Charmed by Cameron Highlands

It was bliss.

Cool temps, an English Tudor setting, verdant green hills, temperate flowers, English scones, strawberries and cream… stuff dreams are made of. 

For a start, I was smitten with the holiday chalet. It was quintessentially English.

I loved its authentic wooden beams, fireplaces and timbered floors, and readily forgave the occasional creaking floorboard and stiff bathroom door.

I could have been in bonny England. Imagine, even the dog house in the garden was Tudor!

Ivy clung to the walls and window panes, while moss and lichen hugged the roof. Everything was lush and green.

Geraniums, impatiens, fuchsia, and brugmansias added splashes of color to the picturesque garden.

As the rays of the sun streamed through the foliage, it looked almost like paradise on earth. But even paradise has its thorns.

I stifled a whoop of joy when I found wild mysore raspberry canes.

The ripened berries beckoned, but their vicious thorns held me back – for a second.

I was not about to be deterred and ignored the snaring hooks as I spied a couple of ripe, plump berries.

Maybe being at a higher altitude heightened the senses. Somehow, everything seemed more vibrant and tasted better in the highlands. 

Our itinerary was simple – farms  and plant centres (and yet more plant centres) interspersed with pit-stops for meals.

The plant stops were definitely non-negotiable.

Now’s the time to take in the lovely fuchsias, camellias, roses, lavenders, herbs and more. And now’s the time to buy some too!

I succumbed to a lavandula dentata, an osmanthus, a drosera aliceae, an eu de cologne mint, a bunch of lycopodiums and a couple of African violets.

I was pleased. I had my plant-fix.

I could skip a meal if it meant I got to see another plant centre. Brave words, since I usually think or plan two meals ahead of time.

Talking about food, I was told that I had to try the scones in Camerons. I love scones, but never had any in all my visits to the highland.

So for the first time, I sampled their English scones with strawberries and cream.

I even tried fruity strawberry scones, strawberry crepes, strawberry tarts and roti strawberry.

It was a good thing I stopped short of getting a strawberry milkshake or juice or it’d probably be coursing through my veins by now.

We had steamboat, as well as fish and chips and chicken chop.

We even had bak kut teh. This was not something we had planned for but was really good - and we had it with the most appetizing tofu I’ve ever tasted. 

On the last day, we drove to the Palas tea plantation for a breakfast of scones, tarts and apple pie.

The access road seemed trickier than I remembered, but the view from the tea centre was as lovely as it was before – at least my memory served me well there.

As I packed the bottles of ‘blackberry’ jam I had bought, I filed away treasured memories …

… a field of daylilies,

… brilliant blue strongylodon macrobotrys,

… pendants of thunbergia mysorensis,

… spectacular peach, yellow and white brugmansias,

… striking pyrostegia,

… a bed of chamomile,

… ripening apples, pears,

wild begonias and orange berries I saw on a hillside.   

Finally, we weaved our way down the hill, passing a few indigenous tribal people orang asli who had been collecting firewood.

Some of them had set up stalls selling wild orchids, lycopodiums, bamboo shoots, and parkia speciosa (petai).

As we drove, we saw evidences of landslides caused by the monsoon rains.

The scars were fresh, but thankfully we had near-perfect weather throughout our stay.

In this rainy season, that was nothing short of a miracle.

Bala’s Holiday Chalet lies between Tanah Rata and Brinchang

Cosmos caudatus vs cosmos sulphureus

If you want something that adds zest to your  garden as well as your meal, then you can’t go wrong with the cosmos caudatus and sulphureus.

The plants bloom their heads off and create bright splashes of colour, while the young leaves can be added to salads or eaten straight.

Cosmos caudatus has pale pink flowers – but it is mostly grown for its leaves. The young shoots taste refreshing. A friend likened its taste to that of a mango, and he’s right.

If your intention is to harvest the young leaves and shoots, don’t let the plant flower. It tastes best that way. If you have a few plants, harvest shoots from all but one, allowing that to set seed.

I’d gladly eat a whole bunch of cosmos caudatus – it is that tasty, and more so since it is said to improve blood circulation, lower uric acid, reduce body ‘heat’ and is a good source of fibre. (http://herbs.ourborneo.com)

Unlike the pale pink of the caudatus, the flowers of the cosmos sulphureus are a bright orange or yellow. If you have the space, try planting lots of it since an expanse of blooming cosmos sulphureus is like a bed of sunshine. These eye-catching flowers also attract butterflies.

The Tawny Coster butterfly (IDed by Green Baron of Green Culture Singapore) loves the cosmos and always visits when the plants are in bloom. There must be something about the cosmos sulphureus that enthralls the Tawny Coster. It hovers over the flowers for what seems like an eternity, and ignores me as I attempt to photograph it from all angles.

The leaves of the cosmos sulphureus are also edible. The taste is however, very different from that of the caudatus. Try it and see.

