Arizona Desert Botanical Garden

The plan was to escape the snow for once, except this was the winter without any. Regardless, it didn’t discourage me from taking a trip south in February to do a little hiking around the red rock country in Arizona. Even there at higher elevations we walked in snow, but in Sedona apple blossoms were blooming. And down in Phoenix spring was well underway, a perfect time to explore the Desert Botanical Garden under a dazzling blue sky. I couldn’t possibly miss the opportunity to see this extraordinary garden filled with rare and unique plants of the Sonoran desert that covers much of the South West United States and parts of Mexico.

The Desert Botanical Garden was first conceived by local people back in the nineteen thirties who saw the need to preserve their native flora. The garden has grown to 58 hectares with more than 26 under cultivation containing fifty thousand plants: yuccas with flowers on four meter stalks; huge, spiky agaves; desert wildflowers; and of course, cacti in all shapes and sizes, including a bonus — at the main entrance stands a group of priceless ones created in glass by renowned sculptor, Dale Chilhuly.

Volunteers started the garden and it is volunteers who keep it humming along, all eleven hundred of them. I met a number stationed along the trails as interpreters, happy to talk to visitors about the plants in their care. One section named the Plants and People of the Sonoran Desert contains the plants that were used to house, clothe and sustain the desert dwellers of the past. Another is reserved as an outdoor classroom where cottonwood trees shade groups of schoolchildren who gather to study the plants and, with luck, grow up to be tree huggers, except hugging is not a good idea in this garden.

Getting around is easy on wide, paved trails — essential, as wandering off piste is neither permitted nor advisable where the majority of plants are assertive cacti, especially the huge, ubiquitous saguaro. This is the cactus of countless old westerns, the original cartoon cactus, growing as tall as fifteen meters with multiple arms reaching for the sky. Sue, one of the volunteers, was on hand to explain how the arms sprout forth to increase production of the night blooming flowers that appear in April. These are followed by ruby-coloured, edible fruit in June.

 

I also learned that when birds nest in holes pecked into the side of the Saguaro, the plant then cooperates by forming a smooth callus to line the hole, making a perfect nesting box. What did surprise me was the sight of a dead Saguaro. Somehow I thought it would simply turn mushy and rot away, but not so. Instead, it resembled a bundle of split cedar rails.

The trees and shrubs of the Sonoran are designed to retain water and reduce transpiration from their leaves. The cottonwood tree there has two sets of roots — one close to the surface that spread beyond the drip line and another that drives deep into the earth to reach the water table. The creosote shrub (Larrea tridentata) is another plant with a strong will to survive harsh conditions. It has no connection with the common wood preservative, but it does have many uses, particularly medicinal, though like many herbs, dangerous if used unwisely.

It really isn’t a friendly bush. To conserve moisture, it inhibits the growth of other plants in the area, while its small, resinous leaves wouldn’t spare a hint of moisture for the thirstiest coyote. When it does rain, however, the leaves fill the air with a pungent odour, considered unpleasant by some. Volunteer Janet showed me how to sample the fragrance by simply breathing on the leaves then taking a sniff — conclusion: more a deodoriser than a designer air freshener.

As usual, there were too many plants and too little time, but I thoroughly enjoyed my visit and highly recommend it for anyone passing through the Phoenix area, and it almost never snows in the Desert Botanical Garden.

Malaysian Borneo

I lost my hat in the South China Sea. It wasn’t the gentle, cooling breeze tempering the hot midday sun that whipped it away. It was the speed of the power boat I was riding in as it shuttled passengers between Kota Kinabalu, capital of Sabah state in East Malaysia and Sapi Island. Just a speedy ten minute boat ride offshore, the island is one of a group in the marine park named after Malaysia's first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman. Visitors are drawn to the Sapi’s white sandy beaches, swaying palm trees, and tropical rainforest, where huge monitor lizards can be seen lazing about at the forest edge. They wait patiently for visitors to leave, but curious macaque monkeys, with the same attitude as raccoons, will occasional leave the forest to see what’s for lunch.

