Daily Flower Candy: Echium wildpretii

Echium wildpretii flowers, The Watch House, May 2015

Native to the Canary Islands, echiums are sky-rocketing giants of the plant world. But, like an unfortunate child star, they reach their peak early before burning themselves out. Many of the them are monocarpic, flowering only once before dying. But what flowers! The good news is that echiums set seed freely so that the following year you are blessed with hundreds of newly germinated plants. 


In our coastal garden we grow Echium pininana, commonly known as tower of jewels, as well as well as Echium tuberculatum from Portugal. Having developed quite an affection for echiums, I have been nurturing a single plant of Echium wildpretii for the last three years and finally it is flowering. Echium wildpretii has a great deal more finesse than both of the old timers, forming an elegant rosette of felted, silver-grey leaves before sending up a stocky spike of raspberry red flowers in its third year. Where it’s planted it combines nicely with the reddish bark of Lyonothamnus floribundus aspleniifolius and the emerging flower stalk of Beschorneria yuccoides.


With the prospect of a small conservatory close to becoming reality, I am thinking of starting a collection of echiums which might include some of the shruby species such as E. candicans, E. bethencourtianum and E. hypertropicum. For now I am growing from seed more E. wildpretii and a hybrid between this and E. pininana called E. ‘Pink Fountain’. Surprise, surprise, it has pink flowers.


If you are searching for a plant that has the wow factor and can offer conditions which are not too cold or damp then Echium wilpretii is just the thing. It’s not too tall (4-5ft), wind tolerant and bees love it. It will keep flowering until November before fading away. As Billy Joel sang – only the good die young.


Daily Flower Candy: Echium candicans

Echium candicans, Tresco, April 2014

Travel agents report that the second week in January is the peak week for holiday bookings. This is hardly surprising given the short days, miserable weather and deflating prospect of returning to work after the Christmas holidays. Tomorrow, January 19th, has been named ‘Blue Monday’ – officially the most depressing day of the year. To beat the blues I’ve been looking at back at last year’s travels and enjoying the photographs I took along the way. I don’t subscribe to ‘dry’ Januaries, or New Year diets, so see no reason not to present you with Echium candicans as my first Daily Flower Candy of 2015. These pictures were taken at Tresco Abbey Gardens last April, shortly before Easter.

Echium candicans has been given an RHS Award of Garden Merit (AGM)

Echium candicans was given an RHS Award of Garden Merit (AGM) in 2002

Commonly known as Pride of Madeira (now there’s a good suggestion for a holiday destination) Echium candicans is big brother to our native E. vulgare (viper’s bugloss). Both siblings share the same vivid blue flowers and attractiveness to bees, but differ greatly in stature. Echium candicans is a fast growing but short-lived subshrub which reaches 4-6ft high and the same in width, occasionally more. It quickly forms an umbrella-shaped canopy of hairy branches, each tipped with a rosette of felted, grey-green leaves. Spikes of flowers, which may vary in colour from rose pink or lavender to deep indigo blue, are blessed with prominent pinkish-red stamens. Pride of Madeira can be pruned after flowering to help maintain bushiness, but after 5-6 years it’s best to let a vital new seedling take over from its woody parent.

At Tresco Abbey Gardens Echium candicans covers the ground beneath stately palms

At Tresco Abbey Gardens Echium candicans forms the understorey beneath stately palms

To understand Pride of Madeira’s preferred garden conditions you simply needs to understand its natural habitat – the rocky cliffs and plateaus of Madeira’s central mountain range. Here the plants get plenty of exposure to sun but have to endure occasional freezing temperatures in winter. The ground is well drained and droughts are frequent. In the UK Echium candicans is especially happy in mild coastal gardens, tolerating windy sites and nutrient poor, sandy soils. On the island of Tresco it has naturalised itself in garden walls and where sand dunes meet cultivated land.

Echiums flowers are a magnet for bees

Echium flowers are a magnet for honey bees

If you fancy giving Pride of Madeira a whirl in your own garden, seeds and plants are quite easy to track down in the UK, but named varieties such as ‘San Bruno Pink’ and ‘Rincon Blue’ must be propagated from cuttings and are only available in the USA (as far as a I am aware). There is even a variegated form with blue flowers called ‘Star of Madeira’ – oh how I would love to get my green fingers on one of those!

Credit for this image of E. candicans 'Star of Madeira' goes to Danger Garden blog

Credit for this image of E. candicans ‘Star of Madeira’ goes to Danger Garden blog

Echium candicans may be blue, but it’s about as far from depressing as a plant can get. Just 3 more months and the flowers will be starting to emerge again, a beacon for bees from miles around.

