“I don’t like yellow.”
A strange comment, especially from someone whose garden was awash with golden daffodils and zingy yellow primroses.
Royal View
I believe that the fashion for disliking yellow, a fashion quite entrenched in certain parts of the UK’s gardening community, originated from a comment made by the then Prince Charles (now King Charles) about disliking bright yellow Dahlias at Highgrove, his private residence.
European Primula vulgaris thriving and spreading joy
I’m all for taste, good or bad.
I don’t like spicy food, but I bet some of you reading this will. We’re all different and that’s great; the world would be a dull place if we all liked the same thing.
Some gardeners really love Acacias, also known as ‘mimosas’
However, and this is a mystery to me, there are people in the gardening community to are easily swayed by those who express their opinions.
Think For Yourself
I like to think of myself as something of a ‘free spirit’.
While I know some see me as cantankerous, unnecessarily provocative even, the truth is that I’m drawn to the things around me. While some gardeners are offended by bright colours I see them as part of life, and I refuse to allow myself to be drawn to offence by them. There are things I like more than other things, but I see no point in being aggravated by the existence of things that do me no harm.
The flowers of Caltha might seem a bit too bright for some
I’ve even come to respect and admire certain colours, those that shine unapologetically in the garden. I might be a little less inclined to grow brightly coloured plants with a very long season, but the eye-gouging pinks of Camellias and azaleas in spring, for example, are perfectly fine because they only last for a few weeks. But this is my taste.
I love to encourage gardeners to see plants and gardens, including their own, differently. I would also be mortified if someone held me as an arbiter of good taste. Yet there are gardeners out there who doggedly follow the tastes of others, regarding their ideas as gospel rather than guidelines. It must surely be acceptible to enjoy our favourite colours in our own homes and gardens…
Redefining Yellow
I have a confession to make.
A few years ago I realised that there was this predisposition toward hating yellow plants. I realised, however, that there was a loophole; if you don’t actually use the word ‘yellow’ to describe a flower then you can bypass the negative reaction.
The golden flowers of Cornus mas, the ‘cornelian cherry’, seem to be universally appreciated during winter
I’m not lying to people. I’m using words like ‘golden’ or ‘lemon’ to describe flowers, not just ‘yellow’. The colour is the same but the association is different. While ‘yellow’ might be lodged in some minds as ghastly and obnoxious, ‘gold’ is a warm and desirable colour and ‘lemon’ is lively and refreshing.
Who wouldn’t like a yellow Erythronium?
They’re shades of yellow, but they’re somehow better…
Drawing A Line
Using colour in the garden well can take a bit of care. Contrary to popular belief, you can indeed have too much of a good thing!
Strong colours can be challenging in large doses, but if the colour is in the flower and the plant only flowers for a short period then it’s not really a problem. The colour might well be a little strident for a few weeks but it will pass.
Daffodils bring much needed cheer after a dull winter, but might not be as appreciated if they flowered in summer
What can be challenging is coloured foliage; a mass of yellow, purple or variegated foliage can be a little too overpowering in a garden, and should be used with care. Should still be an option for us all of course- foliage colour is another design option at the gardener’s disposal- but with a little forethought so that it adds excitement but doesn’t end up overbearing.
This golden ‘dogwood’, Cornus alba ‘Aurea’, is a great shrub to lighten a dark corner, but you can have too much of it!
It’s rained pretty solidly for the last nine months here. The ground is saturated and every day I must dry my coat yet again. I need joy. I need happiness. I need cheer.
The bright yellow spring flowers bring me a little sunshine on a rainy day, and I cannot tell you just how much I’ve come to appreciate them.
(Top tip: statistically speaking, August can be a surprisingly wet month to visit the UK. July or September can be much drier and warmer. Of course nothing is guaranteed; Britain’s reputation for rain is not unfounded!)
Ben – When you said lemon and gold, I could immediately envision them. I’ve heard people tell me they don’t like white or red in a garden but I always include both in moderation because I feel it makes for a more interesting look. Going forward I’m going to use the words snow, pearl, and alabaster and Cardinal, brick and poppy. I wonder if they will give me cockeyed looks?
I think it’s definitely important to use more descriptive words when describing colours.
I recently did a post on Instagram about Rhododendron ‘Sir Charles Lemon’. This is a Rhododendron with white flowers. How exciting. But by describing the flowers as “alabaster white” I hoped to elevate the flowers in people’s minds.
