Welcome back to the 72 gardening seasons of Japan. Since we last met on 26 March, a lot has happened. We’ve had ‘First Cherry blossoms’ (26-30 March). That lived up to its billing. Then came ‘The sound of distant thunder’ (31 March – 4 April). Then we had a trio of upward-looking seasons – ‘Swallows return’ (5-9 April), followed by ‘Wild geese fly north’ (10-14 April) and then ‘First rainbows’ (15-19 April). Now we’re back on terra firma with ‘Reeds sprout’ (20-24 April).
I’ll remember these four weeks for two reasons. Whilst everything has been sprouting, bursting, blazing and then dying (in remembrance: daffodils, tulips, bluebells, even the camassias), my sown seed trays have been resolutely silent as the grave. Barely a flicker of interest. I’ve dutifully watered them but received very little back in the way of thanks. It’s as if they’re saying to me, ‘Look away, be patient, the action is elsewhere. We’ll emerge in our own sweet time’. I must do as I’m told.
The second reason is colour, which brings me to my image of Alliums. Every few weeks a colour dominates and right now it’s purple. Bluebells and camassias are more purple than blue. A clematis has just opened – pure purple. We have tulips interwoven with the honesty – purple on purple. The lilac has come out. Irises are showing. And now these Alliums have just opened up. They are perfect spheres, and they live and die in the same shape so you can pick them later in the year after their moment of glorious colour, and they become architectural gems.
But then you have to think about future colour palettes. I’ve bought two quite large Red Kuri plants and have high hopes. These are squashes and you can train them up a trellis. They are lightbulb shaped and take on a luminous orange colour that you can spot from the top of the garden. Next to them I’ve planted several crown prince squash. These are orange inside but their outer skins have a Farrow & Ball-like pale grey/green. Every year I think they look so tiny in their vast acres of space, but come mid summer, they’ll be rampaging across all terrains. In past years I’ve even had a squash growing off a forgotten tendril down in a ditch. Fingers crossed.
I’m planting out beetroot in the hope of a bumper crop. The seedlings are about two inches high but I can’t wait so I pop them into the ground knowing that 50% will flourish. There again I could just go to the garden centre and buy some more robust plug plants. But where’s the fun in that?
Stay grounded.
– Alastair Creamer