Posted: Friday 10 August 2012
by Kate Bradbury
Honeysuckles shouldn’t be tricky plants to grow, but they’re often planted in the wrong place, making them susceptible to downy mildew and aphids.
The weather this summer has given me plenty to complain about, such as wind- and rain-ravaged plants, fewer flowers due to lack of sunshine, and a general absence of insects. But one thing I’m grateful to the bad weather for is the state of my honeysuckle.
Honeysuckles shouldn’t be tricky plants to grow, but they’re often planted in the wrong place, making them susceptible to downy mildew and aphids. Traditionally found in woodland, honeysuckles are used to growing in shady conditions beneath the tree canopy, or in hedgerows. They like a deep, cool root run in well-drained soil, plenty of water and a fair amount of shade (a yearly mulch of leaf mould or similar also works wonders). So if they’re grown in a sheltered, sunny spot on a patio, for example, they’re not going to thrive.
I planted my honeysuckle ‘Graham Thomas’ at the base of a north-facing wall three years ago. The root run isn’t deep, and the drainage is perhaps a little too good. The top of the plant has grown into the sun and gets as much sunshine as plants growing against the south-facing wall, opposite. In a normal year, my honeysuckle does ok – it doesn’t attract aphids, but I suspect the stress of having a shallow root run and not enough water explains the odd bit of mildew on the leaves. And, while the plant produces a reasonable amount of flowers, it’s never developed as many berries (I do love a sticky cluster of honeysuckle berries).
But this year, thanks to the endless days of pouring rain and the lower temperatures, and possibly even the darkness caused by a lack of sunshine, my honeysuckle has done very well. There’s not a mildewed leaf or aphid-ravaged stem in sight. In fact, my honeysuckle has taken over the garden.
Now, whenever I step outside, I’m greeted by the sweet scent of honeysuckle flowers. I trained the plant to grow up a trellis, and long stems have grown out from here into the garden, as if delivering their flowers to me when I walk past. In the morning I look out and see bees charging from one bloom to the next, and as dusk falls, large moths hover, probing the flowers with their long proboscises.
There’s a bag of leaves I collected last autumn in the shed; come October I’ll tip the contents around the roots of the honeysuckle, to recreate the conditions it would normally receive in woodland. I’m hopeful that this year, once the blooms have faded, deep red sticky berries will steal the show. Then maybe I’ll be able to sit back in the comfort of my living room and watch the birds eat them. Thank you rain.
