When you move house, especially during winter, the garden is full of surprises. What is lurking beneath the soil? What will poke its head out in spring? Will there be summer colour?

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t optimistic about my new northern plot. Much of it consists of lawn, trimmed with narrow borders that, back in February, looked lacklustre and unlikely to put on a show once summer came around.

Months later, my initial synopsis has proved broadly accurate, but there have been a few revelations. Recently, a handful of architectural irises have shown their proud faces, all bold blues with splashes of vivid yellow. I’ve never been an iris fan but these guys demand admiration.

On the other side of the circular lawn is a promising hydrangea. I can’t wait to see its blooms. There’s another one in the front garden, and the gardener in me hopes that it will push out a different flowerhead. But I will have to wait and see.

Meanwhile, the smattering of established rose bushes tempt the eye with multiple buds. I long for deep hues but will be satisfied if they unfurl to reveal pale palettes. And an established lavender is loving the hot weather.

Waiting for the soil to reveal its secrets is intoxicating but, with an unexciting (and soon to be defunct) lawn on offer, I can’t hang about. I am enjoying the unexpected flora but it’s not nearly enough. A recent trip to RHS Malvern (one of the most chilled-out shows I’ve ever visited) boosted my plant collection, including a glorious Happy Days dahlia and a Ladybird poppy.

On my way back up north, I spent the night in Hay-on-Wye, a booklover’s paradise with hidden gems of a non-floral nature. Or so I thought. Buried in the basement of a former cinema was The Sensuous Garden, an early publication from Sir Monty of Don. Its pages are awash with glorious photographs of beautiful plants, showcasing the vibrancy of nature in all its splendour.

In Monty’s hands, the language accompanying the images is equally intense. Consider this: ‘Magenta is a weapon, a potentially dangerous instrument of colour. In the wrong hands it can destroy.’ I have no idea what he’s talking about but I’m off down the garden centre to buy lupins, alliums and clematis.

If you also yearn for a ‘sensuous garden’ brimming with early summer colour, I’d recommend the old faithfuls – foxgloves, poppies, geraniums, lilacs, and the aforementioned clematis. There’s something particularly appealing about these first bloomers, instantly recognisable and eager to put on a display. They signal that full-throated summer is just round the corner, with evenings spent outside breathing in the heady scents of jasmine and honeysuckle while nursing an ice-cold gin and tonic. Heaven.  

Words and photos by Helen Nugent, Editor of Northern Soul

 

A version of this article first appeared in Catena