Gift of Green Fire and Other Strange Encounters

by Linda Talbot

  Here in Crete we can grow cacti outdoors in soil that is free draining in a sunny spot away from strong winds. To avoid damage by winter rain you can build a raised bed or a sloping mound. Wearing thick gloves, tip spiny plants out of their pots by turning upside down and tapping.

  If planting in pots, use a compost that is free draining yet retains moisture. If you cannot find a specialist mixture, use soil-less compost mixed with grit. A top dressing of crushed stone or small gravel helps to conserve moisture.

  Never water until the plant is almost dry. Most succulents only need watering in spring or summer when they are growing. If they are indoors leave them dry in the winter.

  Your plants will flourish if you feed them - a luxury they have learned to do without in the wild. In the growing season give them nitrogen for top growth, potassium for flowers and phosphorus for roots. You can buy ready made fertiliser in powder, tablet or liquid form.

  Some kinds - mainly desert dwellers - like dry shade, so are ideal to keep here in the summer. Graptoveria “Debbie” has pink flower spikes in late summer, echeveria setosa is an elegant plant that grows in neat clumps and rots in the wet, while euphorbia horrida is a little sinister but striking with long red thorns. I have two Tree Aloes (aloe arborescence) in pots, that occasionally blaze with orange spikes. They originated in the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa and grow in any soil. They need little water. And I have a wonderful bed of mesembryanthemum (lampranthus emarginatus) outside my front door; pink flowers like indefatigable daisies with fat water-storing leaves. They grow on my beach too, being fond of dry, stony ground. They should only be watered in exceptionally dry conditions. But if grown in beds, you can open up the soil with a little humus, peat and sand and some well rotted organic matter. Remove dead growth in the autumn.

  Among species of special interest is hawworthia. The variety adelaidensis is able to change colour. In cooler weather, when it is growing, its leaves are dark green, but when resting in the heat they turn purple-red. The tightly packed leaves look like the scales of some desert creature that has turned into a plant.

  You may propagate by cuttings or division or by seed or grafting. The brittleness of many succulents means that if you break one off, roots appear at the broken end and when planted, rapidly produce a new plant. And those with rosettes produce offspring that are readily snapped off and can be planted.

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  CLIMBERS: PLANTS OF TENACIOUS CUNNING

  THEY SPIRAL, SCRAMBLE TWINE AND TRAIL; CLIMBERS CAN BE SECRETIVE OR UPFRONT, BUT ALWAYS UNRLENTING AND ABLE TO SURMOUNT ANY SETBACK. GROW SOME - FROM THE SIMPLE SWEET PEA TO THE LOVELY SKY VINE, BUT BEWARE,

  MANY WILL WANT TO TAKE OVER!

  Like their human counterparts who tenaciously seek the support of others, climbers are ruthless in finding an unsuspecting host who will tolerate their demands.

  Some have bristles or barbs, others develop aerial roots pressed to a tree trunk, creating a ladder-like lattice or wrapping right round the trunk.

  Then there are tendrils like corkscrews - those of the African Calabash, for instance, may be 75 centimetres long. Some tendrils have sticky discs at their ends so can glue themselves to a host and climb on a smooth surface. Often these discs enlarge on contact and become flat.

  Virginia Creepers are among those whose leaf base instead of tendrils, twists and clamps. There is a wonderful example on the wall of a hotel in Gerani, where I live in western Crete, ablaze like a rich red curtain in autumn before the leaves die. And I had one in my London garden before I moved to Crete; a resplendent spread of fire before winter.

  Tendrils will collapse if they find no surface to which to cling, although some, like the Rattans or Climbing Palms, even overcome this by coiling thickly on the ground and rising to become self supporting.

  Tendrils react fast when they touch a surface. The first coil round a support may be finished within four minutes. And the tendril thickens to gain strength. Eventually climbers may hang dramatically, or, if they have lost their leaves, drape like old ropes from trees. They may grow more than 100 metres long. And if twined with great strength, they may even stop a dead tree falling.

