But apart from its unfortunate position in the gardening calendar, there are a couple of niggles about St Valentine’s day that don’t sit right; how romantic can the execution by beheading of a priest be anyway? Surely we should make a point of being loving EVERY day? And why did we choose the lean flower month of Feb to gift flowers? Well, before old Val’ hit the scene, the Patron Saint of Romance used to be St Anthony who was celebrated in June. In terms of floral sustainability this was much more practical; but Valentine and his little signed note caught on and subsequently shifted the celebration to the far less horticulturally affable February. And here lies the problem for flower growers, flowers are out of season.

Sending flowers is symbolic of love, and what better way to express it than with a dozen or two red roses? Lots of ways actually, if you are eco-conscious. Roses in February are imported from as far afield as Kenya, Ethiopia and Colombia, so instead of ‘Will you be mine?’ the biggest question should be ‘Which flowers have the lowest air miles, reduced carbon emissions and support British flower growers?’ This is the new language of love, and few currently speak it, but don’t despair at the sheer volume of supermarket imports, for sustainable alternatives here are my top picks.

1) Tulips

Instead of a dozen red roses, shower your gal or val with a dozen red tulips. Blood red and sultry, varieties like Apeldoorn and Red Emperor send the signal that you mean romantic business. The thing to note about tulips is that they are also the most beautiful flower to die in a vase, (tulips seriously do die beautifully) which means they last well and stay meaningful for longer.

2) Ranunculus

With multiple layers of petals, bunched en masse, these Spring flowers could be mistaken for floribunda roses. In the florists, we are commonly asked ‘what kind of roses are those?’ so if it’s a roses vibe you are aiming for, plump for bright reds such as ‘Aviv’ or more sumptuous deep tones such as ‘chocolat’ and they will create a similar aesthetic.

3) Alstromeria

Not a traditional form for a Valentine’s flower, but an absolute winner in terms of vase life and nearly always the last bloom standing in any bouquet. Available in ‘rainbow’ colours, you can break from the traditional red palette entirely and mix your colours, or if you prefer, you can focus on the oranges, reds and burgundies for a more traditional romantic colouring.

One final gripe, (buckle up because this is the moment that I really climb up onto my soapbox and preach it), is since when did it become a socially acceptable for a man to gift flowers to a woman at Valentine’s, but embarrassing when a woman does the same for a man? Working in a florists I see this time and time again. Men queuing out the door and down the street to buy flowers for their partners and not a woman in sight to reciprocate. I want to challenge this, because I’m going to state the blindingly obvious here. Men. Love. To. Receive. Flowers. Too. If society applauds men who garden and appreciate beautiful flowers that are growing, then surely it’s not outrageous for men to also love said flowers once they have been picked! It’s not that radical when you think about it. So come on people, this is 2025, and whatever your preference, do everyone a favour and use fresh, British flowers to show your love. If you’re single – get a bunch for yourself. Self love is important too – and you are totally worth it!

Consider showing even more love to planet earth too. Aside from choosing British grown, a bit of research can tell you if your local growers favour peat-free, organic, unsprayed, natural blooms that can be composted to enrich the soil in your own garden. If you don’t have a compost heap, take 5 mindful minutes at the end of your flower’s vase life to cut them into small pieces and sprinkle them on to your borders and add nutrients to the earth. Because love isn’t just for a single day in February, it’s for everyday, for the planet, and for everyone in it. Love isn’t just in the air, it’s beneath our feet too and in the flowers we choose, so choose wisely, and love limitlessly. John Lennon sang that all you need is love. I’m going to add that all you need is love and British grown flowers. Love is the answer and love ALWAYS wins. Happy Valentine’s Day you gorgeous lot! X

2025 is here and let me first wish you a ‘Happy New Year!’ With the Christmas festivities, food, drink and the many parties of the season behind us, it’s a time when we will look to the new year with a rejuvenated energy and good intentions for improving ourselves and our lives. By now, we will be wading waist deep in the mire of the ‘New Year, New You’ diatribe, that has many of us feeling like failures by mid-to-late January when our bad habits have proven harder to curb than we previously imagined.

