Floral flags

All my life I have loved flags and pennants even though I'm no nationalist flag waver. Most national flags are simple abstract variations of bold colour blocks, as in the French, British or German ensigns, while another popular design variant is the addition of celestial symbols such as the sun, moon and stars, as found in the flags of the United States, Australia, China, Japan and Turkey. Other designs include religious symbols, crests and weapons.

1983 design by Austrian-born artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser
 for the New Zealand national flag, based on an unfurling fern frond
Sadly this design has not been adopted

As a plant lover I was curious to find examples of botanical imagery used in national flags. After some research I found there were surprisingly few sovereign state flags which fit this criteria. While floral emblems are more common in provincial or sub-ordinate political entities flags (such as Hong Kong or Australia's Northern Territory) they are absent from most national designs; perhaps floral imagery is not macho enough for a national symbol.

Arguably, the best known national ensign using a botanical motif is the Canadian flag which was adopted in 1965. The central feature is a single leaf of the endemic sugar maple (Acer saccharum). While the colour is striking the leaf colour of this plant turns dramatically red prior to leaf drop in Autumn.

The Canadian flag must be one of the most identifiable flags in the world

After the Canadian flag, the best known flag using a botanical image is that of Lebanon. Their flag includes a stylised Cedar of Lebanon tree (Cedrus libani) at the centre of the design. This conifer is one of the most attractive trees found in nature and makes a fine choice for a national symbol. With all the tensions in that part of the world this symbol is loved and respected by all Lebanese be they Muslim or Christian. What more would you want from a national flag?

The flag of Lebanon

Sadly, there are few other botanical examples apart from the Cypress flag which includes olive branches and the British Indian Ocean territory flag which includes a palm. I'm sure I've missed other examples. If I have please let me know.

When to prune roses in Sydney

Mid to late July is the commonly accepted time to prune roses in warm temperate Sydney. While this is true for most roses there are many plants that should not be touched at this time. So before you get out your saw and secateurs you need to know what kind of rose you have. Common roses that can be pruned now include Iceberg, Queen Elizabeth, Just Joey and Peace.

Not all roses should be pruned in winter.
This spring flowering climber should be pruned
immediately after its spring flowering

The most commonly grown roses found in our gardens are Hybrid Tea's. These are a group of shrubs which became increasingly grown during the last century. Originally favoured by florists for their superior blooms they soon became popular with home gardeners. In frost free areas these plants are best pruned in mid winter, but in colder areas their annual haircut should be delayed until early spring. 

Like surgery on humans, clean and sharp tools are essential for rose pruning as there is less chance of introducing diseases to the plant. Make sure you are protected from rose thorns with sturdy garden gloves and try to use some form of eye protection. Many are baffled on the right way to prune a rose bush but generally you should try to cut the plant back by about a quarter of its original size and concentrate on removing old stems and diseased foliage. After your prune try and spray with lime sulphur. When you have removed all the prunings take time to weed around the base of the plant.

In a future post I'll look at the right time to prune other types of roses.

On the naming of plants (part 2)

Many gardeners enjoy plants simply for their individual form and beauty and don't care about knowing the botanical name. Sadly, I need to know all the names of the plants I grow, therefore I rely on plant labels to remind me of the common name as well as genus, species, and cultivar details. Despite my love of recording plant names I hate seeing plastic plant labels left on plants after they have been planted. These nursery tags not only look unsightly but in time cause damage when the plants grow around the wire attachment. So if we eschew the tags given to us by nurseries what kind of label should we use?

While this old style plant label is clear and
informative markers are worthless when
 they are placed next to the wrong plant

I love the detailed labels used in botanical gardens. In the past these labels were large and detailed as can be seen in the old label shown above. This easy to see marker is perfect for large trees and shrubs but was expensive to make. In recent times botanical institutions have preferred  cheaper and more discrete tags. While these smaller labels work well for garden staff they are frustratingly hard to see for garden visitors. Many a time I have traipsed over garden beds trying to find the name of a noteworthy plant.

A quirky way of identifying trees

Trees need good sized labels which identify the plant by its common and scientific name. If the label is not attached to the tree passers-by may be confused over what tree is being sign-posted. One quirky technique is to make the label into the the leaf shape of the intended tree.

For the home garden large labels are unnecessary and we can rely on more subtle methods. For shrubs and small trees I like to use aluminium or copper labels. These can be etched with the plant name by using a pencil. As long as the wire attachment is loose the label can stay on the tree for many years.

An attractive durable plant label made of slate

Usually gardeners know the names of the plants we commonly use but may simply need a reminder on correct spellings and variety names. Labels are essential for bulbs and herbaceous plants whose foliage dies down during its life cycle. For perennials and and small shrubs I often don't label the plant at all and rely on recording the location in a note book.

What's your preferred type of labelling?

