CHARLOTTE-ANNE FIDLER

March 12, 2018March 13, 2018

Spring Pots (In 10 Easy Steps)

Charlotte-Anne Fidler, Lifestyle, Countryside, English country, Country house, English Houses, English Home, Gardens, Flowers, Cutting, Gardens, Nature, English, gardens, Roses, Rose garden, Sweet peas, Spring bulbs, Spring gardens, Spring planting, Summer planting, Summer gardens, White, Blooms, Home design, Interior design, Interiors, White interiors, House beautiful, Homes and Gardens, Maine Coons, Cats, Motherhood

You might have noticed that I have a bit of a thing about pots. My family says it verges on an obsession. But I say it’s perfectly understandable and, actually, quite sensible. Pots, you see, are the easiest type of gardening – and the most instantly gratifying. Think about it like this: something that takes 20 minutes to create and minimal maintenance, can keep you happy for weeks…months even. What’s not to love?

Pots have always been a big part of my garden plans. I loved them even when I had the tiniest basement flat in London (pots are brilliant in tiny spaces!). And judging by the number of questions I get whenever I post pictures of my pots, I think they are also a big part of your garden plans, too.

So, I thought it would be useful to do a post that sums up my pot philosophy and also gives you some pot pointers….(can you see how much I’m loving the alliteration here?!). Think of it as Spring Pots In Ten Easy Steps…or something similar. Here goes:

* Pots are herd animals. They get lonely on their own – so give them some other pots to sit with. Try to mix sizes and heights as much as possible otherwise things will look a bit flat and uniform. The only exception to this is if you’ve blown the budget on an extra large pot – and even then, you will really need a pair to make things work visually….

* Decide on a pot material and style and stick with it. Two many different types of pot will look messy. I’m trying to create a classic, English country look, so I use Terracotta pots. The advantages of Terracotta? They are pretty. They age beautifully. They come in many shapes and sizes. They last for years and years. And you can buy a decent sized one for about £4.99. The disadvantages? If they are not labelled ‘Frost Proof’, they can crack when the soil freezes and expands (which makes them a tricky option for cold weather zones). And some people think they dry out more easily….but I haven’t noticed this.

* Consider splurging on at least a couple of handmade pots. They are to Terracotta pots what Prada is to handbags and will make everything look SO much better. I’ve slowly built up a collection of handmade Whichford Pottery pots (drool over them here https://www.whichfordpottery.com/) and, while they are pricey, they are so exquisite, that I think they are worth every penny.

My collection of terracotta pots clustered together around the Boot Room door. The pots on the left are mostly cheap ones from the garden centre. The ones on the right and centre are handmade Whichford pots. Nim, just seen in the window, is priceless, obviously….

* If you ask people what sort of potting compost they use, you’ll get a million different answers. I find straight multi-purpose potting compost to be a little ‘light’ and it dries out easily, so I do a half-and-half mix with soil-based John Innes No 3. Yes, it makes the pot heavier, but it gives the plants a little more to live on and that’s important, because pot-living is tough on plants! Another important thing: I never use potting composts with peat in. That’s a major environmental issue which gardeners don’t need to add to (Google it!). Oh, and don’t forget to add a layer of crocks to the bottom of the pots. Crocks are broken up pots (gravel will do if you don’t have crocks) which help your pot’s drainage. Your plants – particularly bulbs – will not be happy if your pots don’t have good drainage.

* Think of your pots as a snapshot of the garden and the season. So plant them with a variation of what is happening in the rest of the garden. In Spring , that means Narcissus, Crocus, Grape Hyacinth, Tulips and a froth of Pansies and Violas. Pots are also a chance to showcase low-key, but beautiful, flowers that might be lost in the general busy-ness of the garden (I’m thinking of that special, dark Hellebore). Or a flower that is so amazing, it needs to have its own showcase (stripy Tulip, anyone?). Put them in a pot and they are the star!

