I have been working in the field of aromatherapy and medical herbalism for more than forty years, and over the past three decades I have been fortunate enough to have also had the opportunity to create several aromatic gardens. Growing scented plants and herbs has brought the whole field of aromatic medicine vividly to life for me and has helped enrich my understanding and transform it from simply one of theory into a direct experience of the inherent nature of the plants themselves. Gradually I have come to know the distinct character and temperament of the different plants: mint, for example, is a gregarious type that will take over the whole garden if not kept in check; wild thyme is tough and independent, used to putting up with difficult conditions; others, like chamomile and marigold, are mild and easy-going by nature and will even help to look after other plants around them. Of course, many of the tropical plants familiar to the aromatherapist, such as sandalwood, clove or cinnamon, are impossible to cultivate in colder climates. Nevertheless, other exotic plants, such as the madonna lily or the hardy jasmine species, have adapted to more temperate climates, while tender species, such as citrus trees and scented pelargoniums, will thrive given the protection of a greenhouse or conservatory.
In the first scented garden that I designed, I took on an already well-established garden. At the back of the house was an overgrown potager with a pleached lime hedge running the length of the boundary. The vegetable garden was divided in half by a line of old espalier apple trees. I was very grateful for these traditional features, which would have taken many years to establish if I had started from scratch.
Peony (Paeonia)
Sweet Williams (Dianthus barbatus)
I did, however, change the overall layout of this section of the garden. On one side of the apple trees, closest to the kitchen, I created a traditional herb garden laid out around a standard variegated box in the centre. Herbs were planted according to species, as in the old monastic physic gardens, with all the types of sage in one bed, thyme in another, and artemisias, lavenders and mints, etc., each in their own bed. As time passed, I became more relaxed and inter-planted old roses, peonies and irises amongst the more classic medicinal and culinary herbs. I also allowed the fennel to self-seed freely, along with lady's mantle, marigold and frilly pink opium poppies. Then I planted a line of fragrant standard roses to further divide the herb garden from a scented cutting garden. Here I mixed aromatic bulbs, such as madonna and regal lilies, with scented annuals such as sweet williams, stocks and heliotrope or cherry pie.
The front of the house was also largely overgrown, but here again there were redeeming features that were retained and incorporated into the new design. Two ancient wisterias graced the south wall near the entrance porch – although the white species (Wisteria sinensis ‘Alba’) flowered profusely with a divine perfume and the purple barely at all. I planted the rose ‘Zephirine Drouhin’ in the semi-shade by the gate and the hardy jasmine (Jasminum officinale) to climb over the porch. A rather ragged box hedge formed a rectangular compound outside the front door. I fed and renovated this and eventually it matured to form the basis for a miniature, classical rose garden with several perpetually flowering cerise Rosa ‘De Rescht’ and the sumptuous, richly perfumed burgundy ‘Dark Lady’ as standard features.
In the very dry, sunny raised bed against the porch I massed various varieties of cistus, including C. ladanifer, not only because they looked stunning tumbling over the old stone but also because they were one of the few plants that seemed to thrive in such a free-draining site. On very hot days, they exuded a lovely rich, almost resin-like aroma – the so-called labdanum gum from cistus is used extensively in perfumery. The small patio area in front of the house was defined by a wooden pergola hung with the rosyleaved rambling rose ‘Albertine’ together with a common honeysuckle Lonicera periclymenum ‘Graham Thomas’ and the pink-flowered jasmine (Jasminum x stephanense). These gave a lovely scent to the whole seating area, especially in the evening. Low-growing violets, old-fashioned ‘Mrs Sinkins’ pinks and, close by the paving, hardy scented cyclamen (C. cilicium) sprung up at their base, flowering at different times of the year.
Evergreen chocolate vine (Akebia quinata)
On the sheltered face of the house, I planted a spreading Fremontodendron ‘California Glory’ which bore dramatic yellow flowers from spring until early autumn (no scent but gorgeous), together with the strange and exotic-looking evergreen chocolate vine (Akebia quinata), which has unusual vanilla-scented ruby-red flowers. Further along I planted the exquisite evergreen scented clematis, C. armandii ‘Apple Blossom’, which virtually covered the entire wall in a single season, plus Trachelospermum jasminoides – not a ‘true’ jasmine yet bearing white star-shaped flowers with a pervasive jasmine-like perfume and glossy evergreen leaves. A half-hardy honeysuckle (Lonicera etrusca) was trained around the bedroom window with the climbing white rose ‘Souvenir de la Malmaison’ for night scent. Since this was the most sheltered spot in the garden, I also risked planting slightly tender species at their feet, such as lemon verbena (Aloysia triphylla), the delicate fringed lavender (Lavandula dentata), a ginger plant (Hedychium gardnerianum) and the delicate pink Darjeeling daphne, D. bholua. All survived the winters (with a little help from agricultural fleece) – in fact the lemon verbena turned into the most beautiful, healthy shrub with a very refreshing and uplifting perfume.
Some years later, I had the opportunity to develop a completely different kind of scented retreat right in the centre of an urban environment. Here, my aims and possibilities were more challenging since there was no garden as such, but only a large sunny terrace. I immediately decided to use the opportunity to try growing all sorts of tender species, because the city provided a warmth and level of protection that was out of the question in the open countryside. Mimosa (Acacia dealbata) with its yellow ball-like flowers, the graceful Nerium oleander, even the wax flower (Hoya carnosa) survived outside all winter with the minimum of protection! Standard grapefruit and lemon trees, the former grown from seed, were over-wintered indoors but benefitted from being outside all summer. Inside, the exquisite gardenia (G. augusta), exotic scented orchids such as Dendrobium nobilis and the white waxy-flowered Stephanotis floribunda thrived so long as they were kept out of direct sunlight. Culinary and classical herbs including lavender, rosemary, parsley and basil were grown in pots outside the kitchen window. Even in the centre of a city, it is possible to create a scented sanctuary – a place to nourish the soul and soothe body and mind.