  I had a Honeysuckle (lonicera x brownii) in my London garden, grown by the previous owners; evergreen and sweet smelling. So, carelessly I let it grow, only to discover one day a dense and dusty wilderness of wood behind the leaves. The plant’s vigour was limitless. Eventually, unable to control it or reach the top, I asked a strong-armed friend to cut it down. He did so, even unearthing the gnarled root. When I gasped, amazed at the extent of the enterprise, he thought I had wanted the root to remain and rushed off to buy another plant. So then I had to start all over again, this time keeping a close eye on its lightening growth.

  The Scarlet Trumpet Honeysuckle is one of the loveliest hybrids with numerous flowers. It likes a bright to partially shady position in any soil that is rich and humus moist. But look out for snails and slugs that love damp, dark corners.

  Propagate by cuttings or layering (bringing part of a branch into contact with the ground to root).

  I also had a fine Nelly Moser Clematis that was not so rampant. In the sun the deciduous clematis montana from the Himalayas is spectacular. It grows vigorously, with fragrant star-like white flowers touched with pink. They are so numerous they almost cover the plant which sheds its leaves in winter.

  Grow it in full sun to partial shade in a woodland type or organically rich soil. Keep it moist but well drained and water well in summer.

  You can propagate by air layering, which entails enclosing a specially treated part of a branch in a sleeve until it roots. Then you detach and plant the offspring. Or you can stem layer, as with honeysuckle.

  Morning Glory (ipomoea tricolor) is one of the splendours of the countryside where I live. I know a path in the orange groves, which leads to a magical glade, entirely draped in this irrepressible climber; a riot of purple that persists for months but is particularly breathtaking in June.

  A native of Mexico, this plant is often grown as an annual in the garden. It likes a very light or sunny place in any kind of well-aerated, moist, rich soil. It does not mind being dry but enjoys water. You can sow it directly where you want it to flower, but keep an eye on it - the speed of growth is phenomenal.

  There is also a Ground Morning Glory (convolvulus mauritanicus), a small evergreen perennial with lilac bell-shaped flowers, ideal for an old wall or rockery. Give it full sun and a fairly heavy soil. Water regularly, although, like its climbing cousin, it can tolerate dryness. You can sow it where you want it to grow or take cuttings in autumn or spring.

  Thirdly, there is the annual Dwarf Morning Glory (convolvulus tricolor) which has striking and solitary flowers in purple with a white blaze and a sulphur yellow centre. The flowers open in the morning and close at night. Plant this in full sun in a preferably calcium rich soil, but it will adapt to any that is fertile. It does not like too much water or being transplanted. Sow it on the flowering site in spring.

  I have a soft spot for Nasturtiums (tropaeolum majus), which comes from Latin (nasus tortus) meaning “convulsed nose” because of the pungent smell. Many grow wild around Gerani. At first they tend to hide their vivid yellow or red blooms beneath canopies of broad leaves. But I spot them early along the nearby river flowing through the bamboos, and cannot resist taking some home. Nasturtiums creep and climb and are usually grown as annuals in the garden. You can sow them on site in spring each year. You can even eat them - they are in fact a herb.

  The scent of jasmine on a summer evening is synonymous with the Mediterranean. I was given a beauty by a friend and find it controllable in a large pot. The Star Jasmine (trachelospermum jasminoides) is also a climbing evergreen, which in spite of its name is not a true jasmine, but who cares? It becomes enveloped in sweetly scented flowers like small white stars.

  Hailing from China, it enjoys a bright site and takes to any well-aerated, moist and fertile soil. Give it a
complete mineral fertiliser and water well in summer. This is reproduced by layering or lateral shoot cuttings.

  I once wanted to cover a bare fence and had heard that Russian Vine (P. baldschuanicum) was the quickest way to do it. I planted one but was alarmed at its rapid growth, realising it would swiftly cover not only the bare fence but every inch of that section covered with Virginia Creeper. So I uprooted it before it was too late. But if you are desperate for fast coverage, a pretty plant often confused with the Russian vine is the Silver Lace Vine (bilderdykia aubertii).

  Clouds of white flowers bloom on elegant stems that strike out in all directions and it thrives in a sunny or partially shaded place. It takes to a moist rich soil of any kind and demands water, shedding flowers and leaves if it gets too dry. So in Crete it will certainly need some shade.

  Coming from Turkestan, western China and Tibet it can be reproduced by layering or semi-hardwood cuttings in summer or autumn.

