Mark Cummings

All aboard!

The High Line is up! Trains on this mile and a half  length of elevated railroad have given way to breezy planting, giving every New Yorker a slice of roof top living. The line was originally opened in 1934 to remove freight trains from the roads (there were that many accidents between freight trains and traffic that Tenth Avenue was known as Death Avenue).

However by the 1950s rail freight went into decline and by 1980 the high line ceased to run trains. It’s a shame though when you think about it; the high line meant that goods could be delivered to building after building without causing street level traffic or congestion. Something that would no doubt be most welcome in today’s city hubbub.

perennial stock roll along the tracks

In 1999 a not for profit organisation called Friends of the High Line pushed for preservation of the elevated railway and ensured its use a city park.

Being of a horticultural ilk and finding myself in Manhattan with some Australian friends we decided to head along and see it for ourselves. After breakfast at Pastis we headed to the start at Gansevoort street and climbed the industrial staircase to horticultural heaven.

Clever benches seemingly suspended in mid air invited us to sit among the prairie plants (Piet Oudolf designed the scheme) and all along the line there was opportunity to buy coffee from the bang on trend pop up barristas.

'floating bench'

A water feature allows you to paddle your way across the asphalt or sit and dip your toe -welcome in the heat of the day. My friends wait patiently while I take photograph after photograph and I see them thinking “does he really need another photograph of that plant.” I hurry up a bit and catch them reclining on wooden day beds. It is as hot as hades, despite being so early and we are in the cooling shadow of a building. The line zig zags a little and there is an ongoing sense of more to discover. A huge lawn or a wall of climbers (broad beans)and a golden swathe of yarrow (achillea millefolium) assault the senses.

golden yarrow drifts towards the sky scrapers

Echinacea (both white and pink) are flowering their socks off and stipa tenuissima rolls all over the place as only it can. we are lucky enough to be here just after the opening of the second section and yet more plants that I have never seen before are unfurling in the morning light. Spent allium heads are tissue paper sculpture amongst the plants of now and there is not a weed in sight.

Maintenance is apparent and the gardeners have the coolest tricycles to speed along along on, panniers laden with tools. I like the fact that we can see people at work amongst the garden. It gives a sense of reality. It reminds us that it is an organic world sat on an industrial structure that needs a tweak every now and then. I want to work here. or at least ride along on the trikes!

long pavers give direction, pulling you along

At Chelsea Flower Show this year I had to laugh when i saw Cleve West’s garden. You see, he had used flowering leeks and parsnips as part of the planting. Unusual for a show garden where everything is usually so well groomed. But not so unusual for my garden. Last year our leeks and parsnips bolted. Which is no mean feat since leeks take over a year to flower. And this year I still have a couple that are about to burst open.

The great thing about leeks is that they flower later than most of the other alliums and though the flower is a dirtier white than Allium nigrum or Allium ‘Mount Everest’ it goes on and on. last year mine flowered for about 8 weeks before going over.

Another bonus is that their foliage is much better behaved and does not loll all over the surrounding plants. That said, there is no mistaking the foliage of a leek. I am thinking of using them at the back of a border amongst tall grasses with medium height perennials in front so that the foliage is obscured.

I haven’t really decided what to do with my ‘snips yet. Though i am sure i can think of somewhere suitable for a bright yellow umbel. And the rocket flowers like a dream too!

I have a tiny garden and very few spare blooms to cut for the house but every now and then i go all Sarah Raven and head out with the secateurs. I tend to find less is more (well it has to be from my garden) and last week I chose one peony bloom, a stem from Rosa ‘Munstead Wood’, one stem of nectaroscordum siculum and a few sprigs from Heuchera ‘Silver Chimes’.

The house plant behind is a Haemanthus albiflos otherwise known as the shaving brush plant as its bloom looks like… well… a shaving brush. As house plants go it thrives on neglect and sits happily in the partial shade of  the chest of drawers.

