JOHN FITZPATRICK’S DIARY

If you made New Year resolutions, there’s a fair chance that by now they’ll have been consigned to the scrapheap of good intentions. If they were gardening resolutions, however, they may be intact due to the fact that we are still early in the season. I made three and, at the time of writing in early February, the first has already been acted upon, the second hasn’t been tested yet and the third will depend on how well I keep the second.

The first was straightforward: to get rid of the messy corner. You know the sort of thing – that spot behind the shed or the wheelie bins where you dump items that ‘will come in handy one day’. Old bricks, half-empty bags of compost, stones that you’ve dug up, pieces of timber, sheets of glass – the list goes on. Whenever I see a messy corner in someone’s garden I’m tempted to hang a sign alongside: ‘Slugs and snails welcome – comfortable accommodation and nursery facilities provided by caring gardener.’

So in January my messy corner was cleared and anything useful put into storage in the garage. The garage, of course, is a gardening workshop and the car has never been inside it. Discipline is now required to prevent the development of another messy corner.

The second resolution will be more testing: not to buy plants on impulse. ‘Impossible,’ I hear you cry. But let me qualify this. If I see a plant I’d like to own, I must consider several things before purchase. Where am I going to place it? Do I have suitable conditions or facilities in which to grow it? Will it look good alongside the plants already in situ? Do I really like it or am I just being caught up in a trend?

I’ve bought only two plants so far this year, both trees. Acer griseum and Betula utilis var. jacquemontii ‘Doorenbos’ have been planted in my new ‘woodland glade’. This has been developed after I got rid of a x Cuprocyparis leylandii hedge after living with it for 15 years. The hedge of about 30 trees, which I inherited from the previous owner of the property, formed part of the garden boundary. I had kept it to a height of ten feet but, despite regular trimming, it had reached a width of about four feet and couldn’t be narrowed without wrecking it because, as I’m sure you know, leylandii doesn’t regrow if you cut

Iris ‘Katharine Hodgkin’ flowering in John Fitzpatrick’s new woodland glade in early February

into the old wood. There was another problem, or two – the hedge wasn’t the only boundary structure. It had engulfed a steel parkland-style fence and, on the garden side, there was a six foot tall painted wooden fence, which had started to rot in places.

So I spent a weekend last summer with an angle grinder cutting out the parkland fence. Then tree surgeons were called in to cut down the leylandii and grind out the stumps. Finally the old fence was removed and replaced with a sturdy new feather-edge fence, which should last 15 years. I’ve swapped three boundary structures that required maintenance for one that requires no maintenance at all. I’ve also gained an extra four feet of garden where the leylandii stood, and have incorporated a 14-metre stretch of this into the new woodland glade, which is five metres wide and intersected along its length by a winding chipped-bark path. (Yes, I know I’m mixing metric and imperial, but that’s how I think!)

A few structural plants that were already in this area have been retained. There’s a twin-stemmed yew that was heeled-in beside the leylandii more than ten years ago, a left-over from a batch of bare-root plants for a hedge in another part of the garden. The twin stems developed by chance and have nothing to do with my nurturing. There’s also a lovely stand of hazel, a Magnolia stellata and Berberis thunbergii ‘Aurea’,

Galanthus elwesii ‘Moya’s Green’ settling in to John’s woodland glade

a deciduous shrub with golden yellow foliage that is useful for brightening up shadier corners of the garden.

My aim is to replicate the conditions in a glade, where every part receives sunlight and shade at some point during the day. The bed faces north-west, so it catches the afternoon and evening sun throughout summer. I’m lucky with the soil – a slightly alkaline friable loam that is easy to work and drains well – ideal conditions for growing a wide range of plants. Nevertheless, the leylandii has impoverished the soil in which it grew, so I’ve dug in copious amounts of garden compost and soil improver while at the same time trying to remove as many of the conifer roots as possible.

To the existing woody plants I’ve added Osmanthus delavayi for its wonderful scent, the striking Ilex aquifolium ‘Ferox Argentea’, which even has spikes on the surfaces of its variegated leaves, and Sorbaria sorbifolia ‘Sem’, with its beautiful feathery foliage that has a pink tinge in spring and good autumn colour, topped with creamy white plumes of flowers in summer. Oh, and Euonymus alatus for its fiery autumn display and bare winged stems in winter.

I’ve also planted Daphne odora ‘Rebecca’ and D. mezereum ‘Rubra’. ‘Rebecca’, with its leaves broadly margined with cream, is particularly appealing. I know that variegated plants aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I like them. A few fastigiate woody plants have been added for good measure, including dwarf yews and a trio of Berberis thunbergii f. atropurpurea ‘Helmond Pillar’.

Garden centres do very little to encourage their customers to grow alpines. In my experience, with the exception of the Plant Centre at Wisley and John Massey’s Ashwood Nurseries, the stock is often poorly presented.

Even the easy alpines offered by these outlets can be made to look awful, as my picture above demonstrates. These Cyclamen hederifolium were photographed at a leading garden centre in the south of England in December, when their foliage should have been in its prime. Instead they look diseased and bedraggled, and no one in their right mind would purchase them. Just a few yards away, gleaming pots of florists’ Cyclamen were flying off the shelves. Is it any wonder that we sometimes struggle to convince people to grow alpines?

If you see a display like this complain to the plant area manager, as I did. The response was apologetic and if we all take a stance then perhaps things will start to change.

The preparation of this glade has involved a lot of digging, but in the process I have found no more than a dozen slugs. Each has been escorted to the bird feeding station, where their chances of escape from my resident song thrushes are nil. The slug population is, I believe, kept under control by the good number of common and palmate newts in the garden, which breed in the pond I dug out 12 years ago. Great crested newts took up residence soon after the

pond was completed but I haven’t seen them now for several years.

One wet night just after Christmas I witnessed a pencil-thin smooth newt, which had obviously decided that hibernating was for wimps, squaring up to a large garden snail. Each time the snail emerged tentatively from its shell the newt tried to grab its flesh. Given that newts swallow their prey whole, this was a bit ambitious and I removed the snail – purely to save the newt any further trouble, of course.

I’ve found that the most effective way of dealing with slugs is a late-night patrol by torchlight, removing them from affected plants. If you don’t like wandering around the garden in the dark, there is another simple tactic, which employs the concept of the messy corner to your advantage. Place a few flat stones or pieces of wood around the plants under siege. The slugs will crawl under them before dawn, so just upturn the ‘traps’ in daylight to collect the blighters.

I’ve planted a few hostas in the glade, so this tactic may have to be employed at some point. Other herbaceous subjects include Pulmonaria longifolia ‘Howard Eggins’, which has particularly striking leaf markings, Astrantia ‘Hadspen Blood’ and Geranium phaeum ‘Margaret Wilson’ (variegated foliage again). There is also a good scattering of native ferns.

Last September I returned from the RHS Malvern Autumn Show with bags full of Fritillaria meleagris, Cyclamen hederifolium, Camassia leichtlinii and various reticulate irises. These irises grow happily in semi-shade, as do some alliums. I’ve had Allium cristophii in a shady spot for years and it’s doing very well. Last summer I saw Allium ‘Mount Everest’ flowering in the deep shade of cherry laurels in central London. Plants don’t always read the books.

I’ve planted Trillium luteum to see how it fares, having dug much leaf-mould, grit and garden compost into its site. Primulas will be added this spring, especially P. denticulata and oxlips grown from AGS seed.

Of course snowdrops have gone in, about a dozen different species and cultivars. I don’t want to add too many more, preferring to avoid monocultures and all the problems they can bring. I would, however, like to meet up with ‘Angelina’, ‘Fiona Mackenzie’ and ‘Anglesey Orange Tip’. Could I be on the slippery slope?

The entire glade has been covered with three cubic metres of what is sold in my neck of the woods as ‘contract mulch’. It’s a natural looking blend of wood chips and bark chips in a variety of sizes, and when delivered is already semicomposted. It looks much less obtrusive than bark mulches with graded chips and will serve to keep weeds at bay while the planting becomes established.

The plants I have placed or will place in this bed are not difficult to grow. That is intentional. I want plants that will succeed and look good, not sulk because the conditions aren’t quite right. If a plant fails to thrive, it will quickly be removed. Throughout the process I have consciously avoided overplanting. In a new bed or garden it’s one of the most common mistakes, to cram in everything you can get hold of. Then, as the garden matures, you have to take plants out.

It’s always a pleasure to receive emails containing photographs from AGS members on their travels. I’m grateful to AGS President David Haselgrove who sent me this picture from Patagonia last December. It shows Cyttaria darwinii, a fungus that parasitises Nothofagus species. The fungus is common but, according to David, is not usually witnessed in the quantity he saw on the road from Los Antiguos to Monte Zeballos. There are several species of Cyttaria and in turn it can be parasitised by flies. Its common name is Indian bread and it was a food source for indigenous people. Nowadays it is used in tinned paté.

This disturbs the root systems of the plants left behind so is best avoided by being restrained from the start.

So, to return to my New Year resolutions, the third pledge is to plant out or pot on all newly purchased plants within 48 hours of their arrival at home.

How many plants do you own that are still in their nursery pots? Over the years how many have perished without ever leaving their nursery pots? I’ve visited many gardens and, almost without exception, have seen plants still in their nursery pots, the compost often encrusted with liverwort or moss. This is good news for the nurseries but not so good for your garden or your wallet.

If you see me at an AGS show with a plant under my arm, you can be sure that careful consideration has been given to its purchase and that it is about to be set free from its black plastic prison!

Martin and Anna-Liisa Sheader have years of experience in cultivating the plants of Patagonia. Here they pass on their expertise in growing beguiling Oxalis, plants that should have a place in every rock garden

There are some 800 species of Oxalis worldwide living in a wide variety of habitats ranging from deserts to the humid tropics and from the coast to the high mountains. Found on all continents, but generally absent from polar regions, they are particularly diverse in South Africa, tropical Mexico and Brazil.

Most gardeners have a love-hate relationship with the genus, some of whose members make excellent garden, raised bed or alpine house plants, although a few of the others have become pernicious weeds. Some of these are now widespread in the UK, having used the nursery trade and plant exchanges to spread themselves around the country. Perhaps this is the reason why so many people are often reluctant to try new Oxalis species.