I certainly don’t see anything wrong with the words you’ve chosen here to describe colours.
Yellow is the color of spring. Without yellow, winter would be that much longer.
Your rant reminded me of the “sad beige aesthetic”. Google it for a chuckle.
Love my yellow spring daffs, what is the one pictured? I like it! Years ago I read an expert that dissed the color mauve especially in garden phlox, of which I have plenty as they are tough and spread. I love the way the mauve glows in the evening light.
Lots of colors I like in nature, but don’t want in my decor, like grass green, or sky blue, except iny tiny portions
Yellow livens everything up. And here in Labrador we’re so starved for colour that when spring comes (in June!) even the dandelions look good.
I agree. It’s a colour you can overdo (but the same could be said for all colours) but definitely has its place.
Not sure what the one in the picture is. If I wanted something like this I would choose Narcissus ‘Firebrand’ I think.
Yes some colours are definitely best in nature. I wouldn’t want my house to be bright yellow!
Very wise words indeed; the world would be a darker place without yellow spring blooms.
In other areas of life, I don’t really like yellow. Because our local climate has a very sloooooowwww spring, I LOVE the yellows of common spring flowers. Bright yellow, soft yellow, yellow-green, I don’t care; anything other than brown and gray is balm to my soul in April.
I feel the same way about the bright pinks of some Rhododendrons and Camellies in my area; I wouldn’t want their colours in summer, but after the grey and dismal winter anything is better than browns and greys.
I like soft yellows (lemon, butter, etc). They aren’t as harsh a contrast to blues, magentas, purples, or even oranges and reds as white. Yellow also doesn’t look as ghastly as a faded white flower gone brown. They’re also nice in a bit of shade. Bright yellows (except for early spring or small secondary things) have to earn a space along with intensely bright orange. Can work, not sure I’m a good enough gardener to pull it off..
I’m glad you mentioned this because it’s something I neglected to discuss in my piece.
Matching tones is as important as matching colours; let’s take blue for an example, a colour that can be intense or not. An intense blue is beautiful, as is a light blue, but put the two together and they’d look more than a little uncomfortable. Pairing is important.
When we first bought our house with garden eleven years ago, I too “didn’t like yellow” and looked to avoid introducing it to the beds and borders. But over the years, I have made many exceptions to my “rule”; the color yellow has nudged its way in to our garden here and there and I am happy that it has. Our witch hazel shrub in the front (inherited) and the Cornus mas (personally selected and planted) in the back bring such needed brightness to the darker winter days. The riot of black-eyed Susan in our borders reminds me of being a girl and look so nice with the fallen autumn leaves scattered about them. And when I finally found a reliable perennial ground cover that survived under our oak tree – Epimedium Frohnleiten – I happily planted it in mass despite its yellow flowers. It’s important not to be so rigid. There really are no terrible colors.
I like that you challenged your ideas; it’s something I try to do myself.
There can be an overuse of yellow for sure, but those yellow blossoms in winter are a lifeline to my sanity. All things in moderation, as the saying goes.
I must admit though, I was somewhat very heartbroken when all of the daffodils I had planted as bulbs, and believed to be white, bloomed a bright and gaudy yellow. I did even consider whether it would be possible to return them to the nursery I had bought them at (they were clearly mislabeled). I am still coming around to accepting them. They are just so glaringly yellow.
Yes that’s a bit harsh; you chose white daffodils because you wanted white…
I hope you come to be at peace with the yellows. I would still tell the nursery that the mistake has happened.
I live in Mexico (Oaxaca). If you don’t like bright colors, skip Mexico.
Oh I’m on board for bright colours!
Wilde termed yellow the color of joy. Van Gogh associated it with hope and friendship. We all have biases; but shame on those of us who blindly follow the biases of others and thus miss out on something that may have brought us joy had we made up our own minds. I came to a magenta aversion under my own muster, but a new Prunis mume in my garden finally blooming this year has made me reconsider. A little. Lol. — MW
Like I think all of our personal ideas, it’s good to periodically dust off our ideas of colour and see if we still stand with what we claim to believe.
You have a Prunus mume that is making you reconsider your aversion to magenta, and the lady in my piece who ‘hated’ yellow realised that she simply didn’t want yellow in one part of her garden.
In one of the gardens under my care there is a Rhododendron of the most horrific pink imaginable; it catches your attention and is a little… well it’s a little ‘visually challenging’ to say the least. However it only flowers for a few weeks, and my feeling is that it’s something to enjoy.
