BISHOP’S HATS & FRINGECUPS
The daffodils and tulips have had their day, the peonies and iris are almost there, but not quite. There is a week, sometimes two, when we are without frills and ruffles.
MAY
Pedestal bowl in oyster grey glaze
Small kenzan
Chicken wire
Alum root (Heuchera ‘Caramel’)
Avens (Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’ & ‘Mai Tai’)
Bishop’s hat (Epimedium x versicolour ‘Sulphureum’)
Drooping star-of-Bethlehem (Ornithogalum nutans)
Earthsmoke (Fumaria officianalis)
Gentian speedwell (Veronica gentianoides)
Jacob’s Ladder (Polemonium ‘Lambrook Mauve’)
Mountain valerian (Polemonium carneum ‘Apricot Delight’)
Periwinkle (Vinca difformis ‘Jenny Pym’)
Scorpionweed (Phacelia tanacetifolia)
We call this specific moment in the garden year ‘the May gap’. The daffodils and tulips have had their day, the peonies and iris are almost there, but not quite. There is a week, sometimes two, when we are without frills and ruffles. This - annually - sends me into an apologetic spin (on behalf of the seasons?!) for the lack of blowsy, voluptuous focal flowers and this - annually - means I get snapped at by Jess to keep my cool and embrace this limitation, to take it as our cue to zoom in on the incredible intricacy of the details on display in the garden beds. She is right (of course) and it feels great to shed this in-built sense of hierarchy that leads us to prioritise ‘face flowers’ over the frailer - but exquisite - stars, spires and feathers that generously proliferate through the borders as we inch toward late spring. So, in the spirit of this, we have a centrepiece recipe that is all about the details - curling tendrils, humorous wiggles and texture galore. The scorpionweed is, as the name suggests, a weed, but we love it and happily allow it to crop up in the garden where it chooses, which is in the driest, warmest bed in the polytunnel. A special shout-out to the leaves in this one - Heuchera and Epimedium, chosen for their warm lime and caramel foliage which not only provide a contrast in temperature and form but act as ground cover to gently disguise the mechanics beneath.
RETURN TO RECIPES
KOREAN LILAC & CATMINT
At the moment I am very into imaginary lines, journeys, paths and waves. And also breaking the odd-number-rule, but it only works if you place the flowers on a diagonal and at differing depths
APRIL
Ceramic waisted vase in oyster grey glaze
Small kenzan
Chicken wire
Catmint (Nepeta ‘Six Hills Giant’)
Deutzia (Deutzia x hybrida ‘Mont rose’)
Fiddleneck (Phacelia tanacetifolia)
Jacob’s Ladder (Polemonium caeruleum ‘Brize d’Anjou)
Korean lilac (Syringa meyeri ‘Palibin’)
Mountain clematis (Clematis montana ‘Elizabeth’)
Pink garlic (Allium trifoliatum ‘Chameleon’)
Sweet pea (Lathyrus odoratus ‘Oyama Russian Blue’)
Tulip (Tulipa ‘Danique’)
(If you need) another tulip for your wishlist… let it be the perennial ‘Danique’ - she’s elegant, dainty and a good mid-pink but then opening to reveal a pale brown centre. I love anything muddy, particularly with pastels - a disruptor amidst her politely pretty companions. This is a very small vase, only 12cm or so in height, so the crepey Clematis gladly take on the role of a ‘focal’ flower. At the moment I am very into imaginary lines, journeys, paths and waves. And also breaking the odd-number-rule, but it only works if you place the flowers on a diagonal and at differing depths, to avoid the eye/boob thing that admittedly isn’t as visually pleasing as eyes, or boobs for that matter. The variegated Jacob’s ladder was added to the recipe last-minute to lift the predominantly cool palette of cool pinks, purples and browny-green leaves of the Deutzia with a dash of something warm and acidic - rather like adding a squeeze of lemon or a pinch of chilli to a dish, if I might use the food analogy again (always relevant). This is a good tip for arrangements that feel predictable or flat; they probably need a splash of another temperature, or something a little ‘off’ to bring them to life.