There is, however, a small group of Oxalis which has large eye-catching flowers and is not invasive. This exclusively Patagonian group, classified as Section Palmatifoliae, contains four, possibly five species, and in our opinion represents the crème de la crème of Oxalis currently in cultivation. There seems to be an increasing interest in this group as a wider range of forms and hybrids becomes available. Somewhat surprisingly, considering the difficulties encountered in growing many Patagonian plants, these Oxalis fare quite well in cultivation.

The species

There are four species in Section Palmatifoliae: Oxalis enneaphylla, O. laciniata, O. loricata and O. adenophylla. A fifth species has recently been described, O. morronei, but we consider this to be O. laciniata var. pubescens, a hairy-leaved example of this very variable species. All are rhizomatous perennials, the foliage dying down in winter (and often at other times of year if conditions become unsuitable for growth). The main flowering period is from mid-spring through to summer, though occasional flowers may appear throughout late summer and autumn. All have sweetly scented flowers.

Oxalis enneaphylla

This is the southernmost species in the section, growing in the Falkland Islands,

Oxalis enneaphylla, native to southern South America and the Falkland Islands, is known as ‘scurvygrass’ – the leaves have high levels of vitamin C and oxalic acid

Tierra del Fuego and southern mainland Patagonia as for north as about 48°S. Its distribution overlaps with that of O. laciniata and O. loricata, but not that of O. adenophylla.

Hybrids are occasionally found between O. enneaphylla and O. laciniata where the two species co-occur. O. enneaphylla grows in a wide range of habitats ranging from coastal sandy

A mountain form of Oxalis enneaphylla

or stony steppe to exposed mountain slopes and ridges, up to around 1,100m. The leaves have seven to 14 leaflets, and these may be covered in fine hairs in some examples, or hairless in others. In some high mountain forms the leaflets are attractively edged in reddish-orange. The flower colour is variable. Falkland Island populations are usually white flowered, as typified by the vigorous white cultivar ‘Sheffield Swan’, introduced by Peter Erskine. The local Falklands name for this species is scurvy-grass and, as the name suggests, the leaves have high levels of vitamin C and oxalic acid. They have a pleasant tangy taste – sheep certainly find them palatable and can devastate populations in heavily grazed pasture.

Mainland populations are usually pink or lavender-flowered, though whiteflowered forms are occasionally found. Flowers often have a well-marked eye, green through to maroon, usually with veins of colour extending along the petals. The thick rhizomes (up to 1cm in diameter) are covered by large fleshy scales, usually white with orange tips, and can eventually form a congested clump. The short rhizome branches appear almost bulb-like. Although in mountain environments plants can be relatively compact, lowland steppe forms often develop into large cushions up to

Oxalis laciniata is notable for its incredible colour range

25cm across. We find the high mountain forms more difficult to grow and flower well.

There are a few attractive forms in cultivation (notably ‘Sheffield Swan’, ‘Alba’, ‘Lady Elizabeth’, ‘Rosea’, ‘Rubra’ and ‘Ruth Tweedie’). Some supposed O. enneaphylla forms, on close inspection, appear to be of hybrid origin, usually with O. laciniata as the other parent.

Oxalis laciniata

This is a plant of the Patagonian mainland, with a distribution extending further north than O. enneaphylla into the Argentine province of Chubut. It can be found in a range of habitats from sandy steppe to stony hills and mountains, from sea level to about 1,100m. Populations can also be found along the Atlantic coast of southern Patagonia. Leaves have about ten usually narrow leaflets, often with wavy margins, in shades of brown to green. The wavyleaved form was previously known as O. squamoso-radicosa, but there are intermediates between the straightleaved and wavy-leaved forms. Indeed both leaf types can often be found on the same plant at different stages of growth. Plants in the wild are generally small with only a few flowers open at any one time, but can grow larger and produce more flowers in cultivation. The rhizome

Oxalis laciniata var. pubescens from the mountains of northern Santa Cruz

is similar to that of O. enneaphylla, but much narrower (usually about 0.5cm in diameter). This species is notable for its incredible colour range, the flowers variously white, pink, lavender to blue or purple, often with intricate veining.

In the mountains of north-western Santa Cruz province (the southernmost mainland province of Argentine Patagonia) there is a form with markedly hairy leaves, O. laciniata var. pubescens. This unusual variety was discovered and later described by Swedish botanist Carl Skottsberg during the Swedish Magellanic Expedition of 1907-09. Skottsberg, an illustrious figure who travelled widely and published numerous scientific works, was director of the Göteborg Botanical Garden from 1919-48.

There are some excellent forms of O. laciniata in cultivation, such as ‘Seven Bells’, ‘Julia Johnston’, ‘Sweet Sue’ and ‘Miradores de Darwin’. New and attractive clones continue to appear.

Oxalis loricata

This is a delightful species, occurring in southern Patagonia from Chubut south to Tierra del Fuego, with a

An excellent form of Oxalis laciniata, ‘Miradores de Darwin’

similar latitudinal distribution on the Chilean side of the border. It is almost always found growing in screes below snowmelt, but occasionally descends to lower levels if there is sufficient moisture available in spring. We know of one unusual population that grows among cobbles and shingle bordering Lago Belgrano (Perito Moreno National Park, Santa Cruz), which has its rhizomes (and sometimes also its flowers and leaves) submerged for part of the year.

The leaves of O. loricata are hairless, with five to 12 rounded, fleshy leaflets that are often attractively edged with maroon or purple. The flowers are white to deep pink, often with purplepink veining towards the throat. Populations show little variation in flower colour at any given mountain location, but on different mountains they are often markedly distinct. The branching rhizome is robust (about 1cm in diameter) and covered with red fleshy scales. There are few clones in cultivation and we certainly find this species the most challenging to grow and flower. We have found hybrids in the wild, with O. laciniata var. pubescens the probable second parent.

Oxalis loricata almost always grows on screes below snowmelt

Oxalis adenophylla (pictured on the front cover of this issue of The Alpine Gardener)

This is probably the easiest plant in the section to grow, reflected in its widespread availability from nurseries and garden centres. It is worth noting that plants from the latter source are often grown in a peat-based or peat-like compost, not ideal in our opinion for cultivation. It is advisable to wash the roots and transfer the rhizomes to an open gritty compost as soon as possible to ensure survival and subsequent establishment.

O. adenophylla has the widest and most northerly distribution of any Section Palmatifoliae species. In Argentina it ranges from northern Santa Cruz province to Mendoza province (Argentina’s main wine-producing area, just to the north of Patagonia proper). It is also found along the Chilean side of the border. An inhabitant of sandy or rocky steppe, usually close to the mountains where rainfall is higher, it is not a plant of the open, dry, central steppe. Like others in the Section, O. adenophylla can also be found on high mountain slopes and screes.

The leaves comprise 12 to 22 broad triangular leaflets, often with a maroonpurple marking around the margin. Some forms have plain green leaves, while occasionally plants can be found with a large splash of purple along the leaflet margins, extending to the tip. The flowers are pink to violet in colour, rarely white, usually with a white, pale green or yellow throat. As with O. enneaphylla, low altitude plants (and plants in cultivation) can be robust, while high mountain forms are often small and fewer-flowered.

The structure of the rhizome sets this species apart from others in the section. It forms a distinct bulb-like storage organ covered in fleshy scales and the remnants of old leaf bases. New ‘bulbs’ are produced around the periphery of

The robust branching rhizomes of Oxalis loricata are covered with red fleshy scales

the main rhizome, eventually forming a large and congested clump.

Several clones are available commercially, such as ‘Brenda Anderson’, but many stocks are distributed simply as O. adenophylla and remain unnamed.

Hybrids

Most hybrids in cultivation have O. laciniata and O. enneaphylla as parents. An example of this is the widely available ‘Ione Hecker’. Hybrids between O. adenophylla and O. enneaphylla are also available. Some of the named cultivars listed under O. enneaphylla or O. adenophylla seem to be of hybrid origin and an example of this is O. enneaphylla ‘Ute’, which clearly has both O. enneaphylla and O. laciniata in its parentage.

A close examination of the rhizome and leaves is generally a good guide to parentage. Hybrids of O. laciniata often have a slightly wavy edge to the leaflets, while those sporting a maroon spot on the leaflet margins are likely to contain O. adenophylla genes. Some plants currently being distributed as O. adenophylla ‘Alba’ have leaves close to O. adenophylla, but the presence of an O. enneaphylla-type rhizome dictates that they are of hybrid origin.

With careful (and not so careful in many instances) crossing and selection,

Tristylous Oxalis: morph one

Tristylous Oxalis: morph two

Tristylous Oxalis: morph three 26 there is the potential for the production of a wide range of good and distinctive forms of each of these naturally morphologically variable species. Likewise, careful selection of hybrid progeny can lead to attractive gardenworthy forms.

As far as we know, the more difficult O. loricata has yet to be included in hybridising programmes. With its beautiful leaves and delicate flowers, it could introduce some interesting characteristics into the hybrid mix. The fact that hybrids with O. laciniata var. pubescens have been recorded in the wild indicates that it should readily hybridise with other members of the section in cultivation.

Cultivation

For pot cultivation we use the same compost for all four species. This is roughly 50 per cent John Innes No. 2, 20 per cent grit, 20 per cent perlite and 10 per cent gritty sand ‒ not that we ever measure out the constituents. We also grow plants in raised beds, either under cover in elevated Access frames or in the open. Here the compost is a mix of sand and old gritty potting compost. Plants are occasionally watered with quarterstrength high-potash tomato feed when in active growth.

We usually repot our Oxalis every other year, breaking the branched rhizomes into short lengths measuring around 2cm and replanting them 2-3cm below the compost surface. As they grow, the rhizomes often push up through the surface. To protect and cover them, we usually increase the depth of the grit topdressing. Repotting can be done

An ‘exploded’ seed pod and its seeds before (centre) and after (right) ejection

whenever the plants are dormant, but the best results seem to be achieved in late winter or early spring.