Terrestrial wildlife aside, the park is one of the finest locations anywhere for scuba diving, but for the non diver, Sapi offers a unique experience — under water walking. The only requirements are the ability to walk and breathe — easy. I tried it and didn’t even get my hair wet. Wannabe Captain Nemos descend just a few meters to the sea floor wearing a weighted helmet that’s supplied with a steady flow of clean, filtered air. Groups are chaperoned by an experienced scuba diver, plus the area is cordoned off for safety. There was no need to walk far, however, as schools of curious, exotically coloured fish immediately show up to greet an alien invasion of their world. The experience was a delight, like being inside the aquarium for a change. It is one of many unique attractions awaiting the tourist willing to travel to the outer limits of a well travelled planet.

On the return trip from Sapi, the boat docked at Jesselton point. Jesselton is the former name of Kota Kinabalu, or KK as it is known. It was named after Sir Charles Jessel, a Vice Chairman of the British North Borneo Company at a time when Malaysia was under colonial rule. During World War II, Jesselton was abandoned then bombed by the retreating British to prevent it falling into enemy hands. After the war, the city was rebuilt by the new colonial government and, in 1968, eleven years after independence of Malaysia, it was renamed Kota Kinabalu.

During colonial times, Jesselton attracted adventurers, northern land pirates, and Foreign Service diplomats. One of those diplomats was Francis George Atkinson, the first District Officer during the British North Borneo Chartered Company Administration. He died of malaria in 1902 at the age of 28. As a memorial, his mother, Mary Edith Atkinson, had a clock tower erected on the highest hill in the city, Signal Hill, at that time known as Bukit Brace. The tower, used as a navigating aid for years is one of only three buildings to survive the wartime bombing. Also on Signal Hill is an observatory with platforms that offer amazing views of the city, the South China Sea, and the outlying islands, shorelines clustered with water villages.

To capture and preserve the history and culture of Borneo, the state of Sabah, in 1985, created an impressive complex containing a museum, botanical and zoological gardens, and a heritage village that shouldn’t be missed. The main museum building, inspired by the longhouses of the indigenous people of Borneo, contains a rich display of artifacts including, of course, a nice assortment of skulls. This was the home of head hunters in a bygone age. At least it was only my hat that I lost.

Now, with a population of half a million, and a popular gateway for travellers visiting Borneo, Kota Kinabalu is the fastest growing city in Malaysia. The increasing popularity among tourists hasn’t yet jaded its citizens, who are warm, friendly, and polite. To shop leisurely in the huge, waterfront handicraft market or in the main street market (where inexpensive pearls are a featured item) without being subjected to the slightest sales pressure is a rare pleasure for the traveller.

 The city, and Malaysia as a whole, has made huge strides in development in the relatively short time since independence. Construction may have produced a modern infrastructure including luxury hotels and modern, international airports, but tradition is respected. This is evident in the state mosque, a stunning building close to the centre of the city. It combines Islamic architecture with a contemporary design, and while the towers and majestic dome inlaid with gold motifs gleam in the sun, the interior of the building offers a respite from the heat of the day. Other than Fridays, which is a day of prayer for Muslims, visitors are welcome providing they follow the dress code — no shorts and covered heads for women. Equally impressive is the Kota Kinabalu City Mosque at Likas Bay. Like a desert mirage, it soars out of a man-made lagoon alongside the coastal highway on the outskirts of the city.

Mosques appear throughout Malaysia — Islam is the official religion — and they have an imposing presence in the same way as western churches and cathedrals do, but on the street, in the market, the atmosphere is pleasantly relaxed. Communication isn’t a problem. Although Malay, also known as Bahasa, is the official language, everyone seems to speak a little English, a useful remnant of the British Empire, while "Manglish" a mutation of the two languages mixed with local dialects is commonly used too. But, with echoes of Quebec, there are government plans to reduce the use of the local lingua franca while promoting correctly spoken Malaysian.