Rosa 'Munstead Wood'

Rosa ‘Munstead Wood’ is my favourite rose. Crimson in colour with a velvety texture it has  fruity smell about it that is utterly seductive.  It is a repeat flowering shrub rose and sits happily in a large pot in my garden.

Nectaroscordum siculum

Nectaroscordum is a bulb, planted in the autumn. It is related to the allium family and copes in some shade. I have to say though that mine lolled around a bit whereas most others that i have seen have been upright and erect…

I am often asked as a designer what is fashionable in the garden. And I have to confess that after 3 years of designing I am none the wiser. I live in London and lets face it anything goes. If I was to design a garden for a client in Hoxton there is a good chance that a client in Hampstead would balk at the suggestions and double the budget. Forgive the generalisation but you get my point.

So where do we start with “ bang up to date” rather than “that’s so last season?”  Well as Paul smith said, inspiration is everywhere.  And I have to say that watching The September Issue made me re evaluate my use of colour and how I use plants in the garden. Ok so a film about Vogue might not be the obvious place to start planning a garden but seeing extravagant colour and swathes of materials made me think and the piece by Grace Coddington on colour blocking was a real light bulb moment.

Colour blocking using swathes of plants of two to three colours can look absolutely stunning

According to Ysella Ash from ‘my fashion life’ there are definite rules to follow. 3 colours provide an interesting mix. Using vivid shades that tone and contrast is an effective way of shaking it up and don’t be afraid to clash. As Missonni once said “Mix and mix don’t mix and match”

Intense colours work best in blocking

Applying these rules to the garden is easy and Sarah Raven does it with Aplomb.

One of Sarah's dahlias

From hyacinths to dahlias, bold and brilliant colours are used to awaken the senses. Repetition and volume is key. Why use one of something when you can use more?

In spring I like to Drift dozens of Tulipa Quest through swathes of anemanthele lessoniana (Stipa arundinacea). Follow it up with crocozmia Emily Mckenzie to burn through the summer and Nerine Bowdenii for the autumn with the evergreen grass holding its own through winter. 4 plants, 12 months interest Stunning.

Tulipa Quest burns orange in spring

Anemanthelle lessoniana tones well with Tulipa Quest

“Green is a colour too” according to Gertrude Jekyll and the most obvious form of colour blocking is in the use of evergreens in a more formal garden. This does not mean that we can’t dilate the pupils with something more pronounced though. Parterres are aching to be filled with frivolity and what better than tall strong gladiolus to strike upwards like spires out of castle walls?

box clever with gladiolus byzantinus

If you only have a windowsill the most obvious plant to choose is the geranium or zonal pelargonium. Robust (though usually not hardy) and drought tolerant they will flower like crazy from May to November and there are more colours to choose from than is actually sensible. But since when did sensible really factor in the world of fashion. Or a garden for that matter?

I said recently that i was waiting for my shy crocus to open up. there cupped petals were keeping tight shut, waiting for a sunny warm day before sharing their pollen. Patience has been rewarded…

Crocus sieberi ssp sublimis Tricolor

This beauty originates from the mountains of the Peleponnes. It flowers from February to March and can cope with most soil types including heavier clay and moist soils.

Crocus biflorus Miss Vain

Miss Vain is a vigorous girl with many flowers form each corm. Pure white with a pale blue base, she is also fragrant.

Crocus chrysanthus 'Gipsy Girl'

This girl remains shy but i could not resist the burgundy brown markings on the yellow background. Prefers to be grown in poorer, gritty well drained soil. A tiger in the border.

a rogue trader

This bad boy turned up amongst my selected bulbs. not sure of the cultivar. any offers?

By the way, did you know that Crocus are actually part of the iris family iridaceae and are related to the gladiolus! Dame Edna would be so proud…

It is at this time of year the birds are feathering their nests. When i am tidying gardens during my maintenance sessions i try not to be over zealous. It is important to leave bits of debris for our feathered friends housekeeping. I noticed a robin in my garden helping itself to the moss i used to line this crate of daffodil bulbs. I cant wait to see the daffs but watching the robin help itself was pure pleasure….