Watering is reduced when the plants are dormant but the compost should never be allowed to dry out for long periods. O. loricata, being a snowmelt species, may well benefit from a good soaking as it comes into growth in spring.

Seed production

These Oxalis species, like most others in the genus, are heterostylous. Their situation is somewhat similar to that seen in most primulas, where plants can have pin or thrum flowers. This is an adaptation to particular pollinators and a mechanism to increase pollination success between the two forms, ensuring outbreeding. Flowers of the same form are often incompatible or have reduced compatibility; solitary flowers are usually self-incompatible.

The system is even more complex in Oxalis, where many species are tristylous, meaning they have three different flower forms (morphs). Flowers have two sets of five stamens (male) and a set of five pistils (female) in the flower tube.

Morph one: the stigmas sit towards the top of the tube and the two groups of anthers are positioned at low and intermediate levels, below the stigmas.

Morph two: the stigmas sit between an upper and a lower set of anthers.

Morph three: the stigmas are low in the tube, with the two sets of anthers positioned at intermediate and high levels.

If, as has been shown for other Oxalis species, the same compatibility mechanisms seen in Primula hold true here, then when hand-pollinating it is advisable to select parents that differ in morph type.

We have found a few isolated populations in the wild that have a high proportion of homostylous individuals.

The exposed rhizome of Oxalis laciniata. It can be readily propagated by dividing the rhizome into pieces about 2cm long

In these, the anthers and stigmas are grouped together at the same level in the tube. For isolated small populations this may facilitate self-pollination. In most populations of Oxalis (Section Palmatifoliae) homostyly is extremely rare or absent.

In the wild and in cultivation various insects, but especially bees and butterflies, act as the main pollinators. Species within the section readily hybridise, so if different species are grown together you can expect an array of hybrids. To pollinate by hand, either use a fine soft brush to transfer pollen between plants or, as we prefer, gently pull the petals apart, tearing the flower tube and revealing the pistils and stamen. Using a fine pair of forceps, pluck an anther from one flower and apply the pollen-covered anther to the stigma surfaces of a second flower. The

seed parent should be a plant with a different flower morph from the pollen parent. We mark the hand-pollinated flowers by loosely tying coloured cotton around the pollinated flower stems.

With many plants, a sign that the seeds are reaching full ripeness is that the pods become brown, but not in the case of these Oxalis. Instead, the mature pods are green and the seeds are shed explosively. If a mature pod is split open, it appears to contain immature shiny white seeds. Handle one of these seeds roughly, or attempt to pick it up using forceps, and the outer shiny coat splits, forcibly ejecting the seed, which is whitish in colour with a rough outer surface. This dispersal mechanism, known as spermobolia, results from the cells of the seed’s epidermis taking up water and becoming turgid. As a consequence, opposing forces develop within the seed coat causing the epidermal cells to rupture abruptly, ejecting the seed from the pod. Seeds can be collected by removing welldeveloped pods and dissecting them, or by placing a tiny bag over the developing pod and collecting the ejected seeds.

The seed germinates best if sown immediately, the seedlings appearing the following spring. They also regularly appear in the plunge around pot-grown plants or among the surface gravel in raised beds or troughs outdoors. The first flowers are often produced relatively quickly, in the year following germination. This is when good forms can be selected and propagated.

Vegetative propagation

All four species are readily propagated vegetatively by lifting and dividing the rhizome into short lengths of about 2cm. This can be done at any time, but choosing either autumn or early spring seems to give the best results.

The sections of rhizome are planted horizontally in a sandy/gritty John Innes mix, about 2-3cm below the compost surface. The O. adenophylla rhizome forms a compact, bulb-like structure that produces small ‘bulbs’ around its periphery, which are easily detached and planted. The pots are topdressed with a layer of grit and left in a shady spot in the open, in a frame or in an unheated alpine house. Leaves should appear in spring, with flowers possibly produced

The rhizome of Oxalis enneaphylla

The bulb-like rhizome of Oxalis adenophylla

even in the same year, but more likely during the following one.

Pests and diseases

Oxalis are usually trouble-free, but in some gardens rust can be a problem. This attacks the leaves, which eventually wither and die.

In our garden in the south of England, this is a problem from mid to late summer, especially when conditions are wet. We have better results if plants are grown under cover. A general fungicidal spray will usually help control or prevent the development of rust.

Nowadays it is not too difficult to put together a collection of Patagonian Oxalis, and there is much scope for breeding and selecting new varieties and creating attractive hybrids.

Although occasionally appearing on the show bench, they can be frustrating plants to exhibit. Each flower lasts for only a few days and may refuse to open if conditions are too cool. However, as plants for the raised bed or trough, with the exception of O. loricata, they will provide colour and fragrance over many weeks during late spring and summer.

Having been a member of the Northern Horticultural Society from the age of 22 and subsequently the Royal Horticultural Society (when the former was subsumed into the RHS), I have maintained a passing interest in alpines and similar ‘niche’ plants. Retirement in 2010 allowed me time to reassess my garden and to start new projects. Even as you get older, a garden should evolve. It’s not just for sitting down passively to enjoy.

A primary aim was to complete the removal of my lawn, a task started in 2009. Even though it was small, it looked awful on my sandy soil. With an address of Sandrock Drive (the garden was once on the edge of a quarry), there was no chance of ever owning a lush green sward.

I had been growing Thymus serpyllum for some time in various borders and in a gravel bed on the patio at the rear of the house. Lots of self-set plants had become available and if I stopped throwing them away I could have a nice thyme lawn. After three seasons of lifting the turf in stages and planting the ‘selfies’, I have a lawn that doesn’t require mowing! I installed stepping stones so the grandchildren could play and run across it – they are not usually encouraged to chase through the borders and shrubs. During June and July there is a rich purple display with hordes of pollinators eager to carry out their purpose in life.

I first took time to stand back and stare, to give due consideration to growing something new, in the spring of 2013. A sudden rush of blood to the head and I was contemplating growing Primula auricula. So in June of that year I bought an assortment of young plants for growing on to display in 2014. But where to display them? Another project: an auricula theatre! It was designed and built in a month and, with no possible occupants for another eight months, it would probably stand empty for the winter, which seemed a shame.

I have always liked and enjoyed growing a few sempervivums among the ‘passing interest’ plants previously referred to, so why not buy some for ‘The Theatre’, but from where? Well, a late summer visit to RHS Harlow Carr provided some stock and also spawned another idea.

Whenever we visit RHS Wisley or

Raymond Hurd, an AGS member for just over a year, has thoroughly enjoyed discovering the world of alpines. His enthusiasm is evident in this account of his hard work

The newly constructed plunge bed in Raymond Hurd’s greenhouse, which he hopes may eventually provide some prizewinning plants at AGS shows

Harlow Carr, the alpine houses are always a draw and this visit was no exception. The display was stimulus enough for another project – or two. Turn part of the greenhouse over to growing auriculas and the whole of one side to the establishment of an alpine bench with a sand plunge to house more specialist plants than I had previously grown. Now for the search for plants...

I Googled ‘alpine growers’ and among those that popped up was a nursery in Yorkshire. An afternoon’s drive took us from our South Yorkshire home to the hills of West Yorkshire and Slack Top Nursery, run by Michael and Allison Mitchell. It was our luck that it stayed dry long enough to look around part of their garden and most of the sales stock, which allowed me to chat about a few

Saxifraga longifolia looking resplendent in Raymond’s garden

suitable plants with Allison before she asked Michael to interrupt his work on the nursery to meet us. I talked with him about constructing a bed for alpines in my greenhouse and he recommended buying coarse sand to use as plunge material. We came away as the skies opened and drove home through the heaviest rain we had seen for weeks.

Back at base the construction of the plunge bench pressed ahead and the Slack Top purchases took pride of place, newly potted in terracotta pots. It looked good! Was I starting to feel a hook sinking into me? I needed more plants, but first I had to redesign the gravel bed on the patio outside the kitchen window. It had become untidy and there was not enough rock to create crevices and small screes.

I removed the few sandstone rocks that were there, along with the plants I wanted to retain. I dug out all the soil to a depth of about two feet below ground level and sieved it for re-use in the re-build. A search of the rest of the garden provided enough sandstone blocks to more than treble the number of rocks in the bed. I used a drainage layer of large pebbles (there’s an infinite supply in my garden) with a gravel layer over that and a compost similar to that recommended in the AGS leaflet on composts, consisting of the removed

soil, John Innes No. 2, multipurpose compost, sharp sand and alpine grit.

The back of the bed is about twice as high as the front above ground level. This gives a good slope and the gaps between the rocks provide a variety of planting places. The plants were topdressed with generous helpings of alpine grit as they went in, leaving visible areas of compost awaiting further plants. The view from the kitchen is much improved and there’s easy access for further planting and maintenance.

Allison Mitchell had given me details of other alpine growers with an excellent reputation, and so we travelled with our caravan to Pottertons in Lincolnshire to seek out more plants. Some found a home in the alpine bench while others went straight into the patio bed.

Then my wife Marjorie and I joined the Alpine Garden Society. I was really hooked now and devoured the literature avidly. It certainly stimulated a desire to expand the range of plants in the alpine bed and try one or two more adventurous alpines.

I saw Mendle Nursery’s advert in The Alpine Gardener and paid a visit – it’s the nearest specialist grower to home. Marjorie and I spent an enjoyable couple of hours talking with Ann Earnshaw and came back with sempervivums, saxifrages and my first ever jovibarbas.

We visited the AGS show at Chesterfield, dragging four of the grandchildren with us. I was surprised by how interested they were. Three of them took copious photographs of every plant that had a splash of colour. It was a really good afternoon and more plants were purchased. The show was well attended and provided more inspiration – could I exhibit one day?

The hunt for knowledge went on. We took the caravan to Oxfordshire in April and visited Waterperry Gardens, knowing it would be too late to see most of the prized collection of Kabschia saxifrages in flower. I had a long chat with Adrian Young, keeper of the collection, and saw the work being done to refurbish and extend the tufa beds. The saxifrages still in flower were a further incitement to buy more plants.