If you’re sticking to your resolutions, then I applaud you, and would encourage you to keep going, but for those of us who fall off the wagon year after year, may I suggest it might be time to scrap the ‘New Year, New Me’ rhetoric and implement changes into our everyday gardening habits that are doable, sustainable and will keep making improvements for the next 365 days and beyond. If this sounds appealing, here’s a list that might just set you back on track, switching it up for your garden and giving a positive kick to your own health and wellbeing. So step into 2025 with a renewed optimism…and let’s go…

I’ve nabbed a traditional list of resolutions (from a *cough* friend). This is by no means an exhaustive list but it highlights the most typical pressures we put on ourselves at this time of year.

1) Lose weight and get fit - Start thinking of your garden as the ultimate gym which you can use to work out every muscle you have. Digging, weeding, hoeing, scarifying, raking, edging, mowing; they all benefit the muscles and without the boredom of being stuck inside with the dullest of fitness machines. Exercising in the great outdoors is a wonderful way to boost the metabolism with all that fresh air. You could even limit the amount of gardening machinery you use too. Pruning a tree with a handsaw as opposed to an electric saw will take longer, but will increase your muscle fitness and give you a good cardio boost. Swap an afternoon at the gym for an afternoon trimming the hedge with hand shears. If you’re feeling really hardcore, ditch the mower and use a scythe instead. I do this at my allotment and it’s the most fearsome work out in the world. I definitely know when I’ve done this!

2) Take time for yourself and practice mindfulness – this will be familiar, it’s when you literally lose yourself in the garden and before you know it, popping out to do a couple of small jobs turns into missing dinner and only coming in because it’s gone dark! Weeding the beds, sowing seeds, taking cuttings, potting on, can all be mindful tasks that quieten the noise of the busy, stressed-out world around us. Be the calm. Sit on the grass. Stroke the moss. Smell the flowers.

3) Declutter the mess - Every garden has a designated ‘death zone’. An area where pots of ‘plants that once were’ gather like a graveyard, and wait patiently to be tidied. Empty the compost onto the garden and stack and wash the pots ready for your new plants in the Spring. If you have surplus, many garden centres have collection points for disused pots to be recycled or reused. You can also donate spare pots to your local community garden who will welcome them with open arms.

4) Eat more healthily. This one is easy if you follow one simple rule, which is ‘Grow what you love to eat’. There’s no doubt about it, a tomato picked and eaten straight from the vine has a sweetness that cannot be replicated by any supermarket buy; and where do you find sweetcorn that is creamier than the corn harvested from your own plot? Each year I follow the 80:20 rule where 80% of what I grow are staple favourites that I know my family already love, and the other 20% is for playing and growing experimental produce that’s new to me. Some of these in turn become family favourites, of the future.

5) Improve finances - There is nothing cheap about garden centres and nurseries, and this is in no way a slight, as working closely with a garden centre as I do, I can appreciate the overheads, staffing costs, and importation taxes that have to passed on to the consumer. That’s just business. But if you find yourself buying (and losing) lots of plants throughout the year, stop the expensive impulse purchases and only buy plants that you have a suitable space for. The old adage of ‘right plant, right place’ has never been truer and buying a fern for bright sun and heavy clay or a rhododendron for chalk soil and shade, is pouring money down the drain. Resolve to take lots of cuttings from the plants that already flourish in your garden, and do swaps with your neighbours to add variety. This will do wonders for both of your bank balances and will be hugely satisfying in the process.

6) Donate more to help others - A surplus of produce each year can be a wonderful problem to have, and perhaps you are skilled at pickling, preserving and canning. Even if you do these things, if you have an allotment or kitchen garden, you are likely to have an abundance of fruits, veg and herbs that are more than your family needs. This is a brilliant opportunity to donate food parcels to your local food bank and share the love and flavour of sweet tasting, freshly-grown produce with others in your community who may not have access to such a wonderful resource. If you pop a note in with it to say that it’s homegrown, you never know, you may just inspire a family to try growing their own too.

7) Care for the environment - As gardeners we are all environmentally aware and are becoming increasingly so with each passing season. Installing something in your garden this year that serves as a habitat for wildlife can do wonders for the biodiversity in your little patch of heaven. It could be as simple as allowing a nettle patch to grow, installing an insect hotel, or a bird box or hedgehog shelter. It could be a large project such as digging up your lawn completely and swapping it for a mini wildflower meadow or installing a pond (a simple sunken bucket will do).

