Roger Platts's "Windows Through Time" garden evoked memories of past Chelsea Flower Shows. We made a giant terracotta teapot and teacup water feature for one of his gardens a few years ago. Gold medal.

Nostalgia

Whichford Pottery used to exhibit every year at Chelsea; we won trophies and certificates galore ("Sundries" don't get medals, for some reason), with displays complex enough to rival a medium-sized show garden. But it was an expensive exercise and we decided a few years ago that the money was better spent encouraging customers to visit the pottery. People still remember our displays, and we may go back some time, but for now we are happy to collaborate with the RHS and with exhibitors and garden designers, so that at least some of our pots are there, even if we aren't.

Adam Frost's "Sowing the Seeds of Time" garden at Chelsea, with three pots commissioned from Whichford Pottery.
Gold medal.

Whichford pots on Adam Frost's garden at Chelsea Flower show. If you look closely you can see flights of bees on them.

My usual Chelsea method is to sweep up and down Main Avenue a couple of times first of all, to get a good look at the big show gardens before the crowds build up. Monday is press day, so the biggest obstruction is usually either the BBC or a cluster of photographers around Jerry Hall or Ringo Starr, but it's still worth getting started as early as possible.

Bee line

My first priority was to get  a look at Adam Frost's garden, he had commissioned three pots, inspired by bee skeps, from Whichford. Adam Keeling made them, and they were very tricky, so I was happy to see how good they looked.

It's a beautiful, wildlife and family friendly garden, with vegetables mixed among the ornamental planting (something I often do in the pots at Whichford). If the sun had been shining there would have been dappled shade from the apple trees, whose branches seethed with the blue tits of SW3. I was born and brought up in Somerset, so to me a garden is not a garden without at least one apple tree.

Whichford Pots on Bowden Hostas' Gold Medal winning display at Chelsea Flower Show

Pottering in the pavilion

After Main Avenue I have to get my fix of plants in the Pavilion. Here there are plenty of people for whom we have provided pots in the past and who have come to events at the pottery, including Hillier, Pennard Plants, Hardy's Cottage Garden Plants and Tynings Climbers so, what with planty chat and inspection of varieties new to me, several hours can fly by.

This year Bowden Hostas had created another superb display, using quite a few of our pots. I love seeing our pots playing a supporting role like this. They really do focus attention on special plants and show them off.

Mini Bowden hostas in Whichford pans at Chelsea Flower Show

Centenary Pot - it's official

Whichford Pottery is very proud to have made the RHS Chelsea Centenary Pot, available from us and from the RHS in four sizes. There are lots of little ones in the shops at the showground, and I planted nine of the bigger sizes in red, white and blue to decorate the RHS sales areas, so I'm glad that a little bit of my planting has managed to creep into the 100th Chelsea Flower Show. Our pots have also been used for the plants in the "Plant of the Centenary" exhibit in the Pavilion. A percentage from each sale goes to help the RHS in its nationwide work.

Plants of the Centenary displayed in Whichford RHS Chelsea Centenary pots

Mwah Monday

Right, that's enough sensible stuff. Of course Monday at Chelsea is fun because it's a brilliant people watching day too. There's a lot of "Mwah, mwah, daarling" going on - something I have always affected to despise but I have to admit that this year partly through Whichford and partly through Twitter, I knew quite a few people and did a little bit of mwahing myself. There was also much laughter, some rude jokes and a little bit of alcohol. I also plucked up the courage to introduce myself to a few people.

Chris Beardshaw gets ready for the royal visit in his excitingly planted Arthritis Research UK Garden (Gold medal).
He's always very courteous and pretends to remember who I am.

There are unofficial rules about buttonholing people at Chelsea:

1. Don't interrupt if they are talking to someone a) famous b) grand c) wearing headphones and carrying a microphone.

2. Don't disturb them if they are making notes. (I did this once with Christopher Lloyd and luckily he was very nice about it. I'm glad I did because I never got another chance to meet him)

3. Leave them alone if they are having a last minute exhibitor's crisis. You wouldn't want to be blamed for a missed gold medal.

4. Don't talk too much even if they seem pleased to see you (I get this one wrong all the time). A micro chat is enough, a bit like speed dating.

5. Don't be offended if they turn away to someone more interesting after 20 seconds. They can't help it.

Don't interrupt. Diarmuid Gavin being asked his opinion.

Sir Roy Strong - he may be snappily dressed but he is either texting or making notes, so don't interrupt...

Kirsty Allsop managed to match the lilies on the Laurent -Perrier Garden. Unfortunately she also was a pretty good match for the stewards' high vis jackets.

Dress Code

I went for smart (for me) but inconspicuous and from experience I wore flat, comfy shoes. Some extra-cool people carry off the jeans and jacket look, even leather jackets... Others go for the Titchmarsh blazer (safe) or the floaty dress (brrr) and improbable heels (ouch).

Those comfortable with, or aspiring to, the limelight go flamboyant. I think this is a sporting thing to do, it's great for the photographers and entertains us all.

The Llewelyn-Bowens were a great match for the Perennial Ladies

The gnomes of Alitex at Chelsea Flower Show

Look at me!

Of course there are plenty of people at the show who are paid to dress up, or have something to promote. I applaud this too. I just wouldn't want to do it, but that's why I'm a gardener, not a performer.

Marilyn Monroe had hedged her bets, weatherwise.

We're all selling something - and we're all making it as attractive a proposition as possible!

I don't mind all the dressing up and stunts: there are some who think that Chelsea should be wholly about horticulture with none of that nasty commercialism involved but the truth is that EVERYONE is selling something, from the most upper-crust of garden designers, to the recherché nurseries, bespoke sculptors and retailers of wellies and knick-knacks. Even the charities want your money. We might as well be honest about it and have some fun as we do so.

Bendy lizard lady on the Trailfinders Australian Garden at Chelsea. Gold medal, Best in Show.