* Don’t scrimp! Less is most definitely less where pot planting is concerned. Work out how many plants you think you need and just about double it. My Spring pots are bulb-based and I have a rough idea of how many bulbs I can get in each pot (ie 10-15 in one layer). But, to have a great display, it’s a good idea to layer your bulbs. Plant your first layer about three inches from the bottom of the pot, add an inch of compost and then do another layer of bulbs above them. The flowers somehow work their way around each other and come up together looking plump and lushly planted. That is the look you want!

In March, these pots are chock full of Narcissus Tete a Tete. It’s probably the best early flowering dwarf Narcissus out there – flowers for weeks, smells delicious, loads of flowers on each stem…

* For Spring pots, plan ahead. And I mean way ahead. Spring bulbs should be planted in September/October the year before flowering. Buy good-sized bulbs from reputable suppliers (I use www.dutchbulbs.co.uk and www.dejager.co.uk in the UK and have been recommended www.floretflowers.com and www.brentandbeckysbulbs.com in the US) and choose varieties that flower for weeks and, importantly, at different times to give you a succession of flowers that starts in March and goes on till May. With Bulbs that is truly possible – another reason to love them! If you haven’t been this organised, you can buy ready-planted Narcissus, Crocus, Grape Hyacinth and Hellebores in good garden centres. It’ll cost you more than planting your own bulbs, but it will give you this effect instantly.

* What varieties do I plant in my Spring pots? Through trial and many errors, I’ve found that larger Narcissus varieties don’t fit the scale of pots. Too clunky and far too tall! Dwarf Narcissus and Cyclamineus Narcissus (a divinely delicate variety that looks like the petals are being blown back by a strong breeze) are my favourites. First to flower in early March is tiny, canary yellow, Tete a Tete, which has the added bonus of multiple, cheery flower heads on one stem. I bought extra large bulbs last year and they flowered their little hearts out for weeks. Next comes Jenny – another dwarf, but fantastically elegant with its milky-white windswept petals and creamy yellow trumpet. When the Tete a Tete are finished, Thalia appears. Thalia is a Triandrus Narcissus bred just over 100 years ago. Delicate, green-white petals, multi-headed and scented, it might just be my favourite Spring flower. Last to appear – and at the same time as the Tulips in May – is Narcissus Geranium. Geranium breaks my rules about full size narcissus in pots. But it gets away with it because it smells absolutely delicious and it’s yolk-orange trumpet and white petals are so fresh and zingy.

This is April/May and the white Narcissus and Tulips are now the stars. At the back, is supremely elegant, Narcissus Thalia, and in front of that, Narcissus Jenny (see what I mean about the petals looking windswept?). The Tulips are White Parrot and Blueberry Ripple.

* Choose a limited range of colours. With Narcissus, that’s a no-brainer as they only really come in yellow and white. But, with Tulips and other Spring bedding – pansies, polyanthus, violas – you need to curb any desire for garish multi-colours and pick a colour family that will work harmoniously together. Dark purple tulips with lilac and white violas; Candy striped tulips with white pansies…you get the idea.

* The Best places for your Spring pots? Cold and unpredictable February, March and April weather often means we are confined to our houses – so put them close to the house. Cluster them around your front door so that they are the first thing you see when you leave the house and the first thing you see when you arrive home. An instant mood lifter! Finally, don’t ever think your pot collection is a static thing that has to stay the way it is for all time. I’m always rearranging my pots; bringing forward whatever looks best at the time; hiding what’s looking dull at the back; playing around with colour combinations and shapes. Switch things around! Be creative!

This is the view I have when I arrive home: a ‘herd’ of pots full of cheery colour set off by the formal shapes of my potted box balls and cones. That little tree on the left of the picture is a dwarf Cherry tree (Prunus Kojo-no-mai). I brought it from my London garden when we moved here. It’s name means ‘flight of butterflies’.

See what I mean about how potting up a plant makes it the star? This is Tulip Raspberry Ripple. Completely delicious! Tulips are unreliable in pots after their first year, so, once they’ve finished flowering, I either plant them in the cutting garden or put them on the compost heap.

