Malaysian Borneo

After one of the coolest summers on record accompanied by too many complaints about plants not blooming and tomatoes not ripening due to a lack of sunshine, I thought, forget it, I’m taking off for somewhere a little warmer — Borneo. 

To be truthful, the trip was planned long before I felt any need for a change in weather, but I certainly found the sun and warm temperatures — and acres of blooming bougainvillea, frangipani, and orchids, orchids, and even more orchids. 

It was a lovely trip, plus any expectations I might have had before embarking were exceeded when I had the amazing good fortune, purely by chance, to see the largest flower in the world in bloom.

Mount Kinabalu
I was on an air conditioned bus travelling a mountain highway near Mount Kinabalu in the east Malaysian state of Sabah, when the driver jammed on the brakes and swerved onto the shoulder of the road. He’d spotted the hand painted sign at the side of the road — a picture of a flower with the words “Rafflesia in bloom”. 

We piled out of the bus into a steam bath wondering what the fuss was about. I can honestly say that I didn’t know much about Rafflesia, but the locals sure knew. As soon as they’d found it, up when the sign and out went the cash box. And who can blame them. In fact it’s encouraged as a means to protect this endangered species. I paid my thirty ringgits (about ten dollars), and stepped onto the trail through the forest. Fortunately, it was only a short walk along a freshly trampled track and there it was, the extremely rare Rafflesia arnoldii, protected by a hastily erected bamboo fence.

Rafflesia
And what a curious plant it is, only occurring in the rainforests of Sumatra and Borneo. As a visitor to the country, the chances of actually seeing one in bloom are rare — I only saw one roadside sign the whole trip. In addition to being rare, it takes months for the bud to form, poking its way up through the forest floor to bloom for only a few days, producing a flower as much as a meter in diameter and weighing as much as 11 Kg. (my plant wasn’t a huge specimen, maybe half a meter across, but enough to impress me).

It’s a brown speckled plant and looks a little like a fungus, but it is a parasitic, vascular plant with a distinct fragrance. Believe me; it isn’t called the corpse flower for nothing — not to be confused with that other corpse flower, the Titum arum, which is a larger plant, but it doesn’t rank with Guinness as the largest flower because the arum is composed of multiple florets, rather than a single bloom. The carrion odour emitted by the Rafflesia attracts the flies that provide pollination duties, resulting in a single seed.

Rothschild orchid
After taking pictures I boarded the bus and continued our journey to the botanical garden in Kinabalu National Park, where another fortuitous surprise awaited. The garden is an orchid lover’s delight, with too many in bloom to mention, but one in particular I must: The Rothschild orchid (Paphiopedilum rothschildianum). It’s an orchid rarely seen outside its native habitat, also the most expensive — if you were to dare purchase a plant (smugglers are jailed).

This solitary specimen lay behind a chain link fence, out of reach of drooling fans. It’s found only on the slopes of Mount Kinabalu, one of the world’s most important biological sites, home to 5,000 to 6,000 plant species. Unfortunately, I had to leave without seeing them all, but on the return to the city of Kota Kinabalu, the actual mountain peak appeared briefly from behind the ever present clouds, yet another gift from an amazing country. It’s been quite a summer.

Great Dixter

Great Dixter was the home and garden of the late Christopher Lloyd. Lloyd, revered by gardeners worldwide, was a preeminent plants-man, garden writer, and television personality.

Now operated as a private trust with an educational mandate, this rambling yet cleverly structured garden was originally designed by renowned architect Sir Edwin Lutyens for Lloyd’s parents, Nathaniel and Daisy, after they acquired the fifteenth century house in 1909. It is as glorious as ever, though it has never remained static. Lloyd learned gardening skills from his mother, then boldly modified and enhanced many aspects of the garden in the thirty years following Daisy’s death in 1972.

 After Lloyd’s death in 2006, head gardener, Fergus Garret, has continued to care for the garden. He has experimented boldly, creating unique combinations of colour and form. I saw bright crimson tulips soar through swaths of blue forget-me-knots, masses of cow parsley (yes that weed) tempering the kaleidoscopic springtime blaze of poppies, euphorbia, wallflowers, and bluebells. Soft and low boxwood hedges combine with huge ones of yew to form an erratic maze of delights connecting the many sections, or garden rooms, while giant topiary mounds topped by figures of birds, stand like sentinels.