I hope you enjoyed this year’s first sweet treat – there will be more candy to come as 2015 unfolds….


Tulipa 'Greenland', London, May 2014

For the lucky few – journalists, celebrities and royalty – the Chelsea Flower Show starts today. The rest of must wait until 8am tomorrow when the show opens to members of the Royal Horticultural Society. With the temperature due to remain in the high twenties, HRH The Queen will need her sunscreen when she gives the show her seal of approval this afternoon.

Back in the less rarified environs of Highgate, my outdoor thermometer is already reading 26 degrees and it’s only just time for elevenses. I have abandoned the already delayed task of planting out my sweet peas, so as not to stress them further. The goldfish are basking shamelessly in the warm water at the edge of the pond, between pots of marginal plants. A fat wood pigeon is sunning itself on the paving, taking a refreshing drink and observing me cautiously. Thankfully the sun will soon move around to the other side of the building, leaving us all in the cool shade again.

Our London Garden, May 2014Our London garden, like me, very much designed for cooler conditions.

As soon as Chelsea approaches I feel the need to ensure both gardens are ship-shape and Bristol fashion (which, my overseas readers, is an English way of saying ‘sorted out’). Whilst neither could hold a candle to any of Chelsea’s show gardens, it’s a task which means I can feel slightly less inadequate when I walk Main Avenue tomorrow. Late May is the junction at which spring gives way to summer. Pots of tulips and daffodils have come to an emergency stop and perennials have their feet firmly on the accelerator, trying to escape the infamous Chelsea chop.

In London green still dominates, with tiny pops of white in the form of Hydrangea anomala subsp. petiolaris (climbing hydrangea), Galium odoratum (sweet woodruff), Digitalis purpurea ‘Alba’ (white foxglove) and Polemonium caeruleum var. lacteum (white Jacob’s ladder). Chelsea plant of the year in 2011, Anemone ‘White Swan’, is tantalisingly close to producing the first of its pure white flowers, each petal sporting a violet-blue band on its reverse. Incredibly, Tulipa ‘Greenland’ is still fighting on, having graced the garden with its green-tinged pink flowers for weeks. Alongside Primula japonica ‘Apple Blossom’, they were as pretty as a picture for the brief time their flowering season overlapped.

Tulipa 'Greenland', London, May 2014Still beautiful in old age, Tulipa ‘Greenland’ resting on a bed of Ophiopogon nigrescens

A plant which I have been meaning to applaud for months is Nemesia ‘Lady Vanilla’. At the time I bought them I thought £6.95 for a single annual bedding plant was a bit steep, but I was utterly seduced by the rich vanilla scent. A year on, every plant has come through the winter without once halting a cavalcade of fragrant white flowers. They are now smothered, as if it were August, filling the garden with amazing aroma all day. A plant I couldn’t recommend highly enough and which I will hopefully nurse through a few more winters.

Nemesia 'Lady Vanilla', London, May 2014

Scent is so important in a small garden, especially when one’s only at home to appreciate it in the evening. From seed sown in early February, I now have large, vigorous plants of three sweet pea varieties which I am planting in new lead-effect planters. The first is ‘April in Paris’, an exceptionally scented variety with primrose-coloured flowers, edged deep lilac. Next is ‘Sir Jimmy Shand’, a white exhibition hybrid with a lilac ripple across the backs and edges of the petals. Offsetting these paler blooms will be ‘Just Jenny’ which has long stems of deep, violet-blue flowers. Trained against a wall, warmed by the sun until midday, they should grow tall and strong, but I will be keeping my eye out for mildew, whilst tying in and watering regularly.

Sweetpeas in a trough, London, May 2014

In our coastal garden, summer has been in evidence for weeks. I have taken the sort of risks that would make a textbook author wince, planting tender perennials out from Easter onwards. So far the gamble has paid off, with summer pots looking full and climbing plants already eyeing up the eaves. Only my dahlias remained cosseted indoors, but now that we have guests staying almost every weekend the dining table has to return to its intended function. At 2ft tall and well-branched after lots of nipping out, I planted Dahlia ‘Karma Choc’, D. ‘Amercian Girl’ and D. ‘Jescot Julie’ outside in large terracotta pots at the weekend.