RETURN TO RECIPES
EARTH SMOKE, CHINA TOWN
This is a good example of the way the garden is intrinsic to how we design, and in a way, we are just plagiarising what nature does so brilliantly and randomly of its own accord.
EARTH SMOKE, CHINA TOWN
APRIL
Ceramic urn in speckled tobacco glaze
Medium kenzan
Chicken wire
Earthsmoke (Fumaria officinalis)
Honeysuckle (Lonicera periclymenum)
Persian Lily (Fritillaria persica, ‘Green Dreams’ & ‘Minaret’)
Pittosporum (Pittosporum tenuifolium 'Silver Queen’)
Pointed Petal Fritillary (Fritillaria acmopetala)
Tulip (Tulipa ‘China Town’, Ridgedale’, ‘Purple Doll’)
The tulips are flowering thick and fast in the garden now, protected from the buffeting spring winds in the balmy warmth of a covered tunnel. We’ve been trialling a lot of new varieties this year alongside some old favourites and there’s a combination of both in this shapely spring urn arrangement. We adore ‘China Town’ for her exquisite shell-pink petals feathered with streaks as though someone has drunkenly taken a paintbrush to them loaded with apple green paint. ‘Purple Doll’ is new to us - exceptional - and, though I’ve rather gone off the double peony-shaped tulips lately in favour of the smaller species varieties, ‘Ridgedale’ is making me think twice… The colours are pretty sexy… copper, crimson, brown, tan - a solid dark focal that blends well with the dusky plums and purples of the fritillaries; here I (rather greedily) used three varieties of Fritillaria persica, removing plenty of leafage to avoid them overcrowding one another AND the daintier humbug-striped bells of Fritillaria acmopetala in a staggered line formation through the middle, making the most of their excellent stem length.
But perhaps the real hero (heroine?) of this arrangement is the humblest of common weeds - earthsmoke (Fumaria officianalis) which crops up here and there around the garden and particularly likes the warmth of the tunnels. This is a good example of the way the garden is intrinsic to how we design, and in a way, we are just plagiarising what nature does so brilliantly and randomly of its own accord - the earthsmoke had self sown among the ‘Ridgedale’ tulips (“leave them, don’t weed them out!” we say to Johnny) to make a delicious vignette. The feathery leaves work so well with those of the other foliages - all a cool, silvery green - and contrast with those of the honeysuckle, which have a warm brown flush to them that links neatly back to the smoky fritillaries. And there’s another nice conversation going on between the ‘China Town’ tulips and the Pittosporum, both blushing with streaks of palest pink.
RETURN TO RECIPES
FORSYTHIA, DAFFS, PERSIAN LILY
Nothing says ‘spring has sprung’ to me like Fritillaria. Every winter I count down the days until these incredible flowers are back and this week the studio was graced with their presence once again.
FORSYTHIA, DAFFS, PERSIAN LILY
MARCH
Ceramic urn in speckled tobacco glaze
Medium kenzan
Chicken wire
Crown imperial (Fritillaria imperialis)
Daffodil (Narcissus 'Blushing Lady' & ‘Replete’)
Flowering currant (Ribes sanguineum ‘White Icicle’)
Forsythia (Forsythia x intermedia)
Goat willow (Salix caprea)
Persian lily (Fritillaria persica)
St. John’s wort (Hypericum lancasteri)
Nothing says ‘spring has sprung’ to me like Fritillaria. Every winter I count down the days until these incredible flowers are back and this week the studio was graced with their presence once again. We grow many different varieties and the differences between them are remarkable - some, like ‘Uva Vulpis’, ‘Elwesii’ and ‘Meleagris’ are slimmed-stemmed, with intricately-marked nodding bells - very dainty, perfect for gestural use in bouquets and small bowls and vases. Others, like ‘Persica’ and ‘Imperialis’, both of which I used in this arrangement, are chunky and sculptural with thick beefy trunks decorated with blade-like leaves and spiralling bells that taper - the ultimate flowers right now for larger vases, urns and installations. I particularly love the brownish purple of ‘Persica’ and how, though they might be growing relatively straight when cut, after a day or two in the vase, they start to curve and contort into wonderful wiggly shapes, like tulips do. They pair particularly well with yellow and peachy orange, which I brought in with the Narcissi - so uplifting on these still-cold and greyish days, a true gift from the garden.
