I went last night to a lecture by Tony Kirkham, Head of the Arboretum and Horticultural Services at Kew. Tony Kirkham is one of my horticultural heroes, not because he has been on the telly, though he has been, but because of his modern day plant hunting exploits, and because I am biased in favour of anybody who likes trees and doubly so if they know about them. The lecture was an amiable illustrated ramble through his world of trees, mixing highlights of his expeditions with the story of how he became a professional tree expert, thoughts on some interesting trees, advice on how to plant trees, a depressing update on tree diseases, the history of Kew, and current tree maintenance techniques.
So I learned that the flowers of Magnolia sprengeri 'Diva' smell of bubblegum, and that Wollemi pines in the wild grow to a hundred and forty metres tall, and are naturally multi-stems with bark that looks like boiling chocolate, while the flowers of Aesculus 'Dallimorei' turn pink an hour after being pollinated, to save other bees the bother of visiting and finding they have been cleared out of nectar. Tony Kirkham is one of those people, like Roy Lancaster, whose enthusiasm for plants is palpable, and who could clearly talk knowledgeably about different plant species for the best part of a week without hesitation, deviation, repetition, or losing interest in the subject.
How Tony Kirkham ended up as the head of the arboretum at Kew, which puts him in the top echelon of horticulturalists worldwide, was instructive. He was an outdoorsy sort of child, always playing in the park, and aged ten his imagination was seized by one teacher, who brought some sticky buds in to the class one Friday, and promised they would be in full leaf by Monday. The young Tony already knew about sticky buds, from his conker collecting exploits, and did not believe the part about the leaves. On Monday morning he found it was true, and the idea formed that there were people who knew about trees, and that he wanted to be one himself when he grew up. Lucky is the man, or woman, who has found their passion in life by the time they are ten, and are able to make a living out of it. I have noticed, though, on Radio 4 and Radio 3 programmes featuring people who have achieved eminence in their fields, be they scientists or artists, how many of them knew they wanted to engage in that field while they were still quite young children.
The boss would not have liked Tony Kirkham's advice on tree planting, which was to eschew stakes, ties and soil improver, in favour of miccorhizal fungi and a good mulch. Freedom to move in the wind promotes trunk thickening and root development, a process called seismomorphogenesis. That's a fine new word to be tucked away for future use. As the boss and Tony Kirkham both serve on the RHS woody plant committee they can argue about it over lunch sometime.
The tree diseases were depressing, though I was relieved it tied in with what I'd been telling people in my woodland charity talks. The photo of the Kew arborists perched high in a cherry picker, dressed in full body suits and hoods, vacuuming oak processionary moth out of the branches of a tree, will stay with me for a long time. I always find the definitive latest thinking on how to care for trees slightly worrying, in much the same way as I find the most recent advice on a healthy lifestyle a little suspect, in that if we now know we had previously got it wrong about flush cutting, or round versus square planting holes, or staking, or how many eggs it is safe to eat, or whether marathon running is good for you, what makes us think that the latest idea is definitely right, when all the previous ideas, offered up with equal conviction at the time, are now dismissed as being wrong?
If you are going to cross a swollen river in Siberia on foot, aided only by a stick, don't show photographs afterwards in a lecture at Kew attended by the Health and Safety Officer. That's just a tip.
Altogether it was a lovely lecture, ticking the boxes of telling me some things I already knew, so I could feel smug I knew that, and things I didn't know. After the lecture there were proper nibbles, sausage rolls and rye bread with bits on, and mini eclairs. A couple of bee keeping friends were there, and some of the garden club members recognised me, from my own talks or because they are customers at the plant centre, and one wanted to pick my brains about the bees nest in her bird box. Altogether it was an extremely nice evening. Next year they have got the head gardener at Sissinghurst booked.
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