Glamorous girls, flexible females

The feminist side of me wonders why so many of the press day performers have to be female. Often they are unnaturally bendy and/or wearing clothes that are definitely not designed for comfort. I did see a male singer and a couple of bewhiskered cyclists but the majority were decorative ladies.

Edwardian grass lady: elegant, eye-catching and a little bit glum.

I could go on for another few pages but I must try to apply my Chelsea chat rules to blogging. There was so much more - some of the best details are to be found on the smallest gardens - but there are lots more bloggers out there to cover all that.

A touch of class

This year for the first time I was entitled to stay after 3.30pm, when most people are shooed away to leave room for the royal party. So I'll leave you with a photograph of Chelsea Flower Show's most distinguished supporter. I was hugely impressed by how nimbly she moved around the show and by how she listened to all of the people to whom she was introduced with equal attentiveness and a little sparkle of humour in her eyes. Another great example of Chelsea chat technique...

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Chelsea Flower Show, 2013

Ahoy there!

At least we now have a floral working environment. Here's Brian off to fetch some more grog. Brian may look a bit like a pirate in a pinny but I'm afraid this grog isn't drinkable, it's an ingredient used in our clay.

Brian among the tulips, off to fetch more grog

Now hold on to your hats because I'm going to take you on a whirlwind tour of the spring displays, or at least parts of them. As I write they are still looking good, touch wood...

At the entrance we move from yellow Tulipa 'West Point' and garnet 'Ronaldo' on the outside of the arch to dark red 'National Velvet' and bright 'Yellow Wave' mixed with pansies, wallflowers and a smattering of Tulipa acuminata.

Inside the entrance arch

Reds and yellows lead you along the path, including more Tulip 'National Velvet', 'Uncle Tom' and 'Rococo'

Tulip 'Rococo'

Tulipa acuminata

This way please

The path leads under an arch in the hedge towards a Ham House Urn (the pot we use as our logo) which currently sports Narcissus 'Pipit', wallflowers and Tulipa acuminata. 

Inside the courtyard garden on the left there is a bank of pots planted with dark reds, black, orange and peachy shades.

There are a few touches of blue, too. I normally use a limited number of colours in a particular display, but will throw in a few sploshes of an accent colour (such as the blue in this case) to stop it from looking flat. Anemone blanda is the blue accent you can see below, having taken over from Scilla siberica, and will soon be replaced by Camassia leichtlinii in some of the other pots.

Just inside the entrance of the courtyard garden

Tulip 'Van Gogh'

The sun through stars

Tulip 'Van Gogh' has been a bit of a star in this area, if you crouch down and look up at it the sun (assuming there is any) lights it up like stained glass. It starts off quite a bright red and gets darker.

The tiny narcissus at its feet is 'Pixie's Sister'

Just outside the Octagon there is a blend of peach, apricot, soft yellow, punctuated with white, like the double Tulip 'Mount Tacoma' and the curly but elegant 'White Parrot', there is also the very sweet and modest Narcissus 'Bell Song'.

Narcissus 'Bell Song'

Tulipa whitallii riding piggyback on a pot of Tetrapanax papyrifer

I predicted a riot

Further in to the garden the colours get a bit more riotous, with mixed Viola 'Valentino' adding some random blues, purples, orange and yellow . Here I have repeated lots of orange. I planted lots of Tulipa whittallii, and I'm so glad I did, it is beautiful from every angle.

Tulipa whittallii

Huge Whichford Orange Pot with orange and black tulips

Oranges are not only fruit

The huge pot (an 'Orange Pot', appropriately enough) on the well has Salix tortuosa, and tulips 'Queen of Night', 'Ballerina' and whittallii amongst the Viola 'Valentino'.

I love being able to look up at flowers against blue sky and I'm really pleased with all the oranges for this. I like to crouch down and look up at Tulip 'Professor Roentgen' too. What a mad professor he is.

Unless you are really good at limbo dancing you'll find that growing tulips in pots makes looking at them from below an awful lot easier.

Tulip 'Professor Roentgen'

All good friends and jolly good company

'Professor Roentgen' is in a large Salamander Pot with the very gorgeous 'Black Jewel' and a contorted hazel (Corylus avellana 'Purpurea') whose reddish purple leaves don't show up well in photographs but match 'Black Jewel' perfectly, take my word for it. Many people still won't countenance orange in their gardens and yet look how it sings on a sunny day; it even cheerily cuts through the more frequent grey days.

Get your magnifying glass out to spot T. 'Black Jewel' and the purple hazel leaves

I haven't even got as far as the stockyard yet, that's where all the pinks and purples are ... We just have too much gloriousness for one blog post! If I have time I'll squeeze in another one soon. I'll leave you with Viola 'Valentino', dashing lover of many pots:

Viola 'Valentino Mix'

Anemone blanda in a nicely weathered shallow basket pot

Aubrieta, hebe, pansies and drumstick primula
in a Frilly Lily pot

I want it now

Garden centres and nurseries are bursting with colourful goodies, so if you didn't plant pots last autumn instant gratification is easy to find. I don't buy many plants at this time of year, but I usually do a little shopping so that I can plant up some pots for Jane and Sue to use on the Whichford stand at the Loseley Spring Garden Show. This is a pleasurable task and helps to erase the winter blues with a blast of colour

But delayed gratification is so much more satisfying, don't you agree?

The Next Factor

In the pots I planted last autumn crocus and iris have briefly sparkled, early narcissi have fizzed and anemones are crackling. But I am waiting for the big guns. The tulips.

Sometimes I think that gardening is all about anticipation. We are constantly looking forward to The Next Big Thing. I enjoy that feeling of looking forward to something, although it's often tinged with anxiety as I'll be hoping that the plants really will perform as billed and the weather will cooperate so that the show is well lit, the stars aren't soggy and the audience isn't frozen.

I need something to take my mind off it...

