of Covid. The question is, will it still be as much fun to drive in future? TFG.

Such is my inability to pick a winner that none of my three favourite show gardens won a gold medal this year. This is why I am not a betting man. My own disappointment is irrelevant, but it must be difficult to reflect objectively on your endeavours when you’ve invested heart and soul in a project as demanding as creating a show garden at Chelsea. Bronze medals are rarely awarded, and when they are the reasons are usually plain to see. However on this occasion I am totally bemused as to why the David Harber and Savills Garden did not do significantly better.

Rather than speculate as to where the garden fell short, I’m going to describe it in as positive terms as I can, and commend it to you as worthy of greater recognition. Occupying one of the large, rectangular sites on Main Avenue, the key contributors to the garden are designer Nic Howard, sculptor and sponsor David Harber, sponsor Savills and contractor Langdale Landscapes. At its simplest level their idea was to make a garden suited to displaying sculpture, no doubt for a client with taste and money. Judged on that basis, the garden succeeds in meeting its brief. One could well imagine this luxurious plot languishing behind a Holland Park townhouse, tended to by gardeners and used by the owners for sophisticated entertainment. There is, of course, a narrative, which involves mankind’s evolving relationship with the environment. The story begins with a natural landscape coming under human control and ends with a sculpture called Aeon, representing a nucleus of energy that keeps our planet in a state of equilibrium. Aeon is viewed through aligned openings within four sculptural screens, creating a metaphorical wormhole through space to the beginning of time.

I admit that much of this sculptural allegory is lost on me: I have a keener eye for what’s beautiful than what’s meaningful. Yet I would say that as a whole I find the garden pleasing, dramatic, even exciting. Whether at 7am in the morning or 8pm at night, the garden looks outstanding, filled with intense colour and dramatic shadows. Without doubt what makes it for me is Aeon, a colossal, amorphous, verdigris-bronze sculpture with a star-burst of 256 gilded aluminium spikes at its heart. At the end of each day, with the sun low in the sky, the gold glows as if lit from within. During the day, the way the draping branches of Betula nigra cast shadows on the sculpture’s outer circumference is also lovely. Aeon is a staggeringly bold and effective piece, deserving of public display.

The first sculptural screen, Enclosure, represents humanity’s attempts to enclose and control the environment by creating rudimentary barriers. Twenty-six bronze panels make up Enclosure, each panel an individual mesh of swirling organic branch and tree shapes. The next two screens, fashioned from richly-textured, oxidized-steel, symbolize the emotional and intellectual development of human culture. Crisp geometric patterns reflect our ability to design for pure aesthetic enjoyment. Finally, a fourth screen, Sophistication, contains a subtle flaw, reminding us of the threat we now pose to our environment.

The last sculpture in the quartet is placed to one side of the vista through which one gazes into the future across a sea of lupins (lupins, lupins everywhere, and not a drop to drink!). Wrought from random strands of bronze, representing human thought and DNA, the Bench of Contemplation is intended as a talking point and conversation facilitator. It can be perched on from either side, with a mirrored water feature behind it.

The planting of the garden does not, arguably, echo the journey taken by the sculptures, which themselves suggest a decline in the abundance and freedom of nature. Instead the planting is introduced in a relatively sparse way at the front of the garden, becoming more lush and verdant as it reaches the back. I studied the planting and the rhythms within it for some time, trying to work out what had rankled with the judges, but I could think of very little. Perhaps an understorey layer – some structural shrubs or evergreens – was what they felt was missing. The front of the plot would certainly be very barren in winter if this were anything but a show garden.

Despite the expert judgement I liked this garden a great deal, and it is my joint runner-up for ‘Best In Show’ alongside the Trailfinders South African Wine Estate Garden. For David Harber, a sculptor of some standing, and corporate sponsor Savills, Nic Howard created a wonderful setting for a bold and uncompromising suite of works. Views into the garden were pleasing from every angle, and the vista that ran front to back will continue to take visitors’ breath away until Saturday.

Having worked together on several award-winning trade stands, I hope that David and Nic will not be deterred from trying again at Chelsea. Sculpture as a form of garden ornament is clearly on the rise in terms of popularity and this daring composition brought something different and welcome to the fore. Bravo for trying and better luck next time chaps. Fortune favours the brave. TFG.

Continue scrolling down for a comprehensive plant list.

Plant List

• Acataea simplex ‘White Pearl’
• Alchemilla sericata ‘Goldstrike’
• Allium christophii
• Allium ‘Purple Sensation’
• Anchusa ‘Loddon Royalist’
• Anthriscus ‘Raven’s Wing’
• Aquilegia ‘Blue Barlow’
• Aquilegia ‘Nora Barlow’
• Artemesia ‘Silver Queen’
• Aruncus ‘Misty Lace’
• Asplenium scolopendrium
• Aster divaricatus ‘Beth Chatto’
• Astrantia ‘Claret’
• Betula nigra
• Briza media
• Calamagrostis ‘Karl Foerster’
• Cenolophium denudatum
• Centaurea montana ‘Black Sprite’
• Cirsium rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’
• Dianthus cruentus
• Digitalis ‘Suttons Apricot’
• Dryopteris affinis
• Epimedium x rubrum
• Euonymus europaeus
• Euphorbia cyparissias
• Euphorbia lathyris
• Geranium ‘Gravetye’
• Geranium macrorrhizum ‘Spessart’
• Geum ‘Mai Tai’
• Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’
• Hackonechloa macra
• Heucherella ‘Kimono’
• Hosta ‘Sum and Substance’
• Knautia macedonica
• Lupinus ‘West Country Persian Slipper’
• Lychnis ‘White Robin’
• Nectaroscordum siculum
• Nepeta ‘Junior Walker
• Nepeta ‘Summer magic’
• Nepeta ‘Walker’s Low’
• Paeonia lactiflora ‘Buckeye Belle’
• Paeonia lactiflora ‘Inspector Lavergne’
• Paeonia lactiflora ‘Kansas’
• Physocarpus ‘Amber Jubilee’
• Primula ‘Miller’s Crimson’
• Rheum palmatum ‘Antrosanguineum’
• Salvia ‘Caradonna’
• Salvia ‘Wendy’s Wish’
• Sesleria caerulea
• Sesleria nitida
• Stachys byzantina ‘Big Ears’
• Stipa gigantea
• Stipa tenuissima
• Symphytum ‘Langthorn Pink’
• Syringa microphylla ‘Superba’
• Tellima grandiflora
• Thalictrum ‘Nimbus Pink’
• Trifolium repens ‘Atropurpureum’
• Viola odorata ‘Coeur d’Alsace’

