Shortening days follow in the weeks after the summer solstice and by late July the trailers of early autumn become strikingly evident.
These may signal a time of ripe fruit, long shadows, and the racket of bees, but it highlights for me the ache of regret.
My particular brand of regret is for that sad collection of neglected plants that cower reproachfully in dark corners behind the glasshouse, my guilty secret of overindulgence, and yours too most probably.
The condemned we believe, can live here forever, hardened by neglect and a starvation diet of couldn’t care less.
They have learned to survive without any attention and yet they call to me day after day.
None are exhibitionists; most are shy, unassuming types; some are completely invisible.
But heeding their quiet call in these dog days of mid-summer can make all the difference come the spring.
I spot one candidate and decide to give it a little attention— a variety of Epimedium bought from a specialist grower way back in early spring.
Epimediums I should add are essentially ground-cover plants which are ideal for dry, root-filled shade, and for being quite magical in their spring-time guise.
When dry shade is produced by conifers (for example) their roots offer competition and plants beneath them have to be really tough.
Epimediums, common name barronwort, are tough and most have attractive leaves, especially when new, many being marked in crimson or chocolate, and accompanied later by strange fairy-flowers which are a sheer delight in April.
These will grow under conifers. In winter, and long before any hint of blooms appear, the foliage of these have real panache.
The likes of E. rubrum and versicolor can boast leaves that are polished and burnished with crimson, and which reflect light even in the darkest recesses of the garden.
They grow 12 to 15 inches in height and make a dense, effective ground cover.
Once established, many will do well with very little summer water, especially those from Europe and Asia Minor.
Dividing these now (or introducing new forms from either your ‘death row’ or a garden outlet) will improve their spring performance no end.
Their roots are dense and wiry and left to their own devices easily become congested, thuggish, and unproductive.
Lifted now, preferably after a good drenching (either natural or from a watering can) the roots can be pulled apart or cut into chunks with a sharp knife.
If it’s difficult to see what’s going on, wash off all surplus soil first.
When the weather is hot it may seem inappropriate to think of dividing and transplanting, but if roots are trimmed, top growth cut back, and a comfortable new home prepared to welcome divisions, all should end well.