Another year, another Chelsea. I have been with various companions over the years, and on my own, but nowadays the Systems Administrator and I go together, and have got into a routine of how we do things. We always start with the Artisan Gardens, which are the little ones tucked away behind the bandstand in the Ranelagh gardens, because later on the crowds pack in six deep, and you can't see them. The Artisan Gardens are generally fun, partly because they are on a more domestic and affordable scale with ideas you can pinch for your own garden, whereas it's difficult to take much from a quarter of a million quids' worth of laser-cut Portland stone. And the Artisan Gardens still incorporate elements of diorama and whimsy to a greater extent than most of the big show stoppers, and I enjoy dioramas.
I do. Chelsea is a show, after all, and most of the gardens wouldn't work in real life. You can spot plants that would outgrow their spaces inside a season, moisture and drought lovers crammed in next to each other, things in full flower stuck into mixed plantings that in real life would not tolerate the competition, little corners of grass that would be a nightmare to mow, pristine pale walls that would be green with algae after their first winter, floral combinations that in nature would never happen because some plants have been held back from flowering too early and others hurried along, plus many of the gardens would offer practically no plant interest after about the second of June. They don't need to. This is Chelsea, less than a week of fantasy in the second half of May.
Then we look at some of the big show gardens, before the crowds build up too much, skipping round any where the BBC is filming and coming back later when they've moved on. Blue, white and pale yellow are in this year in a big way, and Anchusa azurea is almost everywhere. It does have beautiful true blue flowers, but is often short lived. You don't learn that going to Chelsea, but do working for a plant retailer when customers come back to complain that it has disappeared. Purple, red and apricot are still around, but not so much as they were a few years ago. You used not to be able to move for falling over Cirsium rivulare 'Atropurpureum' and an early flowering red single peony whose name I have forgotten, though it will be written down in my old notebooks, but their stars are waning. Centaurea montana, which was everywhere in new purple colour breaks a little while back, is likewise vanishing back into obscurity. Grasses are less popular than they were, and as the SA pointed out, while inside the marquee the rose stands were full of appreciative rose lovers, not many of the show gardens used them.
The big show gardens were very fine, and well done, and did nothing that hadn't been done before. We said that last year as well. I reckon one of the ways I'll know the recession is really behind us is when I see something more experimental and innovative on one of the big budget, large sites. There weren't as many show gardens this year, large or Artisan, as there have been in years past, which I take as another sign that economic recovery is still in its early days. On the Rock Garden Bank, which used to be one of the most prestigious sites in the whole show ground, this year there was one solitary show garden in among trade stands, while numbers of traders wanting to sell expensive (and in many cases hideous) garden ornaments and furniture rises every year. Still, I guess the RHS needs the money they pay for their stands.
I hope we see a few more show gardens next year, and that sponsors and designers might feel brave enough to try something new. And possibly less expensive. The soft version of Modernist hard landscaping with planting derived from the European New Perennials movement, that has dominated at Chelsea for years now, is phenomenally expensive to make. Oodles of precision cut and laid stonework and fabricated metal (though Corten steel is on its way out), hardwood pergolas, sculptures, giant urns and objets. It is all very fine and impressive, but it isn't the only way to make a garden. Necessity, they say, is the mother of invention, and I would love to see a few designers' imaginations take flight and think of what they could achieve on more of a shoestring, without resorting to grunge.
My favourite part of the whole show is truly the Great Pavilion, and the plant displays. Some favourites have gone, so I miss seeing Broadleigh Bulbs, but the newcomers who have inherited the space are good. I was pleased to see Kevock there, a Scottish nursery I've started using (only for bulbs so far) since seeing them at Chelsea about three years ago. And Dibleys were still there with their Streptocarpus, and Peter Beales roses who got a Gold once again (phew) as did Bloms (double phew. I feel for Bloms, there is no upside for them, only the risk of blotting their extremely long record of Gold medals. Also I feel for Bloms because I gaze happily at their tulips before ordering mine from Peter Nyssen, who are cheaper). There were Reckless Plants (auriculas. It's a Margery Fish story), and Victorian violas, clematis and orchids, plants for shade and plants for screes. Blackmore and Langdon did exactly the same display that they have done every year for as long as I can remember, vast and pristine delphinium spikes behind even vaster begonia flowers. This year they had their Royal Warrant (to Prince Charles) in the form of an extra-large shield in the middle of the stand. I should hate it if they were ever to change.
On the way home I realised that I had not seen the Downderry lavender display. Damn. There's always one.
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