Our Coastal Garden, May 2014Ready for summer, our coastal garden this week

This year’s planting scheme is all about orange and the hots pinks and purples that flatter the colour so well. In the centre of the garden table is a pot filled with blue Felicia amelloides, fiery Nemesia ‘Trailing Orange’ (clearly the breeder had run out of ideas when naming this new seedling) and Begonia ‘Glowing Embers’. The latter had better get its skates on before it’s completely eclipsed by its neighbours.

Nemesia trailing orange and Felicia amelloides, May 2014Felicia amelloides, Nemesia ‘Trailing Orange’ and a glimpse of Begonia ‘Glowing Embers’.

Finally, and I doubt we’ll be seeing many of these at Chelsea, it’s been a fine growing season for Echium pininana. Hailing from La Palma in the Canary Islands, this splendid plant tolerates frost but does not look better for it, so demands a sheltered position in a mild garden. Other than that it’s not especially picky and seeds prolifically. This plant is now 12ft tall and counting, smothered in bumble bees and dazzling our visitors. I may sound a little smug, but rest assured this is a defensive position and by 8.30am tomorrow morning Chelsea will have roundly put me back in my place.

If you are visiting the show this year I hope to see you there; if not, I look forward to bringing you a glimpse of the world’s greatest flower show, right here at The Frustrated Gardener.

Echium pininana, The Watch House, May 2014Tower of jewels and beacon for bumblebees, Echium pininana.

Plant Portraits: Digitalis sceptrum

Digitalis sceptrum (formerly Isoplexis sceptrum), one of my favourite plants in the garden

Digitalis sceptrum, July 2013

For the most part, the experience of gardening is a succession of small triumphs and minor failures, all of which make us stronger people and better gardeners.  Of course our patience is sometimes tried by storm and pestilence, then just occasionally we get to enjoy a major achievement.

It may not be a big deal to anyone else, but at long last my Digitalis sceptrum (formerly Isoplexis sceptrum) has flowered. It’s been a five year wait and at times I doubted it would happen, but now that it has I am very proud of myself.  The photograph above was taken on July 13th 2013 as the flowers started to emerge from the emerald green foliage.

Two species of Isoplexis were originally identified by Linneaus in 1753 as being part of the genus Digitalis, which also gives us our humble native foxglove Digitalis purpurea.  The two species were Isoplexis sceptrum and Isoplexis canariensis.  Since 1753 Isoplexis has been moved around endlessly in botanical terms, but in 1999 was finally proven to be a true Digitalis.  I think I’ll always prefer Linneaus’ name for sounding like a new type of plastic or rehydrating drink!

Both species grow in woody habitats in Madeira and will grow outdoors in milder parts of the UK, like fellow natives Echium pininana and Geranium maderense.  In the wild, D. canariensis favours  humid woodland whilst D. sceptrum inhabits cloud forest, growing near streams and on steep slopes.  In our seaside garden the latter grows at the front of a raised bed, where the drainage is sharp and it catches the sun for a few hours each day.  My experience is that D. sceptrum tolerates frost and cold very much better than Echium pininana, retaining green, fresh foliage throughout the worst of the winter.  Unlike Echiums,  D. sceptrum can also grow well in a pot, making it accessible to anyone with an unheated greenhouse or conservatory.

Leaves are produced year-round, with older ones turning yellow and dropping in spring.  My first flowers are appearing now, in July, but might perhaps emerge earlier given some decent spring weather.

Digitalis sceptrum, July 2013

The flowers of both species are adapted for bird pollination in their natural habitat, although our sparrows have shown no interest so far in their sweet nectar! The blooms bear more than a passing resemblance to our native foxglove and the fashionable but small-flowered rusty foxglove, Digitalis ferruginea.  The spikes emerge about 10 inches long and are topped by downward facing, rusty orange flowers beautifully netted with chocolate brown. The top of the spike is rather like a pineapple – long acid green leaflets forming an attractive topknot.

I’ve been told that D. sceptrum responds well to pruning after flowering or being cut back by frost, forming several new shoots.  Mine however is producing a neat, rounded bush about 75cm tall without any help.  It might eventually attain about 120cm, by which time it will have outgrown its current space.  In the wilds of Madeira, where this is an increasingly rare plant, D. sceptrum forms an umbrella-shaped small tree about 4 metres high.  The photograph below is credited to Mapa-73, showing a specimen much larger than mine – perhaps in a couple of years’ time I’ll be able to get a similar shot.

