Searching For Salvias

Without people such as Robin Middleton, our gardens would look quite different. Val Bourne hails the unlikely hero of the late-summer garden

THERE are times when the weather is so bad you have to garden vicariously. On one such dreary day, some 10 years ago, I stumbled on a website called Robin’s Salvias and drank in the colour and spectacle. It was full of New World salvias, often in startling reds, purples and vivid blues, with longlipped flowers designed to satisfy jewel-encrusted, long-beaked hummingbirds.

It was the perfect panacea for a grey November day and one or two salvias were still clinging on to flower in my garden. They’re great, late performers and, as do many Southern Hemisphere plants, can get into their stride once the days shorten and temperatures cool.

Robin Middleton’s website went global about 12 years ago, attracting salvia enthusiasts throughout the world. At first, they emailed and spoke on the phone, swapping information by letter or exchanging seeds, but, before long, Robin began jetting off to meet his virtual friends.

He travelled to California to see Ginny Hunt, who has a company called Seedhunt. Her neat, small handwriting suggested a little old lady with silvery hair—an American version of Miss Marple, perhaps—but the real Ginny turned out to be ‘a 50-year-old hippy, with plaited blonde hair down to her knees’. The two of them got on famously—and still do.

Robin’s obsession began 30 years ago, when he worked at Heathrow. ‘A female colleague won a local garden competition and, when I visited her, I saw a striking salvia called Salvia sclarea var. turkestanica. At that time, the only salvia I knew was a short, red bedding plant.’

He was given some seeds and, shortly afterwards, visited a specialist Devon nursery owned by salvia enthusiast Christine Yeo. ‘I came back with a carful and Christine’s given me lots of helpful advice ever since.’