CURRANT & PERIWINKLE
How delicious it is to handle these vibrant blues and purples after the long winter! At this time of the year I crave colour but find that I tend to err towards palettes that are analogous or tonal.
CURRANT & PERIWINKLE
MARCH
Korean bowl
Small kenzan
Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum)
Flowering currant (Ribes sanguineum 'White Icicle')
Hellebore (Helleborus 'Harvington Red', ‘Harvington Black’ & 'Harvington White Speckled')
Hyacinth (Hyacinthus 'City of Bradford')
Periwinkle (Vinca major)
Windflower (Anemone 'Mistral Azzurro')
How delicious it is to handle these vibrant blues and purples after the long winter! At this time of the year I crave colour but find that I tend to err towards palettes that are analogous or tonal. It’s as though a greater contrast would be impolite, somehow - jumping ahead too quickly. Better to ease into the season with tentative exploration and reacquaint ourselves! Green, though, especially the soft limes and rich mid-greens that begin to appear March onwards - these are a good way to keep the composition balanced and refreshingly leafy. I had originally envisaged using a miniature daffodil as a complementary pairing to the violet periwinkle but often with yellow I find that this has already been provided by the stamens and the way the light fell on the pendant-like currant flowers and the mustard centres of the hellebores seemed sufficient so I set the yellow daffs aside for another day. The dead nettle is a herbaceous perennial weed that crops up around the garden and we’re rather fond of - it’s pretty, a useful ground-cover in the garden and filler in arrangements, and ecologically valuable, providing nectar for bees when there are few other sources around.
BLACK IRIS, POPPY LEAF, FRITILLARY
The grey, lichen-draped rose stems and the velvety brown iris keep the arrangement muted - it feels very capricious and early spring to me - moments of warmth and sunny exuberance tempered by scudding clouds and a sudden hailstorm.
BLACK IRIS, POPPY LEAF, FRITILLARY
MARCH
Vase with a tenmoku glaze by Made in Cley
Black iris (Iris tuberosa)
Daffodil (Narcissus 'Polar Hunter' & Narcissus cordubensis)
Poppy (Papaver rhoeas 'Amazing Grey')
Radde's fritillary (Fritillaria raddeana)
Rose (Rosa 'Rambling Rector')
After hellebores the Narcissi are the first flowers to really start coming through from the garden in any quantity, early spring, accompanied in dribs and drabs by anemones, squill, black or widow iris and fritillaries. ‘Polar Hunter’ is among the eager frontrunners - strongly perfumed, long stemmed, multi-headed in a green-tinted white. I’ve paired it with the miniature Fernandes daffodil - a fragrant jonquil variety with much smaller flower heads and shorter stems. But this confident little flower seems to hold her own, especially in clusters. The golden petals are slightly curved and twisted, warranting a closer look and then you catch the scent… I like the way the grey, lichen-draped rose stems and the velvety brown iris keep the arrangement muted - it feels very capricious and early spring to me - moments of warmth and sunny exuberance tempered by scudding clouds and a sudden hailstorm.
PEONY, POPPY, DYING LEAVES
This arrangement began with one single Heuchera leaf - soft yellow with a bleeding raspberry pink outline. I took this with me around the garden searching for materials that either matched or closely complemented these two colours.
