Wednesday, August 12, 2015

What's Blooming Inside: The Sweetest of Sweet Peas

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The season's first mixed sweet pea posy held in a black basalt vessel
Photo: Chronica Domus


What would summer be without a vase spilling over with old-fashioned sweet peas to excite the nostrils and delight the eye?  Surely, their intoxicating scent and billowy beauty set them among the most exquisite of flowers to be enjoyed and celebrated annually.  They come in a range of colors, spanning a palette of creams and bright whites, delicate sorbets and pastels, fiery oranges, crimson, and the deepest, darkest royal purple. I am certain there is a color to appeal to everyone's sensibilities.

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My 1929 second edition copy of Charles W.J. Unwin's tome on the cultivation of sweet peas
Photo: Chronica Domus


I have cultivated sweet peas or rather Lathyrus odoratus, their botanical name, for the past twenty years.  I was inspired to try my hand at growing them, much like the daffodils I wrote about, upon visiting the Welsh book town of Hay-on-Wye.  It was there that I stumbled across an intriguing book titled "Sweet Peas Their History, Development, Culture".  The book was authored by Charles W.J. Unwin.  If the name Unwin rings a bell of familiarity it is because Mr. Unwin's father William founded the British seed company Unwins in 1903. Charles Unwin went on to become one of the preeminent breeders of sweet peas of his time.

The first thing that greets the delighted reader of this book is a colored plate illustrating three very showy varieties of the flower.  The plate is protected by a sheet of glassine where each flower is identified; Queen of Roumania (a curious spelling of the country to be sure), Sybil Henshaw, and Wistaria (yet again, another peculiar spelling of he popular flower wisteria).

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A colored plate illustrating some very fancy sweet peas
Photo: Chronica Domus


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A glassine sheet not only aids in protecting the colored plate, it also helps to identify the three sweet pea varieties illustrated
Photo: Chronica Domus


Reading the preface of the book, and the author's infectious enthusiasm for the cultivation and appreciation of this old-fashioned garden flower, had me rushing out the door to purchase my first pack of seeds.  Sadly, I  cannot recall what particular type of sweet pea I grew back then.  I don't think I was particularly bothered about either the color or the fact that it was an older variety. I have since developed quite a fancy for the heritage strains, which are simpler in form and far more perfumed than their modern cousins.  This is not to say that I turn my nose up at the newer sweet peas.  No, certainly not!  In fact, some of my favorites are the newer hybrids, at least the ones that have managed to retain some semblance of scent.

Back in March, I wrote about my visit to the Seed Bank, in Petaluma.  It was there that I purchased some of this year's seeds for planting; Lathyrus odoratus Cupani Original, which is believed to be the very first sweet pea, known since in 1699, and the rare Lathyrus Belinensis, discovered in Turkey in 1987 and on the critically threatened plant list.  To these I added April In Paris and Regal Robe, two newer hybrids with all the charm and scent of the oldies.  Lathyrus latifolius is not a true sweet pea, but it is a heritage variety, said to have been grown by Thomas Jefferson, and unusually a perennial.

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Sweet pea seeds soaking overnight in the potting area in preparation for sowing
Photo: Chronica Domus


The first seeds went into the well-prepared warm soil on May 9 which, I'll admit, is very late.  I much prefer to have everything wrapped up by late March, around St. Patrick's Day, giving the seeds an opportunity to develop strong roots before the weather really heats up.  I waited patiently for the first signs of germination with all of the excitement that comes along with seeing those little green sprouts emerging from the earth.  Having crossed that bridge, I lovingly fussed over the sweet pea patch for the next ten weeks, snipping away at the curly tendrils that rob the plants of energy, and looking for the first flowers to emerge.

It was not until the end of July that I was richly rewarded for my efforts.  I was thrilled to see the bi-colored Cupani Original emerge in all it's beauty.  

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The first sweet pea of the year, Lathyrus odoratus Cupani Original
Photo: Chronica Domus


Then came Regal Robe, living up to its name with its rich royal purple tones.

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A close-up view of Lathyrus odoratus Regal Robe 
Photo: Chronica Domus


April In Paris seemed to have sprinted from nowhere, stretching into the warm sun and beguilingly teasing with not only its delicate lilac-hued edges, but also its agreeable scent. It is the most fragrant modern sweet pea I have yet to grow.  Many modern types have had their fragrance obliterated through hybridizing which, in my not so humble opinion, make them far less appealing to grow. The scent of April In Paris rivals that of Cupani Original in both strength and sweetness. It is utterly breathtaking!  Why, I wonder, has no perfumier managed to replicate such a delicious aroma and bottle it for the enjoyment of women (and men, I suppose) the world over?