Three cheers for Kazuyuki Ishihara: another Chelsea gold medal to his name and ‘Best in Show’ for his Artisan Garden entitled O-mo-te-na-shi no NIWA. Although the charismatic Japanese landscape artist is now as much a part of the Chelsea Flower Show as Pimms, the Queen or improbably large delphiniums, we know relatively little about him. Mr Ishihara speaks limited English and comes across as shy, except when learns of the judge’s final decision. Such is his passion for his craft, and for Chelsea, that he goes wild with excitement, and quite right to. He has a track record that very few designers can match. He has now been awarded a gold medal for seven years consecutively and best Artisan Garden on five of those occasions. Mr Ishihara was the first Japanese designer ever to win the President’s Award at Chelsea, back in 2016 for his Senri-Sentei – Garage Garden. I did a very poor job of photographing that garden so didn’t feature it at the time, but have included an image at the end of this post so that you may compare this more contemporary design with this year’s traditional garden. With the assistance of Google I have taken the opportunity to include a Japanese translation of these words. Apologies for any errors, but I hope you get the gist!

石原一之の3つの喝采：彼の名を冠したチェルシーの金メダルとアルティザン・ガーデンの「ベスト・イン・ショー」、O-mo-te-na-shi no NIWA。カリスマ的な日本の芸術家は、今やチェルシー・フラワー・ショーの一部として、ピムス、クイーンズ、おそらくは大型のデルフィニウムのようなものですが、彼についてはほとんど知りません。石原氏は、限られた英語を話し、裁判官の最終判決を知る以外は、恥ずかしがりのように見える。そのような彼の工芸品への彼の情熱、そしてチェルシーのために、彼は興奮して野生になり、かなり正しい。彼は、ほとんどのデザイナーが一致することができる実績を持っています。彼は現在7年間連続して金メダルを獲得しており、そのうち5つで最高のArtisan Gardenが授与されています。石原氏はチェルシーで大統領賞を受賞した最初の日本人デザイナーで、2016年にはセンリ・センテイ・ガレージ・ガーデンのために誕生しました。私はその庭を撮影するのは非常に貧弱な仕事をしていましたが、当時の特徴はありませんでしたが、今年の伝統的な庭とこのより現代的なデザインを比較できるようにこのポストの終わりにいくつかの画像が含まれています。 Googleの助けを借りて、これらの言葉の日本語翻訳を含める機会を得ました。何か間違いをお詫びしますが、要点を得ることを願っています！

It has been said by myself and others that Kazuyuki Ishihara is a one trick pony. Looking back to 2004 when he first staged a Chelsea garden, one learns that this is far from the truth. His style has evolved considerably over the last 14 years, making me even more excited to see what he chooses to do next. Even if he chose not move on, what a thrill it always is to see this style of garden made so impeccably. I could gaze at his show gardens all day long and never tire of them. I was delighted that he took a moment to have his photograph taken with me, something I rarely ask anyone I don’t know to do. To find out more about the man, have a look at the short film below. Persevere with it, as his story is a good one.

石原一之はトリックポニーの一人だと言われています。 2004年にChelseaの庭を初めて上演したとき、彼はこれが真実から遠いことを学びました。 彼のスタイルは過去14年間でかなり進化しており、私は彼が次に何をするかを見てさらに興奮しています。 彼が移動しないことを選択したとしても、いつもこのスタイルの庭園を見ることが、どんなにスリルであっても、まったく完璧になりました。 私は一日中、彼のショーガーデンを注視することができ、決して疲れない。 私は自分の写真を私と一緒に撮ってもらうために瞬間を取ったことを嬉しく思っています。 その男についてもっと知るには、下のショートフィルムを見てください。 彼の物語は良いものなので、それを忍耐してください。

To Western eyes at least, this year’s garden, inspired by the treasured Japanese culture of omotenashi, appears to be the embodiment of Japanese garden design. It has water, rocks, acers, irises, moss, bonsai, lanterns and an octagonal pavilion, all the ingredients we expect to see in such a garden. Omotenashi, is the concept of wholehearted and sincere hospitality, and the wish to invoke this feeling in guests to the garden. The planting is based on Ikenobo, a style of Japanese flower arranging dating from the 15th century.  This is where Mr Ishihara began, studying this, the purest form of Ikebana, from the age of 22. The placement of plants and distribution of colour in this garden are carefully considered in relation to the space.