Bud of Pulsatilla vulgaris var. rubra

Bud wiser

Occasionally I remember to stay "in the moment" and enjoy the details that are already available. Lots of plants are attractive in bud as well as in flower. Usually Erysimum 'Bowles Mauve' has plenty of open flowers by late April. This year mine has stayed in tight bud but if you look closely the buds have an interesting form and intensity of colour:

Erysimum 'Bowles Mauve'. Firmly in bud.

Fritillaria imperialis 'Rubra Maxima'

With this in mind I had a good look round the Pottery garden this week, trying not to think about what is to come but to appreciate the colours and forms of the pristine buds which are popping up all over the place now that we have had a couple of days of sunshine.

I have a soft spot for the extravagance that is Fritillaria imperialis, but I hadn't really noticed how elegant it is in bud.

Fritillaria persica's buds are beautiful when still flushed with green. Later they will become a more solid, slatey purple colour, not inviting such close inspection.

Fritillaria persica

Tulipa 'Ballade' emerges through Hebe 'Red Edge'

Tiptoeing...

Even while carrying out this exercise I was drawn to the tulips. As I looked at them I deliberately didn't consult my notes to remind myself which was which. I wanted to look at the buds in their own right. I have consulted my notebook for the captions for this blog but I tried not to think about how the tulips will look. Just about how they look now.

I think this one will be 'Ballade'. I love the contrast between the neat green cone and the fresh pink growth of Hebe 'Red Edge'.

Below, in a Wisley Gardener's Pan, we have Tulipa whittallii. These pelican beak buds on red pedicels will turn orange eventually.

Tulipa whittallii in bud

Tulipa 'Black Parrot'. Not black yet.

A change is gonna come

Tulips are fun to observe in bud, because they don't have green sepals from which emerge colourful petals, they have tepals, which are like a mixture of the two. Starting off green, the tepals slowly start to colour up. The process may start at the tip, or just an edge may give a hint of the colours to come.

Sometimes the first colour to show is a red herring. According to my notes this one will be 'Black Parrot'.

Tulipa 'National Velvet'

'National Velvet' gives a clearer hint of its true colours. I'm looking forward to this one, it has taken me several years of nagging at René to obtain it.

Tulipa greigii 'Princesse Charmante'

Princesses and parrots

T greigii 'Princesse Charmante' doesn't keep you waiting too long. She and others from her dynasty like to get cracking.

The plump buds of T. 'Orange Princess' show purplish brushstrokes which will intensify as the orange showing on tepal edges takes over from the turquoise-green of the immature flowers.

Tulipa 'Orange Princess'

T. 'Silver Parrot' is easy to identify as soon as its pink-edged leaves emerge, and the buds leave no room for doubt. The combination of pinks and white and greens will become more and more elaborate as this flower matures.

Tulipa 'Silver Parrot'

Tulipa 'Yellow Wave'

Waving madly

My prize for "Most striking tulip before it's even flowered" this year goes to Tulip 'Yellow Wave'. This is one René made me choose. I wasn't sure about it because my bad taste alarms were ringing at the thought of all that stripeyness but as usual, René was right and this tulip is mad but exhilarating. Even the buds are flamed with cream; the flowers will end up yellow.

I'll leave you with the true colours of T. 'Peach Blossom' unfurling, accompanied by Fritillaria meleagris. This time next week there will be colour sloshing about all over the garden.

Then I can start looking forward to summer...

Tulipa 'Peach Blossom' and Fritillaria meleagris

NB This post has been about focusing on details of the plants, so my pictures don't show many pots. However ALL of these plants are growing in pots at Whichford Pottery now, and all the photos were taken during the last week.

Spring? Pah!

Garden sleb meets garden slob

When Chris Beardshaw arrived on the 15th March, straight after the phoney spring,  I did the classic "You should have been here last week". This is something I try NOT to do but all gardeners will be familiar with the disappointment of having a visitor one would like to impress only for the weather and the garden not to play ball. Even though it didn't actually rain for his visit the plants had shut up shop in the cold and the dominant colour in the Whichford garden was brown. With highlights of grey and a few shards of ice. He was very nice about it of course, and cheerfully posed with me for a blog/Twitter photo.

Smile. CB and self in the courtyard garden.

Chris is a very willing poser (in the nicest possible way), he must get asked all the time and it must be a bit tedious. I've always wondered how celebrities smile to order. I don't know which muscles to use, someone says "Smile" and my face freezes.

The first time I met Chris was when he came to the pottery to film a segment for a programme about 10 years ago: he watched pots being made then planted one under my 'supervision', I found the whole thing deeply weird and was completely unable to act natural. Nowadays, with a few more years of mixed horticultural successes/failures/embarrassments under my belt I am a bit less self-conscious. He has been back since then and has given talks for our customers twice now, so his first Whichford visit obviously wasn't too traumatic.

Ellie goes to Chelsea

Back in 2007, Chris borrowed a selection of vintage terracotta from Whichford for his Hidcote-inspired Chelsea garden which was voted The People's Favourite. Sue, Annabelle and I went to congratulate him and found him patiently signing autographs for a long queue of admirers. We were expecting to say well done and tiptoe away again but he swept us past the outraged fans and took us to explore his garden. It is a rare privilege to be invited in to a Chelsea garden, especially such a popular one. Again Chris was generous with his time and let me take plenty of photos of him with our lovely ancient, weathered elephant (which we had only let him borrow after solemn promises to cherish it).

Chris Beardshaw in his Chelsea 2007 garden with pots from Whichford

Comparing the two photos, he seems to have found the elixir of eternal youth. Either that or there is a spooky portrait of him in an attic somewhere...

Living gardens

His talk for us in March focused on a more recent Chelsea garden, the one he did last year with the marvelous Furzey Gardens. Together with the Minstead Training Project, Furzey provides training for people with learning disabilities and is an extraordinarily creative place which has rescued a venerable garden from the brink of dereliction.

Chipping Campden School's 2009 production of Alice in Wonderland at Hidcote

Even though the plant collection at Furzey is an important one, I agree when Chris says that gardens should not be allowed to become museum pieces and that "we are a part of the garden". The students, staff and volunteers at Furzey use the gardens and add to them - building extraordinary thatched buildings and tiny fairy doors and windows among the venerable rhododendrons. It may not be what the original owners envisaged but no garden should be preserved like a flat, dry herbarium specimen.