Known for his succession planting schemes that ensured colour throughout all seasons, the shrubs, climbers, perennials, annuals, and biennials in beds and mixed borders ensure something is always exploding into bloom.

Lloyd certainly had the eye of an artist, or it could be easy to believe he simply wandered about wearing an old jacket, countless seeds carelessly spilling from the holes in his pockets, accidentally creating heavenly vistas.

Stratford Festival Theatre

What Ontario tourist attraction receives fifteen hundred visitors twice a day? Would you believe the place is a garden? That’s quite a number and you may be wondering why you haven’t heard of it when it’s right on our doorstep.  The secret is, those visitors may not be aware they’re visiting one of the finest public gardens in Southern Ontario.

Located at 99 Downie Street, Stratford, Ontario, this also happens to be the address of the Stratford Festival Theatre, and the primary intention for most of those visitors is to attend a performance at the theatre. Still, I’m guessing there have been more than a few plant lovers who’ve happened by and asked the purpose of the impressive building beside the gardens, but then, that’s a plant lover for you.

For many theatre goers, the gardens are a serendipitous discovery. In the words of head gardener Anita Jacobson, “It sets it apart from other theatres. Many tell us they value the gardens as much as the theatre.”

There are four unique sections, each one a delight. The largest is The Arthur Meighan Gardens, created in 1996 as a gift from the family of Canada’s ninth Prime Minister, first elected in 1920. It lines the approach to the front entrance of the theatre. I began my exploration at the foot of the garden, at a magnificent, ninety-year-old gingko tree, beneath which is an understory of native plants, abuzz with pollinators. From there I meandered along the many crisscrossing paths up the gentle slope to the theatre. It took a while as there are so many exceptional plants, all in top condition, well established with room to reach their full potential. There are yellow hollyhocks, striking red crocosmia, and fragrant phlox in pastel shades. Ornamental grasses bring balance to the rich array of colours.

The Meighan garden is a botanist’s delight. Filled mainly with perennials, each one is clearly labelled with the botanical name followed by its common name. This is essential when visitors are inclined to ask the eternal question, “Quid est nomen illius planta” (What’s the name of that plant?). Horticulture students from Fanshawe College visit each September to practice their plant recognition skills, and there are enough species to keep them busy.

Ask Anita and she always has the answer. She began what would become her career while still a toddler, helping her father in his London, Ontario based landscaping business. She never strayed far from the plant world, and with a degree in zoology she added an essential understanding of the four or more legged pests that inevitably appear in a garden. Even two legged pests have been known to appear, snipping a cutting or two. 

Caring for a public garden requires an understanding of both weather and climate change.  Being more
conscious of maintaining a water-wise garden, Anita now avoids the use of overly thirsty plants. She monitors them closely, only watering when necessary. “I also try to include plants that don’t need so much nursing along,” she says. That includes the need for pest control. She plants fewer Asiatic lilies now because of the voracious red lily beetle that devastates the plants.

With a depth of almost 60 centimetres (two feet) of healthy soil in the Meaghen Garden there’s little need for fertilizer, and judging from the health of the plants, they do fine without it.

The main goal of Anita’s team — two assistants and three summer help from May to August — is to ensure the garden always looks beautiful — all the time. Snipping spent blooms, known as deadheading, is a continual process. Tricks like the Chelsea chop are used to encourage plants like garden phlox to produce more blooms. It’s named for the British custom of lightly shearing receptive plants in early June, after the conclusion of the Famous Chelsea Flower Show.

Whereas a display at such a garden show is created to last only a few days using impractical plant combinations, it’s a much greater challenge to ensure a permanent garden always looks its best, especially as few perennials bloom all season long. The Meighan Garden is a fine example of clever succession planting, where a range of plants are selected to bloom on time, in sequence, before leaving the stage. For Anita, this is like seeing a new performance weekly. “I tell people who remark, come back next week as there’ll always be something different.”