On the naming of plants (part 1)

Like many students before me, I had to learn to identify a large and diverse range of plants during my formal horticulture training. As well as identifying the plants in tests, I had to write down the genus, species, variety and family for formal assessment by our lecturers. Marks were given for correct identification and likewise deducted for spelling and other stylistic mistakes. Although I didn't appreciate it at the time, these exercises taught me to be aware of botanical variations as well as learning the scientific language of botany. Now, many years later, I have learnt to enjoy repeating the many tongue-twisting names invented by scientists from the time of the late 18th century. Two personal favourites are Parthenocissus tricuspidata (Boston Ivy) and Ceratostigma willmottianum (Chinese Plumbago).

Many gardeners are bamboozled
by the scientific names of plants

While botanists and many horticulturists are happy to use scientific names this is not so with most home gardeners who find this elitist technical language as incomprehensible as the artificially constructed 19^th century European language Esperanto. So why do we persist in using scientific names?

The standard response given by horticultural educators is that there is only one scientific descriptor given to a plant while there are many different common names given to the same specimen; this, according to the educators, often leads to confusion. This is indeed the case with the east Asian climber Parthenocissus tricuspidata, which as well as being known in English as Boston Ivy is also called Japanese Creeper, Japanese Ivy and Grape Ivy. On a personal note, my parents once had this plant growing on the front of their home for many years and erroneously called it Virginia Creeper, an epithet given to another member of the genus.

While it is true there is only one official botanical name given to a plant at one time it may have had many other scientifically sanctioned names in the past. Many of these were published in floras and in nursery catalogues and therefore persist to the present day. Many in the nursery world fall in love with a particular name and refuse to change labels whatever the scientists pronounce as correct. One of the few local botanists who have tried to unite the disciplines of botany and horticulture is Roger Spencer of the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne. Spencer regularly writes articles for the trade press where he updates changes in the botanical names  given to plants.

One organisation that has tried to inform the public of historic changes in scientific names is the Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales (HHT). A free access website managed by HHT is the Colonial Plant Database. Keying in the name of a modern plant name supplies a list of variant plant names and the time of introduction to Australia (if the plant was first introduced in the 19th century). http://collection.hht.net.au/firsthht/searchColonialPlants.jsp?linkN=1.3

While most horticultural educators prefer the naming of plants by the binomial name method (genus and species name) there have been some dissident opinions. The Irish-born garden writer William Robinson (1838-1933) had strong views on the naming of plants. While recognising the need for botanists to use scientific descriptors he found little reason to use them in the home garden. Robinson, writing in The English Flower Garden vented his views on the subject:

It is best to speak of things growing about our doors in our own tongue, and the practice of using in conversation long Latin names, a growth of our own century, has done infinite harm to gardening in shutting out people who have a heart for a garden, but none for the Latin of the gardener. There is no more need to speak of the plants in our gardens by their Latin names than to speak of the dove or the rabbit by Latin names, and where we introduce plants that have no good English names we must  make them as well as we may.

While Robinson’s views are thought prevoking, his romantic perspective is somewhat naive. Whether we like it or not the persistent use of scientific naming in the horticultural world will continue well into the future. While it is important for botanists to inform horticulturists and gardeners of changes it is onus on the nursery trade to respond to these changes. If they don’t we might as well follow Robinson’s view and rely on using common names.

In a future post I will write about the good and bad ways to  label plants in the garden.

Mayfield - an Australian cool climate garden

While there are many fine gardens in the Sydney area they become thin on the ground when you move west of the Blue Mountains. One notable exception is Mayfield, located near the exotically named town of Oberon in the Central Tablelands of New South Wales. Mayfield is quite an unassuming name for this park-like landscape garden, and while the owners claim to be influenced by English gardens such as Cliveden and Chatsworth, Mayfield is much more in the style of grand-gesture French gardens inspired by Versailles. Therefore the grounds are filled with fountains, water features and formal clipped hedges. A dominant design feature of the garden is the mass use of locally sourced basalt rock which is used throughout the garden for the construction of retaining walls and steps.

This stone bridge is one of the highlights of Mayfield garden

With an elevation of over 1,000 metres Mayfield can rightly claim to be a cool climate garden, and because of this the owner grows many plants and trees not normally seen in Australian gardens. The visitors brochure declares the garden as a 'botanical wonderland'. This is a big claim as I found the palette of plants rather uninspiring being largely dominated by standard landscaping favourites. Despite this, the garden includes some interesting mass plantings of maples, hydrangeas, iris and bulbs. With the exception of the well maintained rose garden most of the plants in the garden were labelled. I particularly liked the choice of plant tags which were made of small rectangular pieces of slate. These labels harmonised well with the stone and the slate roofs of many of the buildings.

Stone retaining walls is a dominant design theme in this garden

Despite being such a large garden there was surprisingly little sculpture. One of the few exceptions was the recently installed water-dripping copper tree which was sourced from the Chelsea Flower Show in London. Every good garden needs something to lure the visitor back, and while the grounds at Mayfield were well laid out they lacked personality, a problem often found in recently established landscapes. I'm sure that in time the shrubs and trees will grow giving the garden a distinctive presence, but as the garden is young (established in 1999) the owners should find something that will entice the visitor to return, such as a museum, art gallery, sculpture park or musical performances.

The copper tree fountain

Despite some reservations I take my hat off to the owner and his team of gardeners and stonemasons for their hardwork and foresight. They are creating a distinctive garden in an area lacking in fine parks and gardens.