西洋の目には少なくとも、オオテナシの貴重な日本の文化に触発された今年の庭は、日本の庭のデザインの一形態と思われる。 それは、水、岩、エイサー、虹彩、苔、盆栽、灯篭、八角形のパビリオンを持っています。 心のこもったホスピタリティのコンセプトであり、お客様の庭にこの気持ちを呼び起こしたいという思いがあります。 植栽は、15世紀の日本の花の様式である池坊をベースにしています。 これは、石原氏が始まった場所で、22歳から純粋な形の生け花を研究しています。この庭の植物の配置と色の分布は、空間との関係で慎重に検討されます。

Mr Ishihara’s latest composition is enhanced by a fabulous, shaded location in a woodland glade between Eastern Avenue and the other Artisan Gardens. The backdrop of birch, beech and Atlantic blue cedar is perfect, creating a seamless transition between temporary garden and permanent surroundings. It is almost impossible to find fault with his gardens, which are executed and maintained throughout the show to such a high standard. Dust and debris are removed from the water and pincushion moss daily, by hand.

石原氏の最新作は、イースタン・アベニューと他のアルティザン・ガーデンの間の森林の隙間にあるすばらしい、影のある場所によって強化されています。 バーチ、ブナ、大西洋の青白い杉の背景は、一時的な庭園と恒久的な環境の間でシームレスな移行を作り、完璧です。 彼の庭園で不具合を見つけることはほとんど不可能であり、その庭園はショーの間に実行され維持されています。 毎日水とピンカスの苔からほこりや土石を手で取り除きます。

The focal point in this year’s garden is an octagonal Azumaya, or garden house, with a gently sloping roof fashioned from copper. A central pool of grey stone, studded by irises, is fed by three crystal-clear cascades. The pool is surrounded by Japanese maples interspersed with pines, viburnums and a handsome enkianthus. The natural sound of water falling onto rock is intended to encourage the forgetting of time and the feeling of eternity. Every detail of the garden is considered, including the front boundary of pincushion moss, Pachysandra terminalis and Houttuynia cordata ‘Chameleon’. Flanking the entrance to the Azumaya, the two twisted larches are actually bonsai that have been trained with wires to look especially ancient. Like everything else in the garden, they are quite marvellous.

今年の庭園の焦点は、八角形のAzumaya（ガーデンハウス）で、銅製のやさしい屋根があります。 虹彩に囲まれた灰色の石の中央プールは、3つのクリスタルクリアカスケードによって供給されます。 プールには、松、芝生、ハンサムなエンカンサスが散在している日本の庭園に囲まれています。 岩の上に落ちる自然な音は、時間と永遠の感覚を忘れることを奨励することを意図しています。 ピンカス苔、Pachysandra terminalisおよびHouttuynia cordata ‘Chameleon’の前境界を含めて、庭のすべての詳細が考慮されます。 Azumayaへの入り口に面した2本の撚り糸は実際には昔から見えるワイヤーで訓練された盆栽です。 庭の他のすべてと同様に、彼らは非常に素晴らしいです。

Mr Ishihara calls himself a landscape artist because that is what he is. He creates a picture of natural perfection by deftly balancing all the elements. We suggest that he does the same thing every year because we can’t find fault elsewhere, and because our memories are short. That is our failing and not his. We are extremely fortunate to have him come to Chelsea every year to remind us of the beauty, precision and meaning of Japanese gardens. And what would Chelsea be without his priceless reactions to good news? Definitely not the same. TFG.

石原氏は、それが彼のものなので、庭師と呼んでいます。 彼はすべての要素を巧みにバランスさせることによって、自然の完璧な姿を描きます。 私たちは毎年同じことをすることをお勧めします。なぜなら、私たちはどこかで不具合を見つけることができず、私たちの記憶が不足しているからです。 それは私たちの失敗であり、彼の失敗ではありません。 日本の庭園の美しさ、精密さ、そして意味を思い起こさせるため、彼は毎年チェルシーに来られることは非常に幸運です。 そして、チェルシーは、良い知らせをすることなく、何ができるでしょうか？ 確かに同じではありません。 TFG。

Show garden designed by Tony Woods | Sponsored by Hamptons & Koto

Built by Garden Club London | Plants by Kelways

Unwittingly, my last post has provided the perfect segue into the next – a preview of a serene, Japanese-inspired garden conceived as a space to decompress and reconnect with nature. It will be on show in just ten days’ time, at the start of this year’s Chelsea Flower Show in London.

If this year’s horticultural extravaganza seems to have come around quickly, that’s because it has: last year’s show was postponed until September, creating a gap of eight months rather than twelve. I had misgivings about the show’s first autumn incarnation but I am now ready to put them to one side and approach Chelsea 2022 with a kind heart and open mind. I shall be visiting the show on preview day, Monday, May 23rd and on the first members’ day, Tuesday, May 24th, so do follow along on Instagram @thefrustratedgardener and @dancoopergarden for lashings of pretty pictures, interesting insights and honest comments throughout the week. If you happen to be there on the same days, do please stop me and say hello!

Back to the subject, a garden entitled A Garden Sanctuary that has been designed by Tony Woods. I have been watching Tony’s career go from strength to strength for almost ten years now and we’ve managed to keep in touch on and off over that time. Since being named RHS Young Designer of the Year in 2013, his star has steadily risen, gathering gold medals and accolades as it ascends. Tony is now the lead designer and managing director of Garden Club London, a landscape design-and-build practice specialising in polished, contemporary gardens for urban settings. Without a doubt, you will already have seen his stunning roof terraces and smart city gardens featured in books and magazines. They are the stuff that sophisticated city dwellers dream of, endowed with ample entertaining spaces, atmospheric lighting and beautifully orchestrated planting.

