Meetings with plants: lemon verbena

Bramble & Briar #186

There’s been a bit of a hiccup in the Substack post writing schedule this weekend. A dog related hiccup, that resulted in most of a day tending to a poorly Evie, culminating in a trip to the emergency vets (because these things have a habit of happening out of hours) and the removal from an ear canal of the three most expensive grass seeds in the history of domestic canids. I’m considering having them framed, or at least having posters made up and displayed at the field gate as a warning to other happless spaniel companions who might be crazy enough to let their dogs run about in the long grass off lead without some kind of hat¹. Or earbuds – do they do those for dogs? Of course not, they’d eat them. Anyway, this post was going to be coming later in the week, and the one I was writing for today is still mostly in my head. No matter, it all goes down the same way. Or something like that.

there’s a certain magic to this little patch of greenery right outside the kitchen door. But as much as the lemon verbena might want to be part of the gang, I’m not sure it wouldn’t be happier elsewhere

There are some plants I torture, just to keep them close.

It’s not that I have sadistic streak. It’s just that, enjoying their company so much, I stubbornly refuse to listen to the part of my brain telling me that a small, mostly shady courtyard is not the best place to be for...oh, I don’t know. A lemon verbena?

The lemon verbena (Aloysia citrodora) is not happy.

True, it’s close to the house, which is a good, sheltered position for a shrub that’s not fully hardy (it’ll put up with a UK winter down to about minus five, maybe a bit more, as long as it’s not too wet. And it does a good impression of being dead for several weeks in spring before it consents to wake up). But it wants to spread its roots about, so in the ground, or a big pot, is favourable. Preferably the latter, since you can then easily move it under cover if the winter looks like being too harsh. In the active growing season, it wants six to eight hours of full sunshine to be truly happy.

So being kept root bound in a tiny pot on top of the gas meter cabinet, against a west facing wall with most of the house on the south side of the space is not really doing it a lot of good. We’ve rubbed along this way for a few years, if only to grant me the pleasing sight of its long, narrow, lime green foliage and occasional sprays of small white flowers on purple stems. I’ll give the leaves a scrunge periodically to release that gorgeous hit of citrus, telling myself I’ll make a tea from them, but never quite getting around to it. It’s been a constant, loyal presence by the kitchen door.

It needs a holiday.

First, its going to need a new, larger pot. I have just the thing – the lovely Whichford box pot in which yet another blimmin’ Ilex crenata has carked it² (they’re really not as rugged as box, are they? Even with the triple threat of moth, scale, and blight, a box will cling on for years after an Ilex has checked out. Which reminds me, the skeltonised box by the same kitchen door needs a serious trim – it’s coming back to life, but it needs is frame reducing by at least half to give it a chance). Then I’m going to have to try teasing some of the roots out of the tragic spiral they’ve gotten themselves into, chasing the edge of their diminutive prison all this time. A gritty multi-purpose peat free compost mix (note to self: buy more grit) and then a serious hair cut. This is the scary bit. But I’ve allowed the verbena to get into such a state, that it’s really a case of go big or go home, so the proper chop it is – there’s not point in hoping it’s going to put on any new growth on those lanky old stems, and even if it did, I wouldn’t want them there, waving about in the wind like something out of a Tim Burton movie.

Except... hmmm. I went and watered it earlier in the forlorn hope that it might perk up and, as so often proves to be the case, it’s rewarded my absurd optimism by doing just that. You see, the verbena is at least partly the artisan of its own fortune, because just as it’s looking like drastic steps need to be taken, it recovers at the slightest sign of attention. But this can’t continue, the move is still on, but this perking up shifts the plan. If the foliage is that responsive, then the vascular system is working, meaning those leaves are going to be useful in its new location to capture the sun and create the energy the root system needs to explore and colonise its new, more luxurious environment. I can always try pinching them out to encourage the buds lower down to break out. The chop is off the cards – for now.

The artisan of its own fortune – lemon verbena, perking up after a drink

And I realise I’ve not told you the worst of it – for me, if not for the verbena. It needs the south facing spot in front of the greenhouse, where it can sit on the paving by my weedy container and soak up the sun all the live long day. At least, while it recovers. Maybe it’ll put on enough new growth for me to take cuttings, at least one of which can come back to the courtyard for a holiday by the back door, there to be sniffed and scrunged. I’ll have a few on rotation, so they never have to spend more than a few weeks in the shade.

Here is my best laid scheme. Rabbie Burns, haud yer wheesht...

1. Not hats, but it turns out, there’s a company called The Snoodery that does little snoods for spaniels, ostensibly to keep their floppy ears out of their food, though they’ll be perfect for keeping grass seed out of their ears on summer field runs.

2. turns out the ilex hasn’t quite carked it. It was just in tragically heavy, soggy compost. It’s now been rescued, parted from its dead bits, and repotted in a far grittier mix. I’ll report back.