  I remember Wisteria hanging over our front door when I was a child and still love its delicate falls of flowers. One comes from Japan: the deciduous wisteria floribunda, which I am sure is the variety of my childhood. The pale pink flowers are slightly scented and seek full sun or partial shade. It will need support and grows in any kind of moist, rich soil. Water well and cut back dead flowers then prune hard.

  Propagate by layering in spring or summer or by root or hardwood cuttings.

  The violet blue flowers of the deciduous Chinese Wisteria (wisteria sinensis) are more rounded than those of the Japanese variety. Choose a rich, moist soil and try to avoid transplantation. Water well when first planted to help it get established and prune twice; lightly in August to remove flowered growth and then hard prune in autumn or at the end of winter.

  We are used to purple Buddleia but there is also a delightful Yellow Buddleia (buddleia madagascariensis) from, you have guessed - Madagascar. It thrives particularly on warm coasts. Its flowers cluster like yellow stars on stiff spikes. Grow it in full sun or partial shade. It likes a good, well-aerated garden soil, rich and moist. Feed and water it well in summer and prune hard in autumn or winter.

  You can grow it in containers or large pots and create new plants by air-layering or taking semi-hardwood or hardwood cuttings in summer.

  Bougainvillea Glabra is a classic in a hot climate, its brilliant purple bracts demanding hot sun, so plant it facing south. It likes a clayey sandy soil dug with manure and occasional mineral feed but water is not always needed. Propagate in the same way as the preceding climbers.

  Finally, consider such beauties as the perennial Cup and Saucer Vine (cobaea scandens), its showy purple flowers resembling bells. There is too a rare white variety. This is a greedy plant, happy in sun or partial shade, needing rich soil, some liquid feed and plenty of water. But beware, this plant, whose tendrils are the prolongation of leaves, can grow 10 centimetres in a season. Sow in pots in late winter, under glass if the weather is cold.

  But let us not forget the Sweet Pea (lathyrus odoratus) - a favourite annual of cottage gardeners which flourishes too on terraces. Its flowers coalesce in lilac, pink, red and white and its perfume is legendary. Plant in full sun or partial shade in moist soil enriched with organic and phosphatic-potassic minerals. Flowers are ideal for picking but otherwise, dead-head regularly. Sow them in spring where you want them to flower.

  Enjoy these rigorous climbers but remember - keep the secateurs handy!

  BACK TO THE TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Kudram, the architect, sees his city grow like the veins of a precious stone laid in the dust beside the snail trail of a river. For years he had visualised the re-creation of Babylon; exotic, and this time, classless; a polished combination of ancient craftsmanship and new technology.

  Harassed but undaunted by a hot wind, he stands on the scaffold built to oversee the city’s progress. Like an exercise in logical geometry, the foundations already describe the double walls, the inner city, the complex which was originally the sacred Esagila and where he will build, instead of temples, a computerised centre of creative diversions.

  He has inherited a fortune from oil revenues and bought development rights on part of a vast eastern plain, which will accentuate the grandeur of his creation. Sophisticated irrigation will draw water from the river that flows like the Euphrates once flowed beside Babylon. Necessities will arrive by air.

  The land he surveys dissolves in misty marsh and lazy lagoons with alluvial mudbanks, like those that were once the horizons of ancient Mesopotamia. In the middle distance waves a forest of whispering reeds, like the wistful inhabitants of an uncaring wilderness.

  This is a country of ghostly illusions echoing that ground that bred an epic of creation; a whole cosmos with a raft of gods for whom men were mere slaves.

  But this will be a city of men. No gods, vows Kudram, resisting the dusty distances dancing as though mocking his materialism. As benevolent dictator he intends to control the population. Men will respect his will in this city that will be partly an authentic replica of its predecessor and partly efficient fantasy.

  The old city had a hundred gates. Kudram has designed six of the major entrances, including those that recall Ishtar, Enlil and Marduk, or Bel, - the people’s god. Kudram is Marduk reversed and similarly Babylon will be called Nolybab.

  Most impressive will be his re-creation, with personal variations, of the Hanging Gardens, that astounded those who visited the palace of Nebuchadnezzar within the Ishtar Gate.