I bet these are 7 resolutions that we can all keep, and even if you already do some of these, resolve to do them again, but in a new part of the garden and in a new way. It’s really so easy to turn these seven deadly sins into seven stealthy wins… and lets all have a happy, healthy attitude to nurturing our gardens and allowing them to look after us all too in 2025.

By early December, as a florist, I am completely wreathed out, and as much as I love them and their warm front-door welcome, I thought I’d turn my attention to a different winter arrangement for this issue, so I’m making a foraged ‘Positivity Spray’ to hang on the front door or elsewhere within the home. Mine is destined to be hung by the fireplace but you could display yours in any alcove, door or window or even at the foot of your bed to keep your dreams sweet as a roasted chestnut!

I have recently cut back the herb garden and have dried and gathered a selection of the foliage and flowers from there. I’m adding heaps of meaning to my spray too, and unlike summer sprays, I’m paring back the foliage to allow the structure of the herb skeletons to sing out and compound their bold statement of power.

I’m beginning by creating the ‘frame’ for my spray using dried fennel seed heads. Fennel is a herb of many meanings, but the Greeks and Romans prized it as a medicine and a food that when given to warriors before heading into battle was believed to give them great courage. Prometheus apparently used a giant stalk of fennel to carry his fire down to Earth from Mount Olympus. This is chunky stuff! Both symbolically and physically; and with the fennel heads looking like candelabras and fireworks, I’m all for carrying fire and courage into 2025 with my arrangement! Let’s go!

Next to be added are the tall spires of the sage flowers and these are placed both in front and behind the Fennel stems to add a flame-like quality to the structure. The long flower stems are said to promote longevity and also to bring wisdom, ready for all that decision making next year… what do I plant in my garden, which varieties will work best for me with so many to choose from..? You see. Wisdom is needed in gardening as well as in day to day life. Let’s add this into our positivity spray!

Honesty is the best policy as they say, and the shimmering discs of lunaria will contrast beautifully with the browns of the other plants. I’ve peeled my lunaria, but for a more rustic look, you could leave yours natural. I’ve deliberately left the seeds where possible, as these harness a hope and expectation for the new season. They promise growth and change, and all the positivity that seeds encompass. Honesty is also symbolic of money and wealth in the language of flowers (it’s often referred to as ‘the money plant’) so for a happy and prosperous new year, why not? Let’s add a generous helping of these silver beauties and allow prosperity to pour over us.

Next comes the only splash of colour in our arrangement– the orangey red rose hips (or haws or heps). The edible accessory fruit of the rose plant, and symbolic of love, the haws awaken passion and protect relationships and love. These are being added at differing heights at both the front and the back of the arrangement so that the colour of the fruit sings through. I’m also bringing my own personal meaning to the addition of the haws, as fruitfulness in the next gardening season, in relationships, friendships and ventures.

Sweet Marjoram is making an entrance with it’s cloud like flowers that have long since faded from violet to brown but are still structurally very beautiful. Marjoram was revered by the Romans as the ‘herb of happiness’ and that’s always welcome, so in it goes.

Sage is coming back into the arrangement now, this time not as flowering spikes but as dried leaves. Sage is well recognised as a herb to promote balance, purification and healing and to clear all negative energy – it is therefore a vital element of our positivity spray. It’s also renowned for promoting harmony and calmness. There’s nothing but good vibes here… and I can feel the benefits already.

I’m also adding lavender, a plant highly prized for its perfume and fragrant long after the colour has faded. Lavender has properties that are sleep enhancing and relaxing, bringing about healing and peace of mind. This is a perfect antidote to our busy lives where stresses can creep in. I’m weaving these throughout the arrangement in groups for greater impact as the single stems can often get a bit lost – and we need power in numbers for this sculpture.

Now that the ingredients of our positivity spray for 2025 are all in the floristry mix – it’s time to tie off the arrangement using jute twine. I’ve wound it around the stems four times, (one binding for each season) and pulled it really right to draw the elements close together. There is so much strength in this binding and it’s feeling like a good and weighty design. It’s enough to carry and protect throughout the year of 2025. Once tied, the stems are trimmed short and straight across. A bow of any colour can be added to embellish the arrangement. I’ve chose a silver bow to resonate with the honesty and also to embrace the fact that this arrangement is a winter celebration.

