Phillyrea latifolia – Niwaki and Clouds (Green Olive)

Posh, sculptural and very special. Defining the earliest days of Architectural Plants, Phillyrea latifolia is deeply embedded in our hearts and our Sussex soil. The Victorians were potty for this plant: then it disappeared. We don’t pretend to know why but we are astounded that such an easy to grow and hardy, beautiful tree fell off the planting plans from 1900 onward. We found a few 30 years ago and struck out, alone, on rediscovering its remarkable qualities and have never looked back. Tight and dense of habit, with rich deep green foliage that’s glossy and delicate but ever so tough, Our own Linda trains these into the delicious examples you see here. Working with very young plants, she clips and trains each one by encouraging leader shoots and pruning errant branches. A magician with shears up a stepladder poodling each cloudlike puff of foliage into a pillow or bobble, Linda is also often to be found at ground level doing something intricate and esoteric with twine and pea-sticks to pull branches into position and encourage a graceful arch here and there. Which ‘here’ and which ‘there’ is crucial and it’s nothing short of magic how her vision for the ultimate form of these mature beauties forms years prior to their maturity. Absolute stunners, every one. Phillyrea latifolia can be planted anywhere as it’s astonishingly tough and resilient in even the coldest location. Doesn’t like overly-soggy feet (who does?) but any soil that drains well is fine. Meet Linda, and see more of her magic here.

The Phillyrea latifolia Family

This is the jewel in the Architectural Plants Panoply of Trees. Shapely in the extreme. In its native habitat of arid northern Spain it barely grows beyond a shrub but curiously, in this country (where the growing days are long and often wet), it becomes a spectacular little tree and long lived - several centuries quite often. If you want it to grow faster, water it. Simple as that. Growth to 15ft in 15 years can be expected. It'll grow in sun or shade and on any soil but to get the best out of these trees they need space and light. You could say, the more exposed, the better. A good coastal plant but not right by the sea. They'll survive near the beach but like the closely related Olive, the leaves tend to get blown off in the winter storms. A well grown one of these is the nearest thing to giant broccoli you'll ever see. Comparable with the wonderful shapely Tobiras of Venice - but bigger. Some people can see the relationship with olives from their habit but it's not always obvious - a much denser, tighter arrangement than olives. Wait for them to flower and you'll see what we mean - they're identical (small white and not very dramatic). The old trees mentioned below are up to 35ft tall but even wider across. It clips beautifully. Hedges, topiary and Niwaki to name a few. Its only peccadillo is a terrible weakness for white fly. They're inconvenient but there's little you can do - so ignore them. Its hardiness is such that even in the very coldest and harshest winters I've ever known, it's composure remains intact. No damage to leaves or bark whatsoever. I wish we could say that about more evergreens.

This tree has rather aristocratic associations (we call it posh) - but only because of its long lineage and its widespread use in horticulture for many centuries. We often sell these to English Heritage and the National Trust when they're restoring Tudor, Elizabethan or Mediaeval gardens. There's masses of evidence to show that Phillyrea was used extensively hundreds of years ago. The diarist John Evelyn (a keen gardener in the 17th century and contemporary of Samuel Pepys) writes of them frequently - as if they were then as common as box, yew and holly. What happened? They used to be so widespread and now they're rare. Garden historians are perplexed and so are we.

Notable specimens are at Ickworth House (National Trust - pictured) in Suffolk, by the war memorial in Trumpington south of Cambridge (pictured), the Washington roundabout on the A24 in West Sussex (pictured) and outside the church in Chideok in Dorset (not pictured). Not sure the one in Billingshurst High Street could be described as notable in the conventional sense but it's full of character and I always find that seeing it is the most enjoyable feature of any visit to Billingshurst. By the mini roundabout by the shopping centre. Another one pictured is by the mill pond near the sailing club in Emsworth (Hampshire).

N.B. When clipping several plants with the same tool, have a bucket containing a 5% bleach solution and swish your blades around for 30 seconds between plants to sterilise them. This will help avoid the chance of cross contamination of disease.

As with all woody plants, plant high, exposing as much of the taper at the base of the trunk as possible. Allowing soil to accumulate round the base of a tree can be fatal. Keep very well watered when first planted.

