Some kind person gave me a camellia for Christmas. I wish they hadn't. There is nothing wrong with it per se. As camellias go it is a fine thing, a healthy specimen of Camellia x williamsii 'St Ewe', with leaves as glossy and sleek as a newsreader's hair and a dozen fat buds getting ready to flower.
I really do not like camellias and I particularly do not like the guilt that accompanies ingratitude. I have said in these pages before how much I love having plants in the garden that have been given to me by fellow gardeners, how this imbues the place with meaning, but you have to draw the line somewhere and mine is drawn very firmly in front of camellias. They are beyond my pale.
Like most firm convictions, this is based on a passing fancy many years old and not really tried and tested on a regular basis. But it does pose a number of questions. The first is the marshmallow softness of critical judgement that creeps into the horticultural world. This does not just affect plants but also design, writing, photography and the whole gamut of creative gardening work. It is a mindset that says because it is gardening - which, we all enthusiastically agree, is good - then nothing that sails within it can be bad. This is, of course, rubbish.
But critical judgement can only be reasonably pronounced on that which sets out to be public. When you apply it to the private and domestic, it inevitably changes into a matter of taste, and I do not believe there is such a thing as bad taste in any absolute sense. I think camellias, rhododendrons, monkey puzzle trees, heathers and all miniature conifers are revolting, but only because I am so influenced by the geological prejudice of my childhood. Home and garden were built on chalk, and any lime-hating plant did not have a chance. School was set in acidic sand and all the ericaceous plants have unriddable associations with a ph lower than 6. The journey to school was measured not in miles but in changing flora. The beeches and yews thinned as the dreaded rhodos appeared like a shape at the edge of a bad dream.
But let's be positive. If I were to undergo a Pauline conversion and feel the sudden urge to grow camellias in this garden, what would I choose? Not 'St Ewe' for a start. It has that hideous combination of pink and glossy green that I find deeply depressing. So no pinks of any tint. Unfortunately, this wipes out a lot of camellias, but there you go. Discrimination is the name of the game. I think I would start by shuffling through the possibilities of white flowers and as early as possible in the year. Of the williamsii camellias, 'Sea Foam' is a double white and 'Francis Hanger' a single. 'Cornish Snow' has some charm which is as much due to the longer, slightly more matt leaves as the simple white flowers. C japonica 'Madge Miller' is tough and looks pretty good.
Skipping hastily past all the possible pinks, try C japonica 'Kouron Jura', one of the darkest reds of all camellias and one of the most resistant to frost damage. There are two strains of C japonica 'Adolphe Audusson' - the ordinary, with its deep-red flowers with yellow stamens, and the 'special' which is white.
The reticulata camellias are among the first to flower, and the semi-double form of C reticulata 'Captain Rawes', which was introduced by Robert Fortune in 1820, is one of the earliest camellias. But it is pink, so is summarily rejected. I could just about live with C reticulata 'Tzepao', which has blood-red flowers on a small bush and might survive in this garden.
Although C reticulata and especially C japonica were bred with enthusiasm during the latter part of the 19th century, they had faults that even the most ardent admirer had to recognise and which persisted in all the many cultivars and hybrids. The chief failure is the way that their flowers fade on the tree, hanging on like a used paper tissue wiping out the memory of any virtues the flower might have had. The only way to deal with this is to deadhead the bush as the flowers fade which, like dead-heading fading roses, tends not to get done.
But then John Charles Williams applied himself to the case. He was an enthusiastic amateur blessed with money enough to pursue his interest. He crossed C saluensis with an unnamed form of C japonica. The C saluensis has little to recommend it, being another variation on the impossibly garish white-to-pink flowers that afflict most camellias, backed by dull green waxy leaves. But when wed to this unnamed C japonica it produced a hardy hybrid called Camellia x williamsii. The main advantage of this over its parents is that it drops its faded flowers with the net effect that the ground below the shrub looks like it has been littered with coloured tissues rather than the plant itself. It is also hardier than the japonica camellias. The cultivar 'Donation' has become ubiquitous in all garden centres.
Whatever the options, my garden will remain a camellia-free zone for a while yet. But perhaps the key to learning to love them is to remember that tea is a camellia (C sinensis) and if I could, perhaps with a burst of speeded-up global warming, I would not hesitate to grow my own supply of the leaf that cheers but inebriates not.