Thank you very much... don't mind me!

Thank you!

The sun is out and I have just had a quick cup of tea and more biscuits than i should while looking around the garden. Bulbs are the main players with the tips of all and sundry poking up. A few more weeks to go yet for most but the following are resplendent…

Iris histrioides 'George' with a double flowered snow drop

Euphorbia myrsinites bursting into flower. I love its lemon come lime splash flowers

A rich blue Iris reticulata whose cultivar escapes me preludes the hostas, still dormant below

Hamamelis mollis aka the witch hazel is still in flower but is on its way over. Soon its lovely big leaves will be unfurling

There is also a little bit of crocus fever in my garden at the moment too. 4 different varieties and cultivars are teasing me dreadfully. up and out of their sheaths for days but not yet fully open! You will be the first to know when they are fully out…

There is no doubt that the winter landscape can be truly amazing when seen on a large scale. On a recent (freezing) visit to Amsterdam I was fortunate enough to lunch at the Restaurant De Kas and we had to walk through a large park to get to it. The deciduous trees opposite looked absolutely stunning. I have no idea what they were but they were a real tonic to the surrounding curmudgeonly browns and greys. It made me think about how I design for gardens in the winter.

russet leaves are a welcome interruption to the usual browns

You see, in London, where I mostly work, I do not have the luxury of large landscapes that forgive the widespread decline of winter. Sometimes, in larger gardens there is the scope to use a good proportion of evergreens or plants chosen for their bare stems. These are able to hold their own in the space that they require. Yet there is still space for the spring and summer cheerleaders that support the green team. However, most of the gardens I have been involved with are smaller which present a dilemma.

Do I rely heavily on sombre evergreens reducing the amount of space for frivolous annuals and perennials? Or go for herbaceous splendour at the expense of that coveted winter backdrop? Added to this is the current ethos of leaving dying perennials to provide winter “interest” – the promise of seed heads dusted with frost presented to us in the winter issues of countless garden magazines. Yet gardening in London, I notice the temperature is rarely conducive to those romantic images that we cling to.

evergreen and architectural but lacking variety?

I also believe that our relationship with the garden changes in the winter. It suddenly becomes less tangible, more visual. The casual ease with which we potter and pilfer our way though spring summer and autumn is suddenly usurped by frozen mornings and drizzle in the afternoons. Of course true gardeners will venture out and I love a (very) quick turn around the garden on the coldest of January mornings. But many people do not and the garden becomes an entity to look at. It is seen in the low winter light from warm windows, tea in hand.

Many of my clients fall into this category and don’t want to watch the garden slowly decay through the winter months, Mrs Haversham like. They would rather a merciless clear up that leaves the space ‘put to bed’ ready for a new year. However, to ensure I do not leave a barren wasteland I chose a small cast of winter extras that allows me to move the main players to the wings. Long celebrated auditions include the hellebore, witch hazel, winter sweet, and winter honeysuckle and winter jasmine. I Shake them up with evergreen ferns and patches of ground cover such as Lamium or ivy and plant them strategically. Introverted in summer- Jazz Hands in the winter.

Cutting down also means the odd evergreen shrub or colourful stem no longer has to compete with the vital annuals and perennials that wax lyrical from spring through to autumn. Ceramic containers that were chosen for their colour, sheen and bulk now sit like china on a sideboard. Vintage terracotta is allowed to show its age and I tend to use rusted wrought iron plant supports that look as good naked as they do clothed.

vintage terracotta looks good whatever the weather

The bare soil covered in foliage for most of the year can now be given that desperately needed mulch of manure, which is important to conserve moisture and help with soil structure. It leaves a rich dark, blank canvass waiting for those first splashes of colour in the spring. Daffodil tips may be pushing through already, punctuating the ground. Snowdrops and crocus are on the way (if they were not devoured by spiteful squirrels) and the days are getting longer, minutes at a time…

I encourage my clients with smaller gardens to look at the challenge of winter in a new way and to accept that the garden needs time to sleep and recharge its batteries, one cold day at a time until Tulips fever takes hold…

As I look out to my garden through the drizzle I feel a pang. At exactly this time last year I was mooching around Melbourne Australia and had stumbled across a garden of particular interest.