The final task is to hang the arrangement in the home. Mine is currently adorning my fire place, although it will probably move around the house over the coming weeks, throwing out its fantastic fragrance (I really wish you could smell it) and releasing so much positivity into the atmosphere and over everyone who is near. I hope you’ve enjoyed learning how I’ve made my positivity spray and I would encourage you to make one too. It doesn’t have to be large and fancy, as long as it has powerful positive meaning, so let me know how you get on and what foraged ingredients you find and use. As I said before, foraging and making it personal is an exciting part of the process. Floristy is wonderful, but it’s even more amazing when you can use it to create your own brand of positivity.

And that’s another thing… the dm’s also flood in around now until mid to late November.  Should I leave or should I lift (my tubers)?  Before you ask yourself (or me) this – have you asked yourself the more important question, which is how have I prepared my dahlia tubers to be left or lifted so that they store well over winter?  Have I prepared them for their sleep and more vitally, will they have lots of energy when they wake up in the Spring? 

Cutting dahlias back in November might feel like the end of the growing season, but for experienced growers we are well aware that this is the start of the dahlia’s year.  Get it right now and Winter and Spring will take care of itself. 

With 24 years of dahlia growing experience (how can it be so long?), I have decided to share all my knowledge to perfecting incredible dahlias in my new Dahlia Success Course.  The course is 12 months long, and the beauty of it is that you can join at ANY time throughout the year.  If you are convinced that the growing season begins for you in January, join in January.  If you think it’s March, May or even August, join then.  The course rolls for 12 months regardless of when you join in, and I’ve been blown away by the number of you who are as excited to kick your dahlia growing up to the next level as I am to share my wisdom.  There’s already quite a tribe of us – so if you’re hankering to join us, you can find the Dahlia Success link in my bio @dahliafarmerama.  We’d love to welcome you in.   It’s going to be epic!  Just picturing all the fantastic dahlias in our gardens and allotments next season makes my heart sing!

As if I couldn’t get enough of dahlias already, having a world famous Dahlia garden a few miles down the road means I now make an annual pilgrimage to visit the renowned Dahlia garden at Anglessey Abbey.  If you have never visited – you must!  All the dahlias here, I am reliably informed are grown in large, sunken pots, because Cambridgeshire  heavy clay isn’t the best for growing these divas – don’t I know it!  (Right plant, wrong county, so if I can grow them – I can teach you for sure!)  Anglessey ‘dazzling dahlias’ as they have become known, boasts 60 varieties placed along the length of a large, sweeping border that is changed every year but always grouped by colour for aesthetic continuity.  I used to do this in my own field, but when time is at a premium and with 2000 rooted cuttings to transplant, it has very much become a case of plant them anywhere, as haphazardly as you like, as long as you get them in! My field is not accessible to the public, and it’s only really myself and a select few who ever see it, and I’ve come to love the patchwork effect that the mismatch of dahlias produce.  How they grow is irrelevant as they are sorted into florist’s buckets once cut.  That’s my excuse for binning my colour codes – and I’m sticking to it!

As well as growing dahlias for their flowers, I have in recent months started appreciating these for a more herbalistic reason too.  I wrote in the last issue of GFM of my meeting at BBC Gardener’s World Autumn Fair with Terry Gilmour, who designed the Silver Gilt winning, People’s Choice garden ‘Fancy a Cuppa’.  Terry really inspired me to look at dahlias (among other flowering plants) as a functional crop, (they were originally introduced to Europe as a food crop after all) and I’ve been investigating this under my own terms.  I have enjoyed utilising the spent petals of dahlia deadheads for dahlia ‘tea’ and I have to say they have a very distinctive flavour and are, although an acquired taste (in my opinion as a hardcore herbal tea connoisseur) remarkably delicious.   

I’ve been told that the dahlia petals usually colour the tea.  This is true, they do..  Mostly yellow or pale green depending on the variety.  My biggest shock was that purple petals turn the tea green, (where does the purple go?)  And then there are the dahlia leaves themselves.  If you no longer have petals available, and if you haven’t yet cut your dahlias down, I highly recommend making tea with the leaves.  You’ll be amazed at the colour the leaves turn the tea to.  I’m not going to tell you the colour as I don’t want to spoil the surprise – but it’s not yellow or green.  It’s really quite surprising.  Let me know how you get on.  The leaves can be harvested and stored in one of two ways to keep dahlia tea available all year round.  Dahlia tea is superb for boosting the immune system which is perfect as we come into coughs and colds season.  Last year I was successionally very poorly in the autumn with two different strains of covid and then flu.  This year I’m better prepared and topped up to the brim with all the dahlia, cold-preventative goodness. I’ll let you know how it goes.