A Garden Sanctuary promises to demonstrate a softer side to Tony’s style, in keeping with the show’s emphasis on sustainability and the natural environment. Based on the renderings shared in this post, the garden will be light, bright, effortlessly simple and naturalistic, a look that’s deceptively tricky to pull off in a period of weeks. But with the garden being constructed by his in-house team and planted by Chelsea veterans Kelways, Tony will have every element of the build closely under his control.

The scheme is centred around an asymmetric cabin providing a retreat and meditative space immersed in nature and plants. Designed by modular architects Koto, the building is clad with charred timber, giving a nod to the Japanese philosophy of Wabi-Sabi – the acceptance of transient life and celebration of beauty in imperfection. The view from inside the structure, which I hope I shall be lucky enough to experience first-hand, will frame views outwards into the garden.

Hear Tony and the founders of Koto speak about what influenced the design of the garden and its central feature in this short video:

Water is an important element in this garden, a large pool blending seamlessly with the planting around it. Working with water at Chelsea is almost as precarious as working with children and animals, not least because the great London planes (Platanus x hispanica) that run behind many of the show gardens have an annoying tendency to release clouds of white fluff on warm days. Also the cause of the infamous ‘Chelsea cough’, these bristly seeds like to float on the surface of the water, blurring carefully contrived reflections and generally making the place look untidy. But since this show is all about sustainability, we will overlook any debris and agree that no meditative space is complete without water or a representation of water.

It’s great to see that a comprehensive selection of attractive marginals has been made, meaning that we may even be treated to the sight of butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies. Look closely at the plant list and you’ll see that stinging nettles, Urtica dioica, a food source for many of our most colourful butterflies, make an appearance. Such wild abandon would have been unthinkable at Chelsea twenty years ago, yet seems pleasingly acceptable now.

Overall, the garden is rich in plants for pollinators and densely-planted trees aim to encourage birds. Rounded, glacial boulders and smooth, natural stepping stones contrast with the sharply angular building, providing an intentional way to slow the journey to the cabin through loose planting and across moving water. Boundaries of hornbeam hedging and charred larch panels will provide a foil to show off the stunning bark of the Betula nigra (black birch) and Pinus sylvestris (Scots pine). There will be scents too from pennyroyal (Mentha pulegium) phlox and lilac (Syringa vulgaris). Fragrance is a dimension that we don’t always consider as a deliberate act of design, so it’s great to see it focussed on here.

Anyone wishing to create a similar look in their garden would do well to convert Tony’s plant selection straight into a shopping list. All the plants chosen are readily available from good nurseries and would thrive in any moisture retentive garden soil given the part sun, part shade conditions that many urban gardens are blessed with. They are solid, garden-worthy plants and many of them can be grown from seed, including the trees if you have the time and inclination.

Once the show is underway I will update this post to include pictures of the finished garden. In the meantime, I hope you’ve enjoyed this preview. Fingers crossed that Tony and his team will come out with yet another gold medal this year. TFG.

Plant List

The RHS Chelsea Flower Show is back in its familiar May slot after a two-year, Covid-induced hiatus. This will come as a huge relief to a nation that has come to regard the world’s most prestigious flower show as the most important week of the gardening year, commanding extensive TV coverage and boosting sales of everything from geums to giant driftwood horses. It’s where the horticultural elite come together to show us lesser mortals how it’s done and we lap it up, making notes and taking pictures to fire our imaginations for the next twelve months.

Although there will be plenty of familiar exhibits and big names, the organisers have embraced the changing times by giving us smaller, more sustainable gardens and new categories that will showcase the talent of young, less experienced designers. The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee provides inspiration and impetus for a number of floral exhibits and, with luck, we shall see Her Majesty there on Monday afternoon.

Wild and wonderful – The RHS has encouraged designers to embrace the natural world in a move that will delight many. We can expect to see greater use of native plants as well as naturalistic spaces taking centre stage – even stinging nettles make an appearance in Tony Woods’ A Garden Sanctuary garden for Hamptons. New to the Chelsea Flower Show, designers Lulu Urquhart and Adam Hunt will be using exclusively native British plants to represent a rewilded landscape, celebrating the reintroduction of beavers and other native species in the southwest of England. The garden reflects the rich, diverse landscape that evolves when nature’s eco-engineers are able to go about their business unhindered.

The Queen hopes to pay a visit – Our longest-reigning monarch, Elizabeth II, has been the royal patron of the Royal Horticultural Society since 1952 and was a regular visitor to the show with her parents as a child. She has attended Chelsea more than 50 times during her 70-year reign and, despite mobility problems, she hopes to make an appearance this week. Many of this year’s exhibits celebrate her seventy years on the throne. Buckingham Palace say that a final decision on the Queen’s attendance will be made on the day, but The Earl and Countess of Wessex, Princess Beatrice, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke of Kent, Prince and Princess Michael of Kent and Princess Alexandra have all confirmed.

The Mind Garden – If I was a betting man (which I am not) then this would be where I put my money for ‘best in show’. Andy Sturgeon has an incredible Chelsea pedigree – 8 gold medals in all – and this garden is particularly close to his heart. He also says it will be his final appearance on main avenue, marking the right moment for him to make way for a new generation of designers.

