Every now and again, we gardeners spot a plant we really want. Not having the space or the conditions it deserves doesn’t always help reduce the cravings, but when we’re lucky enough to have the perfect spot, we’re almost powerless to resist.
If the plant is a mass propagated, named cultivar (and we know the variety name and can find a supplier) there’s something we can do about it, when it’s not, it’s more tricky. I’ve recently been bewitched by a hellebore I saw in woodland at the Ness Botanic Garden that I fear falls into the latter category.
The plant was tall, elegant and vigorous, standing head and shoulders above the other hybrids around it.
At first sight, the abundant, fully double flowers were almost garish by hellebore standards: a vibrant shade of pink overlaid on a pearly pink background. I lifted a few of the flowers so I could admire them, noting the central scatterings of freckles. The edges of the pointed petals had a beautiful soft picotee effect and the whole flower, a ruffled, lacy look. I rapidly readjusted my expectations for these usually demure plants, and fell head over heels for this bold specimen.
The flowers seemed quite variable in colour, so I doubt it’s a named cultivar: more likely a one-off seedling as so many hellebores are. It wasn’t identified, so far as I could see. If I’m wrong, and it is commercially available, I’d love to know the name. Like all hellebore cultivars, it won’t come true from seed.
As I was driving home, I started wondering how often plantspeople ask gardens if they are willing to sell them a bit of a plant they really, really like, and how often they say yes. I’m too law abiding and socially responsible to go and dig a bit up, but a girl can always dream!
You might think it looks very similar to one I photographed last month at Gresgarth Hall, but though that one’s undeniably pretty, to an anorak like me, this one is infinitely more desirable: one of those head-turning plants I’ve written about before. You may have to just take my word for that, but if there’s anything of the collector in you, you’ll perhaps understand.
As it’s International Happiness Day, I’m contemplating the happiness instructions we’re typically given about the importance of being happy with what we have (I am); the admonitions to admire without desiring (surely it isn’t all that wicked to covet a plant? Just one plant?); even relinquishing our worldly possessions (I have managed to kill off a few roses, if that counts as relinquishing, but I’m not ready for anything drastic)…
I agree with the philosophers in theory, but in practice, I’m still lovelorn, suffering from plantlust. At least I have my fond memories of the all-too brief moments we spent together…
Susan Rushton 
Hi Susan, I can see why you love this flower, it’s so beautiful and interesting with a multitude of pinks within one flower, and the freckles on the petals are adorable!
I always think it adds to the allure of the plant when the flowers aren’t all exactly the same.
It is a beautiful one, not surprised you like it so much.
I’m glad you like it too.
That’s a real beauty!
Sigh.
I want one too!!!!! I just love hellebore 🙂 I’m going to save a couple of the images to ask the RHS about when I’m next at Wisley! I will let you know if they can identify the cultivar 🙂
That sounds like a plan – thanks Sarah.
My pleasure 🙂
Wonderfully written and photographed Susan. It brightens my otherwise dreary wet dark and cold Monday morning.
Thank you!
Simply divine!
We want one – superbly photographed
I can imagine there’d be quite a market for it!
Oh I do know all about PlantLust. A delightful post and you are certainty yearning for a beauty with this hellebore. Thank you.
I’ve felt it before, but never quite like this.
Swoon. I’ve just done the same thing over a flowering quince. Except I know the exact species. It’s now only a matter of time before I am parted from my cash.
I can only sympathise. Quinces are so pretty in flower. What colour is the one you’ve fallen for?
A delicate peachy pink (chaenomeles speciosa Geisha Girl). All is lost.
Yep, all is lost. It’s lovely. It reminds me of one I saw at Brent and Becky Heath’s garden but perhaps a bit more peachy (it’s here, about half way down). I was surprised to see what great companion plants quinces make for spring bulbs.
What a fantastic pairing with the daffodils! *adds to shopping list*
I could find a corner in my garden for this one! It’s exquisite 🙂
Such a magnificent and unique bloom; easy to see why you covet it so!
It wasn’t love at first sight, but not far off.
I hope it finds its way to your garden some day!
It’s so beautiful, and such a great shot Susan, I suffer from plant lust on a regular basis.
I suppose we are lucky we get to keep an echo of them through our pictures.