Under the shadow of the rollercoaster at Luna Park in St Kilda, Melbourne, there is the funkiest little plot. Fruit and veg’s sprout out of a myriad of raised beds with rusty metal and drift wood ‘sculptures’ abound- think Derek Jarman on speed.

This is the home of Veg Out, an allotment project for the local community. In a time where the allotment is fashionable it is refreshing to see a place where the evidence of growth accounts for much more than the latest season.

ethos

raise the anchor while you raise the beds

One plot in particular, a series of raised beds simulating a pirate ship reminded me of the close proximity to the sea. Obviously the shelter of the Luna Park and the odd apartment building was enough to keep the salt spray off and the crops healthy.

Nothing seams to be wasted. The beds are constructed out of anything and everything though wood seems to be the order of the day. Most materials are sun bleached and subtle but I notice the odd painted bench and then stumble across a raised bed painted lipstick red. No wonder- it is shaped like a pair of lush lips.

Strict water restrictions are in place with tanks that can hold up to 22.5 thousand litres of rainwater for use by the plot holders. Composting is evident by the huge area with 3 piles green waste at varying degrees of decomposition. Fruit trees for the punters are netted but a few are left uncovered. Birds that I have never encountered before are greedily feasting on the juiciest looking plums. I notice a log pile and wonder if it is for anything mammalian but quickly realise it is for the brazier amongst the seating. ‘Tools down’ time is as important as digging up time in this area.

the communal area

Artists and gardeners weed and feed, side by side, though it is difficult to know who is who, with such creativity displayed in all the plots. There is a sense of balance and responsibility to the environment. Organic and low-impact are phrases coined by the organisers. There is also a sensibility to the other user. Most evident though, is the sense of humour, shared by all.

The Veg Out Project is located on the corner of Shakespeare Grove and Chaucer Street, St Kilda, Near the Luna Park.

Forgive the red top styled headline. I just have to get something off my chest. I am just a tad fed up with article after article about hellebores. They are everywhere from Country Living, to The English Garden to Gardens Illustrated. Not to mention most weekend supplements from any of the non-red top newspapers.

There is no doubt that hellebores offer a huge amount to any garden

Now don’t get me wrong. I love them (the magazines and the plants) but I just cant help but think that it is lazy reporting. Every man woman and child in the whole of Christendom should know the virtues of hellebores because the same articles are run year in year out.

So, rant over, but now I feel the need to present something of substance as an alternative to the fore mentioned hellebores. Enter the Euphorbia. I hear gasps and teas being spat all over the place but bare with.

Unknown Euphorbia

I have in my garden a variegated euphorbia of unknown parentage, bought for £1 from the flower market in Columbia road. It has flourished through the winter, remaining pert despite the snow and frosts. Its variegation a welcome contrast with the dark soil.  A euphorbia characias ‘Portuguese Velvet’, in a pot and waiting for the right client also looks remarkably good. its glaucus foliage shrugged off the snow with ease.

A little bit of Portuguese Velvet

Also, on a recent walk in the village of Alrewas in Staffordshire, I stumbled across some giant Euphorbia characias (likely subspecies wulfenii but not labelled). They were covered in frozen droplets of water and looked absolutely magical. There leaves drooping downwards all sultry like.

Euphorbia Myrsinites sprawls out amongst helleborus niger

Now I am not suggesting for a moment that it should be out with the hellebores and in with the Euphorbia, its just that it might be nice to know which others can hold their own in our winters. Especially as there are over 150 species cultivars and varieties available to buy today. Any thoughts?