Gardens have been a refuge for Andy during difficult periods in his own life and for The Mind Garden, he’s created a place where others can connect, share experiences and find comfort together. At its highest point, a circular seating area will create a sanctuary for conversation. Set within curved clay-rendered walls, it will be a place to sit side-by-side and share experiences and advice, surrounded by meadow-like spaces and calming birch trees. A gravel path then arcs down to a lower level, bringing people together before the garden opens out before them. The design reflects how it can feel to open up to others about your mental health. First, it brings people closer, then there is a sense of release and of possibility. It’s a great message and one can be certain that it will be executed superbly. I for one can’t wait to see it.

The hotly contested Plant of the Year competition includes a rose named ‘Elizabeth’, three succulents and a pink version of Salvia ‘Amistad’ called, imaginatively, S. ‘Pink Amistad’ (above). The original plant, bred in Argentina, has sold 4 million plants worldwide and is being introduced in the UK by Middleton Nurseries. Also on the shortlist are a variegated forsythia (Forsythia × intermedia ‘Discovery’), a tiny rhododendron with star-shaped flowers (Rhododendron ‘Starstyle Pink’) and purple broccoli that keeps its colour when cooked (Brassica oleracea (Italica Group) ‘Purplelicious’). In a few years’ time, these plants will either be in every garden centre in the land or largely forgotten and it’s here that their fortune will be determined.

Jay Day is a balcony garden designed specifically for Eurasian jays (Garrulus glandarius), one of birds I enjoy watching regularly from my home office window. The balcony garden category was launched last autumn and provides a great way for lesser-known, innovative designers to get a foot on the Chelsea ladder. Jay Day is a reimagined urban jay habitat designed to encourage us to consider integrating live plants into our bird-feeding regime. The Eurasian jay uses hypnum moss for nut caching, so to encourage birds into the space, the substrate of the balcony is a carpet of green moss overlaid with a metal grate for human access. It’s an intriguing concept and I am delighted to have been invited to meet the two designers, Su-Yeon Choi and Alison Orellana Malouf at the press preview tomorrow.

Entirely new for 2022 is the ‘All About Plants’ show garden category. There are four entrants this year: A Textile Garden for Fashion Revolution, celebrating the beauty to be found in plant-based dyes and fibres; The Core Arts Front Garden Revolution, presenting a concept where two urban households have removed the defining boundary between their front gardens to make one open space for gardening, socialising and wellbeing; The Mothers for Mothers Garden – ‘This Too Shall Pass’, articulating the challenges of raising young children and the associated mental health issues that can come with it, from postnatal depression to anxiety and isolation; and The Wilderness Foundation UK Garden, depicted above, inspired by plant communities in native Japanese forests. A sense of green immersion has been heightened by lifting the planting and driving a sunken path through it. A charred timber walkway enables visitors to engage with the deliciously green understorey. I love the sound of these plant-focussed gardens and hope they deliver on their promise to showcase interesting plant communities above all else.

There is so much more that I’d like to cover in detail but as time is now short and I still need to pack my suitcase I’ll summarise. I am delighted that the Houseplant Studios are returning as these were a highlight of the autumn Chelsea flower show and so well done. There are five this year, including a Studio 54 themed cabin complete with lava lamps, a coat check and bar offering refreshment for thirsty plants!

Given my age, I can’t help but be excited about the prospect of The New Blue Peter Garden which highlights the importance of soil. I am the first to admit that I found soil science a bore at university but as I’ve grown as a gardener I’ve realised what a mistake I made – soil is the secret to every gardener’s success. The New Blue Peter Garden will encourage us to investigate the soil beneath our feet, bringing it up to eye level for us to see, touch, smell and hear. The garden’s message is, ‘Don’t treat soil like dirt!’

If all the focus on naturalism, mental health and science does not float your boat then you may be relieved that some traditional formality lingers on in the form of The Perennial Garden ‘With Love’ designed by Richard Miers and The RNLI Garden designed by Chris Beardshaw. The planting in this garden looks absolutely fabulous – an exuberant feast for the eyes that is sure to be a big hit with visitors.

Finally, it’s worth mentioning that the show has a new sponsor, The Newt in Somerset, a prestigious country house hotel and working estate in the West Country (see image below). Will we notice much difference? It’s hard to tell, but there would certainly seem to be a good fit between the RHS, its members and The Newt, which has poured megabucks into the restoration of the house and gardens at Hadspen.

Detailed Chelsea posts will start to appear here from Wednesday onwards. In the meantime, follow along with me on Instagram @thefrustratedgardener and @dancoopergarden to get a ‘Dan’s Eye View’ of all the gardens, plants and personalities at this year’s show. TFG.

Ahhh, it was good to be back at Chelsea in May. This year’s show gardens sparkled, embracing the headline brief of sustainability and naturalism. There was a great mix of style, plenty of substance and less evidence of the ‘over messaging’ that can sometimes kill a show garden dead. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of gardens with purpose, but that didn’t overwhelm them. Chelsea 2022 will go down as a return to form and perhaps lay the foundations for an even more exciting show next year.

Chelsea’s gardens, 39 of them in all, are categorised as either Show Gardens (the largest and most expensive to build designs), Sanctuary Gardens (a little smaller but still impressive), Balcony Gardens, Container Gardens or a new class hosted in the Great Pavillion called All About Plants ….. more on these in a future post. They are all judged gardens that can be awarded medals ranging from bronze to gold. There are also Feature Gardens that are purely there for the enjoyment of visitors and not part of the competition. In this post, I focus on my pick of the showstoppers – the Show Gardens with the big names, high budgets and ambitions to change how we think, feel and garden.

There were 13 Show Gardens in all this year. The winner of the top award – A Rewilding Britain Landscape – richly deserved the prize. If you read my previous post, you’ll note this was not one of my predictions for Best In Show and that’s why I am not a betting man. In fairness, this was a garden that one needed to see and experience first-hand to appreciate the skill and artistry that went into its creation.