Our friends at Hidcote (and many other National Trust  and independent gardens) have subscribed to this view too. Restoration and preservation are important, yes, but for a garden to remain alive it needs to be used, especially by young people, whose enthusiasm will guarantee the future safety of such treasures.

Oh dear, I seem to have inadvertently climbed on to another hobby horse...

Anyway, Chris's talk (twice in one day, each 2 hours long!) was a roaring success, and our customers were really buzzing with enthusiasm afterwards.

Chris posed with Jim for the local newspapers, we had a long and earnest conversation about soil (watch out for his new TV project) - and then we let him go, with our thanks ringing in his ears.

Chris and Jim posing with the Karatsu Pot

Plants unimpressed by sleb

Almost immediately the sun came out.

Crocus 'Jeanne d'Arc' sparkles as it thaws out

Narcissus 'Jetfire' struggling through the snow

Then it snowed again. I could hear the daffodils groaning as they heaved themselves up through semi-frozen compost.

I began to think that spring would never come. This time last year there were tulips already and lots of greenery. Here we were, reaching April with not a bud breaking in the hedges, the birds strangely quiet, hardly any flowers on the pansies and only the very tips of tulip shoots poking up through the snow like little sharks' fins.

Predator in a pot. Shark's fin/tulip

Five, four, three, two, one...

As I write there is a little speck of sunlight at the end of this very long winter tunnel. If the forecasters are right temperatures are going to rise swiftly in the next few days and spring will go KABOOM!

Meanwhile I'll leave you with the horticultural mouthful that is Scilla mischtschenkoana 'Tubergeniana'. René gave me the bulbs as a sample last autumn. It certainly deserves its AGM as it has been unperturbed by the outrageous weather, so I'll try to get it for next September's bulb sale, but we may have to think of a shorter nickname for it.

Scilla mischtschenkoana 'Tubergeniana'

New Whichford Acorn Pot, containing an Olive Pot

Quick change artist

Jim had taken one of my plantings (Crocus 'Cream Beauty' and Festuca glauca in an Olive Pot) and dropped the whole thing into a new Acorn Pot, dressing the gap with gravel and glass nuggets. I grudgingly had to admit that, as the original planting  (awaiting flowers)  was still a bit dull the new arrangement spiced it up considerably. It's the kind of thing we sometimes have to do when a photograph of a brand new pot is needed quickly.

Victoria Ward's sketch and notes from my Wisley talk. The pot is a Roses and Lilies Pot, which we make for the RHS.

Just when the weather was at its foulest (sleet storms on the M25, say no more) I went to RHS Wisley and did some planting demonstrations at the plant centre there. One of my plantings used the pot-within-a-pot technique too, it's something I often do with alpines, which appreciate "rocks" to snuggle up to. My sister came with me and took notes - as she's an artist her notes were a thing of beauty.

Hardy girls

The sleet turned to snow, and back at the pottery brave Crocus 'Gypsy Girl' was struggling through an inch or so of the coldstuff:

Crocus 'Gypsy Girl' in snow at Whichford Pottery

But two days later the sun came out and 'Gypsy Girl' was glowing and smiling upon us all:

Sun at last!

Raptor rapture

Sunshine isn't just appreciated by gardeners and flowers. When everything is frozen stiff or buried in snow birds go hungry, especially the predators - their prey hunkers down in cold weather. So the first sunny days after the cold snap caused fierce disputes between the Whichford buzzards and the crows which nest in a tree in the pottery field. I almost expected this buzzard to fall to the stockyard in flames:

Exit pursued by a crow.

I was delighted to see this kestrel above the backup stock area,  but it obviously didn't have the energy to hover while it kept a beady eye out for rodents:

Kestrel at Whichford Pottery

But best, oh best of all, as I looked for birds with my big lens on my camera, whooo should turn up but this beautiful barn owl! Calmly hunting for voles in the long, winter-squashed grass of the pottery field:

Barn Owl in the field at Whichford Pottery

Those of you who follow me on Twitter will have seen this and other pictures of 'our' owl, he or she (how do you tell?) turns up nearly every afternoon, as long as it isn't raining or snowing. Each visit seems a privilege.

Hyacinthus 'Splendid Cornelia' in a glazed Whichford Bee Pot

Stop/start

Temperatures soon slid down again, however, and more snow and freezing meant that emerging shoots seemed to be playing Grandmother's Footsteps. Indoors Narcissus  'Erlicheer' and  Hyacinthus 'Splendid Cornelia' came and went unscathed and wasted their perfume on us. But outdoors flowers were still scarce as February tottered to an end.

Just as I was beginning to write the month off the sun emerged and so did the bees...

Making bee-lines

They were attracted immediately to Crocus 'Cream Beauty':

Bee visiting Crocus 'Cream Beauty' in late February

Then they sought treasure in Crocus 'Blue Pearl':

Bees in Crocus 'Blue Pearl'

Bees discussing crocus at the hive

Bee-ting a path

I always try to plant crocus in corners that catch the sunshine so that early bees can find comfort in their open arms. By the beginning of March big clumps of flowers were yawning and stretching and welcoming the bees which flooded out of the three hives in the pottery field. The courtyard garden was filled with a contented humming noise as the bees plunged and rolled in pollen paradise.

They crammed themselves into Iris 'JS Dijt', following handy guidelines painted on the falls:

Coming in to land, bee meets Iris 'JS Dijt

And they weren't put off by the name of Crocus sieberi subsp. sublimis 'Tricolor'. Nor should you be, it's a little corker, especially in a pot where you can see the sun shining through it. We will probably have it at our next autumn bulb sale, as we have for the last couple of years.

Bee working through Crocus sieberi subsp. sublimis 'Tricolor'

I really hope that this  early burst of activity will keep the bees going for a bit: rain returned two days ago and as I write temperatures are dropping - more snow is forecast. Hunker down, everyone!