Which would emerge the victor in a face-off between the caudatus and sulphureus? It all depends.  While I prefer the orange and yellow flowers of the cosmos sulphureus, the taste of the cosmos caudatus wins hands down.

Care and propagation: well-drained soil; full sun; water moderately; propagate using seeds.

Dionaea muscipula pink venus

My pink venus loves the sun.

Since moving it to the front of the garden where it enjoys the sun all day, it has responded well and thrown out more leaves and traps. Even the colour has deepened.

The plantlet that grew from a leaf I had stuck into the sphagnum moss is growing as well, and  is currently about 1 cm across.  

Now I’m quite tempted to pull a few more vft leaves …  

Mobile plant kiosk

I hone in on this car wherever I visit the market. It’s there rain or shine.

Depending on the circumstances, the plants are either packed in the car or displayed by the road. Either way, I’d check everything out.

There is always something to see – flowering plants, herbs, orchids, fruit tree saplings, adeniums … Sometimes I even spot plants that are not offered at garden centres.

It was here that I saw my first pedilanthus bracteatus with its bird-like blooms. The only thing that stopped me from getting a plant right away was its price.

It was also here that I found the bulbine frutescens with its unusual citrusy coloured flowers.

I had never seen that beautiful plant before so, as you would have guessed, I held onto the pot before anyone else could take a fancy to it.

That’s the thing. This mobile kiosk can only carry as many plants as can fit into the boot and the interior of the car.

So this means she may only have a single pot of a particular plant. If I see anything I like, I have to grab it before it’s taken.

I hate to miss anything. I’d peek into the open boot, as well as the back or passenger seats.

The lady who runs this business uses every nook and corner of her car. She even hangs plants from the boot lid and balances pots on the roof. If you need a packet of fertilizer, look in the boot.

Once I took a closer look at what seemed like a covered dish of perlite on car. “What’s she selling now?” I wondered. What I thought was planting medium turned out to be the lady’s breakfast instead.

So much for my hope of getting another new plant! But then again, maybe she will have something new tomorrow.

Eau de Cologne Mint

Grandma would have loved this mint. She used to have bottles of the 4711 Eau de Cologne and would let me splash some on as a treat.

When I first heard of this mint, I thought it had an unusual name. Even when a friend gave me a couple of cuttings, I still had no inkling why it was named so. I was tempted to do a scent-test but could not bear to sacrifice any of the leaves. 

So I waited. When a leaf finally matured and yellowed, I crushed it. Its fragrance was subtly sweet. 

I mollycoddled the mint but its growth was erratic. When the two mint stems dwindled, my heart sank.

Then I bought a pot of un-named mint from a garden centre. The leaves were huge!

After planting it into a small trough and taking the requisite snapshot of this new kid on the block, I let it be.

It was after the arrival of this newcomer that I realized a strange but pleasant phenomenon.

Each time I watered or hosed the herbs, a sweet fragrance would linger in the air. It happened time and time again. I zeroed in on the ‘culprit’. It could only be the mint. And it had to be the Eau de Cologne.

Finally I realised why the plant was given its name. Now, whenever I water the plants in the garden, I approach the Eau de Cologne mint with a sense of anticipation …
 

Care and propagation: rich, well drained soil; shade to partial sun; water regularly but don’t overwater; propagate using cuttings or runners

Outstanding Otacanthus Caeruleus

I love the blues. Well, those in the garden, that is.

There is something irresistible about blue flowers. So as you can imagine, I have been collecting quite a few. But there is one that stands out from the rest – the Otacanthus Caeruleus.

It gives a vivid splash of blue to liven up the floral bed and doesn’t take up much space. Its long stems weave through other plants and appear here and there to show off its blue flowers.

The vibrant blue flowers are two-lipped, with the lower lip sporting a white streak at the throat. The flowers are slightly bigger than a penny, and grow in whorls around the end of the stem.

The flowers are lovely in a vase. Whenever I pick them, the typically sticky leaves emit a pleasant scent. Some people think they smell of pine. I think they smell of camphor.

The Otacanthus is tough and relatively pest free. In fact, I can’t think of any. I have not seen any sign of caterpillars, mites or rust … and snails don’t seem to like it either.

You won’t need to fuss over the Otacanthus once you plant it. Leave it to grow at will or give the weak, lanky stems some support if you want a neater shape. Either way, the plant will make a statement in the garden.

I plant the Otacanthus Caeruleus in a mixed bed with the angelonia, pentas, asystacia, plumbago and impatiens. Try mass-planting if you want a drift of blue.

This plant is a favourite with the family. Mum likes its flowers, but she doesn’t like its name. “Can’t remember it,” she says. Maybe I should tell her it’s also called Amazon Blue or Brazilian Snapdragon. She calls it the blue ribbon flower. I don’t think the blooms resemble blue ribbons, but I do think they deserve one.