During May I spent time experimenting with a polystyrene fish box and covering it with hypertufa. I thickened the sides of the box by mounting chicken wire on it and impregnated it with the homemade tufa mix. It looks very realistic and has been planted as a crevice trough.

In June we were holidaying in midWales and I persuaded Marjorie that we should drive up to the National Trust’s Bodnant Garden overlooking the Conwy Valley. It provided a great show of plants for all purposes. Late in the afternoon we visited another grower recommended by Allison Mitchell. Aberconwy Nursery is about three miles from Bodnant, up a twisty narrow lane. Keith Lever was around to give some advice and more stock was added to the collection.

By July the patio bed was largely planted, but ideas were arising yet again, with plans for a second alpine bed on the raised walled area above the patio. Until now this had incorporated a small scree area feeding into a gravel garden.

August saw me complete the hypertufa covering of a large ceramic sink. It was easier than I expected. I was also fortunate to find a supply of the real

Raymond Hurd’s redeveloped raised bed is filling up with alpines

thing and bought a piece of tufa that just about fills the finished sink from Steve Furness at The Alpine Plant Centre in Derbyshire. I am still planting this with plants, cuttings and offsets that have root systems small enough to fit into the holes I have drilled.

We visited the AGS autumn shows at Featherstone and Loughborough. A conversation with Jon Evans might encourage my wife to submit some work for the art classes, while I may enter some plants in the shows in 2015.

Over the winter I’ve been developing another part of the garden in the style of limestone pavement, which we are lucky to have in Yorkshire at sites such as Malham Cove, White Scars and Moughton Scars. None of my beds is large but I’ve come to realise that my relatively small modern garden can easily sustain superb alpine displays. I’ve also recently joined the Chesterfield Local Group of the AGS.

So the past 12 months have been exceptionally enjoyable. None of the work has seemed onerous. I’ve just taken my time with everything. I’ve read widely, including back issues of the AGS Bulletin, and am now up to 1936 in the editions available on CD.

Here’s to a productive future!

Tim Ingram looks at the various forms and cultivars of Anemone nemorosa, one of the delights of the woodland garden in spring

The wood anemone, Anemone nemorosa, must be one of the most loved of spring flowers. In nature it can carpet a woodland floor almost to the exclusion of any other plant, or combine in a rich mix with celandine and bluebells. In Flora Britannica, Richard Mabey describes it as one of the most faithful indicators of ‘ancient’ woodland because it rarely spreads by seed and increases only slowly by vegetative means.

In woodlands the anemone usually occurs in relatively few clonal forms, spreading steadily by its twiglet-like rhizomes. Large stands grow in Blean Woods near Canterbury in Kent but show little variation from the typically white, sometimes faintly pink-flushed flowers. Just occasionally isolated variants occur such as the pink-centred form pictured overleaf, but how stable these might be is uncertain. In gardens

Anemone nemorosa carpeting Blean Woods in Kent

the variation is very much greater and more than 70 cultivars are listed in the RHS Plant Finder.

In a definitive article written many years ago in The Plantsman (volume 3, page 167), Ulrich Toubøl listed the most widely grown forms and mentioned that

he grew some 50 distinct clones. Forms that are occasionally found naturally in woodlands steadily add to the range in gardens but few really stand out over time. In 1966 Miles Hadfield wrote in the AGS Bulletin (volume 34, page 142) of the origins of some of the best known such as ‘Robinsoniana’, ‘Allenii’ and ‘Bracteata’.

Most variants rarely, if at all, multiply by seed in the garden and presumably have arisen by vegetative mutations in different places. Hadfield says that only one distinct self-sown seedling

appeared in his garden in over 30 years of growing different forms. Similarly we have had no seedlings arising from plants in our garden in Kent, though we grow relatively few varieties.

In Denmark, though, Ulrich Toubøl describes beech woods containing between 20 and 40 well-defined clones over an average square kilometre, which indicates that when these do arise in relative proximity they will occasionally cross and result in greater local variation over time.

Latterly John Jearrard on his website (www.johnjearrard.co.uk) gives the most comprehensive account of a wide variety of named forms, in many cases pictured over successive seasons, enabling much better estimation of their garden worth. He also describes a number of interesting selected seedlings raised in his own garden.

Robin White at Blackthorn in Hampshire has similarly raised seedlings from crosses between different varieties. It seems likely that seed set in the wild has a low rate of success due to strong competition from other plants, whereas with more care in the garden interesting new forms can be raised. One of the problems from which clonal selections of the wood anemone can suffer is a mycoplasma infection that causes abnormal growth of rhizomes and foliage, so the ability to raise new forms from seed could be a great advantage.

Reading descriptions of different clones, and viewing examples on websites, shows how difficult it can often be to assign names to plants in the garden. Some, however, are so distinctive that they do stand out. This

Anemone nemorosa ‘Virescens’

is particularly true of aberrant forms where parts of or all the flower have reverted to leafy green bracts, as is often found in other familiar garden plants such as primroses and celandine.

At its most extreme, in Anemone nemorosa ‘Virescens’ the ‘flower’ is converted into a mass of tiny leaflets and the effect is as different from the species as it is possible to be. More attractive is ‘Green Fingers’, in which only the stamens have been modified into leaflets, creating a ‘green ruff’ in the centre of the flower. In our garden this

A pink-centred variant of Anemone nemorosa in Blean Woods

is much slower growing than ‘Virescens’ and other cultivars and is often unstable in form from year to year.

Doubling of the flowers is common, just as it is in many other plants prized by gardeners. Perhaps the most beautiful of all cultivars is ‘Vestal’, originally marketed by the German nurseryman Max Leichtlin of Baden-Baden, in which the stamens have been converted into a neat mop of small petals. A fine form, ‘Hilda’, named by Ulrich Toubøl for his wife, has 15 to 20 uniform white petals and a dwarf habit. ‘Bohemia’, a similar semi-double from the Czech Republic, is the palest of pink. Another form very like ‘Vestal’, from Shortalstown garden in south-east Ireland, grows in our garden.

As with snowdrops and primroses, a number of interesting selections of the wood anemone have arisen in Ireland. One such is a curious and very full double which in maturity develops a distinct blue-purple eye in the centre of the flower – hence its name ‘Blue Eyes’. This was introduced by Dr Mollie Sanderson in 1971 and is described

Anemone nemorosa ‘Westwell Pink’, named by Tim Ingram

by Kath Dryden in the AGS Bulletin (volume 68, page 251). H. S. Wacher (volume 30, page 139) found the variety bracteata (now ‘Bracteata’ or ‘Bracteata Pleniflora’) in his Kentish garden in the 1960s. This has semi-double flowers surrounded by greenish bracts, but is often unstable and shows variation in itself. However, an identical form has been known since the 16th century and must have re-occurred in gardens at various times in between. Also at that time a double purple form was described by the Flemish botanist Clusius, but it is now presumed extinct.

The remarkable range of double forms of hepaticas grown in Japan, of celandines and, more recently, of Eranthis shows how horticultural selection can result in great diversity. Bob Brown of Cotswold Garden Flowers has an intriguing example of a pinkflushed, fully double wood anemone on his website (www.cgf.net) and another named ‘Pink Delight’ looks similar.

As the flowers of white clones age they often develop pinkish and purple colorations, as found in other plants such as Trillium grandiflorum. In some cases this results in such a strong colour that the flowers really do stand out. A good form given to us by a local gardener, Mrs Collins, arose in Westwell Woods near Ashford in Kent. We have named

A montage of anemones accompanied by Dicentra formosa ‘Bacchanal’, which associates well with them in the garden. From top: Anemone nemorosa ‘Virescens’ (green), A. n. ‘Bowles Purple’, A. n. ‘Vestal’ (pure white), A. n. ‘Blue Eyes’, A. ranunculoides (small form) and A. n. ‘Allenii’

The lavenderblue Anemone nemorosa ‘Allenii’

Opposite, Anemone nemorosa ‘Robinsoniana’ growing with Erythronium revolutum

it ‘Westwell Pink’ (this is sometimes referred to incorrectly as ‘Kentish Pink’). Paul Christian’s selection ‘Pentre Pink’ and ‘Swedish Pink’ are similar, but in many others the colour is weaker and less effective in the garden.

True and consistent pink forms of the wood anemone are much rarer. Ruby Baker (The Alpine Gardener, volume 72, page 348) writes of a miscellany of A. nemorosa and mentions that a form ‘Rosea’ from Lismore Woods in Ireland (now listed as ‘Lismore Pink’) opens rosy-pink and slowly fades to white, in contradistinction from many others. John Jearrard pictures several good pink forms – ‘Marie Rose’, ‘Pink Carpet’ and ‘Tinney’s Pink/Blush’, the latter from G. Mundey. The first, and another, ‘Lucia’, were collected in the Picos by Michael Hoog, as was the distinctive variety ‘Evelyn Meadows’, found by Richard Nutt, which has young reddish-purple leaves, red buds and white flowers ageing faintly pink. A few examples with very dark leaves have been selected from this region, tending towards the remarkable leaf colour of some celandines.

Nearly brick-red forms with no hint of purple have also occasionally been found (for example by C. H. Hammer in northern Spain and Ulrich Toubøl in heathland on the Danish-German border) but these have never been maintained in cultivation. The strength of colour of many of these plants can vary greatly from year to year and probably also with soil pH and fertility,

but there is scope to select for good pink forms equivalent to the many fine blues. For many gardeners the most striking of all are the blue and lavender-coloured cultivars such as ‘Allenii’ and the more slender ‘Robinsoniana’. For Toubøl the finest of all woodland anemones is ‘Blue Beauty’, with flowers of true sky-blue and distinctly hairy leaves which he likens to a pulsatilla. Deepest blue of all is ‘Royal Blue’, a more delicate and refined plant. ‘Hannah Gubbay’ is remarkable for its bright red buds and very finely branched and congested rhizomes, giving it an unusually compact and neat habit. Many of the blues, sometimes tending to bluepurple, are among the loveliest of all wood anemones in the garden, compact and free-flowering like the plant illustrated overleaf that we grow under the name ‘Bowles Purple’. The names become confused over time in different gardens, and cultivars vary considerably in vigour, so the RHS Trial conducted a decade or more ago at Knightshayes Court in Devon, which has such a fine collection of woodland plants, could well benefit from repetition.