PEONY, POPPY, DYING LEAVES
MAY
Allium (Allium ‘Gladiator’)
Alum root (Heuchera 'Ginger Ale')
Bitter dock (Rumex obtusifolius)
California poppy (Eschscholzia californica ‘Red Chief’)
Goat’s beard (Aruncus dioicus)
Fringe cups (Tellima grandiflora)
Intersectional peony (Peonia Itoh ‘Canary Brilliants’)
Mountain clematis (Clematis montana 'Marjorie')
Peony (Peonia ‘Claire de Lune’)
Persian lily (Fritillaria persica)
Poppy (Papaver ‘Shirley’)
Sacred bamboo (Nandina domestica)
Sweet pea (Lathyrus odoratus ‘King’s Ransom’)
This arrangement began with one single Heuchera leaf - soft yellow with a bleeding raspberry pink outline. I took this with me around the garden searching for materials that either matched or closely complemented these two colours. On the way I found the bleached Fritillaria persica which, having flowered earlier in the spring and now spent, have begun to fade to a creamy yellow. The dock leaf was a serendipitous find - yellowing too, though perhaps due to lack of water (it has been a dry spring so far) it was also marked with raspberry blotches. These ingredients might easily be dismissed as being ‘over’ or imperfect but I say that if they are useful within a colour palette, within an arrangement, then why overlook them? The combination of the peonies and zesty poppies with the unexpected addition of the flawed foliage is very evocative of our garden at this stage in late spring.
QUINCE, PEPPERMINT, CHOCOLATE
When creating a distinctly sculptural shape like this I really assess my branches - laying them out on the table or floor, appraising their shapes and natural bent - which way do they want to lean?
QUINCE, PEPPERMINT, CHOCOLATE
APRIL
Terracotta vase
Chicken wire
Chocolate vine (Akebia quinata)
Cranesbill (Geranium)
Daffodil (Narcissus 'Bell Song')
Hornbeam (Carpinus caroliniana)
Lady tulip (Tulipa clusiana 'Lady Jane')
Ornamental quince (Chaenomeles speciosa)
Pennycress (Thlaspi arvense)
Warley’s epimedium (Epimedium x warleyense)
When creating a distinctly sculptural shape like this I really assess my branches - laying them out on the table or floor, appraising their shapes and natural bent - which way do they want to lean? Which arc upwards, which curve or trail down towards the floor? I allow the branches to extend skyward and the vines to tumble. The flowers are grouped (clustered by type) and the epimedium sprinkled throughout for a peppery effect between the larger flowers.
RETURN TO RECIPES
QUINCE, SPIRAEA, HELLEBORE
I use the hand-vase technique (covered in detail in our forthcoming online course ‘Bouquets’), arranging the stems into my hand as if it were a vessel and allowing the ingredients space to breath and show off their individual curves and quirks.
QUINCE, SPIRAEA, HELLEBORE
APRIL
Flowering currant (Ribes sanguineum 'White Icicle')
Hellebore (Helleborus 'Harvington Double Pink Speckled', 'Harvington Red' & 'Ice n' Roses')
Japanese spiraea (Spiraea japonica 'Firelight')
Ornamental quince (Chaenomeles speciosa)
Poppy anemone (Anemone coronaria 'De Caen')
Snakeshead fritillary (Fritillaria meleagris)
Snowmound spirea (Spiraea nipponica 'Snowmound')
Van Houtte's spirea (Spiraea vanhouttei)
A layered hand-tied bouquet of spindly spring branches and hellebores. I use the hand-vase technique (covered in detail in our forthcoming online course ‘Bouquets’), arranging the stems into my hand as if it were a vessel and allowing the ingredients space to breath and show off their individual curves and quirks. The branches sketch the outline shape, the leafy foliage also acting as filler for structure and support. The hellebores are the leading ladies - every flower head displaying interesting colour variation and I group these light-to-dark interspersing with the coral quince blossom. For movement and lightness the fritillaries and poppy anemone sway and dangle above the rest.
POET'S DAFFODIL
I choose two types of branch - one blossoming (Prunus spinosa), one leafy (Carpinus), two ‘filler’ foliages (Luzula & Epimedium), a spire flower (Fritillaria), a focal flower (Narcissus) and a gestural flower (Leucojum).
POET’S DAFFODIL
APRIL
American hornbeam (Carpinus caroliniana)
Barrenwort (Epimedium x warleyense)
Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa)
Great wood-rush (Luzula sylvatica)
Persian lily (Fritillaria persica)
Poet’s daffodil (Narcissus 'Actaea')
Snowflake (Leucojum aestivum)
Ceramic footed urn
Hana Kubari technique
It's hard to believe we are already into April. Suddenly everything seems to be happening at once: blossoming trees, wild garlic, daffodils, bluebells, anemones, the first of the tulips. There is a new energy to the way each day breaks and the momentum it carries with it. Here in London it's been a week of blue skies and uninterrupted sunshine with a cold easterly wind. This hung around last year all season so that even in the summer sun it often felt cool. Let's hope we’re not in for a repeat. Good weather for gardening, though, and we've been doing a lot of that lately.
