Pinks and carnations

High summer is when the majority of pinks and carnations reach a peak. We associate them particularly with fragrance. The old 'Crimson Clove' carnation, for instance, is so called because it has the scent of cloves.

Just now, my favourite is Dianthus superbus 'Rainbow Loveliness', whose scent wafts deliciously on the air. It is easily raised from seed, and we always save our own, sowing it as soon as ripe, in late July. In a year's time, it will have flowered and ripened more seed, so its cycle is exactly a year long. The flowers, in shades from pink to purple, are fimbriated - they have deeply cut petals, giving a somewhat ragged impression, but attractive in its way. As the plants tend to have a skinny habit (you learn these things as you go along) we raise lots of them and plant densely, so they are making a good show, improved by twigging the plants with peasticks.

There's nothing wrong with planting largely for sentiment. We enjoy a vision of pinks lining borders and they'll be old-fashioned ones like 'Mrs Sinkins', which is double white and always splits its calyx, so that petals gush out of the side of its mouth. But all is forgiven for the scent.

What could be more evocative than Sweet William, Dianthus barbatus, though the quality of its fragrance is entirely different? It is generally best treated as a biennial, sowing now for next summer. The brilliant 'Noverna Purple' (magenta, really) caused quite a sensation when it came out a few years ago. If sown in early summer it will flower in autumn. Or, more conventionally, sow in August and have it flowering next June-July. Many dianthus have no scent whatsoever, but compensate in other ways. They can make dazzling bedding plants. In the Ideal series, we have this year grown 'Ideal Crimson' and 'Ideal Deep Violet'. They are dwarf (though not uncomfortably dwarf) and planted quite densely at the front of our mixed Long Border, either side of a clump of blue lyme grass, Leymus arenarius.

We may complain that many perennial pinks do not flower enough, or even at all, just making a cushion of foliage. These are the kinds that need fairly frequent stirring up. In the trials at Wisley, for example, we see plants at their best (including dianthus) not because the soil is special but because the plants have the resilience of youth. You may take cuttings from your own, or layer them, or in one way or another rejuvenate them. Many perennials are like this, giving best results from an unquiet life. They suit the temperament of the busy gardener who is never happier than when messing around with plants.