Hellebores, once dull, verging on boring, now come in a variety of colours, flushed, freckled or frilled, writes JANE POWERS

ORIENTAL HELLEBORE HYBRIDS, also know as Lenten roses, are a group of plants that is greatly prized by posh gardeners. Yet, for a long time I didn’t really “get” them. Why so much fuss about plants whose curiously leathery blooms so often seemed to be in dingy shades of mud: dirty pink, grubby green or manky maroon? None of my Helleborus x hybridus specimens ever lasted more than a couple of seasons, and the only thing to be said for them was that they flowered tremendously early in the year, when little else was about. The so-called Christmas rose, H. niger, with its chalky white flowers (niger – meaning black – refers to the roots in this case), although more attractive, was even more ephemeral.

But today’s hellebores – while still liable to transitoriness (more on that later) – have been transformed by breeders into veritable peacocks. The grubby colours of yesteryear have been replaced by cleaner, more vibrant tones. Now, it is possible to find oriental hybrids in fruity lemon, lime, apricot and plum, in all shades of pink, and in pure white and slatey black. The flowers may be flushed or freckled, single or double, or elaborately frilled around the central boss of stamens. British garden centres and nurseries have better selections than Irish ones, but you can find good colours here, if you look around. And, if you are willing to grow your own from seed, German company jelitto.com has several different strains to choose from.

But let’s get back to the lying-down-and-dying problem. There are two main reasons for this: one is medical, as it were, and the other is environmental. Hellebores (especially the oriental hybrids, and H. niger) are prone to leaf spot disease, a fungal infection that starts with small blotches, and progresses to large areas of blackened and dead tissue. There isn’t really a cure, but regularly removing the foliage in autumn and mulching with leafmould, garden compost or well-rotted manure helps prevent the new growth being infected by spores. A newer disease is the dramatically-named “black death”, or hellebore net necrosis virus, which causes severe stunting and black-streaked discoloration. Affected plants should be summarily dug up and disposed of – and not in the compost bin.

The other reason for collapsing or disappearing hellebores is that they are particular about their diet. They are greedy and thirsty plants, wanting lots of organic matter in the soil, and plenty of moisture. But they don’t like permanently damp feet. Put them in a soggy place, and they’ll turn up their toes and die. Over-dryness at the root, combined with damp air, is another no-no, as it provides the ideal conditions for fungal infections. For this reason, the poor and dry soil in many urban gardens (and that includes mine), may not be suitable. The European hellebores, H. foetidius and H. argutifolius are more geared to dry gardens, and will reproduce themselves by seed in gravel and light soil.

I’m making it sound as if the oriental hybrids are impossible to grow. In fact, they are not, and given the right conditions, they will last for years. They always seem to do well in country gardens. They thrive under the canopy of deciduous trees, where they get light and plenty of moisture during the important months, and enjoy dappled shade the rest of the time. When happy, hellebores expand into larger and larger clumps. If you want to propagate them by division, this operation is best done in early autumn. The roots are active in autumn and winter, so the new plants have a chance to build a good root system by spring.

Farewell to a great Irish plantswoman

A very particular Irish hellebore hybrid is ‘Graigueconna’, which arose in the Co Wicklow garden of the same name, around 1980. Unusually, it is variegated, and has cream-speckled leaves and creamy yellow flowers. ‘Graigueconna’ is not for sale, but it has survived by being carefully passed from gardener to gardener. I mention it here for a special reason: its raiser, Rosemary Brown, died last month, on January 18th, at the great age of 92. She is greatly missed by her fellow gardeners. Onetime garden writer with this paper, she came from a staunch gardening family. Her Georgian house and three-acre garden (famous for its roses) had been home to many generations of gardeners, including her relative, Lewis Meredith, author of the 1910 classic Rock Gardens: how to make and maintain them.

The first time I visited her garden, about 25 years ago, I was impressed by the mixture of reverence and longing with which a group of people were gazing at a certain plant – one that was unfamiliar to me. This was the first time I had seen plant covetousness in action. Rosemary was an elite plantswoman, and had many sought-after specimens in her garden. Nonetheless, when I interviewed her for this paper 10 years ago, her advice was sensible and accessible: “Don’t feel you have to stick to fashion. Plant what you like. And have a garden where you can sit.”