This week I wanted to practice the Japanese hana kubari method in a prototype vase we've designed for the studio. It's based on one that we bought in Nairobi and is a useful, attractive shape, somewhere between an urn and a vase, ceramic, with a speckled tobacco glaze.
To begin I lay out my tools and prepare the vessel and mechanics. The hana kubari technique is used in seika arrangements, a form of Ikebana. I hasten to add that I do not practice Ikebana, or claim to. But I do have an interest in it and feel an affinity with certain processes. I suppose I always aspire to a higher level of skill and that is a part of my motivation as an arranger, a certain striving to ‘master’ my craft. Many of our tools and vessels are Japanese and I pilfer the odd tip and trick here and there from a collection of very old Ikebana books that I dig out of the ‘household / miscellaneous’ section in charity shops.
The hana kubari technique entails the use of sticks, twigs or branches inserted into the vase to provide support to the stems as you arrange, so it’s a natural alternative to using chicken wire. Today my simple Y-shaped fork divides the surface of the vase into three 'compartments', though you can weave a more complex lattice frame if you have some thin willow twigs to hand. The wood needs to be supple (I try a bamboo cane at first which is too old and dry and quickly breaks in two) but a length of the freshly cut American hornbeam (Carpinus caroliniana) works well. I insert it horizontally into the mouth of the vase, a couple of centimetres below the rim.
This technique differs from using a kenzan, which is what I tend to rely upon for events when I want the assurance of the arrangement maintaining its shape during transport. There is a control and precision that comes with arranging onto a kenzan that I love but sometimes I feel I lean on it too much, playing it safe. Regularly mixing in other techniques helps to flex our design muscles, especially when we're in a rut or feeling a little stale. The hana kubari method is one I would use at home or for arranging 'in-situ' because it relies entirely on natural materials, careful placement and balance. Consequently, it's a nice one for personal practice or as a mindfulness exercise, but not something to try to do in a rush - the positioning and balancing of the stems takes a gentle hand and patience.
With this method I take time to contemplate the materials - a foundational stage in the process. Laying out the stems, examining their shapes and testing their natural 'bent' - the way they lean or curve, depending on where the weight of the stem takes them. Usually I make a cup of tea at this point, something herbal and soothing like a redbush or lemon verbena, as it forces me to slow down and take ten minutes to prepare and think. Then there’s the pouring of the water - a moment of calm and quiet. I love the ritual of lifting the jug or flask, watching the water pool and settle. The first branch is structural, selected for strength and shape. The second creates a tension, layered across and in front. With this technique I try not to force materials in directions they don't want to go. There is a yielding, a sensation of 'rightness' when a stem naturally finds its home.
I start with the sloe. These are the last branches still in flower; the blossoms are tiny, snow-white and almond-scented. Later in the year there will be inky black fruits - here in the UK we steep them in alcohol and sugar to make ‘sloe gin’. The thorns are long and cruel, and I carefully remove them. Next the hornbeam - gosh, this is a beautiful foliage. The leaves are simple and serrated, with pendulous catkins. Now the crispy leaves of barrenwort and a bunch of greater wood-rush, cut with the blade-shaped leaves still intact at the base of the stem. The flowers both have straight stems - poet’s daffodil (Narcissus ‘Actaea’) and snowflakes (Leucojum aestivum) - I group them together, cut at varying heights.
Being alone is important. Or rather, working in silence, because of course there are all the sounds of the world around and of what you are making - the slicing of the knife, the cutting of scissors, the rustle of leaves and falling offcuts. Beyond this there is birdsong in the garden, the wind in the trees.
If you have time in the coming days or weeks, if you can 'make time', I encourage you to spend an hour engaging in this simple, gentle practice. No distractions. Let the silence surround you, the materials guide you and your mind empty.