Crocus 'Blue Pearl' has shut up shop in the rain

We'll have to make do with the terracotta bees on our Armscote Pots for a little while. They don't mind the rain or the frost.

Bee detail on a Whichford Armscote Pot

A customer at Bingerden last year carries a lovely armful of Sneeboer tools

Sneeboer tools displayed at the factory in Bovenkarspel.

Bad workmen can't blame these tools

We sell Sneeboer tools in The Octagon at Whichford Pottery and I use some of them in the garden. They are things of beauty which are a pleasure to handle: cleverly designed, well balanced and lethally sharp. Like Whichford, Sneeboer is a family firm dedicated to perpetuating traditional skills while combining them with modern techniques. They supply prestigious horticultural customers all over the world while remaining small enough to have a personal approach. Suffice to say there is an affinity between the two companies.

Sneeboer: By Royal Appointment

At the end of January Sneeboer had a series of events in their spanking new factory to celebrate NOT ONLY their 100 years of fine craftsmanship but also the fact that they have been awarded a Royal Warrant by the Court of The Netherlands. Well, we can't rival a centenary and a certificate from the Queen but we love to join in celebrations, so someone from the pottery had to make the trip... I've always loved those "How SuchandSuch Is Made" documentaries, so cue gardener with her hand in the air saying "Pleeeease can I ?"

It was also a chance to visit René Zijerveld, our Dutch bulbmaster on his home turf. René very kindly offered to pick me up from Schiphol and take me to the factory open day to which he had also been invited, which made the whole trip SO much easier for me. He had the bright idea to take along a Whichford Jubilee pot planted with a Hippeastrum for Jaap Sneeboer and his wife, Wilma Peelen, owners of the company which was founded by Jaap's grandfather. The crown decoration on the pot fitted the royal theme perfectly.

René Zijerveld (holding a Whichford Jubilee Pot) and Jaap Sneeboer (sporting a snazzy tie covered in little crowns)

Forging ahead with family

We were taken in groups round the company's new factory and shown various processes involved in the manufacturing. Sneeboer employs about 40 people, many of whom are family members. Even though most of the conversation was in Dutch (René did his best to translate even the technical bits for me) the sense of pride in the company's work from all of the workers was palpable.  There was also a lot of laughter and joy, the guests included neighbours, retailers, coal suppliers, horticulturists, Facebook friends... all were delighted to celebrate Sneeboer's success.

Crafts ancient and modern

First we were shown how water and sand at high pressure is used to cut through sheets of steel, then we moved on to the forge, where stainless steel is tempered in hot coal; this process adds carbon to the steel, toughening it. It's at this stage that you remember what an ancient craft this is. As at Whichford,  much vital equipment still in use has not changed much in years, centuries even.

The forge, where steel blades are tempered in hot coal

Hand forging by a fourth generation of Sneeboers

Mind your fingers. A powerful press is used to angle the sheet metal

Another Mr Sneeboer (I think this was Kees) attaches handles to some hand tools

Power and skill

Heavy machinery is used to press flat blades and straight tines into the correct angles and curves for individual designs, ultrasonic baths are used to clean the metal parts, but welding is done by hand, as is the final polish, sharpening and shaping of each tool.

Each metal head is fixed individually by hand on to the appropriate handle - and what a bewildering array of these there was! Most of them are ash or cherry, all lovingly fixed, labelled and checked by an experienced eye.

Fork handles galore at the Sneeboer factory

It was a delightful experience, and so good to see a family firm of craftspeople thriving even in such difficult economic times. If you would like to help Sneeboer celebrate they would love donations to be given to The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.

Flying Dutchman

I'll blog about René and the Dutch bulb trade another time, but either side of our Sneeboer trip we hurtled about in Rene's van looking at interesting houses and gardens:

Traditional Dutch house near the bulb fields

I spotted deer, great crested grebe, a pair of loons, and geese galore as we whizzed across the dutch landscape. I also discovered that The Netherlands is the world's coot capital. This gave me the opportunity to add the phrase "As bald as a coot" to René's English vocabulary.

The Netherlands. Coot City.

Like the gigantic Dutch hares we zoomed across the bulb fields.

A hare the size of a muntjac runs through the bulb fields

We dashed into Rene's new warehouse, where I admired crates of exciting Cyclamen and Pleione, stacks of Roscoea (René grows these himself) and boxes of Gloriosa rothschildeana like fat cigars:

Gloriosa rothschildeana

René was so kind, we managed to squeeze an awful lot into a single day, including a trip to the (freezing) beach:

The Dutch coast: a very,very long beach.

He drove me all the way back to Amsterdam, where my husband joined me for a couple of days. I have bombarded you with enough photos for now, I'll put more on Flickr/Pinterest/Twitter eventually. But here's just one more from Amsterdam - spot the gnomes!

Gnomes from Amsterdam

Brave viola in the snow at Whichford Pottery

Exposure

People new to Whichford pots sometimes ask me what I do with the pots during the winter. My reply is "Nothing!" I finish planting the winter/spring displays in Nov/Dec and then I leave the pots where they are. I don't have a vast greenhouse to lug all the pots into every time frost threatens; I don't purchase yards of fleece or bubble wrap. If the plants in the pots are hardy they stay out all winter. The pots are frostproof.

Most of these pots have been in use for about 10 years with no protection from cold weather.

"Ah", I hear you cry, "but you must have mild winters." Nope. We are about as far away from the sea as it is possible to get in Britain, so we don't benefit much from its moderating effect on temperatures. Last year we plunged to -15C, the year before we hit -18C and everything was frozen solid for weeks. As I write it is a cheery -3C outside, with worse forecast for this weekend.

Compost in this pot has frozen rock hard.

A 22 year-old Whichford Italianate Pot full of frozen plants and bulbs.