The designers and their teams have about three weeks to construct their gardens on-site: for a garden to look this settled in its plot is not only remarkable but breathtaking. Perhaps the wild, naturalistic style of Adam Hunt and Lulu Urqhart’s garden might not be what everyone wants at home, but you could not argue that it was not deeply evocative and wonderful to experience.

This garden deserves a post of its own, but to summarise the idea, the designers chose to be inspired by the reintroduction of beavers into the British landscape. The garden represents a rewilded habitat in the South West of England, complete with a babbling brook, superb dry-stone walls, a rustic viewing hide and a dam constructed entirely of beaver-gnawed sticks. Approximately 3600 native and naturalised plants were grown for the garden, from mighty willows to tiny orchids. Not only beavers were welcome in this space but also voles, otters and the whole gamut of aquatic and insect life. A ‘soundscape’ was created to introduce us to unfamiliar sounds such as kingfishers piping, Muntjac deer calling and beavers playing, fighting and chewing. Perhaps this garden will increase the possibility of these sounds becoming more commonplace again. Hats off to Adam and Lulu for whom this was their first Chelsea garden. Beginners luck? I don’t think so.

Next, to the garden I thought might land Best In Show – Andy Sturgeon’s The Mind Garden for mental health charity Mind. I expected it to be excellent and it was – subtle, expressive and wonderfully planted. Andy’s gardens are always understated but also exacting in their standards and rich in the intensity of their planting. A designer so assured of himself needs no bells and whistles to stand out from the crowd.

Andy’s garden was both austere and pretty, enveloping and freeing – contradictions that echo how it feels to struggle with one’s mental health when it can veer so quickly from one extreme to another, or when a situation can feel either comforting or unsettling depending on your state of mind. As you can see from my photographs, a series of sculptural, clay-rendered walls cascaded gently down from the highest point, at the end of the garden. Andy intended for them to look like a handful of petals tossed to the ground. Perhaps from above this is more evident, but structurally they formed some intriguing spaces and opportunities to set off individual plants to their best advantage. The walls created a series of small rooms and narrow passages before opening out to welcome visitors in. Benches for contemplation and conversation were fashioned from wind-blown oak and soothing water poured gently from ceramic spouts into small pools. The planting was designed to evoke an open woodland setting with vibrant meadow planting towards the edges. It was all very restrained, quietly lovely and deserving of a 9th gold medal for Andy in his final appearance on Chelsea’s Main Avenue. He will be much missed and leaves the bar set high for the next generation of designers.

I image many of us thought that Sarah Eberle could win Best in Show for her stupendous Medite Smartply Building The Future garden. Chelsea’s most decorated garden designer went big and bold with her entry this year, wowing the crowds on arrival at the show. Rarely do we see such large trees and imposing structures used at Chelsea but they worked because they were perfectly in proportion to one another and the surroundings.

Impressed as I was with all the individual elements – spectacular trees, incredible ‘metalwork’ fabricated from sustainable ply, a trio of plunging waterfalls and infinitely textured planting – I found it quite tricky to view the garden as a punter and felt it was a touch unattractive from the rear.

This was a garden of huge contrasts, setting frothing cow parsley against brutal sculpture, bright yellows against glaucous greens and rambling roses against structural rice paper plants (Tetrapanax papyrifer). It was not for the faint-hearted nor the traditionalist, but there are no awards at Chelsea for playing it safe. Sarah’s garden pushed the boundaries in terms of scale and style and has no doubt inspired other designers to think bigger and be braver in future. Engineers and architects would have marvelled at the gnarled pine perched above an enormous arch whilst lovers of interesting plants, myself included, had plenty to satisfy them with a plant list extending over 2 pages. Extra points would have been awarded by yours truly simply for not using copper-coloured verbascums or orange geums. In lieu of the latter, it was nice to be reacquainted with a plant I have long lost touch with, the globe flower, Trollius ‘Dancing Flame’.

Fans of the Arts & Crafts Movement would have been in seventh heaven in the Morris & Co. Garden. Ruth Willmott’s design was one of those that looked good on paper but could have gone either way in practice. Deftly, the designer steered a course between homage and pastiche to deliver a garden that was so clearly inspired by William Morris and his iconic patterns and yet deliciously modern. For sure, Chelsea will have earned Ruth a legion of fans at the same time as introducing Morris & Co. to a new, more contemporary audience.

The layout of Ruth’s garden was inspired by two classic Morris & Co. designs: Willow Boughs (1887) was represented in the pergola-style structure and watercourses and Trellis (1862) informed the layout of the pathways and rivulets. No detail was overlooked, from the choice of plants and the colour of the flowers through to the delightful garden furniture. Chelsea lacked an international flavour this year but this garden offered subtle hints of the Orient and Mughal courtyards wrapped in a big, blousy English hedgerow. This was masterful, clever, well-researched design, beautifully realised. I imagine Mr Morris would be very content to see his legacy treated so sensitively.

Many Chelsea gardens live on beyond their moment in the spotlight and the Morris & Co. garden is set to become part of a series of community gardens in Islington, North London.

I didn’t realise how much I had enjoyed the Urban Foraging Station garden until I reviewed my photographs and realised I had taken rather a lot of them! That’s perhaps because it was a particularly awkward garden to capture well and also because it had many component parts. The design, by Howard and Hugh Miller for Alder Hey Children’s Hospital, aspires to inspire children to lead active, healthy, pleasurable lives by encouraging them to forage.