Does she a favourite plant? “Yes,” she tells me, I always have favourites, but they’re different favourites every month, although I really like the perennial hibiscus and I love the Japanese anemones. They’re so fresh at the end of summer.” After an hour in the garden, I have a list of new favourites.The Meighan garden is a place to enjoy, to learn, to see the potential of plants that can easily be grown successfully in one’s own garden.

Venture a short way along the building forecourt, past the huge planters, each containing Lantanas, a popular garden annual impressively trained into small trees, and you’ll find the Ann Casson rose garden. To pass by on a balmy, midsummer evening is to be enchanted by the fragrance.

There is a perception that roses can be difficult to grow successfully as older varieties are often more susceptible to disease. You wouldn’t think so of the ones in Anita’s rose garden. She moved the original plot out of the shade of ever larger trees and into a more favourable place in full sun where the roses excel. With her team’s daily attention, they perform to perfection.

The rose bed is filled with about forty varieties in a rainbow of colours. Included are familiar hybrid tea and floribundas, newer David Austens, and Canadian bred Explorer Roses.

“People do have a fond spot for roses, says Anita. “They like to see a hybrid tea in different colours because everyone has their favourites. Some of mine are Double Delight, Pretty Lady, Munstead Wood, and De Montarville.”

Only steps away is The Elizabethan Garden. Here, perhaps during intermission, a theatre goer can slip right into a floral representation of the age of Shakespeare, and ponder, as he may have, at the sight of many of the flowers that would have been familiar to him.

This is an immaculately maintained, parterre garden, a style first introduced in France during the life of Shakespeare. Elegantly designed with crazy paving, a method that originated in ancient Rome, the sections of parterre are enclosed by neatly trimmed boxwood hedges. At one corner stands a gleaming steel statue of the bard, book in hand. On the fountain at the centre, words from his play Cymbeline are inscribed: “These flow’rs are like the pleasures of the world”.

Within the symmetrical parterre are four named gardens containing plants that were familiar, and in use in the sixteenth century. There’s the Witch’s Garden with plants like Vervain, considered in ancient times to be a herb with great medicinal powers. In the romantic garden are flowers that were used to make garlands, nosegays, and posies. These would perhaps include clary sage, used for love potions, dreams, and divinations; and of course, in the Kitchen Garden are edible plants and herbs. It’s best described as an Elizabethan drugstore.

The fourth section is Shakespeare’s garden, where plants are paired plants with passages mentioned in Shakespeare's works. “The challenge was to find plants from 500 years ago that would display well alongside modern day species,” Says Anita. She found them: cowslip, peony, yellow flag, wild thyme, hyssop, and eryngium. Both the old names and the botanical names are used to identify them. There’s even Agrostemma githago, known before botanists renamed it as corn-cockle a common weed of wheat fields. Thanks to modern farming methods, it’s almost extinct in the land of Shakespeare. In this garden, it’s allowed to produce a mass of magenta flowers.

Given the hundreds of references to plants mentioned by Shakespeare in his plays and sonnets, had he failed as a playwright he might have been a gardener. Given the mystery surrounding his identity, maybe he was.

Beyond the Elizabethan Garden, in an expanse of lawn, is a carpet bed, a style that was all the rage in the Victorian era and is still popular in public gardens. A carpet bed is designed using low growing plants to present a smooth surface patterned as the name suggests. This one provides a contemporary connection with the theatre that particularly attracts the interest of theatre goers who may have only a passing interest in plants and gardens.

Anita tells me many carpet beds were established in the early days of the theatre by Dennis Washburn, of England. “All were taken out after renovation, but the public missed them and demanded they be put back in.” A round one seventeen feet in diameter was added at the time by Harry Jongerden, the head gardener who preceded Anita, and is now executive Director at the Toronto Botanical Garden. “Harry had the idea to take pictures or images associated with the plays and illustrate them in the garden.”

Anita continues the tradition, but for easier access for maintenance, she switched to a long, narrow bed, two metres wide and fifteen metres long. The carpet bed is planted in sections, separated by taller plants. In each of the sections, plants form a symbol representing six of the plays being performed during the season. The fun is in trying to guess which of six plays are represented.