More variation in flower colour and form has come from hybrids between A. nemorosa and the yellow A. ranunculoides, collectively described under the name A. x seemannii. This is a particularly beautiful hybrid when it first emerges in spring with strongly bronze-tinged foliage and softest yellow flowers and raises the prospect that other interesting hybrids could arise

Anemone x seemannii and, right, Anemone nemorosa ‘Bowles Purple’

between selected forms in gardens. A. ranunculoides itself has been long grown for its bright sulphur-yellow flowers in both single and double forms, and more recently has been selected further by Taavi Tuulik from Estonia, with plants distributed by Líga Popova and Jānis Rukšāns in Latvia.

A. nemorosa has a wide distribution across Europe and into Asia and is much the commonest wood anemone grown in gardens, but a number of other species have been introduced, especially in recent years. A. trifolia, from southwest Europe and as far east as Hungary, is distinct for its foliage and more compact habit. It is generally white but a rare pink form is also known.

From Japan and China come a number of species of great interest to the plantsperson: debilis, flaccida, keiskiana, nikoensis, pseudo-altaica, raddeana and udensis. Asia hosts species such as altaica, coerulea, eranthoides, jeniseejensis and uralensis (a Red Data Book plant). From North America are quinquefolia (in the east) and deltoidea, lyallii and oregana, and the rare A. piperi in the west. Very few of these are cultivated and are probably much less garden-worthy than A. nemorosa, but the fact that the central-south European A. apennina has become widely naturalised in the UK shows that the British climate is well suited to many of these plants, and for keen gardeners they have great appeal.

Even though so many cultivars of A. nemorosa are listed in the RHS Plant Finder, far fewer are generally found in gardens. Nevertheless, as garden plants the wood anemones associate perfectly with hellebores and many other sylvan species, and also with later-leafing perennials such as hostas. Especially good plantings occur in gardens as different as Knightshayes Court in

A woodland tapestry including anemones and fritillaries at Nymans Garden

Devon and Beth Chatto’s in Essex, showing their garden adaptability to varying climate.

They generally flower best under deciduous trees and shrubs in only light shade, or even in open situations when shaded by other perennials before and during their dormancy through summer and autumn. Their twigletlike rhizomes proliferate into congested mats just below the soil surface and are best divided and replanted in autumn while dormant, separating them carefully to avoid too much inevitable damage. While dormant they can withstand periods of quite intense drought, in a similar way to primroses and snowdrops. They also succeed well in thin turf and look good in such places with erythroniums, small narcissi and fritillarias. When naturalised in this way, as at Nymans garden in West Sussex, they can form a beautiful tapestry.

All in all the wood anemone vies with that other archetypal spring flower, the primrose, for variability and desirability in the garden, and improves steadily year on year with little attention from the gardener.

 My thanks to Robin White, Mike Brett, Keith Wiley and Julian Sutton for their observations on growing Anemone nemorosa in the garden and nursery.

My good fortune was to know Jim Archibald for 20 or more years, during which time we met intermittently at AGS and other shows or at his Welsh home, corresponded by letter and had some rather lengthy telephone conversations. He eschewed emails: when his website was launched, the ‘contact us’ button was the first thing to be removed.

It’s now almost five years since he left us, and as the equally fortunate recipient of some of his finest slides, never before published, perhaps never projected in his renowned lectures nor even taken out of the boxes in which they arrived after processing, my purpose in this article is to bring a selection of these to a wider audience.

A plant-hunter, plant distributor, plant geographer and plant connoisseur of the first rank, Jim was very widely travelled and endlessly informative. Japan, Siberia, the Himalayas and China were the only significant mountainous areas he didn’t visit, but even these he knew well enough by proxy, repeatedly offering seed garnered from an illustrious set of contacts worldwide. I should have ordered more from his seed lists, and every so often kick myself for the opportunities lost.

‘Couldn’t afford to run my business on £40 cheques,’ he once told me in honest non-recriminatory fashion. Not that he came close to doing so, since large orders would flood in following the distribution of these annual or biannual – once triannual if memory serves – lists, issued from 1983 to 2010.

What follows does not proportionately reflect the lengths of time spent in the various countries he visited. There are several reasons for this, the most compelling being the aim of presenting what he would have dubbed an esoteric range of images. Repeatedly Jim reflected that he was primarily in the field when plants were in seed rather than flower and, in any case, there was little time to spare for taking accomplished photographs. Looking through his thousands of slides, taken over the

Jim Archibald, who died in 2010, was one of the most noted alpine plantsmen of the past 50 years. Robert Rolfe selects a portfolio of previously unpublished photographs from Jim’s slide collection, which serve as a guide to some of his many expeditions to destinations as diverse as Iran, the United States, France and Chile

Jim Archibald in Iran in 1966 alongside Dionysia bryoides and D. revoluta

course of nearly 50 years, demonstrates otherwise.

Before the seed lists, he mounted a series of subscriber-backed expeditions. Unlike his later trips, where he would fly out and stay in whatever accommodation was available, in the early years he drove all the way there and back, taking ferries where necessary and bringing with him a small tent, from which he clearly had his money’s worth. A couple of these adventures are recorded in issues of the AGS Bulletin from the 1960s. Others are alluded to in other articles and lecture digests. The remainder were never written up. Jim’s 1966 marathon expedition to Iran with his first wife, Janette, belongs to this third group, for all that much information is contained in works such as Kit GreyWilson’s Dionysias: The Genus Dionysia in the Wild and in Cultivation (1970). Its foreword salutes the input of the Archibalds, ‘whose knowledge of the genus in Iran surpasses that of all others, and whose photographs [published in black and white] are the mainstay of this book’.

Iran

Several years previously Paul Furse, his wife Polly and (separately, as a member of a Bowles Scholarship Expedition) Brian Mathew had explored Iran. Three decades earlier, in 1932, onetime AGS president Paul Giuseppi and E.K.

(Edward Kent) Balls had journeyed there and returned with four species of Dionysia, one of which, D. curviflora, persists from this introduction. Jim stayed longer, travelled further and added considerably to his predecessors’ findings. I have some of his maps, annotated but now out of date (charting nowadays is much improved and new roads have been constructed), and a three-page listing of ‘Principal collections of seeds, bulbs, corms and rhizomes, 1966’.

Jim set off with ample supplies to facilitate the adventure. In those days it was considered prudent to buy these in advance, given the uncertainty of being able to procure such items en route. Tinned mince, Campbell’s condensed soups, salt pills, Skeet-o-Stik insect repellent and 1,000 aspirins (revised upwards from the originally stipulated 500), along with routine items such as fern trowels, sieves, muslin and polythene bags, were all meticulously itemised, the living expenses calculated at £320, with a further £250 for petrol.

A meandering route was plotted, taking in southern Spain, Morocco, Algeria, Libya, Lebanon, Iraq and finally Iran, returning via Turkey. Nowadays the flight-time from London to Tehran is just over five hours. His Iranian stay, a lengthy one, principally took in the more northerly and western provinces, focusing on the Elburz and Zagros mountains. There were no leader-led, bespoke botanical tours there in those days and no Flora Iranica for easy reference either. Jim had Per Wendelbo’s 1961 Dionysia monograph, but Volume 9 (covering Primulaceae) of Rechinger’s work, published a year earlier in 1965, appears not to have been part of his armoury.

The finest of his Iranian Dionysia pictures have already been published. But while in that country he took many others, including photographs of the ancient, c. 515 BC sculpted friezes at Persepolis, some 70km to the north-east of the city of Shiraz. Nearby, on Kuh-iSabzpuchon (Fars Province), he scaled the limestone cliffs to make collections of Dionysia bryoides (JCA 1453) and D. revoluta. Both were introduced successfully to cultivation, the first of these the only representative of its kind until Tom Hewer’s 1976 gathering. The sole surviving Archibald clone of D. bryoides has narrower lobes with a picotee margin; the most successful Hewer collection is fuller-limbed, with more rounded flowers (the clone ‘Harold Esslemont’ exemplifies this character). D. odora was only established from a later collection, but on his 1966 trip Jim diverted to its Nawa Kuh homeland, encountering it there on ‘moist, north and north-east facing limestone cliffs in gorge at base of mountain’. The slide published here shows him in typically reflective mood.

There are any number of other genera that one could cite from this time, or from his returns to the country from 2000 onwards: alliums, fritillarias, tulips, anemones, euphorbias and muscaris/ bellevalias make up the majority of these, along with endemics such as the china blue, semi-desert dwelling borage Trichodesma aucheri, surely never offered commercially since. The glaring omission in this roll-call so far, however,

Jim Archibald in typically reflective mood at Nawa Kuh in Iran and, inset, one of his pictures of the sculpted friezes at Persepolis

is the genus Iris, specifically Section Oncocyclus and subgenus Scorpiris (the junos).

Junos figure among the 1966 listings, mainly from Kurdistan, but his appreciation and knowledge of the group increased considerably after the turn of the century, reflecting repeated trips to Iran and Central Asia (where he discovered at least one taxon new to science). Rather unfortunately, the one that commemorates him to date, a

Iris barnumiae subsp. demavendica in the Elburz Mountains

subspecies of I. narynensis, comes from a part of the Tien Shan that he never visited and is one of the few juno species that he never grew!

Oncocyclus irises were among his most cherished plants. As early as the mid1960s he had a very good collection, as slides of a large bed in a nursery greenhouse at Buckshaw Gardens (Dorset) testify. His 1966 collections formed the basis of far and away the best selection offered and home grown by a British nursery in the early 1970s, and some of the field work informed Brian Mathew and Per Wendelbo’s treatment of Iridaceae for Flora Iranica in 1975. Jim’s discoveries continued when he revisited the country nearly 40 years later, with Norman Stevens in 2005. The collection listed by this Society’s Seed Distribution as 05-215, from Ardabil Province, northeast of Khalkal at 2,000m, ‘among steppe vegetation on open slope’, is followed by an observation that no Oncocyclus species had hitherto been recorded from this north-westerly part of the country, near the border with Azerbaijan.