As I said, Dahlia leaves can be stored in one of two ways.  They can be dried and stored in an airtight container, or they can be placed fresh into an airtight container and frozen.  Either way, you will get the same delicious, health boosting beverage.  So what are you waiting for?  Go and pop the kettle on and here’s to your very good health! 

Dahlia tea recipe

Remove the petals of one dahlia flower/or shred 2-3 medium dahlia leaves

Place in an infusing teapot (one for loose tea is ideal)

Pour over hot water and steep for 5 minutes

Pour into a clear glass mug (to appreciate the colour) and allow to rest for 1 minute

Sweeten to taste with honey or ground stevia if desired (I drink it without)

Enjoy your immune boosting herbal dahlia beverage.

We rendezvous’d at the garden restaurant for a pot of peppermint tea with scones, while chattering with great excitement, among other things, about the dahlias we were expectant to see.  Downing teacups we ventured outside and into the gardens, our anticipation of the multitudes of dahlia blooms in their glory tangible in the Autumn air.

I’m not sure if it was the kick from the peppermint, or an overdose of the spreadable butter on scones… but, chatting away, we took a wrong turn and ended up in a happy error in the recently planted rose garden.  Those of you who know Chris and his devout love of roses, will know that he was in his seventh heaven here, with flowering David Austin Roses at every turn.  Queen of Sweden, Royal Jubilee, Silas Marner and Roald Dahl were among those blooming vigorously, and we couldn’t resist stopping to smell every single variety as we meandered through the beds.  It never ceases to amaze me how diverse the fragrances of roses can be; some fruity, many floral, and others evocative of a good strong cup of English tea!  As well as the shrub roses, a host of ‘New Dawn Dreer’ climbing roses, a variety dating to 1930, were skilfully trained against the old brick of the walled garden, newly planted but with promises of fulfilment in years to come.  The reasons to keep revisiting mount up!

What struck me most though, was the number of roses affected by blackspot (blotting the leaves in its fungally unattractive way).  The blooms, unaffected by the presence of the ailment, continued in blissfully ignorance to offer forth their beauty and fragrant charms to their immediate environment.  As an organic gardener, who has never sprayed a rose with anything stronger than dilute fairy liquid and garlic water (the organic gardener’s cure all!) I was delighted to see the disease there.  Not because, I was actually pleased to see the disease itself, but because its presence clearly meant that no sprays were being used, and that for me, is progress.  A small win that made me smile and stroke those little black spots happily while breathing in the rich fragrance of Turkish delight and environmental triumph!

After losing an hour (easily) among the roses, we continued our journey to the Dahlia garden.  As ever, the visitors were flocking to this giant border to marvel at the vast array of these impressively, showy blooms, ruffled in every imaginable form and colour, and they didn’t fail to delight.  A low-level buzz vibrated in the air, and as I stepped into that magical arena, I felt my heart skip a little, as it always does when I visit this small part of the universe.  Butterflies of the heart are what these flowers give me, or perhaps indigestion from my afternoon tea?  Either way, it felt glorious.

Highly organised, we photographed the board that labels the 60 dahlias before picking our way along the border, identifying and analysing the varieties, comparing their many traits, stem lengths, strength, size, form, petal fade, droop, vibrancy and so on.  Christopher Taylor, a majestic red waterlily was listed but sadly eluded us.  Uncannily rose-like (for a dahlia) and named ‘Christopher’, Chris couldn’t hide his disappointment that where it ought to have been, Jowie Winnie stood in its place, wearing pale peach petals and a gentle smirk no doubt. 

Large numbers of spent dahlia heads hung heavily after the rain, petals matted, brown, ruined and unsightly.  I was longing to deadhead them because they detracted from the beauty of the fresh young blooms working so hard to impress.  Were these ugly brown blooms a sign of limited time and resources or had they been left for the bees, (which were notably absent compared to previous years)?   Typically, the entire dahlia garden reverberates with the humming of pollinators.  This year, however only the occasional isolated buzz reminded me of what a poor year it has been for bees, and these, usual bee magnets remained largely undisturbed. 

