O is for Orange, Ornithogalum and Outstanding, so what’s the betting you exclaim Oooh!

► A bunch of oranges: Top – African Breeze up-close; below – my newly-acquired ornithgalum ahead of planting out; bottom – orange companions osteospermum (left) and English marigold.

ORANGE – no, not any old orange but a penetratingly vibrant shade – is not a colour that pops up all over the place in the garden. In fact, like a true blue, it’s something of a minority spectacle in our beds and borders.

Then I came eye-to-eye with this botanical beauty – Ornithogalum dubium African Breeze.

Yes, I could rattle off a few orange Oohs and Aahs such as Trollius Orange Globe, the Californian poppy, pansy Frizzle Sizzle Orange, tulip Ballerina, calendula, the popular English pot marigold, Crocosmia Lucifer, Zinnia Orange King, various nasturtiums, one or two osteospermums, bearded iris Tapatio, Coreopsis Early Sunrise, Oriental poppy Allegro, geums Totally Tangerine and Borisii, Calibrachoa Superbells Dreamsicle and a good number more. Not to mention shrubs with bright orange autumn berries such as pyracantha Orange Glow.

Several of these veer towards a deep orangey-red and are not, I contend, in the same top league as African Breeze.

What few orange blooms show up in my garden do inject plenty of cheer. Indeed, I read that orange blooms are thought to symbolise excitement, friendship, joy and good health, so it’s well worth hanging on to them. 

And so to African Breeze, which I bought in full flower from a local store and made me stop in my tracks. I hadn’t seen anything quite like it.

Shortly afterwards, the realisation dawned – my bulbous purchase is closely related to the chincherinchee which bears dense clusters of many cup-shaped white flowers which are plentiful along South Africa’s Western Cape.

On a personal note, some friends who emigrated to South Africa many years ago visited us on a return trip and presented us with a bunch of chincherinchees – Ornithogalum thyrsoides – which we popped into a vase of water and which were still blooming their hearts out a month later.

These, though, are a cooling white and not like a bowl of tangerines, the proud boast of their close cousins.

The genus consists of 80 species, with plants flourishing in a variety of habitats, ranging from dry, rocky hillsides to meadows and woodland across central and southern Europe, the Mediterranean, parts of Romania, tropical Africa and South Africa.

So it stands to reason that these plants are not hardy in finger-tingling, toe-freezing, sub-zero levels, particularly in northern regions of the UK. 

If you live “upcountry,” as we Southerners tend to say, my advice would be to lift the bulbs and take them to the relative comfort of a frost-free spot or, alternatively, plant in a pot and manoeuvre that to a safer haven when the weather cools.

Often known as Star of Bethlehem, these stunners grow to around 12in high and parade their livery from late winter to early summer, dependent on where you live.

I also note that the Latin specific epithet dubium means “unlike others of the genus”.

How absolutely right is that!

You’d be dotty not to like these super shade-lovers . . . but beware the zebra effect!

B

ELIEVE ME, I do not relish my spring and summer purge of pulmonarias, yet it has become a reluctant “must do”. Otherwise my garden would be at risk of being overrun by these spotty, shade-loving invaders.

Multiplication is the name of the game as far this fascinating race of hardy perennial plants is concerned.

Their habit of super-spreading is so severe that I can cast an eagle-eye over the garden only to discover those vivid, multi-spotted leaves sprouting all over the place.

◙ Pulmonaria patterning: All these images are of unnamed pulmonarias in my garden, clearly showing the clarity of the spots and the beauty of the blooms.

And I’m convinced they weren’t there yesterday!

So I get to work and fork out a few dozen, despite the fact that I actually like pulmonarias – aka lungwort – as they add a special something to shady spots from late winter and for months on end, not least their funnel-shaped flowers in April and May.

These blooms can be violet-blue, pinky-purple, deep or pale red, clear blue or white alongside the spots, speckles and splashes in random shapes in silver or greenish shades.

One of my theories about pulmonarias is the “zebra effect” – their leaves are often so vibrant and patterned that I tend not to notice some of them, mimicking as they do the camouflage attributes of zebras with their distinctive black and white striped coats. Fortunately not all of these unwanted pop-ups get away with it!

Many named varieties are near-impossible to tell apart as they spread their rhizomes across the woodland floor.

There is, of course, a degree of expectation over new plants that survive my “cull” as they could display flower or foliage colourings that are that bit different – so will be well worth nurturing.

Not that hardy pulmonarias need much TLC, just as long as they grow in soil that’s not too dry.

They team up beautifully with various ferns and will relish the cool of dappled shade rather than the full glare of the sun.

There are around 14 species of pulmonaria but many more named hybrids. In the wild they can be found in woods and on hills in Spain, Portugal, Sweden, Italy, Greece, Ukraine, Russia and the UK, so they plainly have a wide and varied spread across the nations.

Let me make it clear – as dual-purpose plants, pulmonarias are right up there in the premier league. But I don’t regret declaring war to ensure their numbers are kept at manageable levels and to avoid getting spots before my eyes every time I walk down the garden path!