Whatever the language; shopping, eating, and getting directions there is simple — ask anyone where to find food and you’ll get a favourable response. Food is revered and relished in Malaysia, and with numerous ethnic groups plus sizable Indian and Chinese populations, there’s a huge range of deliciously varied and often integrated styles of cooking. The less adventurous gourmand will be happy to learn there is a solitary representative of the western fast food industry present downtown — a KFC store — open 24 hours.

Meanwhile, local restaurants serve up local game and endless varieties of chin dribbling fresh fruit, the stuff we’d pay a fortune for in our grocery stores — sweet and sour rambutan, much sweeter pulasan, which is rare outside south-east Asia, and the infamous durian, both revered and abhorred due to its unique fragrance. The strange odour even permeates the husk and has caused durian to be banned in many hotels and public places, and yet the fruit is delicious.

There’s abundant fresh sea food, with shellfish in particular prepared as take out food from street vendors to be eaten with fresh cili padi (small chillies) and a lime dipping sauce. For those who like to catch their own fish, the South China Sea around Kota Kinabalu and Sabah offers excellent sport fishing opportunities.

Away from the sea, inland, are the rain-forest mountains that rise to east of the city, only a couple of hours drive away. Dominating the skyline and giving the city its name is Mount Kinabalu. At 4,095 metres, the frequently cloud shrouded mountain is the highest in the Malaysian archipelago. The origin of the name is uncertain, possibly meaning a Chinese Widow or the revered place of the dead, but what is known for certain is the uniqueness of the mountain.

Its slopes and foothills hold an amazing number of plant species, including some of the rarest of orchids. The incredible biodiversity is due to the dramatic changes in climatic conditions that range from sea level through tropical to near freezing at the summit of the mountain. Wisely, in 1964, the government created the Kinabalu National Park, since designated as a World Heritage Site and one of the most important biological places in the world. It now attracts half a million visitors each year who arrive to see the unique species of plants, to try to spot the 326 species of birds found there, or simply to climb the mountain.

It doesn’t require mountaineering skills to conquer Kinabalu, but climbers are required to be accompanied by guides. A fit, well prepared person is expected to take less than two days to hike, clamber and crawl to the top. The average rainfall in the park is 2700 mm a year, enough to swim in, so it’s best to avoid the rainiest seasons. Attempts are best made during the driest period, from January to April, but note driest doesn’t mean rain free.

Naturally, there are competitive types who want to race to the top and their needs are provided for.
Super-fit athletes can challenge the mountain in one of the toughest mountain races in the world. The Mount Kinabalu International Climbathon was established in 1987 and takes place each October. It attracts a highly competitive, international field that must run a total distance of twenty-one kilometres up and down the mountain. It’s a gruelling race that was initially restricted to Malaysians, but was soon opened to international participants and now attracts the best mountain runners in the world. The best manage it in less than three hours. I’ll wait for the helicopter franchise to start up; meanwhile the bus ride back down the mountains to the city provided enough adventure. I held on to my new hat.

More on my Borneo adventure.

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.

Monet's Giverny

It was a single red poppy in a field of wheat beside a busy parking lot that caught my attention. The solitary flower had a calming affect on me after having just spent too short a time whirling through Claude Monet’s garden. It’s a busy place, visited as it is each year by half a million art lovers and gardeners from around the world. 

Those are the two main reasons to visit — to see what inspired his art or the garden that Monet created — or both. In reality, it is hard to separate the two.  I suppose I approached it as a gardener, but as soon as I stepped into the garden, it became less about plants and more about the images before me. I felt I was strolling through a living gallery of Monet’s art.

The sight of the oh so familiar water lily pond, however, featured so often in his paintings, managed to evoke a little gardener envy. The strolling pathway meanders around it, bordered by weeping willows, Japanese maples, bamboo and irises, allowing for a constantly changing perspective of the famous lilies. I crossed over one of the most painted and photographed bridges in the world beneath a huge blanket of wisteria. When in bloom a week or two earlier, the fragrance would have been heavenly.

