Rhododendron Study

I have always really enjoyed rhododendrons. In fact I have never met a rhodo-hater. It may be partly due to the fact that the foliage stays green all year round. Or it may be the cool, moist woodlands where they are found. They give even the wildest place a certain trim and orderly appearance that the human eye seems to welcome. I must not, however, beat around the bush (so to speak) any longer ... we humans are hopelessly seduced by colour, red if possible and the showier the better.

My first view of rhododendrons in the wild was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life. The year was 1958. My friend Bristol Foster and I were driving around the world in a Land Rover. Ours was among the first of the civilian vehicles to drive the new road from India to Nepal. It was late but we were determined to push on to the highest pass before descending into the Katmandu Valley.

We camped in the dark, sleeping on our foam rubber mattresses in the back of the Land Rover, as always. The air was clear and frigid. At dawn we gazed on a scene from Shangrila. The entire skyline was a blazing, snowy array of the Himalayas ... a white wall featuring the famous sacred mountain, Kachanjunga. This spectacle was eclipsed, however, by the great rhododendron trees. Gnarled, ancient trunks and rhythmic branches reaching to 30 or 40 feet, all covered with what looked like thousands of bunches of red roses. The other-worldly effect was increased by the festoons of "old man’s beard" lichens, gently swaying in the mountain air.

Since then I have seen rhodos in other magic, wild places and in many almost-as-magic gardens the world over, including our own. I don’t imagine I will ever tire of them.