It's that time of the year when the Chiltern Seeds catalogue drops through the letterbox, and my mind fills with vague and optimistic visions of new and wonderful plants, obtained at a fraction of the cost of buying them from nurseries, assuming they were available to buy in the first place. Especially when I have a cold and don't want to take my sniffle and stiff neck outside. The possibilities are endless.
I have been rereading my books on growing your own flowers for cutting. I do snip little pieces of this and that to make posies, and the odd daffodil and dahlia, but I am mean about denuding the borders of enough stems to make proper jugfuls of flowers, and don't grow most of the foliage plants that Sarah Raven uses in her bouquets. She says, quite correctly, that you may think you can make do with whatever evergreen shrubs you already grow, but without some airer and more architectural additions the effect is apt to be heavy and lumpy. And I like big jugs of flowers (as long as they are solid jugs with flared bases that the cats can't knock over). And we would have space in the vegetable garden, if only I could stop having a sprained wrist or a cold and finish weeding it, and flowers are like asparagus or raspberries, falling into the expensive to buy category, whereas the only reason for growing your own onions is sheer pride in growing them.
So flowers for cutting seem a good idea. I have quite a collection of seeds that came free with magazines, some of which would be good for cutting, but the choice in the Chiltern Seeds catalogue is far wider. Who could resist Trachelium caeruleum 'Lake Michigan Violet' with its mounded clouds of tiny purple flowers and reddish leaves? It isn't hardy in a UK winter, so there's no way I'd ever shoehorn it into the borders. Self seeded annuals and short lived perennials play a big role in the garden, but I draw the line at tender bedding, except in pots. Except that there are so many other delightful sounding plants also described as being excellent for cutting, and I just want to grow a few things for our own home, not start a flower stall.
Alas, harsh realities have to be allowed in. Every pot of seed requires time to sow it and a space to be found for it in the greenhouse, so there is a limit, and that is nothing compared to every seedling that requires time to prick it out, and more space, and still more when they are potted on. And most of the packets in the list won't leave you with much change out of two quid, with quite a few coming in at three or four pounds, if not five. Though three or four pounds is less than you would pay for just one plant in many cases. Sometimes one plant is all I've ended up with from a packet of seed, which is fine if it's a rare tree or shrub and I only have room for one, not so useful if it's a herbaceous variety and I was hoping to plant in groups of seven. After the first pass of the catalogue the little pencilled marks indicating interest or enthusiasm run into the dozens, so after that it's down to hard choices. How many plants do I think I am likely to get, and how many could I use? Is it worth spending £3.99 in the hopes of raising one unusual New Zealand shrub of dubious hardiness, one being all I would want, when for the same money I might get several trays of foxgloves and would be able to find homes for all of them?
Some of the maths really doesn't stack up. I looked online to discover more details of an unusual bulb and found a nursery that would sell me ten bulbs for only fifty pence more than the cost of ten seeds. Fun as it is growing bulbs from seed, and I have done it, that wouldn't be worth the effort even if every seed germinated and grew to flowering size without disaster along the way. Likewise I could pay £3.00 for a packet of Raoulia seed, or for a few pence more buy a growing plant from Beth Chatto and chisel little pieces off it as it grew, given that division is a recommended method of increase. On the other hand, trying a rare pink flowered Himalayan lily relative from seed, when a single bulb would set me back three pounds, is tempting. But would it grow in the edge of the wood, or would the slugs and snails (or rabbits) devour it, like they did the Cardiocrinum gigantum?
I have to reluctantly admit that I simply couldn't offer a home to many of the things in the catalogue. Not nearly enough space, and not the right conditions. For years I have admired the air plants at the Chelsea Flower Show and Hampton Court, and for £4.00 a packet of ten seeds could be mine. But they need minimum winter temperatures of ten or twelve degrees, if not more. A frost free conservatory would not be sufficient. I contemplated briefly whether they could live in my bathroom, but I already have the spider plant dangling in the way of the cupboard each time I want a clean flannel or a new loo roll. A collection of air plants would be a step too far.
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