  For Kudram is a fanatical botanist and has long combined exquisite architecture with the effect of plants; integrating them with marble and precious stones or simulating these, as well as old brick and tiles, with modern materials. But Nolybab will be built of genuine ceramic, metal and stone.

  Ancient Babylon had been dominated by the great ziggurat, within the temple complex of the Esagila. This was seventy five metres high with eight towers, one on top of the other, and a spiral running round the outside. At its summit was a temple, in which an exotic couch and golden table awaited the rumoured personal appearance of Marduk. A solitary woman watched over the room. Did she ever see him slowly materialise from the gloom or stride - confident and every dream-like detail complete - through the doorway?

  And there was another temple to Marduk in which - luxuriously fashioned in gold - he was seated on a throne, made too from solid gold. There was a courtyard with numerous interconnecting rooms for the haunting presence of other gods. And when Marduk’s festival was held in the New Year, the statues of gods feared and revered would be brought by boat down the river.

  A great hall once glowed with alabaster and lapis lazuli, the ceiling glittering with plaques of gold and precious stones. On one piece of lapis, found when Babylon was excavated, Marduk stands on water; his tunic a mass of stars. He wears three large discs on a neck chain and on his head, a tower-like tiara with plumes. He holds a ring, sceptre and a sickle-shaped object. At his feet crouches the sirrash - a dragon.

  Kudram, straining to see his city from the scaffold, wears a plain white robe to repel the heat and on his head, a square hat embroidered with geometric precision by a currently favoured mistress.

  Thinking of the god, he feels the mystic musculature of Marduk influencing his own body - heavy in the sun. His white robe is fleetingly hung with stars and he has the weight of some round object on his chest. Raising his hands, he traces the lines of an intricate crown, the flutter of feathers.

  He shakes himself. Architectural indulgence is one thing. Personal delusion another. He returns his attention to the activity below.

  The day comes when Kudram sees the building of the Processional Way; that road of legendary splendour cutting through the city’s centre, from the site of the Temple of Marduk to the Ishtar Gate.

  Red and white marble blocks are laid for luxurious paving. Pale brick walls are raised to be faced with a blue lapis lazuli glaze. Each day the way grows; auspiciously wide and into the glaze on the walls is set a frieze emulating the or
iginal depictions of dragons, lions and bulls - red, white, yellow and blue.

  Kudram descends from the scaffold and treads the newlaid marble with silent feet - no longer shod in leather but with the curve of embroidered silk - exotically alien; the slippers of Marduk.

  Kudram closes and opens his eyes, to find his own shoes restored. Closely, he inspects the creatures created in relief and reaches the Ishtar Gate topped by bulls sculpted in yellow gold with blue manes and green horns. And there are yellow lions flecked with white - all on a blue background.

  As he turns he thinks he sees a figure at the far end of the Processional Way, disappearing down a side street. Like the original inhabitants of the city he had been wearing a cloak and turban and carried a carved walking stick.

  Where the Ziggurat once rose Kudram has built a shining structure with shapes like the network of a beehive, reflecting the sun in a hectic dance of light.

  Inside, computers will confer to conjure a daunting diversity of sensations and sophisticated games. This is Kudram’s sole concession to the present. Other buildings retain their marble, precious stones and tiles of logical precision.

  Nebuchadnezzar’s palace overlooks the newly planted gardens rising in ten steep tiers to the cloudless sky. The yellow bells and dark green foliage of bignonia unguis-cacti climbs recklessly up and down, hanging thickly from each tier. The elegant symmetry of a purple columbine is interspersed with the stark white of the belladonna lily and hot heads of the fierily extrovert lantana camara.

  Chinese lanterns nod crinkled heads housing coral red berries and blue-veined balloon flowers open their five flat petals to the sun.

  There are limpid pools, floating with water lilies; exquisite cream cups with centres flickering like yellow flame.

  Kudram walks the blue tiles between the jostling beds, savouring each selected bloom, rejoicing in their transient perfection, planning perfumed alternatives to seduce the senses.

  He sleeps in a small but airy room of the legendary king’s palace. He watches the stars, thrown apparently at random in the night sky. He feels awed while not grasping the scientific fundamentals of the universe. Spirits of a long abandoned time and place begin to breathe.