That undulating blanket of pale concrete you see in my photographs was conceived as an abstract landscape in which edible herbs such as thyme and marjoram might grow. One imagines that over time this would fill out, creating a hard-wearing surface over which children could scramble without damaging the plants. Different spaces alluded to a number of natural habitats including hedgerows, orchards, marsh and meadows. And when all the foraging became too wearisome there was a quiet seating area for rest or storytelling. As a child, I would have loved a garden like this with trees to climb and thickets to explore – perhaps a tree house was all that was missing. One of the highlights of my day at Chelsea was being reminded of how water collects in the leaf joints of teasel, forming deep pools. Sometimes it’s the little things!

Among all the naturalism, beautiful oak furniture crafted by Hugh Miller provided a sophisticated counterpoint for the eye and a focus for outdoor activity. A wheelbarrow-style workstation even included an induction hob for cooking, as demonstrated by Chris Mapp of the Tickled Trout.

Do you have a favourite from my selection? Or perhaps I missed one of the gardens you loved? Do let me know your thoughts. In the meantime, keep checking back for more Chelsea coverage over the coming days. TFG.

There was a time when the Rothschild family owned so much land in Buckinghamshire that the county was cheekily referred to as ‘Rothschildshire’. At the height of their fortune, the family owned seven vast estates clustered around the Vale of Aylesbury, each adorned with a grand house and ostentatious gardens enveloped by rolling parkland.

It’s a sign of the times that only one house remains in family ownership, Eythrope, home of the present Lord Rothschild. The family’s other residences and gardens have met with differing fates; one was demolished after the Second World War (Aston Clinton), another is now used as an officers’ mess (Halton), one is a school for the performing arts (Tring) and a further has been mothballed by foreign property developers and is considered a building at risk (Mentmore). My grandfather, who knew most of the Rothschild estates late in their heyday, would have considered this a sorry state of affairs. Even between the two wars, the family’s estates were sufficiently well-staffed to put together cricket teams that competed with those from country estates where he lived and worked. This was a privileged world that rapidly unravelled in the aftermath of war, leaving wealthy families such as the Rothschilds unable to afford the upkeep of their magnificent estates. Being Jewish, the Rothschilds suffered more than most monied families, losing almost all of their villas and estates in Europe during the Nazi occupation. It cannot have helped that they had so many properties – perhaps as many as a hundred. Rationalisation was the only way forward.

Waddesdon Manor, the jewel in the family’s crown, found its way into the hands of the National Trust, as did my favourite Rothschild house, Ascott. Unusually for a National Trust property, the family of the donor, James Rothchild, manage Waddesdon and continue to invest in it. Hence the visitor experience feels quite different, with the Rothschild emblem of 5 arrows, crossed and tightly bunched, appearing on signage and publications. The house is no longer lived in but is open for the public to marvel at the interior’s extraordinary grandeur and opulence. A visit at Christmas is a must for the fabulous festive displays that hint at the extravagance of Waddesdon’s golden age.

The word manor conjures up an image of a small, cosy, ancient country seat but in the case of Waddesdon, you’ll already have gathered that nothing could be further from the truth. Waddesdon Manor is a grand country house quite unlike any other you may have visited, incongruous, uncompromising and designed to impress and entertain. It has more in common with one of America’s great houses, Villa Vizcaya in Miami, than it does with olde England in that it’s the vision of a single, wealthy man intent on recreating a historical and cultural fantasy for the sake of pure enjoyment and indulgence.

Prior to its purchase in 1874, Waddesdon was nothing but a bare hilltop. There was no pre-existing house, nor garden or park, just a scattering of farms and villages. The tragically widowed Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild threw himself into the creation of Waddesdon with enormous vigour, stopping at nothing to realise his vision of a great Renaissance château akin to those in the Loire Valley. Having spent three years levelling the summit of the hill – no mean feat in itself – he chose Gabriel-Hippolyte Destailleur as his architect, requesting him to design a house fit for lavish weekend entertaining. This Destailleur did with gusto, masterminding a mansion that was not only magnificent to look at but also endowed with all the modern conveniences of the day including central heating, electric lighting and hot and cold running water. On a daytime visit in 1890, Queen Victoria was so impressed with the electrically powered chandeliers that she asked for the room to be darkened so that she could appreciate their sparkling light. In less than ten years Baron Ferdinand had the house of his dreams, but what of the gardens?

The land that Baron Ferdinand had purchased was virtually treeless thanks to its previous owner. The Duke of Marlborough, impoverished at the time, had stripped Waddesdon bare in order to make a fast buck from the timber. Needless to say, a grand house perched on a windswept hillock did not fit with the Baron’s aspirations. Fully grown trees were moved from elsewhere in the county using horse-drawn carts to create an illusion of immediate establishment. The enormity of the task is not hard to grasp even today. Moving mature trees is not easy, even with modern equipment and the aftercare must have been phenomenal. Telegraph poles and wires had to be moved in order for the trees to be drawn along the roads from the village by a team of 20 specially-bred Percheron horses. What the baron wanted, he got: money was no obstacle.

100 years later, according to Miriam Rothschild, ‘the spruce and cedars had grown so luxuriously that they had formed a solid shroud of dark green gloom round the house and garden ….. the house seemed to be sleeping in deep mourning’. Then along came the great storm of 1987, felling hundreds of trees. It was a blessing in disguise, opening up views and vistas and giving the remaining trees room to develop fully.