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Lathyrus odoratus April In Paris exhibiting its subtle lilac-hued edge
Photo: Chronica Domus


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The diminutive and scarce Lathyrus Belinensis just coming into bloom
Photo: Chronica Domus


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Pearly pink blooms of Lathyrus latifolius, an heirloom perennial lacking in scent
Photo: Chronica Domus


The wonderful thing about sweet peas is that the more flowers you cut, the more flowers emerge. Indeed, it really is a bad idea to leave them lingering on their leggy vines for too long as the flowers quickly go to seed.  When that happens, the plants rapidly cease producing their alluring blooms.

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Regal Robe happily growing in the sweet pea patch and ready for cutting in late July.  I love the developing colors on the unopened flower heads 
Photo: Chronica Domus


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Snip, snip, snip for more, more, more
Photo: Chronica Domus


Upon entering the house, I was compelled to capture the singular beauty of each variety for posterity and proceeded to photograph the blooms from close proximity for your viewing pleasure.

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The bi-colored diminutive blooms of Cupani Original
Photo: Chronica Domus


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A study of April In Paris
Photo: Chronica Domus


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Lathyrus latifolius, said to have been grown by Thomas Jefferson at Monticello
Photo: Chronica Domus


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The lilliputian Lathyrus Belinensis is so tiny I had to employ tweezers to aid me in capturing its unusual coloration and form - this was the first Belinensis to have bloomed in my garden and its stem was far shorter than the others that followed
Photo: Chronica Domus 


Of course, the greatest pleasure I derive from growing sweet peas is the prospect of gathering them up and filling containers with them to place about the house.  I have been doing just that over the last several weeks to my great enjoyment and satisfaction.  Sweet peas are nature's air fresheners and whenever one is so fortunate to enter the vicinity of a sweet pea arrangement, one's nose is in for a very sweet treat.

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A small posy on the drawing room mantelshelf...
Photo: Chronica Domus


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...and in front of the sofa
Photo: Chronica Domus


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A late-eighteenth century glass vessel holds a diminutive arrangement of Lathyrus Belinensis on the dining room side table
Photo: Chronica Domus


If you too have been inspired to try your hand at growing these deliciously demure and elegant summer dazzlers, I urge you to seek out a pack or two in your favorite colors and plan on sowing them next spring.  Sweet pea cultivation is not reserved solely for those with gardens.  There are many varieties that thrive in outdoor containers and grow in bush form.

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I'm off to the garden to pick today's bundle of sweetness.

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This morning's pickings enliven a corner of my kitchen
Photo: Chronica Domus


 Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

24 comments:

  1. I love sweet peas. Planted them two years ago, have wished each year since that I'd done it again, had one volunteer in the rose bed that the gardeners mistook for a weed:(, next year for sure.

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    1. Sweet peas bring such joy for their diminutive size. I'm glad you've experienced them firsthand and are planning on growing them again next spring. In your area, I believe you can start them as early as winter.

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  2. Five minute break whilst Sis and I each check our e-mail---she's here for a week, and we talk non-stop.

    Will enjoy this to my sweet contentment when I have time to read and savor.

    Love these dear little flowers, with their apt name and gentle scent. Lovely to see your plenitude.

    moire non,

    rachel

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    1. Hello rachel,

      Yes, this post is rather a biggie so I'm happy you'll return to savor it as time permits. In the meantime, enjoy your sisterly gab fest.

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  3. CD,
    What do you train your sweet peas on...string net or sticks? I couldn't see from your images. My what beautiful varieties you've grown.
    xo,
    Karen

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    1. Hello Karen,

      Earlier on in my sweet pea growing days, I used to make a net from garden twine for them, set up against my fence. I switched to training the vines onto sticks years later, as I do with peas. I save the longest boughs of the fruit trees at trimming time and fashion them into a tripod tied together with twine.

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  4. It's just too hot here in the summer to grow sweet peas. We can grow them for about six weeks in the spring, and then maybe in the fall, but not the summer.

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    1. Yes, it must be quite oppressing in the summer. Temps here reach 80 on an exceptionally hot day, but those are numbered. That marine layer keeps everything a little on the chilly side sometimes, not that I'm complaining mind you. Sweet peas are wonderful in the spring. Perhaps I should start them earlier next year.

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  5. What lovely photos! That case offsets it so well. I like the term of endearment "sweet pea too. I grew gladioli and iris this summer but might try this next year. Ps I think modern books don't use glassine paper to its optimum.

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    1. Thank you, Naomi. I know I went a little mad with the photos in this post, but I couldn't help myself. Sweet peas hold so much beauty to my eye that I had to share.

