I was going to talk this week about the murky connection between apartheid and the Chelsea Flower Show this week. It’s a story that asks questions about due diligence where events are sponsored, and about how people with dubious backgrounds can use horticultural philanthropy to gain respectability in a world that would probably rather they were called out.

The article is written but do we need any more depressing news stories?

A robin sitting on a wall

Robins are lucky not to be involved in human affairs

Is it naivety to avoid bad things? I confess that I’ve been avoiding the TV and radio news for around two years now, not out of a desire to avoid difficult things but because I can’t do anything about any of it. There’s a lot of bad in the world and it gets stuffed into the minds of good people, people who are left feeling helpless to push back against it all.

So I went to look at some flowers.

Rosemoor

I have great affection for the garden at Rosemoor in Devon.

It belongs to the Royal Horticultural Society but is one of their smaller regional gardens. Wisley is the RHS’ flagship garden, the one that gets the most attention and resources, followed by their new Wisley of the north at Bridgewater, Manchester.

Yellow bamboo and pond

Rosemoor might not have the status of Wisley, but that’s OK

I’ve done big gardens. I’m now looking for more in a garden than just lots of things over a big area. I want character, charm, humanity… I want to feel at peace in the world, and it’s much easier to do that at Rosemoor than at Wisley. Personally I find Wisley rather soulless and municipal; its attempts to cater for absolutely everyone has sucked the charm and character out of the place.

I go there and I look around, but the place doesn’t matter to me. Rosemoor is a place I can just go and enjoy. I can even see myself visiting more often, maybe taking a book to read or going there to do some writing.

Special Projects

Wisley has worked hard to become almost homogenised. It works hard to impress its visitors, but because it has a huge staff there’s no sense of individuality about the place.

Rosemoor is almost too small and too remote for the RHS to care about, so consequently its much smaller staff get to have a bit more influence. There’s a sense that interests are indulged.

An oak tree in the Underpass at Rosemoor

Rosemoor has an interesting collection of plants but doesn’t feel like a ‘planty’ garden

For example someone has been adding some really great new conifers around parts of the garden, so there’s some added interest for when herbaceous plants are dormant. There are a few forms of the aristocratic winter flowering dogwood, Cornus mas, around for example, as though someone thought it might be nice to have a collection.

Whether I like the selections or not is immaterial; the garden is fairly big but it has a sense of being a bit more loved than Wisley.

My Favourite Thing This Week

In need of cheering up – I’ll tell you all about that soon – I went to see if one of my absolute favourite part of late winter at Rosemoor was at its peak.

Tucked away in a quieter area of the garden there is a divinely beautiful display of Narcissus cyclamineus, a little species daffodil native to parts of Portugal and Spain.

Narcissus cyclamineus

A drift of Narcissus cyclamineus

Isn’t it sweet?! Barely 6 inches (15cm tall), with backward-swept flowers that remind me of a long-eared dog like a spaniel in a strong wind, ears pushed back.

When the species is happy it actually seeds around quite a bit; the clump is clearly on the move and there are seedlings appearing in the nearby lawn. You could I suppose call it a weed, but what an awesome weed it is. It’s welcome to be a weed for me!

Small Daffodil, Big Legacy

Narcissus cyclamineus has passed on its genes to a good number of miniature and dwarf daffodils. These are known as Division 6 daffodils, or Cyclamineus Hybrids.

According to the official register there are 646 registered Division 6 daffodils, and that number will increase as breeders do their work. From the tiny to the comparatively tall, Division 6 daffodils all have the characteristic windswept look as their ‘petals’ reflex backwards.

Narcissus 'February Gold'

Narcissus ‘February Gold’ is one of my favourite daffodils

I confess that Division 6 daffodils are my go-to for gardens; even at their tallest they’re not out of scale in most spaces. ‘February Gold’ is a favourite early daffodil, with a robustness that seems almost at odds with its slender form, while the white and yellow ‘Surfside’ has flowers so big that they look a bit awkward given its short stature.

Narcissus 'Surfside'

Narcissus ‘Surfside’

Gardeners, please don’t be put off by the orange trumpet of ‘Jetfire’; it’s a brilliant little daffodil and the contrast between the yellow and orange isn’t actually all that harsh in the garden. It’s also a tough variety too, unbothered by all but the worst of winter rain and wind.

But my heart belongs to the species. Much as I value the hybrids there is a magic to massed planting of the plant as nature intended. They can seed around as much as they like – can a plant of such aristocratic charm ever truly be a weed – and their presence will I’m sure delight all but the hardest-of-heart gardeners.

Narcissus cyclamineus weeds

Narcissus cyclamineus seeds around when it’s happy in the garden

Narcissus cyclamineus is an early daffodil and will probably not approve of the coldest regions. USDA zone 7 would possibly be its limit, but I’d be delighted to hear that it does well in colder regions. As for seeding, it seems to seed happiest in areas where ground doesn’t get too dry in summer. I dare say that it will be happiest in places least convenient for the gardener, but then what could be more delightful than discovering such a charming daffodil under a shrub or on a steep bank.