Freeze a crowd

I put a lot of effort into the autumn planting session, so I would be annoyed and discouraged if I couldn't rely on the pots to last the winter. The pot in the picture on the left, its contents frozen flat, is 22 years old. To my knowledge it has been in constant use for at least 12 years.

Cool

The pots look great in frost and snow, which are an excellent foil for the warm colour of the terracotta.

We all know that water will infiltrate any tiny weakness in a pot and will expand when frozen, with disastrous results. This is why even though we are confident in our firsts we can not extend our frostproof guarantee to pots sold as seconds. Nevertheless, I have a lot of seconds at home and am always surprised at how few of them break in the frost!

The stockyard at Whichford Pottery

Glacial progress

The reasons behind the reliability of Whichford pots are complex. If you have read last February's blog post about the clay room you will already know something about the role played by our special blend of clay. Even before the clay has reached the pottery it has been weathering in piles, exposed to the elements, for between three and ten years. Frost has a similar effect on raw clay to the one it has on ploughed soil, creating a fine, crumbly tilth. The more the clay is broken down and recombined, the more smoothly and consistently it will mix for working with.

Frost in a nearby field, working its magic on the soil.

We use a mixture of three clays: clays have different properties, some are very plastic but prone to shrinking when dry, others are more open and stable, or work well fired at high temperatures. Each reacts differently to the stresses and strains of the freeze/thaw cycle. So it is up to us to blend the clays to suit our purposes.

Freezer and test pots at Whichford Pottery

Freeze a jolly good fellow

Chris Latham is one of our more experienced throwers, and a fount of ceramic knowledge. He makes little test pots from different blends of various clays, firing different batches at different temperatures. He records the clay combinations and firing temps, then fills the pots with wet compost and freezes and thaws them every day, watching for signs of lamination.

Frostbite

Lamination is the classic sign of frost damage, many of you will have found cheap terracotta pots flaking and crumbling at the end of winter, it is quite different from the sort of damage inflicted by a careless knock from a lawnmower.

Test pots laminating

Clay is a natural material and varies even within one site, and kilns have been known to malfunction... so of course it is possible that individual pots may laminate. But I can testify that among the hundreds of pots I use every year it is extremely rare to find one showing signs of frost damage.

Ice age

Chris's research, the clay blend, careful clay preparation, the skills of the throwers and decorators, drying, handling, kiln loading and the temperature to which the pots are fired all play important parts in making pots which are strong enough to stand up to our weather and yet porous enough to ensure healthy root growth. They also give us the confidence to be able to offer a 10 year guarantee against frost damage. The pottery is now in its 37th year, so a lot of experience has been accumulated!

Frost enhances the details of a Whichford Green Man wall planter.

I've got chills

As for me, well the frost is pretty but it makes me nervous about my less hardy plants. I must bear in mind that plants in pots are necessarily more prone to having their roots frozen than are plants in the ground, so I usually only use absolutely hardy plants in the winter plantings. But every year I am tempted to experiment. Many hardy perennials and bedding plants may appear to collapse in a very hard frost but will recover, so I have favourites that I use again and again. Some plants are a bit more risky but are helped by the large drainage holes in our pots which ensure that the compost does not stay soggy - wet is the real killer in our winters.

Crocus shoots waiting for the thaw.

Cold comfort

As I waddle about in fifteen layers of fleece I remind myself that the frost has a cleansing effect on the garden - there will be fewer slugs, snails and greenfly surviving the winter and fungal diseases such as viola leaf spot seem to be less rife after a really good freeze. So I massage my chilblains and try to look on the bright side.

While we wait anxiously for spring and for those little crocuses to bloom, we can enjoy the way frost and snow highlight shapes and details in our garden, confident that the year will keep turning and soon we'll hear the distant sound of a cuckoo echoing across sunny fields...

Whichford Cuckoo Pot decorated with frost

Let me take you by the hand

I thought I might show you some aspects of work at the pottery which are often overlooked, all of which are important in producing the pots that I heave about outside. There's also a lot of chat involved, which is another reason I like to come indoors.

Riv loading the main kiln, my dahlias dry in the foreground

While I am cleaning dahlias by the kiln I listen to the banter and random chat between "the lads" (the younger members of our making team). This ranges from childcare to cars, recent scientific discoveries, YouTube videos and ceramic technique. Plus the usual rude stuff of course.

Give the boys a great big hand

When not throwing or glazing, Riv, Joe and Tom are the main loaders and unloaders of the kilns. This involves a massive exercise in spatial perception as well as strength, good communication and teamwork. The kiln loading has many pitfalls as strange things happen when objects are heated to 1060C. More on this another time.

Riv and Tom load the main kiln

Many hands make light work

Everyone here has learned to ask for help. The pots are heavy even after they have dried and some of them are absolutely enormous, requiring careful moving especially before firing, so no-one refuses a lift-request; often you see throwers trooping down to help kiln-loaders and vice versa.

Clay handprints on the wall at Whichford Pottery

If you go upstairs you will pass a wall covered in hand (and paw) prints from pottery workers past and present. These represent the most important equipment of every single worker here.

The little gate in the picture is to stop Hooley, Patrick, Dodger or Bea from wandering downstairs (two Staffies, a Jack Russell and a Weimeraner).

A safe pair of hands

The main making room is on the right at the top of the stairs but to the left is the area directly above the big kilns where the bigger pots are stacked to finish drying in heat that escapes from the firing. Once they are dry they are either dropped through a hatch in the floor to be caught and stacked in the kiln or the biggest ones are taken down on a cherry picker or in the lift.

The team is well practised in the art  of turning and positioning the pots so that they dry evenly without cracking, and of judging when they are ready to go into the kiln. The time this takes varies according to how many kilns are being fired downstairs and what the weather is like outside.

Pots drying above the big kilns

Hard to handle

There is something very appealing about these 'raw' pots. They look so pristine and fragile. They are strong enough to be handled and stacked and yet a moment's inattention or a kiln malfunction can still cause cracks that mean days of work are wasted. Even the minute handled basket pots below represent a lot of fiddly work - you can see that at a glance.

