Thoughts on gardening in Samos

by Jennifer Gay
Photographs by Jennifer Gay

Photographs to illustrate the article published in The Mediterranean Garden No. 107, January 2022

The photo at the top of this page shows a gateway for vehicle access behind the walnut orchard.

Jennifer Gay was invited to create a garden on Samos a decade or so ago, not in the wild interior of the island but in the heart of the university town of Karlovassi on the north-west tip of the island.

Jennifer writes: Samos has a long and ancient history, but it also has a rich and diverse landscape. As well as an excellent representation of mainstay Mediterranean flora, there are several endemics on Samos as well as some rarities. Lucie Willan highlights these in her fascinating account of plant hunting with Lefteris Dariotis in TMG 105 when they went looking for and found local endemics. As I write now in late December, the giant snowdrop Galanthus elwesii is almost certainly flowering in the centre of the island, on the wooded slopes of the second Samiot peak, Mount Ambelos.

Descending from this mountainous area towards the north-west of the island, it is possible to see the port town of Karlovassi stretching itself along the coast below. On my introductory visit two powerful influences struck me: first, sitting as it does on a relatively straight expanse of northern shore, the town is right on the sea, and feels so, especially when the north wind blows and those large foaming waves roll in with ferocity. This freshness is welcome in summer but in winter can bring a chill with it. The second influence is that of the architectural remnants of Karlovassi’s industrial heritage – the town was a flourishing tannery and tobacco-manufacturing centre in the early 20th century. Many impressive neoclassical mansions remain, but perhaps even more influential on the townscape are the abandoned warehouses along the seafront which are largely neglected.

The garden site lies at sea level, about 300 metres inland. Buildings between the site and shore provide some protection, but even though you cannot see the sea the garden is close enough to receive drifts of salt spray. I quickly realised that plants chosen for this garden needed to have coastal resistance, especially at the seaward end.

The plot is L-shaped, with the long arm of the L longer than it is wide, tapering as it reaches out in a seaward direction. In sharp contrast to the botanical richness of the island, the nine stremmata (just over two acres) plot was in large part totally devoid of vegetation when I first saw it, although three very important features did remain: a mature walnut orchard, the remains of a citrus orchard, and a collection of sizeable olives. 

In the midst of these trees, there had existed a small 20th- century tumble-down dwelling, but it was in too poor a state to repair. Thus a new house was planned, to be located at the heart of the L-shaped plot: from the deep pitch of roofs and the aesthetic of the buildings that the architect was inspired by the historic seaside tanneries just a couple of hundred metres away. Three independent buildings are placed to form a horseshoe-shaped courtyard and this acts as the pivot of the site, assuming the roles of outdoor dining, socialising and lounging. 

This paved space is open on the northern side, with a mulberry-shaded path leading to the long arm of the L, the main part of the garden. This long arm, close to 90 metres, gives fantastic depth of field from the courtyard, but I needed to find a device to detract from the relative narrowness and its resulting tunnel effect, and also to effectively screen neighbouring properties. To deal with the privacy issue while at the same time adding much needed shade, a mixture of trees, including natives such as carob (Ceratonia siliqua), cypresses, olives and pines (Pinus pinea), mixed with fast growers such as Ficus benjamina (syn. F. nitida) and Brazilian Pepper Tree(Schinus terebinthifolia), were planted, either as single specimens or in threes or fives, in informal groupings along the boundaries. These were under-planted with a mixture of evergreen and ever-grey shrubs, 2-3 metres tall; this composition forms the backbone of the garden. Natives were an important component. Though the garden is quite definitely a town garden, the surrounding wooded hillsides that slope right into Karlovassi are a strong presence and I was keen to reference them visually and literally.