Some 200 miles to the south-east, where the Elburz Mountains are at their loftiest, not far from Tehran, he photographed (but never offered commercially, apparently) Iris barnumiae subsp. demavendica, a plant that occurs higher than any other ‘Onco’, at up to 4,200m. The colour and extent of the beard on the falls is significant

Ornithogalum arcuatum in Van Province, which Jim grew in his Welsh garden

when it comes to identifying the several subordinate taxa: narrow and pale in this subspecies but comprising ‘dense, short, black hairs’ in forma protonyma (as noted in his listings for material sourced from the Khamsian Pass at 1,585m) and made up of ‘dense, orange-yellow hairs’ in unmistakeably distinct, yellow, very rarely almost white or bicoloured f. urmiensis from the Turkish/Iranian borderlands, east of Lake Van.

Cinderella monocots he also championed. Witness his panoramic image of Ornithogalum arcuatum, also from Van Province and seen here at 2,200m in 1992. Much later he found it in Iran’s Bakhtiari Province in a ‘fallow field on a south-facing slope’ and it is also known from Russia. Against the odds, it grew easily outdoors in his periodically very wet Welsh garden.

Turkey

The Oncocyclus cross-over just mentioned marks a convenient point to turn my attention to Turkey, where Jim made many important collections, most notably from 1984-88, and afterwards in 1994 (his last visit, with Norman Stevens, was in 2007). Scores have endured.

I must also acknowledged the sustained and vital role played by Jenny Archibald, who first travelled abroad with Jim in the 1970s, accepting the harvesting, packeting and subsequent distribution of seed as a way of life for many years.

Lilium kesselringianum and, right, Jenny Archibald in Greece

She gamely spent a sizeable part of 1986 living in a caravan in south-eastern Turkey with sallies from this base ‘that lasted either a day or several weeks… It is not a ‘nine to five’ routine, [rather] a ‘dawn to dusk’ one for seven days a week’, Jim wrote.

The Oncocyclus Iris sprengeri, restricted to the central Turkish provinces of Niğde and Konya, he recommended as ‘one of the dwarfest and most beautiful of all’. Typically colonising loose volcanic ash by means of characteristic slender stolons, these have been evocatively described as ‘couchgrass-like’ but are regrettably far less abundant or tenacious in cultivation.

He had a penchant for the lilies endemic to north-east Turkey, some spilling over into neighbouring Georgia, where he made his last trip in 2010. Surely none is more beautiful than the powerfully fragrant (cloying to some noses) Lilium kesselringianum, best known to the Archibalds from a site at around 1,800m on the fringes of Picea woodland in Artvin Province, where the stems were 1.5m tall and the flowers often in double figures, individually up to 14cm across. All around, sometimes a little lower down, in this area of high rainfall grows Rhododendron ungernii, which Jim wryly noted ‘would be greeted with profuse accolades… [if it] appeared

The beautifully marked Oncocyclus Iris sprengeri, one of Jim’s favourite plants

Rhododendron ungernii is worth growing for its foliage alone

Acanthus hirsutus, which can be found in Turkey from 800m to 1,800m 54

A mystery dwarf shrub that might belong to either Macleania or Plutarchia

newly out of China’. Worth growing for its foliage alone, it is offered by just one or two nurseries at present.

Turning from moist woodland to steppe, semi-desert and areas where the summers are unfailingly dry and very warm, it’s worth noting that his few Acanthus introductions, dating from 1985, were runaway successes that continue to beautify gardens in Britain (and no doubt far beyond) 30 years later. In Mersin Province, east of Gűlnar, A. hirsutus (JJA 106.700) was introduced from ‘field margins in stony clay at 800m’, in this locality to 50cm tall, so slightly taller than the 1045cm normally cited, and at the lowest altitude recorded for the species. It gets up to 1,800m in other parts of southern Anatolia and also occurs on some of the islands, typically growing on non-limey strata in abandoned fields on steep rocky slopes and at the edges of Pinus brutia woodland. Less ferociously spiny than some of its Turkish relatives, the foliage has been described as ‘dandelionlike’ with inert spines, its shortish inflorescences can be either pale yellow or cream (in this example ‘with close spikes of pale green and white flowers’). Sometimes it has a suckering habit.

South America

While Jim’s two trips to Chile and Argentina, in 1991 and 1994, by and large introduced more growable plants, the ones further north to Colombia (1978) and Ecuador (1993) were trail-blazing, the material and information brought back of lasting scientific and botanical significance. He drew the attention of his customers to the importance and diversity of Ericaceae at these latitudes, hailing the ‘magnificent’ genus Befaria

Idiosyncratic topiary in the garden cemetery at Tulcán, Ecuador

as ‘the rhododendrons of the Andes’. He was too early in the field to collect seed from these in 1993. Fifteen years earlier he had a similar experience with others (Gaultheria excepted) but by way of compensation he took slides of very seldom-photographed plants such as a mystery dwarf shrub with cylindrical, scarlet flowers that might belong to either Macleania or Plutarchia, at a guess.

Other images taken at that time depict the vibrant local markets; canoe-like boats ferrying produce along the Atrato river; the then pristine 5,000m peak Nevado El Ruiz (which blew its top catastrophically in 1985); portraits of friends and of Jenny that reprise the famous Angus McBean album cover images of The Beatles, looking down from a stairwell; obscure orchids and bomareas; and images of Colombia’s ornate, entrancing cathedrals.

This endless, cultured curiosity comes across again and again when sorting through his slides. They are elegantly evocative of whichever host country he visited, as portrayed through, for example, the idiosyncratic topiary he recorded in the garden cemetery at Tulcán in Ecuador, encapsulating that city’s Mayan/Inca past, just as a couple of guinea pigs, de-furred but still very recognisable, roasting on vertical spits and ready for carving, illustrate the continuing diet in such parts. I used the

Alstroemeria pallida near Farellones, Chile, at 2,000m

slide in a recent lecture, inducing cries of dismay from an audience used to regarding them as pets, not as an item on the menu.

Jim had a much broader, more inclusive, more realistic concept of alpine (or at the very least upland) plants than most other arbiters. What grows with what, what you come across low down or high up, often confound preconceptions. Repeat trips to mountains the world over tend to ram home that lesson. An early advert for his nursery, The Plantsmen, made it clear that he was as keen on Oncocyclus irises and hellebores as on androsaces and dionysias, and felt a kindredship with those whose ‘gardening inclinations extend the realm of diminutive rarities’.

An avid reader, Jim could be dismissive about the work of others but could readily have written monographs on pet genera such as Paeonia, Fritillaria (his good friends Bob and Rannveig Wallis are making progress on this front), Muscari and several others. His extensive travelling prevented this, and when at home the task of transforming a very large garden took priority. As for the evenings, he would come indoors to face a nightly onslaught of phone calls. Jenny vetted these and became diplomatically adept at gently deflecting the majority in order that they could eat their supper in peace.

One monograph that he clearly approved of was Dr Ehrentraud Bayer’s

The distinctive and taxonomically in flux Alstroemeria xanthina in Chile

1987 Die Gattung Alstroemeria in Chile, commended as ‘meticulously researched’. He always acknowledged those who had done what he termed their ‘homework’, while frowning on those who clearly had not. I suppose that, in small measure, this genus’s comparatively late-flowering but summer-dormant growth cycle, analogous (as he pointed out) with the Oncocyclus irises that he cherished even more, had an essentially practical appeal. The protected, planted-out collection in his garden, quite quickly amassed close to the entrance of one of the polytunnels, was phenomenal. This included A. pallida, from 1991 and 1994 Chilean ski resort collections made first near Farellones at 2,000m (as depicted here), then three years later at Lagunillas, rather higher at 2,200m, on exposed ridges and steep, stony slopes. The seed he found germinated readily (if soaked for 24 hours in warm water, then kept in a refrigerator for a few weeks) and could be stored dry and cool for over a decade. He tentatively recommended A. pallida for ‘trial outside in sunny scree in the UK’. Under glass it grows to around 20cm tall, though as little as 5cm in its natural occurrences south and west of South America’s highest mountain, Aconcagua. It has white or pinkish flowers with a yellow palette and was first grown in Britain as early as 1829.

Also repeatedly listed from the 1990s onwards was A. aurea, from selected

Crocus cvijicii on Vermion in northern Greece

Chilean populations at 200m and 1,500m. It is surprising, however, to find that this species nowadays includes in its synonomy the distinctive A. xanthina, described in 1873 (A. aurea was conjured up 40 years earlier, and can be up to 60cm or more in height, whereas its repositioned dwarf amalgam is typically a sixth as tall). When chanced upon, by torchlight, by the Beckett, Cheese & Watson expedition over 40 years ago, at first encounter they compared it to some ludicrously out-of-country Fritillaria, or else a bizarre mix of one of these and a dwarf lily, variously ‘tawny orange and greenish yellow… [flecked] chocolate’, as John Watson recalled in an article in these pages in June 1976. Its latterday suggested allegiance is surely not definitive, for only last year (Boletin del Museo de Historia Natural, Chile, 62: 167-201) a more apposite annexation with dwarfer, analogously heavilyflecked A. versicolor was published, which makes considerably more sense.

The rest of the world

Rather a travesty, really, inasmuch as I’m tailing off with just a meagre handful of slides that symbolise the Archibalds’ numerous other travels and plants seen in bloom, or those grown on and brought to the attention of the horticultural community worldwide.

I’ll start in continental Europe, since at one stage, in the 1980s, Jim contemplated

Aquilegia ottonis on Chelmos, Greece

a move to the southernmost French Alps, where properties were very affordable and from where he would have been able to make any number of sorties, using this home as his base. But it’s elsewhere in the country ‒ the Pyrenees ‒ that we make a start. He praised Saxifraga longifolia as ‘certainly the most spectacular of Europeans’, offering seed, in his 1988-89 list, from a well-known locality for the species, the Vallée d’Ossoue above Gavarnie, which he visited in one of the monocarpic species’ boom rather than bust years, photographing it in resplendent flower.