      I've been called many things in my time, but "sweet pea" isn't one of them! I'd be honored, however, if anyone chose to call me a sweet pea though.

      Good for you for growing gladioli and iris. Please post on your efforts - would love to see them in bloom. I've not been brave enough to try gladioli, but have grown bearded iris in the past.

      Yes, let's champion the return of the glassine sheet. I remember them between the photographs of my parents' wedding album and always thought it was such a lovely way of preserving them. Chic too.

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  6. You just inspired me to add some of these sweethearts to our garden - I cannot believe there are so many different ones! Besides, they make gorgeous arrangements, something I've never considered before, but will keep on thinking of from now on. x

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    1. Thank you, Natalia. It is nice to know that I've provided a grain of inspiration for next year's garden. The beauty of sweet peas, besides their heavenly scent, is that they come in so many colors so there is something for everyone - like a kid in a candy shop.

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  7. Oh what an interesting post - and that book with its coloured plates looks an absolute delight! Thanks you for sharing your experience and knowledge and your lovely vases - I think I like the third one from the bottom the best. Thanks so much for sharing

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    1. Hello ramblinginthegarden, and welcome! Now, how did I guess you'd be partial to the arrangement of Regal Robe sweet peas in their alluring shade of deep purple? They seem to be a natural fit with your latest "moody" creation.

      I'm glad you stopped by and hope you do so again.

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  8. A beautiful group of blooms and vases each stunning and I love that book. I was not rewarded with any this year, but will have to try again!

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    1. Hello Donna@Gardens Eye View,

      Welcome to CD, and thank you for your lovely comment here today. I do hope you are inspired to try growing sweet peas again. They reward the grower tenfold in the effort required to nurture them into bloom.

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  9. I love your sweet pea collection, especially that beautiful Cupani Original. I just purchased seeds for next year's crop, which I plan to have in the ground in early September this year. Labor Day is the cut-off recommended for planting these seeds in my area of Southern California and as this year's crop was taken out prematurely by a couple of nasty early heatwaves in March and the prior year's crop was taken out by heat in May, I'm determined to get an early start this year.

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    1. Hello Kris Peterson,

      I too am drawn to the original sweet pea Cupani. Its aroma is heavenly and quite overpowering for such a diminutive flower. It is a stunner too!

      I wish you success with your planting and I think you are right about September being a good time to start your seeds. Just pop them into the ground as soon as the heat disappears and you'll have plenty of blooms early next year. April In Paris is a particularly easy grower I find and one of the few modern varieties with such a glorious perfume.

      Thank you for stopping by today.

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  10. I am very envious of your beautiful sweet peas; it is far to hot and dry for them in my Italian garden. I love the way you have arranged them too, in separate vases to emphasise their colours. Thank you for sharing your treasures it gave me great pleasure to see them and read your interesting post. Christina

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    1. Hello Christina, and welcome!

      Thank you for your generous and kind comment on my sweet peas. They give me such joy so it was lovely to share them with my readers this year.

      How wonderful to be gardening in Italy. I'm sure with such a warm climate your garden is lush.

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  11. Thanks for such an informative post. It's been a few years since I took the time and effort to grow some, I do love the fragrance so. I so admire your skill and patience with them and all the vases are so elegant and ruffly.

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    1. Hello Hannah, and welcome!

      Yes, sweet peas have the most heavenly fragrance which is part of what makes these little botanical jewels so very special to grow. I gently encourage you to try growing some next year as once they've germinated (I know, it can take an age to get there sometimes!), the rest is child's play.

      I do hope you visit CD again and often. Thank you for your comment here today.

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  12. I loved this post CD - sweet peas are one of my favourite flowers as they remind me of my Mum, who used to grow them in the garden when I was a child. We used to pick them by the armfuls, and their scent would perfume the entire house. I am too late to plant any here in Australia, but I will be buying them when they appear in the shops in a few months time. I just sowed some seeds - echium - to plant in my sprint time garden, and struck some salvias. I've finally invested in a propagation box with heat pad, so am hopeful that my results will be spectacular this year!

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    1. Hello Heidi,

      So happy to read that you enjoyed the post and that sweet peas stir up fond memories of your childhood. Daffodils are my very favorite flowers, but I can tell you sweet peas are a very close second. So glad I can enjoy both at different times of the year. How marvelous that you've started sowing seeds in time for a bountiful spring garden. I wish you much luck as I know how slow the waiting game is when one is on the look out for the first signs of germination.

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Please do leave a comment as I enjoy the dialogue with my readership, thank you.

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