Though a Chelsea Flower Show veteran, it's been well over a decade since I went for a full day. The need to take a whole day off work, the more expensive entry ticket and the rush hour train fare all argued for the 3:30 entry. Yesterday revealed that's a false economy.
The hours between 8am and noon are blissful. It's easy to see the gardens. The main avenues are thriving, but not uncomfortable to navigate. We took our time, and were able to see all the show gardens by 3:30. By the time the afternoon ticket holders swelled the crowds, we could turn our attention to shopping. (This year's prizes: gladioli, sweet pea seeds, tulips and a few carefully-chosen plants to fill holes in my water garden. The last two for home delivery, as Chelsea doesn't allow plant sales.)
Even though I'm a member and could have gotten tickets for the members' preview days (Tuesday and Wednesday), we went on a Friday. Since all tickets always sell out, the numbers are no different on member or general public days. So other than some roses and tulips in the Floral Marquee starting to look a bit tired, there's no real difference. Go early; which day doesn't matter.
It was a year of glorious diversity. Sometimes a style or colour scheme seems to take over the show, spreading a worrying sameness across proceedings. Not this year. There were naturalistic gardens that captured the spirit of Exmoor, Jordan and Provence. Highly structured gardens of sharp lines and box-hedged precision. Crazy gardens with dancing plants (on hidden hydraulics). While sponsorship has always been important to Chelsea, this year it seemed more intrusive than in the past. Most of the small gardens are sponsored by charities, bringing us a lot of planting with grim messages. Death, slavery, impoverished children ... it could all get a bit heavy. Inside the Floral Marquee, thankfully, it remained all about the pure beauty of the plants, and the technical achievement of getting them all to hit their peak for five days in late May.
Let's let the photos speak for themselves.
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| This evocation of Exmoor interspersed soothing blue and white planting with monumental stone. |
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| The LG garden was heavy-handed with its sponsorship (it was all about how you could control home and garden with their smartphone app) but the strip of planting down the middle of the outdoor living room was effective. |
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| The perfect garden for the obsessive compulsive: Straight lines, precision box hedge cutting, a sunken manicured lawn. I thought the dark red, blue and purple colour scheme worked well. |
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| This one divided opinion. Voted best in show by the all-male judging team. Loved by men, left women lukewarm. Few flowers, mostly orange. Big, black, phallic monoliths. Large fire pit. I was unimpressed. |
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| The mathematical garden. Everything related back to maths or geometry. Intellectually challenging but also lovely; shows that a gravel garden can be more than a low maintenance plot with a few architectural plants. |
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| The Yorkshire garden. Panels of stained glass inspired by York Minster, mirrored by the colours of the flowers below. |
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| Crowds queue up to see the Harrod's garden's spinning trees and whirling borders. Performances on the quarter hour. |
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| Not just about flowers, Chelsea is where you can spend a fortune on garden art. Like these amazing driftwood sculptures. |
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| Huechera. I really need to do more with huechera. |
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| A floral art installation leading to the military hospital. Each crochet poppy was made and contributed by someone in honour of a friend or relative who died in combat. |
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| My favourite garden: Jekka McVicar's exquisite herb garden, where every plant has a medicinal purpose. |
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| Oh, clever Blom's Blooms. Order now, pay on delivery! Of course I did. Bought these two and plan to mix them together for a suitably Northwestern purple and white display. |
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| Had never heard of hepatica until this show. Now, I'm wondering where I can fit this shade loving, late-winter blooming woodland plant. |
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