Tiny basket pots dry on shelves upstairs

Talk to the hand

Upstairs in the main making room I love to linger and look at all the fresh pots while chatting to Andy, Simon and Chris the throwers, and Hilary and Jeannette the decorators. The throwing (making the pots on a wheel) is often what most people want to see, but once visitors are inside the pottery they become mesmerised by the skill and attention to detail in the decorating processes.

Visitors watch the decorating

Hilary filling a mould before applying it to a pot. Her beloved dog, Bea, relaxes under the bench.

Handbagged

We welcome visitors into the pottery so that they can see the making. We think it's important for our customers to see how much work and skill goes into each pot, and they certainly seem to love it. Sometimes they forget themselves  slightly and lean so close to the makers that they make it a bit hard to work, and occasionally pots are damaged by a carelessly swung handbag, but opportunities to see proper craftsmanship are few and far between, so we forgive them!

We have had the odd customer who has been irritated by the fact that the makers stop for half an hour at morning break and at lunch time, but most people realise that they are getting a privileged view of skilled work, not a touristy performance.

The best days to see making are Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday as Monday is hoovering and kiln loading, and not much throwing happens on Fridays because pots would dry too much to decorate by the following Monday. Please bear in mind that makers are sometimes called away to do other jobs, so the amount of throwing and decorating going on varies. Access may not be possible to all areas, especially if a huge pot is being moved... There's always something interesting going on, however, and the staff are happy to chat if time permits.

Lynda and Jeannette hard at work, Lynda is making a small elephant planter. Each one is differently decorated

A dab hand

Lynda, who makes our hand-pressed ware (the famous elephants and urns, swag and acanthus pots, square pots, sea monsters etc), usually in her own room, is sometimes to be found working on smaller pieces alongside Hilary and Jeannette. It's nice to have company! There's always plenty of chat going on, but the work rate is brisk and eyes and hands are concentrating on the pots.

Plaster serial number stamps hang on the wall. They are made at the pottery too

Each pot is stamped with its own serial number, date code and Whichford mark, and throwers and decorators use their own stamps to mark most of the pots they make - so usually you can work out who made your particular pot.

A Whichford pot, freshly thrown by Andy Gill

That's a little glimpse inside Whichford Pottery - perhaps you can see why I love and respect these pots. I know how much work and patiently accumulated skill has gone into making even the tiniest ones. I hope you enjoy using yours!

Tiny basket pot filled with Sempervivum

The strawberry plants looking gorgeous, with Nandina domestica 'Firepower' in Oxford Toms in the background

Leaf it out!

Meanwhile a field maple has kindly provided an insulating blanket for my greenhouse. As I write, oak leaves are gently pattering down too; soon the greenhouse will be almost invisible. And a bit dark.

Field maple leaves cover my greenhouse

I must count my blessings  - at least there isn't a bumper acorn crop to break the panes like there was last year.

Anyway, while you've all been out playing in the leaves Miss Babs and I have been slaving away on the changeover. Babs helps me one day a week and doesn't mind being given the tedious and filthy job of digging out all the summer plants and potting up the ones I want to save. At least she says she doesn't mind. She also says a lot of things I'm not sure I understand.

Miss Babs digging for victory

Babel

You see, Babs has her own special language. It is flexible and highly expressive but I really don't know where its roots lie. It certainly isn't a Romance language. Here's a sample:

Capusina - Some sort of greeting/acknowledgement. This is benign, but be very afraid when she looks at you and slowly says "Yeeeeeeeahss."

Fleabla - any missing tool, implement or useful item, such as the dustpan and brush.

Skimpfla - Usually said when requesting the passing of such a tool. Not sure whether this is a verb or a noun, to be honest.

Scooby - battered/unhealthy/dead. As in "That geranium's a bit scooby"

Humfa - big and heavy. As in "This salvia's a real humfa"  Chunka is similar, but possibly derived from English. A Humfadinger requires more than one person to lift.

Skimbla-skombla - "Can I have a lift?" Usually involves a humfadinger.

Hula-hula- Heavy. Humfadinger in transit.

Hoobla! - sometimes said when the humfadinger has been safely transported.

Heeperlitis - I daren't ask. It may occur as a result of lifting too many humfadingers.

If I use too much Latin Babs starts muttering about speaking "Ungabunga language". She's a fine one to talk!

Freshly-planted pots in the stock yard

Filling up

With the help of Miss Babs I have managed to get most of the winter pots planted before the start of our Christmas Sale. Some of them (like the collection shown above, planted last week) look a bit sparse, mainly because my pansy and viola plug plants took a long time to get going this year. Trust me, they are all full of bulbs, so things will only get better.

This is the first winter pot I planted at our Head Gardeners' Day in September, looking quite full now:

One of the earliest of this year's winter plantings - bulbs lurk beneath.

There is still time to plant bulbs, especially tulips and alliums

Here's a glimpse of how I typically plant a large-ish pot. Planted on Tuesday, this one (a design we made especially for Rydal Hall) is about 24" wide at the top, but as you can see, narrows quickly:

16 Tulip 'White Triumphator' and first plant

I fill the pot to the level at which, nestling them gently into the compost, I plant tulips - about 6 or 7 inches from the top. I mix a little slow-release fertiliser in, hopefully this will give all the plants a boost in the spring. At this stage I position any large or densely-rooted plants.

Tulips will grow through or around most root balls but there is no point in placing them under a plant which will either hide or interfere with them. This Berberis 'Starburst' will shred anything that tries to grow through it, so none are directly beneath it, and I'll have to keep an eye on how it grows, judicious pruning may be needed in the spring. I know it looks like a bunch of sticks now, but its fresh foliage in the spring is interestingly splashed with pink.

3 Allium karataviense plus smaller plants

I add a layer of compost over the tulips, enough to be able to position the smaller plants ( I am referring to size of the rootballs more than aerial parts of the plants) so that the surface of their rootballs is at the same level as that of the Berberis, ie about one inch below the rim of the pot. Here I have used Ajuga reptans 'Burgundy Glow' and Carex 'Frosted Curls' towards the front of the pot and have jammed a couple of nameless Heuchera towards the back, either side of the Berberis.