Most good garden centres will stock varieties of pulmonaria and among the best are Berries & Cream with raspberry-pink flowers and silver foliage, Blue Ensign in deep blue with plain green leaves, Diana Clare in deep pink with purple stripe and silver leaves margined green, Lewis Palmer in violet-blue and narrow, deep green foliage spotted greenish-white, Roy Davidson with pale blue flowers and conspicuously marked leaves, Sissinghurst White, a neat and tidy white with good leaf markings, Moonshine with shimmering silvery-white leaves and the palest blue blooms, Rachel Vernie in a livery of coral-red funnels and plain leaves edged cream, Brentor, raised in my native Devon and bearing bright red magenta flowers amid dark green leaves sparsely spotted silver, and Buckland, also from Devon, with nicely marked leaves and pinkish-red bells.

PULMONARIA POINTS

◙ Not all have patterned foliage. Some are in plain green while others are so spotty these tend to merge into a massed silvery expanse such as Moonshine.

◙ Most grow to around 10in-14in high and are evergreen, though a few varieties are close to deciduous, losing all but a tiny green stump in the run-up to winter.

◙ All have hairy leaves, mostly bristly and rough to the touch, and it is interesting to note that the foliage varies in shape according to species. Pulmonaria longifolia and angustifolia’s are narrow, mollis widens in the middle and officinalis is heart-shaped.

◙ Lungwort is so named because it was once used to cure lung, or pulmonary, disease.

◙ Propagation – if it is needed! – can be by division, root cuttings or seed which will not come true from hybrids but may provide a few surprises.

A useful updated and illustrated handbook on pulmonarias, written by Jennifer Hewitt and Margaret Stone, is available for £7.50 from the Hardy Plant Society, Check online where you will find many suppliers of specific varieties.

Stunning simplicity, ‘osteos’ are daisies that deserve a surge up the gardening pop charts

► All set for the great outdoors – three newly-purchased osteospermums in vivid colours which doesn’t diminish their simplicity. Below – a mass of long-established osteos in my garden and one bloom up-close; bottom – a refreshing pale-shade strain of Limpopo.
WHY do I adore osteospermums? In the same breath I could ask: “What’s not to like about them?”

That very second question has obviously been taken on board in mighty fashion by the green-fingered public, based on plant sales and gardening commentators.
For few flowers have enjoyed such a meteoric 21st century rise in popularity than these engaging South African daisies in a colour spectrum that seems to expand year on year.
Yes, they are just daisies, pure and simple, no singing or dancing, most growing between 18in and 24in high – a tiny minority are dwarfish reaching 6in to 8in – they look semi-exotic yet they are far tougher than originally thought.
When I was a much younger bloke I knew them as dimorphotheca – and they weren’t especially commonplace on garden centre stagings back then. Now they have been recategorised into another five-syllabled mouthful – commonly clipped to “osteos”.
Here we have an evergreen perennial which hovers between just about hardy and not quite hardy, depending on variety and where you live.

My guess is that if you’re north of Coventry – I’ll throw that city into the mix because I lived there once – you’ll be more at risk of losing them in winter than, say, in my Devon garden.
So, even with this debatable negative aspect, why have so many gardeners fallen in love with these super-daisies that grow wild in abundance along the roadsides in South Africa in similar vein to buttercups decorating our hedgerows, UK-style?
For starters, they won’t fret in a drought, they relish full sun and insist on dutifully closing their petals on cloudy days and each evening.
Another popularity point is their eight-month stint in bloom, given a decent spring and summer.
Raising new stock from cuttings is a doddle. It’s best to strike 4in-5in stems in late summer in a gritty compost, but do keep a careful winter watch in an unheated greenhouse if the temperature drops too many notches below freezing and transfer to the comfort of indoors if you are unsure.
And so to that array of colours. Call most of them dazzlers, as one of my photos clearly illustrates.
From rich magenta through to deep and pale pink, orange, primrose-yellow, white, a host of purple shades, subtle blends and mixes and even a pale slate-blue in Blue Streak, complete with blue-grey foliage.

A big favourite is Whirlygig with ornately crimped white ray-florets and powder-blue on the reverse. It reminds me of an old-fashioned ferris wheel. Pink Whirls has the same quirky characteristics but in a vibrant pink.
I’m not so sure it’s necessary to remember names of varieties as it is colour, not shape, that’s the dominant factor here as, from an outline perspective, the majority of osteos are more or less identical.
If you prefer specific identities you could search out Nairobi Purple which is white on the reverse side, Buttermilk, in palest lemon, has been awarded an RHS Garden Merit gong, and Blackthorn Seedling, one of the hardiest osteos and clad in a stunning dark magenta. There’s a bright and breezy strain called Limpopo and, for one that’s pretty close to singing and dancing, try Purple Sun in a supreme combination of lilac and apricot.
Grow osteospermums practically anywhere where the sun shines. From teaming up with summer bedders to creating their own spectacular displays, in hanging baskets and patio pots, unfussiness is their watchword.
Don’t lavish osteos with too many boosters or grow in ultra-rich soil which will prompt plenty of leaves but with fewer flowers. In short, poorer soil is the key to success, but an occasional high-potash feed will keep the buds a-sprouting.

So do enjoy your little piece of South Africa in your garden, wherever you live and whatever the amount of TLC needed when the weather decides to play awkward.

► You’ll find an extensive array of osteospermums and nursery stockists online.