After the visual dahlia banquet, we explored the rest of the grounds, including the woods, the Lode Mill walk by the river, the Athens garden (as we named it – for its Parthenon-like columns), and the perennial garden.  The formal garden was flanked with beds of Cannas and Ricinus whose rich burgundy foliage was spectacular, and we couldn’t help but linger and admire the striking leaf colour and form.  We traced the meandering path through the winter garden (very much an Autumn garden at present) back towards the car park, and the unexpected floral feast that met our eyes was a wonder to behold!  The entire woodland floor was an incredible tapestry of pale pinks, cerise pinks and whites, lining the great woodland trail and emitting an energy of absolute peace and tranquility.  As you know, I adore dahlias, but this was a shocking juxtaposition to those blousy divas, which scream noisily, demanding an audience. Here, the subtle beckoning of the cyclamen carpet and it s muted call, mingled with the cool autumn air, emitted into the atmosphere such an ethereal quality that all our previous chatter melted into spellbound silence for these delicate beauties. 

Ironically, it was earlier while I was photographing an ancient, cordoned pear, still laden with large fruits, that Chris excitedly led me around the corner to the house to show me an adorable cluster of cyclamen, hugging the boundary of the its brickwork.  Filled with appreciation for this tiny offering, we admired them for several minutes with no concept of what a foreshadow this was to what awaited in this moment.  We stood among the trees, transfixed by the sheer scale of these flowers which, seen en masse I can only compare to the fallen blossom of the cherry trees in Spring, only more beautiful because they are fresh, vibrant and growing. 

I love how nature surprises us.  Chris and I visited Anglessey Abbey gardens with a pre-conceived expectation that we would be overwhelmed with adoration for the dahlias and roses, but we ended up being enchanted by the spectacular avenue of cyclamen.  We fell in love at first sight with their chorus singing an aria to the joys of Autumn.  But hat’s gardening.  Keep your eyes open, keep your mind open, and be prepared to expect the unexpected, and who knows where your heart will take you next… 

Kim x

Like you, I have visited many of the RHS Shows, Tatton Park, Chelsea, Hampton Court, and the like, and as wonderful as these shows are, I always wish the show gardens weren’t so, well… temporary.  If only they had time to relax, breathe out and mature into the countryside.  That’s exactly you will see when you visit RHS Hyde Hall in Essex; a garden that has been given the luxury of what the RHS show gardens have not.  Time to established, root and flourish.

Walking into the garden, it’s the maturity of the perennials that first strikes out at incoming visitors.  Voluminous echinaceas arranged in vast drifts lead the eye deeper towards the heart of the space, enticing and teasing about what else might be in store. The great swathes of verbena that sway and elevate the borders to touch into the blue of the sky (we were blessed with the most perfect summer day) line the grassy entrance like a living wall of colour, bobbled with purple bee magnets that welcome more than just the human visitors. 

We were actually there as part of a tour (one of the benefits of being a member of the garden media guild) but by the time we had reached the main borders, I became flustered by a, I kid you not, 10 foot dahlia, ‘Karma Chocolate’.  That beast pulled me to one side, separated me, heart pounding from the official tour, and set me in a luxurious head spin.  You may be aware that I have something of a penchant for dahlias (I don’t usually mention it) and I’ve seen some glorious, high reaching specimens in my time… but this beauty topped the lot, especially as it’s a variety that’s never surpassed 6 feet for me.  Was it the deep chocolate velvet red of the dahlia petals themselves or its pairing with the beautiful but deadly burgundy foliage of the Ricinus which sent my pulse racing?  I guess I’ll never know.

When I finally found the strength to tear myself from the dahlia, I stumbled up the pond..abundent with koi carp, carpeted with water lillies, and home to the most impressive and Jurassic gunnera I have ever laid eyes on.  But it was actually the dry garden that took my breath away.  Steeped inobtrusively into a hillside of gravel and boulders, the stipa gigantia, chusan palms, gaura, verbena bonariensis formed a soft tapestry of pastel hues, moving and swaying, rustling and evoking a sensory experience of fragrance, colour, form and sound.  The stipa tenuissima grasses were tantilisingly tactile and cried out to be brushed and stroked.  In all honesty, this area was much less a garden and more of an experience.  The piece de resistance was the magnificent dry riverbed, an imposing channel of pebble and stone that affirmed the aridity of the landscape.  It was utterly captivating and despite it’s prominence, sat silently un-flowing and pulled the whole vista together as a triumph in garden design. 