I skipped taking my own picture of the bridge, crowded as it was with pond viewers and left to enter the main garden. The two areas are separate, each a couple of acres in size divided by a busy road. Monet began developing the gardens after moving there in 1883, then ten years later bought the land across the road where he had the pond dug. He would only have had to dodge the occasional horse and cart, but distracted visitors can now cross safely by way of a tunnel.

The garden is described as a Clos Normand, enclosed by walls and planted much as an English cottage garden filled with annuals and perennials and roses. Oh the roses — huge and healthy, masses of them all in bloom growing over arbors and walls, competing with clematis, fighting for space on the ivy covered house and filling flower beds.

The beds are simple and not for the neatnik. They’re long and narrow and don’t meet any concept of current landscape design. They stretch down the gentle slope from the house, each one a slightly different palette from its neighbours, filled with endless clumps of plants chosen to contrast or complement in colour, texture, shape and size. It’s peak time for poppies, purple and mauve against a perfect shroud of Verbena bonariensis, just one example of Monet’s artistic skill. Monet sure knew his colours.

Due to the number of visitors the narrow inner walkways between the beds are cordoned off, which is wise. Fill them with people and it would look like a checkout line at a garden center, and it would increase maintenance work for the gardeners, all eight of them.

The head gardener is now British born James Priest who only started his job on June 1^st, a couple of days after I visited the garden. He’s a 53-year-old Kew trained horticulturalist from Liverpool, but he has lived in France for 27 years. Priest has stated his intent is to ensure Monet’s concept is fully realized with a review of the original garden. 

After Monet died in 1926, the garden deteriorated and was eventually abandoned, the flower beds covered in turf and the pond soon filled with silt.  Restoration only began in the late 1970s by Gerald van der Kamp, curator of the property, with head gardener Gilbert Vahe. His retirement after 35 years tending the garden opened up an opportunity for James Priest to take over.

After only an hour or two there, I had to leave too, to return to my own garden where there are a couple of poppies waiting to bloom.

Homeward Bound

My tree peony had a huge bud on it at the beginning of June but I never saw it bloom. In fact, I missed a lot of things happening in my garden during the first couple of weeks of the month. I didn't see the first rose blossoms or the first water lily flower, things I look forward to with eager anticipation.

I didn't mind at all missing these garden highlights as I was away on a two week garden tour of Northern England. Not a typical organised garden tour, travelling on a luxury coach, staying at five star hotels and dining with Jamie Oliver. Mine was an unorganised tour, more often disorganised. I was mainly visiting family, but found time to do my own tour on foot and in a rental car.

Yorkshire moors, heather in bloom

I made numerous serendipitous discoveries of remarkable gardens simply by leaving my sister's house and wandering around the village. It's located in the Holme Valley, which extends upwards from an old industrial city onto moorland in the heart of the Peak District, Britain's first national park — hilly country where farmland is crisscrossed with dry stone walls. In the numerous villages, older houses are stacked on top of each other,  complete with front yards, some of reasonable size, though often barely large enough for a planter. But if there is room for one, it will be there. Not every front garden is worthy of a magazine feature, but the sheer number and variety of styles is remarkable.

While driving, I frequently turned a corner only to slam on the brakes, astonished at the sight of a garden perched in the strangest of places, while hearing cries of  "Not again Dad" from the back seat. The excitement of discovery was only surpassed by the thrill of driving on the wrong side of narrow, steep, twisty roads that were designed for horses and asses, not motor vehicles, and it's no surprise to find that many asses are now driving cars — often stopping suddenly to leap out for closer looks at front gardens. Stop signs are rare and when yield is occasionally suggested by a rusty sign or couple of dotted lines across the road, it's only a vague concept. When oncoming traffic approaches, it becomes  a matter of squeezing the car against a stone wall on the left while allowing side mirrors to air kiss as they pass.