My most recent aromatic gardening project has been the development of a traditional stone longhouse with about three acres, located in the foothills of the Epynt Mountains in Wales. Once a working farm, much of the original land had been sold off to local sheep farmers over the last century, but the original buildings and barn still remained. I bought the property in a wild and altogether unmanageable condition, but the stunning views and seemingly benign location on a south-facing slope made it irresistible. A fast-flowing mountain stream cut through the wooded valley with its many ancient trees, including a large oak and several majestic Scots pine, making the very landscape seem alive. My aim was to create a naturalistic garden using mainly aromatic plants, planted in swathes or random ‘waves’.
It soon became apparent that the mountainous weather of the Epynt region was very erratic. Before a year had passed I began to look at my garden in a different light: which plant species were going to be ‘survivors’. All my spreading rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis ‘Prostratus’) died during the very first winter, when temperatures plunged to -17°C (1°F), and I also wondered how all my small lavender ‘Hidcote’ bushes would manage to get through February all covered in snow, having planted them out in the late autumn.
Surprising survivors were the evergreen clematis armandeii ‘Apple Blossom’, due to being located on the south wall, and my various species of lavender planted in a south-facing sloping gravel bed. This was one place where aromatics thrived, like the dramatic nepeta ‘Six Hills Giant’, since here the soil was free draining whilst benefitting from the best of the sunshine. Thankfully, the masses of poet's narcissus (N. poeticus) I planted in swathes in the grass along the driveway were tolerant of the changeable weather conditions, as were many of the roses I planted. David Austin's cerise ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ and his pale pink ‘Cottage Garden’ roses all liked the local heavy clay soil, as did the white form of Rosa rugosa and the exquisitely scented dark-leaved Rosa moschata.
I was beginning to realize that the term ‘climate change’ was not only operating in the sense of a gradual shift in global temperatures, but more dramatically in the sense of climate change on a day-to-day basis: one day it could be -10°C (14°F) and the following day up to 7°C (45°F). Finding plants that can tolerate such sudden shifts in temperature, and which are hardy and versatile enough to adapt to whatever conditions are thrown at them, is going to be a challenge for gardeners all over the world. In creating an ‘all weather’ garden, though, individual designs and plants would need to be tailored to the climatic trends of each specific location, whether in a valley in Wales, in the Australian outback or on a Californian estate. The relationship between gardens and climate has consequently taken on a new significance in recent years with the increasing awareness of the existence of climate change and its potential impacts on gardens. However, the future effect of the occurrence of extreme weather events such as floods, fires and droughts is difficult to predict with any certainty.
As the years wore on, it was interesting to discover that the various species of lavender I had planted turned out to be one of the most versatile herbs in this exposed location. It was consequently not surprising that just across the valley from the farmhouse was a speciality lavender farm called ‘Maesmynis Lavender’, producing its own essential oil! Aromatics actually offer a lot of potential in adapting to climate change, since many of them will tolerate very dry conditions, such as the Santolina and Cistus genuses. . . However, they will only flourish if they have sufficient warmth and can escape being drowned in winter. Low temperature tolerance varies greatly amongst garden plants. For example, scented pelargoniums, will not survive even short periods below freezing, while others will tolerate temperatures of -40°C (-40°F) or even lower.
Poet's narcissus (Narcissus poeticus)
Selecting the right variety of a plant for a specific temperature zone and then providing the correct soil type, enough water and adequate drainage will have a major influence in the art of creating a beautiful fragrant garden in the future. Hardy, drought-resistant plants, such as those from the Mediterranean region and the Middle East, especially those aromatics with silver or grey foliage, will play an important role in the planning of gardens in the 21st century, while features such as raised beds and gravel gardens will inevitably become more popular. The theme of naturalistic gardening, where plants are matched to their natural habitat, which was introduced by William Robinson in the late 19th century and upheld by Gertrude Jekyll at the beginning of the 20th century, also provides valuable inspiration as a means to avoid placing further stress on individual plants. Conversely, rising temperatures will also mean that many gardeners may be able to grow a wider range of exotic plants from warmer climates in the future.
Moreover, the impact of climate change, not only on gardens but also in relation to the wider environment, is a subject that simply cannot be ignored today. The cost of human disaster as a result of gale-force winds and hurricanes, as a well as widespread fires and floods, has reached momentous proportions within the last decade alone. Applying sound ecological principles to our way of living so as to try to ensure a sustainable future is no longer a matter of choice but a matter of necessity. If we view our gardens like a microcosm of the natural world at large, we can learn through direct experience, each in our own way, to apply a new philosophy of sustainability to our homes and gardens in a practical way.
In the first half of this book, we will look at scented gardens throughout history and explore ways of creating a unique and personal fragrant environment. In Chapter 7, we will be looking at a number of specific aromatic plants in greater depth. I have been very disciplined in choosing each plant portrait for this section: apart from being used specifically to produce an essential oil, each plant must also add interest to a garden through its aesthetic appearance and practicality. These selected plants provide what I consider to be the basis of a modern aromatherapy garden – a beautiful (yet useful) haven of tranquillity with an emphasis on the healing and transformational qualities of scent.