Lost (literally) in the wonder of the garden (separated from the group and almost missing lunch) I found myself wondering why I haven’t visited an RHS garden before?  If my visit to Hyde Hall gardens was anything to go by, it is not only a very pleasing day out, it’s an enrichment, an inspiration and a living lesson in garden design and landscaping.  Of course I will love to see the compact show gardens of the aforementioned flower shows, but will I be making it my mission to visit every RHS garden on the map from now on?  Are you kidding me?  I’m already planning my next visit…

I’m on my way to visit the garden of Radio Garden Royalty Barry Gayton; long time gardening expert for Gardener’s Question Time among various Radio shows.  Although I have been aware (and in awe) of Barry for many years, he first came into my life’s sphere when I was commissioned by BBC Radio Cambridgeshire last to appear alongside him on The Garden Hour and currently The Garden Party. With his amiable nature and extensive passion for gardening, we quickly hit it off and now I’m hurtling towards his home, eagerly anticipating a tour of his beloved garden.

On a leafy lane, I am greeted by a great arching sign that reads ‘Desert World Gardens’, a nod to it’s extreme weather conditions and difficult, sandy soil. I’m greeted by Barry, who, sprightly at 74 years of age, lives and breathes gardening 24/7, his enthusiasm for plants eclipsed only by his tremendous knowledge about them.  ‘Welcome to my paradise in the forest’ he grins broadly. 

At 1.5 acres, 44 years ago, Desert World was a scrag of wasteland with only 3 oak trees and an impossible tangle of bramble, gorse and broom.  Today, it is sculpted into a paradise landscape with a bamboo forest, a collection of tall trees from monkey puzzles to Acers, to Barry’s pride and joy, a Magnolia grandiflora that he grumbles has blooms that are just too far out of reach to fully appreciate their fragrance.  There is a trail through the garden which passes budding dahlia beds (I’ll be back), hydrangeas (Barry has more than 350 varieties), a fernery, a sizeable wildlife pond and a Jurassic tree fern jungle.

But it’s Barry’s glasshouses that house his lifelong collection of 13,500 succulents that are his absolute pride and joy.  He informs me he could easily hold the National collection but chooses not to, explaining that he wouldn’t want to be held captive by the rules and relations this would impose on his growing.  He’s not a maverick, but he clearly grows by his own book and that’s how he wants to keep it.  And good for him, I say.  His obsession with succulents started when at age 7, he purchased a mixed packet of Agave parryi seeds from Woolworths, sowed them, and the rest is history.  Incredibly, Barry still has the first plant he ever sowed from that seed packet and it’s now 67 years old.  His eyes light up when he catches sight of it.  It is truly stunning to behold.

Being led around the glasshouses is an experience of twists, turns, and tight manoeuvres around plants with spikes the size of cocktail sticks and flowers that look like they are straight out of paradise itself.  I’ve visited botanical gardens all over the world and even with their extensive glass houses and collections, they would be hard pushed to match up to Barry’s treasure trove of cacti.  Some trail, some hang, other creep and many stand tall.  All are remarkable.  All have a story to tell.  It’s very humbling to witness such a passion for these extraordinary plants and Barry knows every single one intimately. 

I ask Barry what the best piece of gardening advice he’s ever been given is.  He tells me that it’s to have patience.  He says that he lives by that advice and is aware that he is growing plants that he will never see in flower, which I have to admit dumbfounds me.  I’m reminded of the proverb which talks about men planting trees whose shade they will never sit under.  Barry is the epitome of this.  Selflessly propagating and preserving a multitude of species for the next generation.  Forward thinking.  Forward acting.  And simply adoring his life’s work. 

What’s the best piece of gardening advice that Barry likes to give?  He tells me that he vehemently advocates people taking on the challenge to start growing from seed and then growing on.  ‘It’s the only way to overcome the cost of plants, so play the waiting game’, he says thoughtfully.  ‘Whether it’s raising vegetables from seed, or nurturing trees, in time, you will see results.’  This ‘paradise in the forest’ is Barry’s testament to that.  Time is something many of us never seem to have any more, and patience, in our world of instant gratification, we probably have even less.  We could all learn a lesson or two if we took a leaf out of Barry Gayton’s book, and perhaps grow a tree or two along the way…

The planting is a fusion (or should that be an infusion?) of edible ornamentals, the perfect space to imbibe tea for two, and I am informed by Terry that every plant in the space can be taken as tea.  This frankly surprises me.  Many of the plants are familiar tea making plants, such as camomile and lemon balm, while others (more to be be revealed about these later) I would never have dreamed could make a brew.