York Gate

I also travelled beyond the valley to visit two gardens that are open to the public, both of which were worth the whole trip. I first visited York Gate near the city of Leeds. It is a masterpiece, considered by many as one of the best small gardens (one acre) in the world. Created by the Spencer family between 1951 and 1994 on a property that was formerly a farm, the garden is based on the "garden room" concept popularised by Lawrence Johnston's Hidcote. There are fourteen "rooms" with enticing names like Dell, Canal, Nut Walk, Sybil's Garden, Pinetum, Fern Border, and Old Orchard.

Each one is unique, meticulously designed, and yet travelling between them was seamless, even though every garden feature you can possibly imagine has been somehow included. I passed along pathways through a sequence of scenes, each culminating in yet another focal point, be it an eight foot high sundial, a grouping of bonsai, a labyrinth — even a compost heap. Everything, including the potting shed with its collection of vintage garden tools, was perfectly situated. At every turn, I discovered rare and unusual plants, including a favourite — a blue Himalayan poppy — made my day.

The garden wasn't at all crowded with visitors, but at an arch beside the greenhouse, I had to wait my turn to get a closer look at a crinodendron in full bloom. Each scarlet-red flower looks like a tiny, perfect lantern, and the shrub was covered with enough to light a whole street. Across the pathway on the gable of the eighteen century house a Pyrocantha was growing, so dense and perfectly espaliered, it resembled a green brick wall. Around the corner, I bumped into a ceanthus — blooms as blue as blue eyes and buzzing with bees. I have the perfect place for such a shrub in my garden, but alas, like many of the rare plants in this garden it will not survive our climate.

I spent most of an idyllic afternoon exploring, sipping tea in the tearoom and chatting with the volunteers who help out. On Sybil Spencer's death in 1994, York Gate passed into the care of Perennial, Gardeners' Royal Benevolent Society, a charity that will continue to maintain the garden in accordance with Sybil Spencer’s wish that it will continue to attract visitors for both education and pleasure.

The second garden I visited was at Parcevall Hall, a gardener's heaven of thirty acres located on a remote hillside near the village of Appletreewick in the Yorkshire Dales. Like York Gate, it was originally a farm, the farmhouse turned into a country home in 1926 by Sir William Milner and is now run as a private retreat house.

Parcevall Hall

A few hours wasn't enough to explore everything the garden offered, but we tried, galloping up and down the terraces and through a wood with the magical name of Tarn Ghyll, darting between the Camelia Walk and the Chapel Garden. I can't begin to describe the beauty and tranquility of this place. The collection of plants is immense, including many rare ones that have never been marketed, particularly rhododendrons. No runty looking shrubs here. They were the size of large garden sheds covered in blooms in the most amazing colours from yellow through pinks and reds to purples.

From the formal gardens, we followed the meandering woodland pathways upward to emerge at the cliff walk gasping, not so much from the climb but at the reward, a stunning view across the surrounding countryside, of green hills far away, laced together with limestone walls, the deep valley of Trollers Gill below. Sir William chose wisely when he set his garden in an area of such natural beauty, but only by visiting during all four seasons could this paradise be fully appreciated.

I'm home now, pulling the weeds that have taken advantage, deadheading spent blossoms, and happy to see that there's still one unopened bud on my tree peony.

Reford Gardens -- Les Jardins de Métis

Drive thirteen hours just to look at a garden? Are you crazy? Some might think so, but not serious plant and garden lovers. Sooner or later they all add this one to their list of gardens to visit. It’s been on my own list for years but I never got around to it until last week when I suggested a road trip to fellow gardener, Mat. The garden in question is Reford Gardens, also known as Le Jardins de Métis, an English-style garden on the banks of the St. Lawrence near Grand-Métis, Quebec.

This historic garden, on the site of a family fishing camp, was created in the 1920s by Elsie Reford, and has been open to the public since 1962. The twenty acre garden, now under the care of her grandson, Alexander Reford, has become a magnet for gardeners intent on seeing this remarkable place. Many are attracted by the hope of seeing the famous blue poppy, Meconopsis betonicifolia — and of course, a sublime garden filled with thousands of other notable plants.

