Valley Garden: Bluebells, Bog Plants and a Baffling Fern

In the early 1950s, Lord Feversham had a rather splendid idea. To keep his staff at Bransdale Lodge busy, he ordered a “wild garden” to be carved out of Gimmer Bank Wood, on the soggy banks of Blowith Slack, a tributary of Hodge Beck. In went azaleas, rhododendrons, flowering cherries and a good deal more besides, including such outlandish offerings as American Skunk Cabbage and Gunnera, that great favourite of the bog garden.

Nature, of course, has had the last laugh. The garden has been quietly going to seed for years, and the wild is winning. Stone paths and a moss-covered seat can still be found if you look hard enough, buried under leaf litter like forgotten secrets. A pond has silted up into a muddy suggestion of its former self, though it will earn its keep later in the summer with a fine show of irises.

For now, the bluebells are putting on quite a performance. But they are being rather rudely upstaged by this magnificent clump of freshly unfurling ferns, electric green and impossibly fresh, their frond tips curled like tiny clenched fists.

My “Seek” app, with the confidence of someone who has absolutely no business being that sure of themselves, declares them Ostrich Ferns, of the Matteuccia genus. My own 1994 vintage guide does not even list Matteuccia, which gives one pause.¹Phillips, Roger. Grasses, Ferns, Mosses & Lichens of Great Britain and Ireland. 1994. Macmillan. Then again, perhaps this is simply another of Lord Feversham’s exotic imports, still holding its ground after all these years. Wikipedia does confirm it is a popular garden ornamental, so perhaps Seek deserves a little more credit than it is getting.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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  Phillips, Roger. Grasses, Ferns, Mosses & Lichens of Great Britain and Ireland. 1994. Macmillan.