Marvellous mahonia

It has been a topsy-turvy year. My astrantias are in full flower just when they should be resting. I'm still plucking cabbage white caterpillars from my purple sprouting. My woodland garden has too many hellebores flowering already. The tiny daffodil Cedric Morris' is in full flight - a good month earlier than usual. My hamamelis, or witch hazels, are devoid of any flower buds, probably due to the June's heat wave so there won't be any deliciously scented flowers to look forward to. The grass still needs a mow, but we've been blown and rained on so much that even a trip to the shed is an adventure.

But it isn't all doom and gloom. My mahonias are smiling through, producing highly-scented fingers of lemon flowers against their prickly evergreen foliage. The finest in my view is Mahonia japonica which hails from China, despite its name. It combines wonderful pinnate foliage, very high gloss and dark green, with an architectural shape of upright stems that reach 6ft or 2m in height, possibly taller.

The delicately lemon flowers are born in long, slightly arching racemes, adding grace and beauty, and their lily of the valley fragrance (with honeyed undertones) is highly pleasing in winter. Despite the windy situation in my high, exposed garden, Mahonia japonica thrives and is shining out in the dark days of December.

There is an even more beautiful mahonia, M. lomariifolia, with deep-yellow flowers held in erect racemes some ten inches long. But don't go rushing out to buy one though. It is too tender for most of us in the heart of England. Although if winters like this persist who knows. Lawrence Johnston, who created Hidcote, grew it against a sheltered wall and you can always spot this mahonia because of the densely packed bright-yellow flowers.

It was inevitable that hybrids between this tender plant from China and Burma (M. lomariifolia) and M. japonica would appear in an attempt to breed a hardy mahonia with more flower power. The cross (Mahonia x media) has produced several varieties. The best two are Winter Sun' and Charity' and both have erect racemes of mid-yellow flowers and good spiny dark foliage. Of the two Winter Sun' is more choice. Raised by the famous Irish nursery Slieve Donard Winter Sun' flowers slightly later than Charity' but has a stronger fragrance and makes a more substantial plant.

The beauty of these architectural mahonias is obvious and they are highly useful in the garden because you can tuck them away in deep shape at the back of the border or garden edge should you want to. They will tolerate this position and still flower reliably well producing a cluster of 15 or so floral spikes. Mahonias are members of the berberis family and share the same prickly attitude.

If you visit a garden centre you will also see Mahonia aquifolium, an American species commonly called the Oregon grape. Growing this is like trying to pretend nylon is the same as silk for M. aquifolium lacks every attribute a mahonia should possess. It isn't architectural, it spreads by suckers at a lowly height of 3ft or so. It flowers in spring rather than winter, producing garish yellow heads of flower and these are followed by black fruits. Its holly-like foliage turns a scruffy beetroot-red in summer and you often see it planted en masse in landscape schemes where tough ground cover is the overall aim.

Let it reside on roundabouts and grace supermarket car parks. But don't plant it in your garden. There are very few plants I can't find something nice to say about, but this is one of them!