Early evening in March. Did I mention how good fairy lights look with Spring pots full of Narcissus? I put these on the Box balls and cones one Christmas and never took them off again. These Narcissus will be happy living in the pots for two to three years. I then dig them out, plant them around the garden and replace them in the pots with fat, new bulbs.

The same view (minus Poff) about six weeks later. You can see how I break my rule about full-size Narcissus where Thalia is concerned. And those cheery flowers with the yolk-yellow eye at the back are Narcissus Geranium (heavenly scented in the Spring evenings). The pots of Tete a Tete have been moved to the sides or back to die back quietly.

A little closer, so you can see Narcissus Jenny a little better. And take a look at the lattice pots from Whichford – they are my favourites. This is late afternoon, when this part of the house is bathed in the most extraordinary, golden light.

I love putting Spring flowers like these Snakeshead Fritillary in a pot so that I can admire them up close. I grow some under a tree at the far end of the garden, but I’m not down there every day.

The same goes for crocuses. They’re often overlooked in the garden. But potting them up brings them brilliantly into focus.

This is the May finale of my Spring pot display: Recreado Tulips and Wisteria by the Georgian front door. Proving what I was saying about keeping things in the same colour family….

February 26, 2018February 27, 2018

Meet the Maine Coons

Call me a crazy cat lady, but I think my first few blog posts would be incomplete without a post about our cats. They are, after all, the very heart and soul of our home. And, on Instagram, people began loving my cat pictures, long before they loved my house or my garden shots. So, I am hoping that there are some fans out there.

I grew up with cats. Lots of cats (I’m slightly reluctant to admit). My mother – a true animal lover – was a magnet for every waif and stray in the neighbourhood. They were all moggies and each had its own quirky little personality (some, unfortunately, more quirky than others). We loved them all and I still remember their names decades later: Sootica, Minilow, Lupin, Sweet Pea, Greyling, Snoopy, Waldo, Marmite…..see what I mean about lots of cats?

When I moved to London and bought my first flat, I truly missed having feline company. And it was while I was researching ‘cat breeds happy to live indoors’, that I discovered Maine Coons. Extraordinary to think that a breed of outsize American farm cats could be happy in a tiny basement flat, but it was quite true….

Maine Coons really are something else. As well as being fantastically beautiful – those ear tufts! Those gigantic paws! Those plume-tails! – they are consummate comedians. I laugh out loud every day at my cats – from their bathroom acrobatics first thing in the morning, to their dinner table lolling in the evening. They are also very sociable; almost doglike in their friendliness. They follow me around the house in a small pack; sit down where I sit; sleep where I sleep; and, as my Instagram followers know too well, they perch on the Boot Room window sill waiting patiently for me to come home.

Now that I’m freelance, I’ve had a chance to spend whole days with them and got to know their little routines. Poff puts himself to bed straight after breakfast (how many of us wish we could do the same?) and stays there till midday when he joins me working at the kitchen table. Mousling always knows when it’s Bo’s bedtime and curls up on her bed waiting for night-time cuddles.

They are not lap cats – Maine Coons are far too full of personality to be that compliant. But they are brilliant companions. They are truly the best furry PAs. And the last few years, working from home, would have been far less fun without them.

Poffum is the boss and, quite simply, an all-round awesome cat. I often say to my girls, if Poffum was a man, he’d be the perfect husband. Loyal, well-behaved, smart, fantastically handsome, affectionate, but not clingy…

Poff, as we call him, is nearly always ‘the cat in the window’. Being the boss, he likes to keep an eye on what the birds, cows, neighbouring cats and general wildlife are doing.

Underneath Poff’s handsome exterior, beats the heart of a badass hunter. He looks innocent enough here, but beneath his paw is, most likely, a dead mouse which he will leave, neatly arranged, on the doorstep.