This is why Mat and I were on the road at 4:30 a.m., with a 1200 kilometer drive ahead of us. After a stop to see the roses in the Montreal Botanical garden, we arrived in Metis-sur-Mer just in time to watch a beautiful sunset over the St. Lawrence. We hoped that it portended a sunny day for our garden tour. Alas, daybreak brought torrential rain and thunderstorms. There was little to do but wait in our hotel, Domaine Annie Sur Mer, for the weather to clear. It didn’t, but we hadn’t travelled all that way to sit around looking out on grey skies and grey water, so after reminding (or maybe convincing) ourselves that gardens always look best on cloudy, even rainy days, off we went.

Our somewhat damp enthusiasm was rewarded when, as we entered the garden, the rain eased then stopped completely — what a gift. There was no sunshine but we were beaming as we walked through a still dripping spruce forest along puddled pathways and over the wooden bridges that crisscross the small creek.

It was here that Elsie Reford created the heart of her garden. The pathways wind by the moss covered stone walls she built to stabilize the steep slopes. Azaleas of yellow and orange lit up the forest as masses of candelabra primula spilled down to the edge of the creek. Everywhere, forest-dwelling ferns gently softened the colourful plantings. Okay, I could go on about countless gorgeous plants — and of course the amazing blue poppies, but there’s so much more to this garden, including a lupine filled meadow.

A major attraction are the twenty-seven other gardens currently in place as part of the annual garden festival that makes Reford Gardens a unique horticultural tourist destination. These conceptual gardens, many of which are permanent, are created by designers from around the world. Artistic and sculptural, they’re designed to amaze, evoke, and puzzle over — ever seen trees other than in of Lord of the Rings that move across the forest floor? We did.

There was even a place for that blight of gardens everywhere, pink flamingoes. At Reford they were delightfully displayed in The Veil Garden as a flock advancing through ferns. I may have to consider finding room in my own garden for a few — or maybe in Mat’s garden.

I could attempt to describe our visit in endless detail, but I wouldn’t be able to capture the magic of Elsie Reford’s dream, enhanced impressively by talented designers. It’s the kind of place that simply has to be seen, but only if you’re up for a long road trip and willing to take a chance on having perfect garden viewing weather, as we did — the kind of rain we dearly need around here. Learn more here: Le Jardins de Métis See images

Hampton Court Flower Show

From the 4th to the 9th of July, 2023 is the Hampton Court Flower Show, and I had the opportunity to attend the show a few years ago. I’ve been to the rival Chelsea Flower Show a number of times with groups, but never Hampton, so I took the opportunity while visiting family in the UK in Yorkshire to zip down the M1 motorway to London for the show. Given the traffic jams the show generates, the zip kept sticking, but thanks to a 4:00 a.m. start, my daughter and I made it for opening time.

Up at 4:00 a.m. to see flowers? Yes, but these shows, despite the name, are about much more than flowers. They’re like Mecca for gardeners, top of countless bucket lists. They feature gardens designed by the world’s best, the very latest in new plant introductions, and more garden paraphernalia to purchase (including buckets) than one could possibly imagine.

The shows, both presented by the Royal Horticultural Society, are similar in content though held at different times of year — Chelsea in spring and Hampton in summer — which means the floral content differs, and at 25 acres (10 hectares), Hampton covers an area more than twice the size of Chelsea. The latter is in the heart of London where it’s easier to access by public transportation, and with a capped attendance it does seem easier to get around. Due to the sprawling nature of Hampton and the afternoon crowds streaming in, we did leave uncertain that we’d seen absolutely everything, but we did see plenty.

As expected, the display gardens were immaculate; colours divinely coordinated in the most surprising combinations that looked perfectly matched. Never again will I say two particular colours don’t look well together. One group of gardens used colour effectively to interpret a specific theme, that of the seven deadly sins. The theme of anger was indeed blazing mad with Japanese blood grass inter-planted with reds and oranges of yarrow and echinacea pierced by golden spikes of kniphofia, all in a bed of smoking lava. 