Growing camellias
Planting: Camellias need an acidic soil with a ph between 6.5 and 5.5. Higher (and lower) than this and they cannot absorb the necessary minerals for healthy growth. They like soil with a loose, open structure, so add plenty of compost before planting.
Site: Plants with large leaves, such as the japonica varieties, suffer more from exposure to wind and cold and even hot sun, so they need shelter. The williamsii varieties have smaller leaves and are better able to cope with more exposed positions. Camellias should never be planted on an east-facing wall. It is not so much the cold that is the problem but the rapid thawing in early-morning sunlight that follows a clear, freezing night, when the delicate tissues of the flowers (and buds) are destroyed.
Cold: In principle, camellias like cool, dry winters and warm wet summers. The greatest problems are from wet winters and hard frosts. Add grit and compost to the planting hole so that the roots do not sit in the wet. Freezing cold is more difficult to control. Evergreens suffer from dehydration in very cold weather. Draping fleece over the plant is a good short-term remedy, but the most important factor is to provide shelter from the wind. If your camellia does die back, cut back to healthy growth. If the whole plant appears dead, cut hard back to 10 cm from the ground and give it till autumn to regenerate - which it will do if the roots are healthy.
If you have a camellia in a pot, it is vital to stop the roots freezing. Wrap the pot in bubble wrap or bring it indoors in cold weather. If the container has frozen solid, never try to thaw it out quickly. This will kill the plant. Let it thaw slowly and naturally, protecting the plant from any wind as it does so.
Flowering: Many camellias - especially japonica varieties - need a long growing season for flowering buds to form. If the weather is cold in the period up to flowering, they will drop buds as a pre-emptive way of reducing the strain on the plant; and buds sometimes fail to open or are very small. This is a result of the weather being too cold. The williamsii varieties and the pitardii hybrids are tougher.
Watering: Camellias cope with drought in winter and spring but must have plenty of water in their growing season: April through to October. Ideally you should use rainwater, which is slightly acidic; but if the soil is suitably acidic in the first place, tap water will do. The critical period for watering is when the buds are forming from midsummer to early autumn. Drought during this period will result in poor flowers or even de-budding after the first frost. As with any plant, it is much better to water thoroughly once a week rather than a little every day.
Pruning: The best time to prune is just before the plant starts to grow, in spring when the flowers finish. Train young plants to have one central stem, leaving the first foot to get ventilation around the bark. Flower buds will form on the initial spring growth, and although there may be a second burst of growth in summer, this won't produce buds.
My roots: A week in Monty's garden
The garden has basked in lovely cold sun for days now, with frozen day forming layer upon frozen day. However, it got down to -11 the other night, which was on the cusp between good and disastrous.
Last year at this point, we had a night of -14, which to my astonishment left all the brassica in its various forms completely blasted. Not one survived. It also broke a couple of valuable pots that I had foolishly left outside. This year, I have bought them all in to the potting shed.
I also dug up my wonderful crop of celeriac just before the worst of the frost, so salvaged most of that. Smugness prevails. But I realised I may have made a huge mistake with my dahlias, which I had spread out to dry months ago and left where they lay, under a blanket of fleece. They seem to have dried out rather alarmingly. I have since put them in large pots packed with moist coir, but time will prove to the extent of the damage.
That is one of the problems with this sort of weather - most of the damage is only measurable in two or three months' time. However, I will speak no ill of it as every hour of sub-zero weather is a blast against the monstrous regiment of slugs, snails, aphids and fungi that have infiltrated the garden.
Of course it has meant that I cannot get a spade into the soil, so I have been thrown back on seasonal tinkering. I have sown rocket , endive, little gem, mizuna, mibuna and onions, all of which will be grown in the greenhouse. This is still being left open to get as much of a scour from the cold as possible, but very shortly will be closed up and fleece put as a blanket over the soil to insulate it ready for planting in about six weeks' time.
Then tomatoes will follow all but the onions. I have cleared barrowloads of hellebore leaves. They will not compost and end up on the bonfire where they burn with a satisfying spit and crackle. I have also spent much time redesigning the walled garden which, at the moment, is dominated by a trampoline. I am very partial to a bounce but dislike the domination, so when the ground softens we will start digging up half the grass to accommodate more borders and more planting.
The debate is whether to dig up and move some of the roses or to buy new plants. Financial sense says the former but I know I'd advise anyone else to do the latter. A healthy new plant will always catch up and do better than a tired transplant.