I’m not a traditional ‘tea’ drinker myself, as I don’t tolerate caffeine at all.  Over the past thirty years I’ve started to fancy myself as a bit of a connoisseur of the high street and boutique tea establishment’s herbal tea assortments.  But this garden offers tea drinking on a whole new, florally infusive level that I’m keen to explore, and Terry, who demonstrates an extensive knowledge of the plants and their properties, is eager to indulge my curiosity.   

The garden’s borders, as I said, are packed with an assortment of flowering plants, all of which are suitable for drinking as a tea.  There’s the usual suspects, including peppermint and echinacea, familiar staples in my kitchen cupboard of herbal tea sachets, but I’m genuinely surprised by others and even sceptical when I spy dahlias.  I mean, really?  Dahlia tea?  I’m excited by this revelation and at the same time, I’m maddened that in 24 years of dahlia growing I didn’t know this was possible. 

Recently, a renound TV chef and author remarked to me in conversation that I have become ‘very well known in gardening circles for my dahlias’.  In fact, just two show gardens down form Terry’s garden, is David Hurrion’s showcase garden, for which I have grown the show dahlias, and last year, just metres away, I built my own Gold winning showcase dahlia garden at this same Autumn Fair.  When it comes to dahlia growing (and eating), I think I know my stuff and I am truly speechless to discover that dahlias are a drinkable commodity.  Terry explains that there is more to the dahlia tea than for the other flowers too (I knew dahlias would have a quirk!).  Unlike the other flowers, dahlias release their petal colour into the water as they brew and hearing this delights and fills me with an excitement to try this for myself at the earliest opportunity.

After dahlias, my second biggest connection to the RHS Chelsea Flower Show for the past 3 years have been the Chrysanthemums floral exhibits, and I’m thrilled to see that these amazing flowers have also made it into Terry’s curated tea collection.  Is it the leaves or the flowers that make the tea? I wonder.  Terry informs me that it’s the flowers. 

In addition to the fresh flowers, Terry takes his passion a step further, with his apothecary of dried leaves and flower heads, some full, others chopped or ground.  These wait eagerly in glass jars for the opportunity to release their oils, flavours and properties into one of the many china teapots or tea cups that nestle in anticipation among the plants.  I ask Terry why he loves making his own tea so much and he explains that it’s the cheapness buying the plants, and grinding them yourself, as some of the branded teas can be very expensive.  He tells me he finds the process very rewarding.   

As well as saving money, and tasting good, Terry explains the health benefits of drinking herbal garden teas.   In his collection there are teas for anxiety such as lemon balm; echinacea for colds and flu; and for sleep enrichment there is chamomile.  Dahlias, I am informed are great for boosting immunity and the fact that these incredible flowers help to keep you feeling good comes as no surprise.  Chrysanthemums I am told have a similar taste and similar properties to Chamomile but with an extra ‘boost’.  

Terry is really passionate about encouraging people to grow their own plants for tea making.  His show garden is 3 square meters, and he insists this space holds a comprehensive tea collection.  This is something everyone could do no matter how small their growing space and most of these plants would do well growing in pots too so a patio or a balcony could easily be dedicated to a tea growing project such as this. 

The plants can be used fresh, but Terry prefers to dry everything as it preserves so much better and can be stored it for a year round supply. 

The most amazing plant of all, is the Stevia.  Terry breaks off a leaf and invites me to chew it.  The moment it touches my lips, the sweetness is incredible.  This plant is 50-300 times sweeter than sugar and for anyone who likes their tea sweetened, this is the addition for you.  Dried and powdered, this can be added to the dahlia tea, which I’m told isn’t quite as palatable without it.  This is another flavour I resolve to try at my leisure. 

Terry’s garden reminds me of the medieval physic gardens, steeped in history and medicinal use, and not only is it flavourful on the tastbuds, it’s equally delicious on the eyes too.  He leads me down the path to the seat at the end of the garden, takes down a glass jar from the shelf and asks ‘fancy a cuppa?’  Oh go on then.  Surrounded by so much beauty, flavour and health benefits, how can I possibly refuse?