Cardoons in Veg Plot. © Charles Hawes

Financial Times 2000

Why More of the Same is a Good Thing by Anne Wareham

My impulse buys at nurseries and garden centres regularly consist of plants that I already have. When I see a plant for sale which is fat and happy in my own garden I immediately think of places that would be improved by more of the same.

This is partly because it is so easy to love a plant that loves me. A plant growing well and enthusiastically makes me fell like a good gardener. We are often told that a border is much improved by a repetition of plants within it; it creates rhythm and structure, making a whole of otherwise disparate parts.It is not so often said that the same principle applies to the garden as a whole. Enthusiasm for "plantsmanship" encourages us to imagine that a garden should contain as many different plants as possible and many of us would identify with Margery Fish's idea that it is a shame to have the same plant if you could have something different instead.

Yet I found myself feeling delighted and liberated when I realised there might actually be a virtue in indulging my love of repeat plants. There is more pleasure to be had in gardening than simply collecting plants, and planning new schemes starring well loved plants is one of them. Last year I stayed my hand when I would have loved to cut down the bronze fennel in one of my borders. It looks very well in a grey, pink and purple border, and I think it will complement a purple and white scheme, so I put up with its bitty yellow flowers to let it seed..And if some of the seedlings pop up elsewhere I shall see if they have had a good idea for a plant association I haven't thought of yet.

When I first obtained a solitary plant of Geranium versicolor I tucked it away in a woody corner. It didn't seem like a first rank plant, being a bit quiet and subtle, and I'd never heard or read of anyone admiring it particularly. (I'm very susceptible to believing other people know best.) But it not only flowers endlessly, it also seeds itself enthusiastically, and it took over that corner. It was much admired; although the flowers may be modest and their markings subtle, as a mass they create a froth of pale pink. Then I came across a white version which is a truly beautiful thing. I now have a plan for white and pink froth among roses and hydrangeas.

Windfall garden. Pink and white froth. © Charles Hawes

I'm impatient, so although I know that the plants of both pink and white versicolor will seed and breed and fill up the spaces, when I saw Geranium versicolor album in a catalogue I couldn't resist ordering four more. If I were rich it would have been forty. I can think of one or two other places that might benefit form a touch of endlessly flowering white ground cover.

I would be happy if our visitor's minds retained an image of our garden with certain plants characterising the place with their generosity. I have these memories of other people's gardens and I treasure them. I remember one where Welsh poppies and blue geraniums had spread relentlessly, creating carpets of orange, yellow and blue. Another where deep purple opium poppies were cropping up everywhere in the garden, creating a feeling of abundance and abandon. Perhaps the truly sophisticated garden has signature plants like a chef has a signature dish?

Published in FT 17th June 2000

Conservatory - signature plants here, too. © Charles Hawes

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