Baron Ferdinand’s tree-planting escapade presents the current custodians with a unique and ongoing challenge in that many of the trees in the garden, park and surrounding woodland are of a similar age. Although his sister, Alice de Rothschild, planted many more trees after his death, little was added afterwards. Hence, many of the current specimens are between 100 and 150 years old. The Victorian fashion for brightly-coloured, contrasting foliage and exaggerated form was taken to new levels at Waddesdon, evident in the preponderance of golden cypress, blue spruce, copper beech, white poplar, weeping lime and redwood. It’s not a look we have much sympathy for in the 21st Century, but when one has a house as fantastical as this, one may as well go the whole hog and plant the gardens to match. As a set piece, one cannot deny Waddesdon’s Disney-like appeal, which is probably why it remains one of the nation’s most loved and visited houses.

Baron Ferdinand and Miss Alice (as she was affectionately known) liked to collect, whether it be art, sculpture, plants or animals. The grounds of Waddesdon quickly developed an eclectic and somewhat eccentric appearance with goats on the rockery and an aviary filled with exotic birds. The goats were dispatched, owing to their antisocial odour, but the birds continue to inhabit what must be one of the most extravagant and well-appointed aviaries in the country. The design is similar to aviaries built at Versailles and Chantilly. Destailleur’s iron structure was originally painted white and the current Eau de Nil and gilt scheme is a recent update. A small but important breeding programme now helps to conserve bird species on the brink of extinction, including the exceptionally rare Rothschild’s Myna (Leucopsar rothschildi) from Bali. On our visit, the rococo structure was being carefully re-decorated: nevertheless, the collection of birds was impressive. Back in Baron Ferdinand’s day, macaws were allowed to fly free, no doubt returning to their des-res when they needed food and water.

In front of the aviary, a layout of formal beds is planted twice a year with colourful displays of annuals and flowering bulbs. The earth is heavily mounded to accentuate the display when viewed from a distance – a Victorian contrivance requiring a great deal of effort to maintain, especially in the British climate.

The combination of dazzling new French château surrounded by fabulous gardens and exotic animals must have charmed even the hardest-hearted of the family’s weekend visitors. The highest standards of horticulture were observed, with backup plants kept in one of 50 glasshouses should anything fail to impress. 53 gardeners were employed in Miss Alice’s day, under the careful supervision of her head gardener George Johnson. Waddesdon was a showcase of horticultural excellence, Victorian taste and an overt expression of newly-minted wealth.

Waddesdon’s standout feature was and still is the parterre laid out on the terrace behind the house. It’s the epitome of the great Victorian tradition of carpet bedding and one of the finest remaining examples in the country. In her book, ‘The Rothschild Gardens’, Miriam Rothschild notes that the pattern of beds changed a number of times. When restored by the National Trust in 1989 the layout was simplified to allow the grass to be mown by machines rather than cut by hand. A system of pop-up sprinklers was installed. In the Baron’s day, summer bedding was replaced two or three times during the summer (and after poor weather) in addition to displays of spring bulbs. Tens of thousands of plants were required every time and watering was done by hand. Today the planting is changed only in spring and autumn, and recently perennials such as salvias have been introduced into the outer beds to reduce maintenance further. Victorian carpet bedding is the throwaway fashion of gardening so it’s right that new practices and materials are explored to lessen its environmental impact.

Unlike Chatsworth, another great garden I have visited recently, lofty Waddesdon did not have the advantage of unlimited water to feed fountains and pools, or to create lakes. There are waterworks, but they are modest in comparison to many other country estates and there’s no great river to be gazed down upon from the Manor’s lofty turrets. The garden lacks the layers of history and conflicting influences apparent in older gardens so, uniquely, what you witness at Waddesdon is pretty much the pure and unadulterated vision of one generation. As a young boy, I always thought it was remarkable that my grandfather had met other gardeners that had played a part in its making and that the house was a mere 100 years old.

Absent from today’s experience is a view of the kitchen gardens and glasshouses that once provided fruit, flowers and vegetables for the house. They were so extensive and so expensive to run that they became unsustainable after the war. Very little evidence of them remains. The high standards demanded by Miss Alice, whom even Queen Victoria called the ‘All Powerful’ are revealed in a current exhibition at Waddesdon.

I confess to having omitted descriptions of the approach drives, rockery, daffodil valley and Miss Alice’s rose garden. The latter, reinstated in the 1990s, is definitely of the Edwardian age – a frothy, almost fragile roundel filled with scent and guarded by towering redwoods. It feels a little impermanent, if I may be so bold, as if it has every chance of disappearing without a trace. The roses, although pleasant enough, seemed to be struggling in parts, perhaps through drought, age or rose replant disease. On the whole, I think we struggle with rose gardens in this day and age – rarely do I see one that truly delivers the romantic vision we all carry in our heads.

Every garden lover should visit Waddesdon once in a lifetime for no other reason than it’s one of a kind – it represents the pinnacle of a certain style, a moment in time that will never be repeated. It’s a fairytale made possible by fortunes quickly won and lost, meticulously preserved for us all to marvel at. TFG.

For information about visiting Waddesdon Manor visit the Rothschild’s website here or the National Trust’s website here. Note that the new car park is around a mile from the house requiring visitors to walk, mostly uphill, or take a bus. On hot and wet days it’s an exposed walking route so cover up appropriately!

The garden at Eythrope is open on Wednesdays for pre-booked tours including lunch. Details can be found here.

The beautifully produced videos embedded in this post fill in many of the gaps I’ve clearly left. If you can track down a copy of ‘The Rothschild Gardens‘ by Miriam Rothschild, published in 1996, do grab it for further insight into the banking family’s fortunes.