Evan Berrington
There are pretty good records of most of the plants at the Old Rectory.
In the well thumbed garden planner compiled over the years by owners Brianne and Robin Reeve, you'll find pasted in plant labels, a reminder of price paid and where purchased and even some scribbled care notes, which is invaluable whenever they want to check on a plant name or work out how long something has been in.
However, there's one category of plant for which their book offers little help – and that is bulbs.
Despite having a collection of some 40,000 narcissi throughout their garden in the small village of Coombes in West Sussex, with at least 26 different varieties at the last count, the couple can actually name very few of them.
"We have planted several hundred over the years, but these are nothing compared to the thousands that were already here when we moved in 40 years ago," Brianne explains.
"We inherited a well designed garden that had been laid out in the late 1940s by the previous owners, turning a lower slope of the South Downs into a terraced arrangement," Robin says.
Sheltered by the Downs, the garden has its own micro climate and well drained soil (alkaline loam over greensand), in which spring bulbs flourish.
"The fashion in the 1940s and 50s was for bigger bulbs, so most of the larger flowered varieties, including 'Ice Follies', date from that time. Many of those we have added are smaller, such as 'Têteà-Tête', 'February Gold' and 'Minnow', because they last so well.
"Rain or wind doesn't hurt them at all. 'Jenny' is another favourite - so elegant and pretty. Its lemon-yellow trumpet and windswept petals fade to a creamy white as it matures."
Narcissi numbers have increased steadily year on year, with the extraordinary display starting in late February and going on into late April - and sometimes even early May.
One spring, Brianne decided to tidy them up by deadheading. "I pocketed every hundredth flower I pulled off and then counted them up when
I'd finished. I stopped at 9,000!" she recalls.
The vast majority are naturalised in grass, so Robin does a last mow in October, then leaves the bulbs to their own devices.
He has moved a lot of them over the years when he is re planning an area or just wants to give some a bit more space: "There is hardly anywhere that doesn't have bulbs, so almost wherever you dig you will come across them."
In the well thumbed garden planner compiled over the years by owners Brianne and Robin Reeve, you'll find pasted in plant labels, a reminder of price paid and where purchased and even some scribbled care notes, which is invaluable whenever they want to check on a plant name or work out how long something has been in.
However, there's one category of plant for which their book offers little help – and that is bulbs.
Despite having a collection of some 40,000 narcissi throughout their garden in the small village of Coombes in West Sussex, with at least 26 different varieties at the last count, the couple can actually name very few of them.
"We have planted several hundred over the years, but these are nothing compared to the thousands that were already here when we moved in 40 years ago," Brianne explains.
"We inherited a well designed garden that had been laid out in the late 1940s by the previous owners, turning a lower slope of the South Downs into a terraced arrangement," Robin says.
Sheltered by the Downs, the garden has its own micro climate and well drained soil (alkaline loam over greensand), in which spring bulbs flourish.
"The fashion in the 1940s and 50s was for bigger bulbs, so most of the larger flowered varieties, including 'Ice Follies', date from that time. Many of those we have added are smaller, such as 'Têteà-Tête', 'February Gold' and 'Minnow', because they last so well.
"Rain or wind doesn't hurt them at all. 'Jenny' is another favourite - so elegant and pretty. Its lemon-yellow trumpet and windswept petals fade to a creamy white as it matures."
Narcissi numbers have increased steadily year on year, with the extraordinary display starting in late February and going on into late April - and sometimes even early May.
One spring, Brianne decided to tidy them up by deadheading. "I pocketed every hundredth flower I pulled off and then counted them up when
I'd finished. I stopped at 9,000!" she recalls.
The vast majority are naturalised in grass, so Robin does a last mow in October, then leaves the bulbs to their own devices.
He has moved a lot of them over the years when he is re planning an area or just wants to give some a bit more space: "There is hardly anywhere that doesn't have bulbs, so almost wherever you dig you will come across them."
