TO C O N C LU D E
Belle of the Ball Gleaming on the woodland floor, romantic and ethereal lily of the valley is harder to grow in our gardens, says Non Morris, unless conditions are just right
O
n the wall of my study, positioned to quietly seduce me every time I enter, is a small square painting of palest pink lily of the valley. The delicate tiers of bell-like flowers are held upright against an earthy ground and framed by an elegant arch of leaves in singing green. The painting is by Charlotte Verity, who was Artist in Residence at the Garden Museum in 2010 and spent a year painting in Tradescant’s garden beneath the castellated walls of neighbouring Lambeth Palace. Here, among the formal framework of box with its spring halo of brilliant green, Charlotte’s observations were intimate and intense. In the published diary of her year, she notes: “April 6th – shy lily of the valley emerging under medlar” then looks closer again to paint the fairy tale flowers suspended in the shadow of generous curving leaves. The early 20th-century plant hunter, Reginald Farrer described lily of the valley as anything but shy: ‘the worst of all delicious weeds when it thrives’. But as many who have tried unsuccessfully to grow it will agree, achieving the right conditions isn’t easy. Beth Chatto wrote teasingly in her nursery catalogue: ‘If one has humus rich soil, among shrubs, where there is room for the wandering rhizomes… who would not plant lily of the valley for its heady scent in May and June and the chance to pick handfuls for the house?’ In France, La Fête du Muguet is celebrated on 1 May, with a tradition of giving posies of lily of the valley that dates back to the 16th-century court of King Charles IX. I remember seeing cellophane-wrapped cones of rather gigantic lily of the valley on sale just about everywhere in Paris (garages, department stores, backs of vans) when I spent a heady few months there during my gap year.
But even today’s commercialised reality cannot diminish the flower’s freshness and delicious scent combined, of course, with our romantic notion of Paris in the spring. When the exquisite Grace Kelly married Prince Rainier III of Monaco in late April in 1956, she carried a demure bouquet of tiny pearllike lily of the valley and our hearts have been irrevocably stolen ever since. But how best to approach lily of the valley in the garden? Growing conditions in the wild vary from sandy acid soil in ancient woodland to lightly wooded limestone pavements in the Yorkshire Dales. The best advice is to aim for richer soil in semi-shade, enriched with leafmould – plant in reasonably generous groups and don’t let new plants dry out. A magical succession would be snowdrops, followed by lily of the valley followed by martagon lilies, which all enjoy the same conditions. Lily of the valley can, surprisingly, provide smart groundcover at the base of a north wall and I learnt from the designer Christopher Masson that they are happy in pots, becoming handsome, slug-resistant foliage plants after flowering. Pots are your chance to grow special selections: try the pink Convallaria majalis var. rosea or the pinstripe-leaved ‘Albostriata’. The voluptuous Convallaria majalis, grown for La Fête du Muguet in France is often a variety called ‘Géant de Fortin’. It is larger than the species and flowers about ten days later but is in fact as exquisite and as headily scented. It would be clever to grow both, under a medlar tree perhaps, to make the romance last as long as possible. n
162 THE ENGLISH GARDEN MAY 2022
Stockists include bethchatto.co.uk; larchcottage. co.uk; plantsforshade.co.uk
ILLUSTRATION MARIA BURNS PORTRAIT RACHEL WARNE
“A magical succession would be snowdrops, followed by lily of the valley followed by martagon lilies”