Nimbus is the bad boy of the family. Nim watches me arrange flowers and then destroys the arrangement, one flower at a time, and pushes the vase off the table for good measure.

Nim considers my bed his territory and spends much of the day luxuriantly stretched out on it. I complain about his fur and dirty paws on the duvet, but the sight of him there fills me with such awe and yearning, I let him stay….

Nim is also known as Elf-Cat. Partly because of his ethereal, good looks; and partly because of his penchant for climbing the Christmas tree.

Mousling is the baby of the family. We usually have only two Maine Coons at a time – but, when we met her two years ago, Mousling was far too cute to resist. And, because she’s a girl, she fitted right in.

She might be smaller than the boys, but Mouse is quite a feisty little creature. She has her own schedule, which is completely different from Poff and Nim’s and she’s slowly and subtly eroding Poff’s top-cat status (she regularly sleeps in his favourite spots).

When she’s not sleeping in Poff’s spots, Mousling is forever exploring new sleeping place options….Princess and the Pea piles of quilts, the linen cupboard…..

….Or the Boot Room

Finally, the Furry PAs at their desks. You can see how hard they work. I don’t know what I’d do without them!

February 18, 2018February 27, 2018

Into the Snowdrop woods

Sometimes, life knocks you around so much that you wonder if you’ll ever feel joy again. And, I have to admit, this is how I’ve been feeling a lot lately – certainly not helped by the Winter gloom and cold. But, this morning, driving over the Marlborough Downs in the sunshine with the radio on and the girls laughing in the car, I actually felt the stirrings of happiness. One of the reasons, I’m sure, was that we were on our way to see Snowdrops.

When you live in the country, you gradually learn the special places to visit at different times of year: the farm with the sweetest new-born lambs; the best wood for Bluebells; the prettiest Christmas market. But, even though I’ve grown used to the sight of Snowdrops in the gardens and roadside verges, at this time of year, I’d never found somewhere to see them en masse.

Nothing quite prepares you for what five acres of Snowdrops looks like; the otherwise colourless woodland, lit up by a carpet of dazzling white. From a distance, it looks like snow (no surprise there!). Close up, the nodding heads are green-edged and beautifully intricate. We ooh-ed and ah-ed and got down on our knees to get a better view. And to smell them. I didn’t realise Snowdrops smelt until today. It’s the loveliest scent: soft and sweet and sometimes there and sometimes not.

We walked around for an hour taking it all in. And then walked around some more because the sun had come out again and the snowdrops were now all edged in light. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to be out in the fresh air, looking at something so extraordinary and forgetting, for a while, about everything but the moment.

Most great Snowdrop woods are on the sites of former monasteries. The owners of this wood, at Welford Park in Berkshire, think the Snowdrops were planted by Norman monks to use in their Church for the February feast of Candlemas and as a headache cure.

The plant name for the common Snowdrop is Galanthus Nivalis (from the Greek gala, meaning milk, and anthos , meaning flower). But their other old, country names are ‘Candelmas Bells’, ‘dingle-dangle’ and ‘February Fairmaid’.

Snowdrops have naturalised so freely around the country that we like to think of them as a thoroughly British flower. But they were probably introduced from Southern Europe, either by the Romans or, it’s now thought, later, in the 16^th Century.

I’ve always wondered why you find Snowdrops so often in graveyards. Apparently, it’s because, in the language of flowers, they symbolise purity.

Traditionally, it’s bad luck to pick Snowdrops and bring them into the house, but I flout country lore and love putting tiny bunches in small vases. Another idea is to dig up a clump, pot it up and surround it with moss.

Snowdrops might look delicate, but they are tough little bulbs and pretty easy to grow. Because they’re woodland plants, they’re happiest in dappled shade and humus rich soil.

Snowdrops hate drying out. So, if you’re planning your own Snowdrop show, make sure that you plant them in ‘the green’. This means you order them now (my favourite supplier is www.clare-bulbs.co.uk) and plant them as soon as you get them. They will arrive in bundles with their leaves still on. I plant mine 2-3 inches deep in clusters of about three.