Greece, too, he revisited time and again, from Falakron to many points south and west. Sentiment obliges me to signal his collection of Crocus cvijicii on Vermion. When we revisited, in June 1996, it was long out of flower and we spent a very arduous few hours searching for dehiscing capsules on the upper slopes. More gruesomely I recall his anguished shout when exploring a limestone ledge and chancing upon a life-size doll that had been cast over the precipice, in the heat of the moment mistaking it for a child’s body. Not all his finds were fruitful, never mind welcome, but he always made light of any difficulties in the field.

Aquilegias he championed, from north-western North America to China. It’s problematic to suggest where to obtain true-to-name stocks of the north

A unique white form of the prevailingly yellow-flowered Polemonium brandegei

Italian A. einseliana or A. thalictrifolia (‘a prettier thing’ according to Farrer), Turkish/ Caucasian/Iranian A. olympica (offered in JJA lists from Erzurum Province at 2,400m, with ‘short-spurred blue and white flowers on branching 50cm stems’), never mind scarce northwest American endemics such as highdwelling A. laramiensis or the orangepink and cream-flowered A. barnebeyi. I could point you in the right direction to obtain bona fide material of Greek A. ottonis subsp. amaliae, another pale blue and white bicoloured species, but I’d struggle to do the same for the concolorous sky or violet-blue type race, beautifully photographed in June 1986 on Chelmos. While growing as illustrated in a crevice on an exposed limestone slab, it more usually inhabits part-shaded ravines at 1,300-1,800m, in its higher, cooler eyries reserving its performance until the second half of July.

In Wyoming’s Laramie Mountains, Jim found the Aquilegia named for its type and only locality in granite fissures at 2,280m right up to 3,110m. It was joined on Laramie Peak itself by a unique, pristine white form of the prevailingly yellow-flowered Polemonium brandegei, 450 miles distant from orthodox New Mexico populations. Growing at the very summit, in gritty fissures, its untoward location drew forth the prediction from Jim that he would not be travelling there

Calochortus invenustus

again, and so it proved. Scarcely heard of in cultivation for at least a decade, it came as a very pleasant surprise indeed to find it exhibited by Mala Janes at last year’s AGS Cleveland Show.

Never before cultivated, very littleknown plants added spice to the Archibalds’ lists, and often as not were offered nowhere else. Their first northwest USA tour took place from June to September 1987. It was followed by several others of equal scope, with the assistance of correspondents and friends who knew the mountains well, though by dint of experience in the field and sheer slog he made further discoveries, causing various hosts to sit up and take notice. The tremendous, extensive listings of the genus Calochortus, for example, might not have yielded commensurate results in cultivation, but one cannot but salute his thoroughness and his extensive contacts (in the mid1990s most obviously) with the foremost authorities of the time, such as Wayne Roderick, Stan Farwig and Vic Girard.

A 1990 collection of the Californian Calochortus panamintensis, from the Panamint Mountains bordering the western rim of Death Valley, is typical. This he first encountered in Wild Rose Canyon at 1,350m ‘among grasses and scrub’, up to 60cm tall with ‘immaculate, white flowers’ and bluish anthers. Later

Hymenoxys acaulis var. caespitosa, now re-aligned with the genus Tetraneuris

on, well to the west, in Kern County, a taxon that keyed out as this species was found, rose or lavender-tinged. It has been suggested, however, that this and the type Inyo County populations might be referable to the often dwarfer C. invenustus, sometimes found at twice the earlier altitude quoted, with one to several dark-anthered, lavender-pink flowers, stained deep purple at the eye in most examples but not universally.

I’ll conclude with a USA member of the Asteraceae – Jim photographed and collected seed of other high alpines belonging to that huge family in all the other destinations mentioned. What he offered several times, from collections at Pike’s Peak, Colorado, as Hymenoxys acaulis var. caespitosa has now been re-aligned with the genus Tetraneuris (confirming an 1899 placement).

Synonyms further linking it with the genera Actinea and Actinella support his bemused appraisal of what he called the ‘names game’, and would have afforded him a further opportunity to engage in debate with, as he expressed in a December 1989 list, ‘the specialist amateur grower and… the scientifically orientated [establishment]’, between whom it was ever his quest to foster ‘an attitude and purpose common to both’.

The picturesque coastal vilage of Jablanac and, inset, Androsace villosa

John Richards visits the Velebit Mountains which rise up from Croatia’s Dalmatian coast and offer a wealth of alpine flora

The flora of the Velebit Mountains on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia has been given brief accounts by Oleg Polunin in Flowers of Greece and the Balkans and in Lionel Bacon’s Mountain Flower Holidays. Nevertheless, for an increasingly popular holiday destination, it seems to have received much less attention than it deserves and it is hoped that this account will help to popularise a rich and interesting area.

I had long hoped to journey to the Velebit to seek out perhaps the least known of European primulas, the distinctive P. kitaibeliana. This is very little grown in cultivation and relatively few enthusiasts seem to have encountered it in the wild. I am greatly indebted to Sidney Clarke, who had researched some of its most accessible localities and passed the information on. This strengthened my determination to spend the second week of May 2014 in this area.

These days, visiting Croatia could scarcely be easier. We took an easyJet flight from London Gatwick to Zagreb and spent a pleasant night in a small hotel hidden away in semi-rural streets near the airport. The next morning we hired a car and sped off on the excellent and traffic-free motorway towards the coast.

Our destination, south of Senj (pronounced ‘sane’), was not much more than two hours from Zagreb airport. Having the day at our disposal, we decided to make a considerable detour to visit the renowned beauty spot of Plitvička Jezera. The drive through rolling hills thickly wooded with mixed hardwoods and interspersed with flowery meadows could not have been prettier. The villages are attractive and seem prosperous, while the population is very thinly scattered (fewer than four million people inhabit an area half that of England). However, our proposed visit to Plitvička Jezera, unresearched and made on the spur of the moment, was misguided. It is not possible just to wander here. Rather, for a considerable sum, one is marshalled into buses and then onto boats for a highly controlled tour that lasts several hours. Having neither the time nor the inclination, we made our escape and navigated in a westerly direction towards Otočac.

Narcissus radiiflorus, which is common throughout the region, growing with Viola alba

Opposite, Orchis purpurea

This road climbs rapidly to a plateau at about 800m and the charms of the district became immediately evident. Anacamptis morio (green-winged orchid) and Neotinea tridentata occurred in huge numbers throughout the meadows, and indeed they remained abundant throughout the trip. Narcissus radiiflorus was scattered like confetti across several meadows, and this again proved to be common throughout the region. It differs from the pheasant’seye, N. poeticus, by the narrower tepalbases and more deeply cupped coronas, which were often pure yellow, not redtipped. Occasional plants were a pale primrose-yellow and would make a delightful addition to our gardens. The lady orchid, Orchis purpurea, appeared on road banks, and some of the dry limestone pastures had scattered plants of Juniperus oxycedrus. In one seminatural area was an unmistakeable group of Serbian spruce, Picea omorika, although it is unclear whether it is native so far to the north.

We stopped for a picnic where a beech forest led down to a meadow and added Helleborus dumetorum, Asarum europaeum, Muscari neglectum, Symphytum ottomanum, Omphalodes verna, Ornithogalum umbellatum and Orchis mascula to the list.

At Otočac we crossed the motorway

and took a country road past Krasnov and the northern entrance to the Velebit National Park and then down the hill to Sveti Juraj, where we had booked what proved to be a totally delightful apartment next to the sea.

Used to Greece as we are, it had seemed unlikely that this Mediterranean region would harbour an alpine primula. However, it is only along the steep, island-strewn, karstic coastline that a Mediterranean vegetation develops. Within a few kilometres of the coast, the land rises rapidly to 1,000m altitude, and here vast deciduous or mixed woodlands and splendid meadows contain a temperate flora comprising a mixture of alpine, central European and Balkan elements. This is very wild country which contains wolves and by far the strongest European population of brown bears, said to exceed 1,000. The highest parts of the Velebit range lie between Senj and Zadar, where a number of peaks top 1,600m and, in the south, 1,700m.

There are essentially three routes into these highlands. For the northernmost, a road to the National Park headquarters branches off the Sveti Juraj-Krasnov highway. At the headquarters a small consideration will purchase a three-day car permit, and from here it is possible to motor most of the way to the summit of

Gentiana tergestina was seen in vast numbers among Pinus mugo and dwarf juniper

Opposite, the dramatic coastline viewed from Karlobag

Zavizan (1,676m). This road continues south along the ridge for some distance, but is closed to vehicles.

About 30km further south, opposite the pretty harbour village of Jablanac, a road climbs up to Veliki Alan (1,406m) and continues, unsurfaced, to Štirovača where it meets a metalled road, mostly afforested, which meanders through much of the hinterland of the Velebit. The southernmost road is less high but quite as interesting, and runs from Karlobag on the coast south-east to Gospić. We explored each of these roads briefly and will take them in turn.

A walk down through the beech forest from the National Park centre below Zavizan revealed no less than three Cardamine (formerly Dentaria) species: C. bulbosa, C. kitaibelii and the very attractive lemon C. enneaphylla. Other interesting plants included Aquilegia kitaibelii (not yet in flower), Primula veris subsp. canescens, Lamium orvala, L. garganicum, Viola alba, Petasites albus and Thlaspi alliaceum. Crocuses were over, whereas gentians and narcissi had yet to flower.

As soon as we started walking from the top car park, spring gentians appeared in vast numbers among Pinus mugo and dwarf juniper. This is Gentiana tergestina with strongly winged calyces, narrow leaves and pointed petals.

The large and lustrous chalices of Crocus vernus

It seems likely that only this taxon occurs in the Velebit, although some individuals seemed to grade towards G. verna, to which Flora Europaea assigns it as a subspecies. Modern opinion seems to favour specific rank. It is a very fine plant, perhaps the most attractive of all the spring gentians. The other main plant in flower in the alpine grasslands was a local endemic which forms tight mats of quite showy white flowers, the crucifer Cardaminopsis croatica.