Gluttony was amusingly represented by giant food cans used as planters, the sardine can appropriately a water garden. The concept for envy was depicted by a grassy meadow in shades of brown. On a mound in the centre, enclosed by a screen of green Perspex, a lawn of artificial grass clipped to perfection — the grass is always greener . . .

These were the conceptual gardens while others were categorized as summer gardens, large show gardens (Australia took a gold), and smaller ones described as your garden, your budget. These modest
gardens were designed to demonstrate how a high quality garden can be achieved on a budget; the budgets for these ranging, ahem, from twelve to twenty-five thousand dollars. I may never look at a cell pack of annuals the same way.

Those attending the show with a far less restrictive budget than me had plenty of opportunity to spend wildly. I was tempted but had to pass on the giant bronze statue of a snail and the huge stone horse trough planter due to my flight baggage limit. I left the show with only a freebie packet of seed (Ammi majus).

Beyond the gardens and marketplace of the show, there were wonderful learning opportunities. A number of plant societies were present offering their specialized knowledge, while a display by the RHS called the invisible garden contained a number of interactive displays with microscopes. It encouraged visitors to discover the fascinating unseen world of insects, fungi and the myriad of other creatures that are invisible, yet so essential to a garden.

There was so much to see and so little time as the zippy motorway home awaited us. It was worth the drive.

Visit The Royal Botanical Gardens

It’s not far, only a half hour drive away. Maybe you’re a regular visitor. It’s hugely popular, although for many it’s one of those back of the mind, been meaning to visit places. And there will be others who’ve never heard of it, but they should. The Royal Botanical Gardens in Burlington is the largest botanical garden in Canada, a national historical site, and a jewel of Ontario that we can enjoy year-round.

There are distinct areas to discover there: Hendrie Park on Plains Road holds the main cultivated gardens. It’s beside the RBG Centre, which holds the Mediterranean Garden. It's the RBG's only conservatory and it’s filled with tropical plants, a toasty warm place to visit on a winter’s day. Nearby is the Laking Garden, and around the corner along York Boulevard is the newly restored Rock Garden and the Arboretum. Beyond are natural areas with miles of trails that meander along the watery shores of Cootes Paradise, the marshy bay at the western end of Lake Ontario.

The gardens have been around for a hundred years and became “Royal” in 1930 when King George V gave the nod of approval. The place may be historic, however, it is thoroughly modern and there is a timeless quality to the plants and trees in the cultivated gardens and in the 1,100 hectares of the nature sanctuary. The Royal Botanical Gardens is a place of large numbers, in size and range of plants.

Visit in spring when 600 varieties of lilacs flood the lilac dell with that lovely familiar fragrance. Wander through the arboretum and you might finally identify that tree down your street that everyone argues about. Follow the Anishinaabe waadiziwin trail featuring indigenous plants or visit the Nature Interpretive Centre.

If native plants especially interest you, do see the Helen M. Kippax Wild Plant Garden in the Grindstone Creek Valley that adjoins Hendrie Park. Helen Kippax was of the Stedman family (a household name thanks to the hundreds of familiar, eponymous department stores located in communities across the country. She was one of the founding members of the Canadian Society of Landscape Architects and Town Planners and was a frequent visitor and supporter of the RBG. In the 1940s, Helen would often take her nieces Mary, Margaret, and Ruth Stedman to visit the gardens where she passed on her love of horticulture to them. These visits resulted in a generous donation to the RBG by Mary Stedman and her late sisters and in 2008 the Helen M. Kippax Wild Plant Garden opened.