To help them naturalise, divide established clumps like these every year, splitting them into smaller sections and replanting them immediately (I am not so good at doing this. But I should if I want a display anything like this!)

February 13, 2018February 13, 2018

Why did we move to the country?

Why did we move to the country? Lots of reasons. We’d planned our escape from the city for years, scanning property websites for ‘Georgian rectory’ in a 100 mile radius from London. Suffolk, Kent, Lincolnshire, Gloucestershire…if it had countryside and pretty houses, it was in the running.

I wanted a bigger house and a bigger garden (having filled our London garden to overflowing). I wanted to look out onto green and not my neighbours’ building work. I wanted to be able to leave our front door unlocked – which in Hackney, where we lived, was definitely not on the cards. And I had fantasies about the girls growing up surrounded by space and fields and knowing the names of wild flowers. We settled on Wiltshire because it was beautiful, commutable and because, to our amazement, we could swap our small-ish London terrace house for a pretty, part-Georgian house with almost an acre of land.

We drove down one Sunday afternoon in June and were instantly smitten. The house sat, tucked behind stone and brick walls in a triangle of land on the western end of the village. It had a stone roof scattered with moss and sedum. It had mullioned windows on its eastern side and big Georgian sash windows on its south side. When we knocked the panelling we could hear evidence of Georgian shutters (yes!). It had room for us all, with some more to spare.

And it had this view. There was no forgetting the view. And nothing could compare to it – even when we looked at houses that were cheaper or more sensible because they were closer to the station where I’d be travelling to London every day. I couldn’t get the view out of my mind. At first, I couldn’t work out why it was so spectacular. I didn’t realise that the house sits on a 100 metre ridge which means that, when you look south, you see for almost ten miles across the edge of the Vale of Pewsey to the start of Salisbury Plain. I knew I wanted that view in my life every day. And so, that was it: I became a country girl.

You can see why it was love at first site. This part of the house was built in 1690 (which makes it William and Mary, rather than Georgian). I don’t know how long after the Wisteria was planted (people are always asking). But, like the house, I can confidently say that it’s very old, too.

This is the view from my bedroom window. It’s a landscape of fields and ancient hedgerows that hasn’t changed for centuries. But, at the same time, it’s always changing: changing skies, weather, light as the hours and the seasons pass. Everytime I look, it’s different.

Beautiful in the summer; beautiful in the winter.
It’s a miracle I can ever drag myself away….

Another thing I love about the country: that I’m surrounded by beauty most of the time. The school run is beautiful, the drive to orchestra, art club, riding….all beautiful. Sometimes I have to stop my car, pull over and take a picture (like I did here).

When we first looked at the house, I only saw the view, the wonderful trees, general greenness and a couple of old roses. I didn’t notice the rampant Bindweed and Ground Elder in the borders. Ugh! It took two years to get on top of them before I could even start planting (and I’m still fighting). Now the garden is finally getting there.

These borders are ones we created (after digging out a couple of tons of hardcore – nothing is easy with an old houses!), around a York Stone terrace that we also put in. They’re full of my absolute favourite flowers: roses, irises, Catmint and Lavender.

Living in the country, you notice the weather in a way you never do in the city. The big skies over Wiltshire change so quickly – I can literally see the next hour’s weather coming towards us across the valley. It’s typical to have a rainy or cloudy day, followed by a beautiful evening and sunset. Or the other way around. When the weather is good, I always try to get outside to enjoy it.

I wanted my girls to grow up being country children. So nothing makes me happier than seeing them outdoors doing the things I did as a child. Climbing trees, cartwheeling across lawns, or just swinging and watching the view.

February 12, 2018February 13, 2018

Here come the Hellebores

I think my passion for Hellebores is equalled only by my passion for Dahlias. I don’t know why it took me so long to discover them. Perhaps, because they are more of a country plant than a city one. It was my loss though, because, like Dahlias, they’re a plant of intense beauty that looks marvellous when everything else in the garden looks….less than marvellous.

