A cut above

WIW 8 / Mar 23

I’ve talked recently about piecemeal planting - admitting that at home I’m wanting the pick and mix of one plant here, one there, just to try them out and get the experience of growing them. But knowing, obviously, that this isn’t good garden design, and that for all my clients, I tell them about repetition and consistency of form, colour, structure and texture. 

So once again I’m drawn to the repeat use of one plant. And blimey, doesn’t it work? Really, this DOES work. 

[After I admitted last week that I tell the children to look up, I think I need to start enthusing them on the virtues of repetition for drama and impact…they will, of course, be delighted that their father is giving them yet another lecture, but hey…]

Photograph: Richard Bloom

Where It Works Higher Cherubeer, Devon: https://findagarden.ngs.org.uk/garden/17164/higher-cherubeer

Why It Works I have to be honest here. I really, really, really love this photo. If you don’t think it works, then you need to either read on or leave this page.

This 100% works. There. Said it.

Glowing in the winter sun is Salix alba var. vitellina ‘Britzensis’ – have you ever seen stooled willow like this before?

Look at the textural and colour differentiation between the splodgy and splashy white snowdrops, the dainty pink hellebores and then; bam! The ageing trunks of the willow, their orange and red fiery mohicans standing loud and proud. The lush green of the lawn offsets the drama above.

Consider that brilliant horizontal line of the pruning; it reminds me of that moment on a film when you see an underwater camera slowly pan into the sea, half the screen filled with sky, the other half filled with water.

Photograph: Richard Bloom

The cleanliness of the trunks is perfect – the fact that some are single, some have multiple branches. I love the fact that some are aged with moss and lichen. And that for all that consistency and similarity, they are all individuals. Think of a group of people, everyone in matching robes, matching hair cuts and singing the same song… but each person is subtly unique.

I’m not sure what you call this though. An avenue? A procession? An allee? A clumping? A collective? Maybe I’ll go for a ‘choir’. It seems right to me.

The willow’s colour sings at this time of year which is why they are grown like this, of course. Coral bark willow is in its element here, on the edge of Dartmoor, where in this part of the garden the soil is damp. In the summer it may have quite a different effect.

But why haven’t we seen this before (or maybe you have and I haven’t, but I like to think I’ve seen quite a few gardens over the years…)? It’s such a great idea if you have the space. Using plants in a different way is always so exciting but I do think planting innovation is somewhat limited. Of course the British eminents – Tom Stuart Smith at Knepp Castle, Keith Wiley in Devon, James Hitchmough, Nigel Dunnett, John Little et al – do do things differently and make us think. Yet I’m always thirsty for more.

This choir of willow seem to be the ultimate in right plant right place. And seem (though the owner could contradict me) to be of their time and location; not too much contrived thought, but an intention and ability to deliver the effect they wanted.

I love it and want it. Simple.

Chris Young

What do you think? Maybe you don’t love this, or really hate it? Let me know either way.