Crocus leaves had been abundant, but it was not until we reached a steep declivity that we found large numbers still in flower. This is C. vernus, but to those of us conditioned to subspecies albiflorus, the little white or lilac plant of the Alps, it was a revelation. Large, solid chalices varied from white, striped lilac to a very deep lustrous purple, quite the colour of C. pelistericus. Perhaps the spring crocuses of our parks and gardens originate from a similar region, and many of the wild plants were the equal of the most spectacular cultivated varieties.

In some areas the elder-flowered orchid, Dactylorhiza sambucina occurred in red (‘Adam’) and yellow (‘och Eva’) colour forms. Other plants on the limestone grassland slopes were Daphne mezereum, Corydalis cava, Potentilla neumanniana, the bearberry Arctostaphylos uva-ursi, Petasites albidus and Arabis scopoliana. Limestone cliffs and edges sheltered

several ferns including the holly fern Polystichum lonchitis, Asplenium viride and Cystopteris fragilis.

About a kilometre south of the car park is a botanical garden which has been built round a very large and deep caldera. Much of the habitat is ungardened and apparently untouched and most of the plants lack labels, so it is not clear whether Helleborus purpurascens, Scopolia carniolica and a fine form of Muscari botryoides are native here, although Helleborus dumetorum presumably is. Much of the caldera was still under snow and most plants still dormant, so that the interest is probably much greater later in the summer.

Journeying southwards, the next road into the mountains leads to Veliki Alan. Here, the interest started shortly after we had left the main road at a very low altitude, probably only 250m. I was amazed to see the limestone gravel beside the road studded with wonderful clumps of sumptuous purple Edraianthus tenuifolius. This lovely plant is similar to the more familiar E. graminifolius, but has bracts with long points which exceed the flowers, and leaves that are hairy to the tip. A second surprise awaited further up this fascinating road. Huge cushions of a white-flowered Daphne decorated the low rocky cliffs, and, later on, even became abundant on flat rocky ground. Close examination revealed that all the leaves were new and tender, so this spectacular species is deciduous. Clearly, this plant must be referred to D. alpina, but the general aspect was so different from plants I have seen previously in southern France and

Corydalis cava

Slovenia that I did some research. The monograph by Christopher Brickell and Brian Mathew, published by the AGS, referred to a variety petiolata occurring from Istria to the Velebit which differs from the type by having smaller, more petiolate leaves and longer shoots. This seemed to describe our plant exactly and I would question modestly the status of this taxon, which seems quite distinct from D. alpina to my eyes.

At this level (about 800m), the

A huge cushion of Daphne alpina var. petiolata and, left, a detail of the flowers

rocky limestone verges were full of interest. Orchids included stately Orchis purpurea and O. ovalis. Genista sericea and G. pilosa, Helianthemum salicifolium, Fumana arabica and Chamaecytisus polytrichus added swathes of yellow. The stunning violet Polygala supina abounded, together with the toxic swallowwort Vincetoxicum hirundinaria and Globularia repens. Cliffs were studded with the endemics Campanula fenestrellata subsp. istriaca (not yet in flower), Pseudofumaria alba subsp. acaulis and Aurinia sinuata. Cymbalaria microcalyx, Paronychia kapela and Inula verbascifolia added to

The elegant Orchis ovalis

Cymbalaria microcalyx ensconced in a cliffside crevice

a rich chasmophytic flora. The shrub layer included attractive flowering plants of Amelanchier ovalis and Sorbus graeca. Yet more plants seen close to the road included the blue lettuce Lactuca perennis, Bastard Balm, Melittis melissophyllum, and a most attractive white crucifer, Peltaria alliacea, another local endemic.

At the highest point on the road is a mountain hut, Veliki Alan. Broken glass around the fence at the edge of the car park hinted at trigger-happy locals, but provided the ultimate in sharp topdressing for mats of Androsace villosa, smothered in bloom. The slope up to a nearby hill was chequered with white androsaces and the piercing blue of Gentiana tergestina, making an unforgettable picture. Linum alpinum was also starting to flower.

The southernmost road runs in a south-easterly direction (despite enormous zigs) to Gospić from Karlobag, some 50km south of our lodgings at Sveti Juraj. The journey south to Karlobag takes more than an hour; the coastal road is spectacular and well-engineered, but it is a very indented coastline. As the road from Karlobag to Gospić levels out at the summit of the plateau, a small road branches northwards past a large timber yard. Almost immediately, good plants appear

Iris pallida subsp. cengialtii enjoys a splendid view over the Adriatic Sea

on the bare limestone banks. Here, most of the ground-hugging genistas seem to be the endemic G. holopetala, the golden colour contrasting vividly with the solid violet of Polygala supina.

This is perhaps the appropriate place for a short treatise on the local flag irises, which are abundant. Of these, Iris germanica is the most common, at times clearly an escapee from cultivation, but it also occurs in quantity in the most natural of habitats, far from cultivation. It is the biggest species with brown spathes and rather uniformly violet flowers. In contrast, the smaller, more delicate I. pallida is more local and occurs only in natural habitats of rocky limestone grassland. It is easily distinguished from I. germanica by virture of its silvery spathes and bracts, and is endemic to this region. The flowers are usually a mid-blue.

Sometimes the two species occur together and then many intermediates are found, apparently forming hybrid swarms. Some of these are relatively small and delicate plants with flowers of a clear violet-blue and mostly white beards, but which have brown spathes. These probably conform to I. pallida subsp. cengialtii. On two occasions we found large white-flowered irises in dampish species-rich meadows. These represent the mysterious I. florentina,

The ground-hugging Genista holopetala

which is probably little more than a selected form of I. germanica.

Other plants typical of these rocky slopes included Euphorbia capitulata, Globularia repens, Potentilla neumanniana. Lamium garganicum, Satureja subspicata, Linum tenuifolium, Daphne oleioides, Convolvulus althaeoides, Geranium sanguineum and Centaurea montana. In more sheltered bushy places, often dominated by Rhus coriaria, we found Orobanche rapumgenistae, Lunaria rediviva, Lathyrus vernus and Melittis melissophyllum.

After an exposed crossroads on a saddle at Dabarska Kosa the road became unsealed, but a few hundred metres ahead we could see the spectacular limestone pillars of Ravni Dabar, through which the track cut, forming a gorge. We were amazed to discover dozens of parked cars. It was the weekend and this is clearly one of the most popular rock-climbing areas in the Velebit. All around us, alpinists dangled from ropes in unlikely poses. We parked before the gorge and, walking up the track, found the angular Solomon’s-seal Polygonatum odoratum, Hepatica nobilis, the yellow Anemone ranunculoides, Peltaria alliacea, Thlaspi ? praecox, Arabis scopoliana, rosettes of Lilium martagon and lily of the valley, Convallaria majalis.

A well-flowered mat of Euphorbia capitulata

On the far side of a cleft, water seeped down the north face of a vertical slab of limestone and this area was stained cerise with Primula kitaibeliana, just going over flower. So we had achieved our goal! These plants were totally inaccessible, but after some searching we found rather less impressive specimens in several shady corners which were within reach. Typically they occurred in earth-filled crevices, often in the shade of, or even under, shrubs. At times it behaves chasmophytically as do its better-known relatives in subsection Rhopsidium, P. allionii and P. tyrolensis. However, at least some of the habitats were a good deal wetter than those occupied by these relatives, and in this it seems to resemble more its third relative, P. integrifolia. Morphologically it falls between P. tyrolensis and P. integrifolia but, unlike the latter, the leaves are covered all over with abundant stalked glands. Often they are completely entire, but some larger leaves can have a few obscure broad crenations at the apex, and in this it is similar to P. tyrolensis. In fact the smaller individuals are probably indistinguishable from P. tyrolensis, but the more robust plants can be twice the size of the largest specimens of the latter. Several other cliff-dwellers occurred in vertical crevices, notably Campanula fenestrellata and Arabis scopoliana,

but also Saxifraga paniculata, S. chrysosplenifolia, Inula verbascifolia and Cardaminopsis croatica.

Two more areas deserve a brief mention. Calcareous meadows in general proved to be orchid-rich, but the best of all were found by following a small road to Gozdanici west from Švica, itself the other side of the motorway from Otočac. Here the ubiquitous Neotinea tridentata and Anacamptis morio were joined by the burnt-tip orchid, Neotinea ustulata, together with several hybrids with Neotinea tridentata, and by the pyramidal orchid, Anacamptis pyramidalis, the soldier orchid, Orchis militaris, and the globe orchid, Traunsteinera globosa. There was also a single hybrid between Orchis militaris and Neotinea tridentata. Helleborus dumetorum was accompanied by H. odorus and what may have been H. multifidus. The rich meadows also contained the orange Lathyrus laevigatus, Aquilegia vulgaris, Buglossoides purpureo-caerulea and Pulmonaria rubra.

The Dalmatian coast lies in the lee of virtually continuous strings of linear islands, lying parallel to the coast. Krk (‘Kirk’) is the most easily visited as it is reached by a fine bridge from Kraljevica. Some 10km onto the island is a series of wetlands which are sadly

Neotinea tridentata x ustulata, one of several hybrid orchids in the area

Opposite, Primula kitaibeliana, the plant that John Richards most wanted to see on this trip, typically occurred in earth-filled crevices

and inexplicably out of bounds. When we complained at the Tourist Office we were told that this was to ‘protect their water supplies’, but from what was not made clear.

However, a small dirt road runs just east of here, outside the fence, and here we found stately populations of the laxflowered orchid, Anacamptis laxiflora, and Serapias bergonii. In the north-west corner of the island a little road wound down from Brzac through kermes oak and myrtle scrub to a sheltered cove. It was a surprise to discover Cyclamen repandum still in flower here in the second week of May, while Allium roseum, Teucrium montanum and the spectacular Melampyrum hoermannianum occurred nearby.

In conclusion, I would strongly recommend a late spring visit to the Velebit, a delightful region with an abundance of interesting flowers. No doubt an earlier visit would also be rewarding (Crocus dalmaticus and C. malyi flower in March), and a later visit would reveal alpines on Zavizan and elsewhere that were still dormant in early May. I believe that the wellknown Brassicaceous endemics Degenia velebitica and Fibigia triquetra are scarce and not easily encountered in the wild, but such treats as Lilium carniolicum would await a later visit.