In front of each Ajuga plant I have planted one Allium karataviense about four inches deep.  These should emerge with their fat, curving foliage and short tennis ball flowers among a mat of the Ajuga, whose runners are already making adventitious roots. The alliums are near the edge of the pot and as they are higher up than the tulips, and the pot is a flared shape, hopefully they will not be hidden by tulip foliage. I'll have to keep an eye on that too.

Then I fill carefully between the plants, banging or jiggling the bottom of the pot on the ground rather than firming in, because the compost and the rootballs are pretty damp and I don't want to squeeze the air out of them. Equally I don't want to leave any gaps so that roots die off.

Allium cowanii bulbs

After filling in I add the tiniest bulbs randomly among the plants. These are Allium cowanii, spindly stems rise to about 12 inches and produce pretty little umbels of white flowers at about the same time as the tulips. I can see they need planting NOW as they are beginning to sprout.

Planting Allium cowanii

I make holes with my fingers and plant the bulbs about 2.5 inches deep. I wear latex gloves because they allow me to feel where root balls are and to minimise damage to roots and bulbs. I get sore fingernails at this time of year if I don't wear gloves.

Then it's time to top up the compost again (especially those allium holes) so that all the rootballs are just covered, banging the pot on the ground again. I water in with a fine sprinkle from the hose, just to settle the plants in, they don't need a good soak as they are already damp and it's bound to rain soon.

I forgot to take an "after" photo today - so that will have to come at a later date, sorry!

Most importantly, and I know I have said it before, but it bears repeating: write down what you have done in a notebook - here's a page from this season's plantings.

Harriet's planting notebook

You WILL forget what bulbs you have planted and how many, so how will you know how successful you have been if you don't record what you did in the autumn and review it in spring?

Go on, get out there and shove a few more tulips in - you'll be glad you did when April finally comes!

If my camera returns in time I shall try to do a step-by-step planting for you.

The entrance to Whichford Pottery, with the Octagon in the background
February 2009

Meanwhile I have been looking through old pictures and a found a few which illustrate quite well the kind of thing I try to do. I think of my winter/spring plantings as an extremely slow firework show: they may look a bit quiet to begin with, although there are promising structures dotted about and a few glimmers of light maybe from the pansies, but as soon as the days begin to lengthen bulbs start to pop and fizz with flowers, culminating in the big kabooms of tulips.

Kaboom! The same area (different angle) April 2009

You can get these effects in a single pot by planting different types of bulb and plant together and thinking hard about when they will flower and flourish. The bigger the pot, the easier it is to achieve an effective succession of flowers and interesting foliage, but it can be managed with smaller ones too.

Being entirely hand-made, our pots are not cheap, so I reckon they should earn their keep by being crammed with goodies.

Here are a few examples:

Mid November

Several of our pot designs have frilly edges  and I enjoy using frilly plants with them. The ornamental cabbage is plenty frilly enough but is not likely to survive the whole winter. I know, however, that there are bulbs underneath, waiting to take over from the cabbage.

March

By March the Anemone blanda are well on their way. The cabbage has had the chop, making way for emerging tulip leaves. Anemone blanda are so useful in pots because their attractive leaves come up early and expand politely to fill gaps between pansies and other plants.

Late April

In late April the anemones have peaked but the tulips are about to flower. I'm afraid this planting was done in the days before I was taking copious notes and thousands of pictures for blogging purposes so I can't remember which tulip it is and I can't find a picture of the open flowers. It may have been the white double 'Mount Tacoma'.

Shortish tulips such as 'Calgary' are good for a pot this size. Tall tulips require deeper pots (at least 10"/25cm), partly so that they look in proportion, partly so that their roots have plenty of room to spread and anchor themselves firmly.

Here's a bigger pot, a Trailing Leaf Barrel, planted by the entrance path one year:

February

This pot was planted in the autumn, like all the others, and, despite the February frosts, the foliage mat is beginning to perk up. This includes Corydalis flexuosa, Tellima grandiflora, Euphorbia griffithii 'Great Dixter', Trifolium repens 'Purpurascens' plus a few dark purple violas.

Mid March

By the middle of March fat, russet shoots of Fritillaria imperialis were rising confidently through the foliage, followed by Narcissus and Tulipa. I was really pleased with this planting: even before there were many flowers, the mosaic of subtly changing foliage was a pleasure to observe every time I walked down the path.

Of course I had forgotten how very foxy Fritillaria imperialis smells as it grows...

Late April

Visually, the frits were a treat all along the path. Olfactorily not so. Still, by late April they were in flower and the smell was starting to fade (or I had got used to it). Narcissus 'Laurens Koster', Anemone blanda 'White Splendour' and Corydalis flexuosa all did well around the legs and feet of the frits. These pots are about 20" deep, by the way.

Early May

By the beginning of May Tulips 'Ballerina' (which has a lovely, sweet fragrance as an antidote to the frits) and 'Queen of Night' were taking over and as the frits faded I chopped their heads off so that the tulips could be seen clearly. Narcissus 'Laurens Koster' is really reliable and strong, with great, clean colour, but we have difficulty selling it because people expect tall narcissi to fall over - this is one of the windiest positions in the garden and yet this doughty narcissus refused to break.

The entrance to Whichford Pottery, April 2009

How long is a piece of string?

People always ask me how many bulbs to put in a pot and the answer is not simple - it depends on whether you are putting several different types of bulbs in, how many plants you want to grow above them and how vigorous the roots of those plants are. My advice to you is experiment and keep notes of your plantings. I write every winter planting down in a notebook, noting the number of bulbs used, and even if I can't remember all the plant names I describe them: "bright green conifer", "droopy juniper", "brown curly grass" are among my regulars. This should mean that, especially if you review your notes in the spring, you don't repeat too many mistakes.

Have fun with your fireworks!