Isoplexis sceptrum

If you are a patient gardener with a thirst for the exotic I’d thoroughly recommend giving D. sceptrum a try.  As well as being beautiful, it’s also amazingly pest and disease resistant.  Mine has never entertained so much as an aphid and looks healthy and presentable year-round.   Perhaps in its natural home it suffers, but clearly with bugs that don’t travel well.

I purchased my plant from Hardy Exotics in Cornwall, by mail order following a visit (the car was already too full of plants to squeeze another in!) and I would highly recommend this nursery as a source of all things wild and tropical looking.  Nothing I bought from them has ever failed.

I’d love to hear your experiences of growing this fabulous plant, so please leave a comment below with any comments, hints or tips.

Having A Moment

All gardens have special moments when they look their best. For many it happens in May or early June when new growth is still fresh and green, and before anything has started to flop, yellow or require dead-heading. Our seaside garden is having a moment right now, alive with the bright pink flowers of Geranium palmatum and the rocket-like spires of Echium pininana. Winter is a distant memory at long last. It’s a joy to be in the garden at moments like these … if only the weather would have a moment too!


Chelsea 2013: The Arthritis Research UK Garden


As the clock ticked around to 8pm on Wednesday evening, we finally reached the Arthritis Research UK Garden, winner of a gold medal and the People’s Choice award for best garden. After a cold and drizzly day, the sun finally emerged from behind the clouds, accentuating the many contrasts in this inspiring garden. Designed by Chris Beardshaw, the garden featured planting and sculpture reflecting the disease and its impact on the lives of sufferers.

The space was divided into three key areas, each reflecting a different stage in the journey of someone diagnosed with arthritis. The Veiled Garden, an enclosed and shaded woodland area, represented the pain described by those who suffer with the disease and the confusion felt following initial diagnosis. From the Veiled Garden, a stone pathway lead into the Lucid Garden. Here the planting opened up into a more formal space representing understanding and security, as sufferers begin to learn about their condition.


Finally, in the Radiant Garden, the space between structural hedging was filled with exuberant planting, highlighting a sense of liberation as the person with arthritis learns to manage their condition and enjoy their life again. The planting was vivacious and optimistic, employing a palette of pinks, purples, oranges and blues and featuring striking specimens such as Iris ‘Supreme Sultan’, Lupinus ‘Masterpiece’, Lunaria ‘Corfu Blue’, Tanacetum parthenium, Escholtzia californica, Echium pininana, Geranium palmatum and Anchusa ‘Loddon Royalist’. The rich tapestry of colours and textures gave me lots of ideas for our own garden.

Chris was inspired by his own personal journey with arthritis; from being diagnosed at 19 with a form of rheumatoid arthritis through to managing his condition by keeping active and doing the things he loves. I am sure that through this garden he has inspired a large number of people to follow the same example.


Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

The Watch House in the snow


We’re a bit stuck this weekend. The white stuff came down constantly in central London yesterday, and whilst it made very little difference to life in town, it put me off going down to the coast on our reliably unreliable trains. We’ve also had to cancel birthday party no.2 as the Cotswold hotel we booked is now only reachable by four wheel drive. So unless we wish to take our life into our own hands, it leaves us little option other than to stay put and enjoy the freedom of an empty diary.

It has taken six years for me to stop going into a futile panic over the prospect of frost and snow. I have learnt that if one chooses to grow tender plants, then one has to live with the consequences of cold. I have never been one for wrapping things up in straw and fleece, which is far too unsightly in a small garden and, dare I say, too much like hard work. I’ve also learnt that many of the plants we grow are relatively un-phased by a cold winter, including Echium pininana, Agapanthus africanus and Isoplexis sceptrum. Fair enough, they can take a while to regain their former glory, but it’s worth it for the satisfaction of getting them to flower the following year. However Geranium maderense hates the snow so I hope they do better sheltered under an evergreen tree. If not, I’m afraid we may have to say “Adieu” until I am foolhardy enough to try them again.

Everything else, such as the Canna, Eucomis and Hedychium (ginger lilies) are tucked away in a dark but dry cellar where they should be reasonably safe. What’s happened to the Mandevilla that I shoved unceremoniously into the shelter of a wall covered in Trachelospermum (star jasmine) is anyone’s guess. But what will be will be. Nothing I could do now would make a great deal of difference to the outcome, so I may as well get on with reading a book and pouring another G&T.

Above, our coastal garden lightly covered in snow back in 2010. The Geranium maderense didn’t survive. Below, our resident collared doves, Daphne and Dudley, take shelter during 2012’s cold snap. I’m pleased to report they’re both going strong.