Thus species such as strawberry tree (Arbutus unedo), bay (Laurus nobilis) and myrtle (Myrtus communis) were given their place on the landward side while chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus) and saltbush (Atriplex halimus) were especially important on the seaward side. Mastic (Pistacia lentiscus) was important on both sides – I love this plant more and more as time goes by, ubiquitous as it is. It demands so little and gives so much. Equally important but with the added benefit of summer flowers is Bupleurum fruticosum:what a gift of a plant for its tall handsome foliage and mustard-yellow umbels - I would not be without it these days. Elaeagnus × submacrophylla has an important part to play, good for coastal sites and irreplaceable for its leathery grey-green silver-backed foliage and those tiny creamy bell-shaped flowers that suddenly but discreetly appear, leaving you wondering one October morning ‘where is that delicious scent coming from?’ A few Metrosideros excelsa and pineapple guava (Acca sellowiana) are also in the mix, both being great coastal greys, the former having that early dash of flower colour while the latter is worth growing for the fruits alone. 

To broaden the narrowness of the plot, we used meandering paths in strong but gently curving shapes, edged for a clean line and surfaced with soft grey gravel. Their purpose has succeeded, at least it no longer feels as if you’re waiting for the starting gun to sprint the 100 metres. The path design ran hand-in-hand with the creation of fluid, wide planting areas; this gave us blessed room to create multi-layers of mounded grey and green textured compositions, similar in concept to the boundary-structural planting but at a lower level (not more than 1.5 metres high) with greater diversity and truly immersive. The plants are arranged in naturalistic drifts, small groups interlaced, undulating and repeating, with the occasional staccato accent thrown in for good measure, often in the form of one of my favourite succulents such as Agave attenuata, Dasylirion acrotrichum or Yucca gloriosa.

These immersive layers consist of different species and cultivars of Lavandula, Teucrium, Rosmarinus, Cistus, Phlomis, Leucophyllum, Helichrysum and Anthyllis, interspersed with exuberant grasses (Miscanthus sinensis, Stipa calamagrostis, S. gigantea, Nassella tenuissima [formerly Stipa tenussima]) and perennials for flowering, but also for that all-important movement and free spirit – lime green from the utterly reliable Euphorbia ceratocarpa, blues/pinks/purples from Perovskia ‘Blue Spire’, Salvia chamelaeagnea, Salvia ‘Allen Chickering’, Verbena bonariensis, Tulbaghia violacea, whites from Gaura lindheimeri and so on.

The walnut orchard, meanwhile, is situated on the short arm of the L to the east and has street frontage. It was thus perfectly placed to form an entrance to the house, and a pedestrian gate bedecked withbougainvillea on either side was created, with a generous footpath leading through the trees. Renovation pruning allowed us to reverse previous neglect and create well-composed multi-stemmed trees to provide welcome shade over the new path. To keep cars at bay and out of sight, vehicles enter the site through a separate gateway just behind the walnut orchard (see photo at the top of this page).

To add another dimension to the orchard and perhaps more importantly to engender a sense of arrival and enclosure, we underplanted the trees with masses of Plumbago auriculata, periodically studded with large mounds of Pistacia lentiscus (again a call to the mountains in view) for winter interest. Along the path we planted a mixture of Pittosporum tobira ‘Nana’ cushions, mounds of Myrtus communis ‘Nana', these relaxed by drifts of Agapanthus africanus and fringed with Mexican fleabane (Erigeron karvinskianus).

The citrus orchard is behind the house to the south in what is most definitely the most sheltered part of the site. We in-filled gaps with new citrus varieties including grapefruit, Early Valencia, clementine, kumquat and blood orange. We also planted a tall hedge of Ficus benjamina (F. nitida)to create privacy from street level. It gave us the speed of growth and density we needed, but we keep it in check so that the houses on the opposite side of the street retain their view of the sea.

These efforts have paid off and following our usual code of drought-resistant planting (big holes, wide and deep watering saucers, reduce top-growth at planting etc) plants are developing well and in tandem with their locale. Perhaps most exciting of all, we have created a nine stremmata haven for birds, bees and butterflies in the heart of the town. It is a magical moment seeing the first swallowtails descending on the hibiscus, or birds nesting in the Ficus benjamina. In its way, this L-shaped garden has become a mini wildlife corridor for Karlovassi.