Care and propagation: well drained soil, full sun, water moderately; propagate using cuttings

Plumbago auriculata

The plumbago brings back memories of the Mediterranean Cote Azur where this plant thrives. Imagine azure coloured blooms adorning the doorways of stone buildings along the French Riviera. Simply charming.

It’s a blessing that the plumbago does well in tropical climes too and is perpetually blooming. Needless to say, it is one of my favorite garden plants.

The plumbago is just the thing if you need a plant to soften the edges of an empty corner. Imagine a rambling loose bush with clusters of sky blue flowers.

The plumbago goes out of its way to please. It’s one of the most accommodating and fuss-free plants I know. It’s a perennial, which mean no replanting is necessary – unless you happen to yank the plant out and regret doing so immediately. LOL.

This is a plant that can be pruned back to maintain a neat shape or left to ramble over the fence or other shrubs. Once pruned, the fast-growing plumbago springs back very quickly to fill the gap.

The plumbago can be left to grow in abandon. It also weaves through hedges and trees much like a vine and peeks out in between.

It can be relied on to fill any empty spaces in the mixed flower bed. It is the perfect border plant and does well in containers too. I could sing the praises of the plumbago all day.

I often pick sprigs of the phlox-like flowers for the vase. It’s like bringing a bit of the blue summer sky indoors. I am quite convinced the flowers turn a shade or two darker then – or is it just my imagination?

Care and propagation: Free draining soil; full sun, water moderately; propagate using suckers (preferred), cuttings or seeds

Note: plumbago auriculata alba is a white variety

Chocolate Mint

I love mints and the fact that there are so many types besides the more familiar spearmint we can get from the wet market.

There is something alluring about names like eu de cologne mint, ginger mint, variegated apple mint, chocolate mint, swiss mint, old fashioned mint … but they remained out of reach. Until recently, I only had spearmint in the garden.

And then a lovely friend sent me some cuttings of some of her mints. And the garden centres started to bring in some new mints too. I had a gala time.

My collection grew slowly and not without some hiccups as a few mints refused to live up to their reputation of being as rampant as a weed.

Then recently my aunt offered me some of her chocolate mint runners. I was ecstatic and almost drooled over them.  Never have a bunch of roots been so precious.

I planted the mint in a trough beneath a mulberry bush and hoped it would be happy. I watched over it carefully … so far, so good. The runners have been throwing out shoots and the mint has been growing steadily.

I picked a leaf the other day just to see if what they say about the chocolate mint is true. They say it tastes like After Eights mint chocolate. Mmm …. to be frank, I’d pick a pot of chocolate mint over a tray of mint chocolate any time.   

Clitoria ternatea

Clitoria ternatea or butterfly pea brings to mind the yummy nyonya blue glutinous rice cakes one of my aunts  make.

Hers is speckled with vividly dyed royal blue rice grains and served with an equally delicious homemade egg-coconut jam. Ahhh, food … but I’m getting side-tracked.

The clitoria ternatea vine will grow and bloom happily as long as it gets full sunshine and something to climb on to.

Clitoria ternatea come in a few colours; blue, pale blue (some may say purple) and white. However, the Clitoria ternatea is mainly grown for its edible royal blue dye.

As such, most gardeners plant the blue variety. We pick the flowers when they are in full bloom and dry them. I have never tasted the seed pods before, but apparently they are edible too.

 Sow mature seeds to get the next generation of plants and remove the older plants once they get straggly and unkempt. Clitoria ternatea is a perennial, but is usually grown as a biennial.

We used to grow the single-petalled variety until we discovered the Clitoria ternatea var. peniflora. The double-petalled flowers are gorgeous and we grow it mostly to enjoy its glorious blue beauty.

 Care and propagation: Not fussy with soil, full sun, water moderately; propagate using seeds or cuttings

Jasminum Sambac Grand Duke of Tuscany

I love it when the Grand Duke of Tuscany blooms. The perfume is just incredible and I can’t get enough of it.

So when it flowers, I either look like a besotted idiot or a hopeless flower addict.

The first jasminum I planted was the one gran had – the single-petalled variety which yielded lots of flowers every day. We’d pick the blossoms off the bush and transfer its perfume indoors.

But the fully double-petalled bloom of the Grand Duke of Tuscany is extra special. It is unlike other jasmines; almost an aristocrat in its ivory perfection. And each bloom measures about two inches across.

When I first saw the Grand Duke of Tuscany, I knew I had to get a plant. But I settled for a cutting instead. Fortunately, jasmine cuttings root easily and grow fast too.

Before long the plant bloomed and its branches needed a pruning.

Now we have more than a couple of Dukes tucked here and there in the garden.

Every now and then, we’d find a few plump ivory buds waiting to unfurl and spill their sweet perfume…

 

 

 

Care and propagation: well drained soil; water moderately; full sun; propagate using cuttings