Mayfield is open to the public for only 6 weekends a year in Spring and Autumn (check their website for future opening times) http://www.mayfieldgarden.com.au/ Be warned the garden admission charges are exorbitantly high ($25 cash only, in 2013), and the grounds are not suitable for the frail and those in wheelchairs. A moderate level of fitness (and a hat) is needed to enjoy the garden.

Garden Craftsmanship in Yew and Box

One of the treasures of my library is a 1925 book on hedge making originally owned by my maternal grandfather. Garden Craftsmanship in Yew and Box by Nathaniel Lloyd (1867-1933) is a how-to manual for the construction and maintainence of formal hedges and topiary. Formal hedges made of european yew (Taxus baccata) and Box (Buxus spp) became fashionable in late 19th century grand British gardens and Lloyd's book reflects their popularity in the following century. While the text is minimal the book includes a series of instructive photographic images showing how to maintain the formality of the planting.

An instrument for determining the batter of a hedge
photo from Garden Craftsmanship in Yew and Box 

Nathanial Lloyd based his garden advise on the hedges he laid out at his Great Dixter home in East Sussex, England, after he purchased the Tudor-era property in 1910. Many years later Great Dixter became world famous as the stunning garden of Nathaniel's youngest son, the provocative garden writer, Christopher Lloyd (1921-2006). While the gardens originally laid out by Lloyd senior have evolved into a landscape dominated by flowering plants, many of the original hedge and topiary plantings from his time survive giving the current garden structure.

Testing level of old hedge top with a short batten and spirit level
photo from Garden Craftsmanship in Yew and Box 

Not everyone appreciated Lloyd's book at the time of its publication. One harsh critic was the garden writer William Robinson (1838-1935) who described the work as 'the poorest book that so far has disgraced the garden'. Robinson, a vocal advocate of wild or natural looking gardens despised the geometric formality that Lloyd's monograph advocated. Despite this criticism, Garden Craftsmanship in Yew and Box gives valuable textbook advice to gardeners keen to have neat well grown hedges.

The Great Dixter house and garden as it is today
photo courtesy Great Dixter Charitable Trust

Whether we like it or not hedges can be important elements in gardens. They can help delineate a landscape, provide privacy, and protect the house and garden from wild weather. The happy balance of Nathanial Lloyd's design formality and the looseness and spontaneity of his son Christopher has made Great Dixter one of the worlds great gardens. http://www.greatdixter.co.uk/

In future posts I hope to write more about hedges, topiary, Christopher Lloyd and the garden at Great Dixter.



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In search of wild mushrooms

I love cooking with fresh mushrooms but it has only been in recent years that have I taken up foraging for my own. Autumn, after a period of rain, is the best time to search for them as this is the peak time for the fruiting bodies (the caps) to appear above the ground. Best to pick in the morning, that way you get fresh mushrooms and you avoid damage by slugs.

Care should always be taken when picking wild mushrooms 
This poisonous Fly Agaric is often found growing in pine plantations 

Apparently in France pharmacists are trained in identifying edible mushrooms and hesitant customers often bring in their finds to chemist shops for a second opinion on their culinary suitability  In Australia there is no such service and we have to rely on reference books and the knowledge of experienced pickers.

Well aware that many fungi are poisonous I decided to get some books out of the library for identification purposes before I began my search. One of the best books on Australian mushrooms is A Field Guide to Australian Fungi by Bruce Fuhrer (Bloomings Books). This well illustrated reference work describes over 500 fungus species, many of which are endemic to Australia. These vary from slime moulds to giant 1 metre wide caps.

While most Australian species are known to botanists little is known of their culinary qualities. While Aboriginal people would have been aware of the individual merits of local fungi most of this knowledge has been lost since European colonisation. While Bruce Fuhrer is probably aware of the chemical make up of his listed fungi he is reluctant to give the green light to safe caps apart from a handful of species. These are mainly Northern Hemisphere species which have arrived with the importation of conifers trees and other exotics.

The undersides of two common edible mushrooms
Saffron Milk Cap (left) and Slippery Jack

My research has taught me me that it is best to search for mushrooms that are growing in large pine tree plantations as the fungi found there is well documented in specialist reference books. My first foraging exhibition was to the Sunny Corner State Forest in the Central Tablelands of New South Wales. This large conifer plantation consisted of thousands of acres of pine trees.

Soon after entering the plantation I was aware of the presence of a large number of mushrooms on the forest floor. Referring to my reference book I soon noticed two edible species growing there. These included the Saffron Milk Cap (Lactarius deliciosus) and the Slippery Jack (Suillus luteus). But as well as these caps there were many red coloured mushrooms appearing in the area. According to my guide this was the posionous Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria).

Before eating, make sure you have picked a safe species. Use all your senses when doing your examination and make sure you take along a suitable reference book. Of the two edible mushrooms shown above, I prefer the Saffron Milk Cap. Although not having a strong taste this mushroom as a meaty texture and works well with dishes that need a long cook. It makes a good seasonal alternative to the common field mushroom found in supermarkets.

Happy foraging.