Among them for the 2018 season were a map of Italy for Napoli Milionaria, a bottle and glass to
represent the bourbon consumed in a Long Day’s Journey into Night, and perhaps the easiest to discern, a pair of legs in high heels that could only be The Rocky Horror Picture Show. One of the shows for the 2019 season is Little Shop of Horrors. Now that could pose a challenge for Anita. Will we see the appearance of an Audrey II?

The carpet bed requires more than 2000 plants, mostly different coloured varieties of alternanthera with bands of ageratum and borders of alyssum. Planting it in spring is a tedious process, but it doesn’t end there. Throughout the season, every two weeks, the plants are hand trimmed by Anita to maintain the precision of the images. Sadly, when the first frost arrives in fall, the plants die and the images fade, as do those in the other gardens at Stratford Festival Theatre.

For Anita, the work doesn’t end. She’s as busy as ever, planting and replanting, keeping the gardens tidy until winter snow hides them. She reviews what worked and what didn’t in her continuing quest to get everything perfect, despite the vagaries of plants and weather. “It worries me when things don’t look the way I want them to. It motivates me to get it right.”

Ask any one of those fifteen hundred visitors if she did and I’m sure the answer would be, “She sure has.”

Longwood Gardens

Well it wasn’t an act of desperation, but driving ten hours to see living plants might appear that way. It all began with a suggestion by Rodger Tschanz, who many know as the fellow who runs the plant trials at the University of Guelph. “How about a road trip to see the Philadelphia Flower Show,” he said. “Why not,” was my reply, so off we went last week.

Was the show worth a ten hour drive? Absolutely, but mainly because Rodger had a side trip in mind that ensured the journey was memorable. As for the show, it is the one that inspired the original organizers of Canada Blooms. The concept is much the same, but the Philadelphia show is larger with a wider range of plant material that is easily shipped in from the south. We trekked through the show Monday evening and Tuesday morning, and certainly enjoyed it, but then we headed to Longwood Gardens, about a forty minute drive west of Philadelphia.

I’d heard much of the place, and heard it was impressive, but I wasn’t prepared for what I would see. Certainly, the 1,000 acres of gardens were snow covered as ours are, but the 20 indoor gardens covering 18,200 m² (4.5 acres) were open for visiting. These were the famous Longwood conservatories and they are truly magical. I’m not much of a lawn lover, but to see a lush green one in the middle of winter bordered by beds of clivia and bromeliads, is a sight to behold. This was the main conservatory, originally built to house an orangery. It’s the largest of the 20 areas under glass.

Eight indoor gardeners along with volunteers ensure absolute perfection of the floral displays that transform with the seasons. Birds sing and water softly burbles, while in the orchid house, 500 plants fill the air with fragrance. Orchids? We just happened to visit during Orchid Extravaganza (runs until March 30th) when nearly 5,000 orchids adorn columns and hang from baskets with a few thousand more as backups should a petal fall.

Meanwhile in the East Conservatory blue predominates with masses of hydrangeas and spires of Plectranthus thyrsoideus. In any other place, a Bird of Paradise would stand out, but here it is challenged by too many other stars. I particularly liked the Winter Red-Hot Poker plant, not our common orange variety of Kniphofia uvaria, but Veltheimia bracteata, an entirely different species in pink and white.

We covered most of the half mile of pathways and passages, passing through the Silver Garden, Acacia Passage, Cascade Garden, Palm House, and Mediterranean Garden, marvelling all the way. The following morning we returned, and whilst Rodger, who once spent a week here as a volunteer, met with colleagues to discuss tissue culture techniques, I had the good fortune to be turned loose in the  conservatories before they opened for the day. Alone except for the few gardeners, I was free to wander at will, putting miles on my camera. What a gift.

And who gave this gift? It’s all thanks to industrialist Pierre S. du Pont (1870–1954), heir to the family fortune of the DuPont company. He acquired the property in 1906 to save an existing arboretum, then went on to create the gardens and build the conservatories. Longwood is now operated as a private trust, and in addition to the gardens it offers educational opportunities through its graduate program and internships. It also hosts hundreds of arts and horticultural functions each year.

Now I’ve seen what Longwood offers indoors I must return some day to see the outdoor gardens. Sure, it was a long drive, but with the winter we’ve had it couldn’t have been a better time to visit — serendipity. Good idea, Rodger.