How to restore order on the plot and successfully deadhead rhododendrons

Losing control of the weeds on my allotment was a gradual process, strongly linked to creeping acceleration in my working life. By 2016, garden tours and research trips littered the pages of my diary from March to October, while far-flung speaking engagements cropped up almost all year round.

On my plot, the weeds accelerated too, including virtually inoperable bindweed among the roses, brambles and rampant alien raspberry canes. By 2019, things had reached a tipping point and my motivation hit rock bottom. In April, I had a quick grapple with the worst of everything, pruned my picking roses, planted potatoes and shallots and then turned my back on the lot, hoping I would get back in the autumn to reap whatever benefits I could. I didn’t – and in my mind, I gave up. The shame was huge.

Despite the anxiety and sadness about the current horrors, for me lockdown (resulting in the cancellation of all tours and talks) has focused the mind – for so many gardeners, the simple uncomplicated pleasure of just being safe in our own much beloved, peaceful spaces is what enables us to tick.

But personally, there is only so much border-tweaking, precision-pruning and general hosta-polishing I can sanely do. So, encouraged by a friend, I returned to the Allotment of Horrors and am now flat out restoring order, safe in the knowledge that this season, like no other, I will be able to see things through. At the same time, I am adjusting my future expectations. Here are some thoughts to share.

1. Weeds

Tough weeds (brambles, rogue raspberries, bindweed) were dug out, and the soil thoroughly turned over, burying as many annual weed seeds as deeply as possible. Soil in the crumbling raised beds was covered either very temporarily with weed-controlling, rain permeable Mypex or, for the longer term, all-smothering black plastic. In due course, re-emerging bindweed will get a lick or two of Roundup Gel.

2. Infrastructure

Smaller gravel-board raised beds will gradually replace the crumbly ones. I will avoid using second-hand scaffolding boards (which rot too quickly). Soil within will be improved with compost and bagged manure before I plant anything.

3. What to grow

I will only grow veg I really like, those that will, to an extent, wait for me. Spuds are the best and most rewarding of crops and, along with onions and shallots, store well. Just two plants of purple sprouting broccoli will be given protection from pigeons from day one.

4. Seeds

Fussing over rows of seedlings is, for me, a grovel too far. I will absolutely not be “letting the side down” by buying a few ready-grown veg plantlets. I have already sown beans in cells in my tiny greenhouse.

5. Finally, flowers

I will always stick with my gorgeous roses (sentimentally). But anything that needs a daily commitment (for example, sweet peas) won’t get a look in. Tall cosmos, even germinated late (and cane-supported in exposed sites), will flower until the frosts.

A quince mystery

Dear Helen

Japanese quince withering... Why? We moved to our house seven years ago and inherited a quince trained along wires against a west-facing wall. It has flowered and fruited each year and this year it flowered as usual, but immediately afterwards started to wither and die. What can have caused this and what should we do?

Russ & Kay Parker

Dear Russ & Kay

I should clarify for readers: your picture was not of a quince tree proper (Cydonia oblonga), but a shrub, so-called Japanese quince (Chaenomeles japonica). Unrelated, both have fruit that is edible when cooked and similar in flavour (although that of the true quince is far stronger).

It is not good news, I am afraid. Your picture also showed that the shrub is planted directly against the warm wall under wide, overhanging eaves, therefore probably receiving only just enough moisture (during the past two hot summers) to keep it going, and making it vulnerable to disease.

Close examination of your picture also showed that the type of sudden simultaneous wilting of the flowers and emerging leaves may have been caused, I think, by a fatal disease of chaenomeles, namely fireblight.

To get a definitive answer you should (if you are members of the RHS) use their diagnostic service. For details go to rhs.org.uk.

I suspect this plant has, alas, “had its day” and should be replaced with something else.

I would plant any replacement at least 30-45cm (11-18in) away from the base of the wall, after extensive soil improvement.

Rhododendrons

Dear Helen

Deadheading time for rhododendron? Our bright red rhododendron, which spent two years lingering in a tub while we moved house and was only replanted in the ground at the end of last year, has surprised us by giving us a most wonderful display of flowers. What do we do now? Do we cut back the old flowers, or just leave them?

Pat Braddock – via email

Dear Patrick

How great to receive, among the numerous tales of horticultural doom and gloom this time of year usually brings as readers’ plants don’t go according to plan, an email full of joyous surprise.

While owners of grand and mature rhododendrons may understandably raise their eyebrows at the mere idea, I always recommend to those that have young or small plants, where it is possible to reach them, that they do take the trouble to remove the spent flowers on the rhododendron, for the simple reason that it makes them look so much better at close quarters for the rest of the summer.

Deadheading a rhododendron is strictly a finger-and-thumb job.

Do not, whatever you do, use your secateurs, or you will also very probably snip off the tiny, embryonic buds that are hidden immediately underneath the old flowers. There is a knack to it: I think it was Pippa Greenwood who sagely pointed out once, very helpfully, that you should pinch the flower heads off “in a northerly direction”, because the best tiny bud will be on the south side of each spent flower.

Tip of the week

You may think you can do without one, but many a gardener’s life would be unmanageable without a wheelbarrow.

As well as being invaluable for just lumbering stuff around, a barrow is also an ideal container in which to mix composts and can also perform as a mobile potting bench.

There is a huge choice, but I recommend a deep-bellied version, and if you have hawthorn hedges, go for one with a solid tyre, if available.

Look at the range (some of which can’t be delivered until after “the crisis”) on wheelbarrows.co.uk, and specifically at The Mucker (which can) at £99.99.