The Origin of Niwaki

When Jake Hobson joined A.P. around the turn of the century, his oriental gardening experience was quickly put to use. The idea of growing our own Niwaki - rather than continuing to import from Japan - was highly appealing. But which of our many small leafed evergreen trees were suitable candidates? With little trouble, we chose the two obvious ones - Phillyrea latifolia (for it's incredible toughness and dense, dark green foliage) and Myrtus apiculata (for it's beautiful bark, fragrant white flowers, colourful new growth and it's ability to take any amount of clipping). We made that decision in about 1998 and have stuck with it ever since. The only addition being the occasional Podocarpus salignus.

Niwaki is Japanese for 'garden tree'. Bonsai is Japanese for 'pot plant'. The implication is obvious. Niwaki are meant to go in the ground. The Japanese passion for miniaturisation is behind the idea. Look at well manicured pine trees (in particular), shrink them and give them even more definition than nature intended and you have Niwaki.

The Phillyrea can be grown anywhere with adequate light whereas the Myrtus needs shelter from cold winds. It's a characteristic of of some of our beloved Patagonian evergreens that although they seem to be able to tolerate very low temperatures, if the ground is frozen and the wind blows from the north or east (as it will if the ground is frozen), the plants will suffer due to dehydration - the ground's frozen and they can't transpire. If they're sheltered from cold wind, the transpiration rate will be much less and therefore is not a problem.

Whether the plant has been damaged by frost or dehydration is therefore a moot and pretty irrelevant point.

The Phillyrea Niwaki can be grown in tremendously cold and exposed spots in any but the most water-logged soil whereas the Myrtus is better in a protected, urban, courtyard sort of garden. We make a distinction between 'landscape' plants (can be admired from a distance) and plants to be admired from close quarters because they have coloured foliage, flowers, attractive bark etc that can only be appreciated from close up. We've dithered about Podocarpus for years but we produced lots for the 2016 season and they all sold immediately so we'll carry on with that one too.

We will also continue to bring in a number of pukka Japanese Niwaki from Ilex crenata (Japanese Holly) and Taxus cuspidata (Japanese Yew). We've done the Ilex crenata for many years mostly untroubled but it is necessary to keep an eye on fungal problems - to stand by with fungicide (medicine) and a sharp pair of secateurs (surgery). The Japanese Yew is almost indistinguishable from our native Yew and seems particularly happy in our climate. Unfortunately, there's a tradition in Japan to grow the Taxus Niwaki bigger - and therefore more expensive - than the Ilex crenata. Reliable but pricey. Nice though.

As with all topiary, the more often you clip the plant, the thicker the foliage and the higher the definition. Because demand outstrips supply of our home grown Niwaki, we often sell them before they're what a Japanese nurseryman would consider finished. No matter. We've done the difficult bit (create the shape) and so the customer can finish it off - merely by frequent clipping and they can watch it getting thicker and thicker.

When clipping any plants, have a bucket of dilute bleach (a spoonful in a bucket) by your side. Every few minutes stick the tool (shears, secateurs, whatever you use) in the bucket. The bleach will kill fungal spores which otherwise you might be spreading on the tool from one plant to another. Good practice. Good husbandry. On the nursery this practice is compulsory because we know it works.

The Phillyrea latifolia are propagated by us from cutting from a tree that once stood in the garden of Sedgewick Park in West Sussex. Sadly, lost in the Burns Night storm of 1991. The Myrtus apiculata are propagated by us from cuttings from a tree growing in the grounds of South Lodge Hotel in West Sussex and the Podocarpus salignus are grown from seed from our own trees in Sussex which were grown originally from cuttings from a tree growing also in the grounds of what is now South Lodge Hotel. A tree of such exotic and immaculate beauty that its discovery was a seminal occasion in the genesis of Architectural Plants.

N.B. When clipping several plants with the same tool, have a bucket containing a 5% bleach solution and swish your blades around for 30 seconds between plants to sterilise them. This will help avoid the chance of cross contamination of disease.

As with all woody plants, plant high, exposing as much of the taper at the base of the trunk as possible. Allowing soil to accumulate round the base of a tree can be fatal. Keep very well watered when first planted.