The other brilliant thing about Hellebores is that they are happy in shade (if the soil is humus-rich and free-draining). So, not only do they flower when everything else looks grim; they grow where very little else does. All round genius plants!

I wasn’t lucky enough to inherit a garden with mature Hellebores, so I started a small woodland garden from scratch in a shrubby area under a Cherry and two large, but airy, Robinia trees. Our third winter here, I dug up every random snowdrop I could find in the garden and replanted them in my ‘woodland’ garden. Then I ordered a thousand more from Clare Bulbs www.clare-bulbs.co.uk (not as expensive as it sounds) and put them in when they arrived in March.

Next, came the Hellebores. Mine are Hellebore x Hybridus, or Lenten Roses, which, in England, flower for a couple of months anytime from January till April. My first plants were tasteful, speckled whites. Lovely enough, but I quickly realised that having only white Hellebores was missing the point completely. Why have white, when you can have smoky plums, dusty pinks, acid yellows, lime greens and utterly true blacks? Hellebore colours are completely extraordinary – which is what makes them so addictive. And don’t get me started on the spots, freckles and stripes (called Picotee in Hellebore-speak).

Showing great self-restraint, I buy only three or four plants each January to add to my collection. Garden centres have limited colours, so try to find specialist suppliers like Ashwood Nurseries – www.ashwoodnurseries.com – who have truly beautiful plants which they breed themselves. I can spend hours on their website – quite literally a child in a sweet shop. In the US, try www.sunfarm.com. At £15-£20 a plant, they are pricey. But they are like little jewels and I think they are worth every penny.

Last year, I discovered anemone-flowered Hellebores. They have a ruff-like ring of mini-petals around the nectaries at centre of the plant.

Another type of anemone-flowered Hellebore. Look at this one! That dark purple! You can see why they can become an obsession.

A speckled double. I love doubles, but they do tend to have heads that are even more droopy than normal. Droopy flowers is the only downside to Hellebores.

Kermit green! What’s not to love? It’s definitely worth looking into green Hellebores because they are quite extraordinary.

Yellow hellebores are quite rare and I’m always drawn to them when I’m trawling the nursery websites.

Velvety and intense, black Hellebores are considered the most chic. I can’t resist them, but always find it tricky to position them. Too far back in the border and they disappear. They need something to set them off.

This speckled, anemone Hellebore was a Mother’s Day present last year. Isn’t it irresistible?

Another yellow favourite. Who knew red speckles could look so genius with custard yellow?

This is one anemone-flowered AND picotee (which means the edge of the flower is a different colour to the body of the flower). Btw, these hybrids don’t have names, otherwise I would let you know them.

Hellebores amongst my snowdrops. Snowdrops must be ‘planted in the green’, otherwise they dry out. In the green means that they arrive in February/March/April still with their leaves and the remains of their flowers. I get mine from Clare Bulbs, a specialist company who dig them up from managed stocks in Scotland. I love the – rather romantic – idea that my Snowdrops are from Scotland.

The blackest of my black Hellebores. This one is almost grey-black, like a chalk board!

Hellebores waiting to be planted. They are deep rooted which means you need to dig as deep a hole as you can – which is not always easy in shady areas where there are often lots of tree roots! I mix leaf mould into the bottom of the hole (but you can use well-rotted manure or spent mushroom compost). Remember to water in and keep them well watered during their first year.

Even the packaging they arrive in is charming. To keep your Hellebores happy and encourage to them to bulk up, feed them in early spring and again in early September when new flower buds are forming. On the advice of an expert, I use blood, fish and bone – but Seaweed Fertiliser is also good.

Try as I might, I can’t get a great picture of my ‘woodland’ garden. I think it’s because the Snowdrops and Hellebores make it so busy. Perhaps I have to accept that it’s more a garden of beautiful details than a beautiful overall look.