Inspiring and educational, this one-acre garden features six unique, native ecosystems filled with 15,000 plants, including 135 species of native trees, shrubs, perennials and grasses. The setting includes a band of richly diverse Carolinian forest characterized by trees and shrubs typically seen in the more southerly Carolinas. The other zones in the garden are Ontario prairie, oak savannah, woodland edge, and wetlands, all of which provide lush habitats that attract a range of wildlife. The gardens not only celebrate the life and legacy of Helen Kippax, but also offer visitors ideas and examples of balanced, low-maintenance ecosystems that can be adapted to their own landscapes.

There are more landscape ideas for the gardener in the adjoining Hendrie Park with its twelve themed garden areas where there are thousands of individual plants. Renowned is the Centennial Rose Garden which reopened in 2018 following a complete restoration. After fifty years, despite the best efforts of RBG's horticulture team, the original hybrid tea and floribunda roses were suffering from the same problems many rose growers face — damage from insects and disease. Appearance is everything in such a prestigious location, so the decision was made; they had to go.

The complete rose garden was replaced — including the soil. Half a metre was excavated and trucked away, and with it the residue of years of pesticides and fungicides use. After the soil was replaced and a trickle irrigation system installed, pathways were upgraded and made fully accessible. Gazebos, obelisks, and a reflecting pool went in, and an array of new informative signs installed to tell the story of roses.

Ah, the roses — 3,300 gorgeous, hardy, and disease resistant ones, 300 cultivated varieties in all. To deal with pests, the roses were interplanted with four thousand companion plants selected to repel pests and attract beneficial insects. This represents a modern, environmentally conscious approach to growing roses.

It’s also the ecologically sound approach the RBG that began in the Rock Garden which underwent a $20 million facelift in 2016. This has to be my favourite area, now named the David Braley & Nancy Gordon Rock Garden. Their generosity with donations from the local community and a $14 million commitment split between the Federal and Ontario governments funded a stunning restoration.

The Rock Garden was first created in 1929 with ten thousand tonnes of limestone quarried from the Red Hill Valley on the Niagara Escarpment. Originally an old gravel pit, the rock garden transformed a place of hard labour into one of natural beauty and relaxation. For decades it was a place for people to escape from the city and connect with nature, and a playground for kids who loved to clamber up and over the huge rocks that are still in place today.

Originally, 45,000 perennials grew in the garden. About half of these remain, and almost all the trees, fully grown now and towering over the garden. During the renovation, almost as many new plants were added and there are now more than 2,000 species growing there among the rocks and in the park-like setting below.

Hovering above is the magnificent new visitor centre constructed with arching Douglas fir beams and a glass wall that looks onto the gardens beyond. The centre is a multi-use building that wedding planners love. From there, undulating pathways and steps descend through the massive rocks and into the gardens below. For the physically challenged, alternate routes follow fully accessible pathways with gentle grades, which continue along and through plantings of rare trees and beautiful specimen plants. Drifts of grasses and flowers line the paths and border the pools that are fed by a waterfall cascading from the rock face. As the seasons change, so do the swaths of colour.

Across the road from the rock garden is the Laking Garden. Long ago this area, bigger than a pair of football fields, was a market garden, supplying produce to the neighbouring cities. Today, it holds the RBG’s collection of almost 40,000 perennial plants. Here, you can walk among a small forest of steel “trees”, sculptures that provide support for unique varieties of clematis selected from the thousands of hybrids. They climb and twine and when in bloom the trees become jaw dropping columns of colour.

Across the way are the iris and peony collections. When viewed in June and July from the belvedere at the head of the garden, the serried plantings become a multicolored carpet. Up close, it’s like walking among row after row of bouquets, every flower a gorgeous hue.

Other flowerbeds are brimming with a couple of thousand varieties of other perennials. The Laking Garden is where to discover plants that could feature in your own garden, and see them growing at their best, which is just one of the many roles of a botanical garden. The RBG connects people with plants and nature, it introduces them to the beauty and diversity, and helps preserve species and habitats that are vanishing.

It also provides courses, workshops, camps, and school programs year-round. There’s so much to see and do at the Royal Botanical Gardens. Maybe this is the year pay a visit and discover all it has to offer. It’s only a short drive away.