I greatly enjoy the ephemeral and early yellows of daffodils, Wintersweet, Erythronium, and others. Their winter/spring appearance is joyful, they don’t have much competition, and look so well with new and winter hardy foliage of all colors around them. Yellow flowers that have a long bloom season seem overstimulating to me when they join the other longer season colors of foliage and blooms that I have chosen. I think of yellows as having their place and while I would never say I dislike them, I may just not prefer them during some times of the year.
Yellow foliage does provide a nice contrast, and I appreciate it most when limited and adjacent to a variety of greens, including deeper greens.
I truly enjoy all preferences of others in their garden spaces because it will have been crafted to make sense in those settings.
Reading your comments has got me thinking of my own garden a little more.
At the moment there are yellows which have, as you say, an ephemeral beauty. However while I do have yellows in the summer they’re all more ‘fluffy’ plants like Solidago rather than ‘blocks’ of colour like my Calthas etc.
As for the preferences of others, I would much rather see a garden where the colour scheme is not to my personal taste but is loved by its owner rather than something lacklustre. Thank you for commenting.
Ben, I think the reason you get a different reaction to “lemon” than “yellow” is that lemon evokes a specific color and a more pleasant feeling (most everyone likes lemons), whereas people will mentally substitute “yellow” with something they do not like (a hated bridesmaid dress? a garish car?). People like a bit of poetry – and “yellow” just ain’t poetic.
Me, I love bright, eye-gouging colors! The more the better. I think some of it has to do with culture and climate. I’m in California, where hot colors sit well – they just make sense in the bright sunlight and high temperatures of summer in a place where we start the season with nearly fluorescent wildflowers like orange poppies and wood sorrel. However, I think I would feel differently if I was gardening in a place with less intense sunshine, and instead gravitate towards more muted colors.
Colors I do not like are muddy magentas and maroons, or the non-committal cool butter yellows. When I have yellow, I want it to be saturated within an inch of its life, and a wee bit on the mustard side of things. I’ve all but banished white from my garden, only the calla lily gets a pass because it came with the house and its bold form upholds my semi-tropical scheme
Yes I think you’re right there; ‘yellow’ is quite a generic colour, from creamy-yellow right through to glowing golden yellows.
Interesting you say about hot colours sitting well in California. The stronger light levels really make strong colours work well in a way that they can struggle in ‘gloomier’ regions, but likewise pastel colours would just look washed out in some climates. I like your approach to colour very much.
There’s also the effect of shade. Dark colors can just disappear where a paler color will pop in a shady space. I mistskenly put a quite lovely dark red Hellebore against a dark corner and it has no presence whatsoever. I have to go look closely to see if it’s bloomed at all. A pale yellow or a lighter pink would be much better. (One of these seasons I will rearrange my hellebores.)
I actually love color, but if you love color and want to use lots of varied color there has to be something to move between them and/or give the eyes a rest. This is where lighter yellows and foliage greens really work. And a paler yellow really works with lots of green.
I really find white harder to work with. I’m also a bit hesitant with darker, murkier reds- for me, in my garden.
They can be purply/bluish or more rust and can really be jarring.
I’ve made those same mistakes, so I’m completely with you on this.
The yellow-leafed Cornus in the article is in a dark corner behind a house; here it works really well to add a little brightness. It’s just the one plant, yet it gives just enough ‘foliar sunshine’ to lighten an otherwise dull and dark area.
As you say, paler yellow does work well with greens. I guess they’re quite similar colours, so they complement each other in a way that other colours might conflict.
Ben Probert likes my approach to color?! I’m going to tell everyone who sees my garden this year, haha!
For what it’s worth, I like to use the term “moody” instead of “gloomy”. There’s a sort of dreamy romantic quality to times and places with less intense sunshine that really is very special.
Now I’m truly honoured!
‘Moody’ is such a good word; it speaks of the drama of bare trees in swirling mists, as opposed to ‘gloomy’ which is depressing. Yes to more romantic decriptions of plants and gardens.
Thank you for this thoughtful post, Ben. I don’t dislike yellow; but it clashes with the Victorian colors of my front gardens: white, pinks, black, blue, and soft purple. To resolve this issue, I have a designated “Forbidden Garden” (I have named all of my garden plots) in back of my house. If there happens to be something that blooms in yellow, red, orange, or the like, it is welcome there. I realize that there ARE yellow flowers I do like, such as Daffodils, Primrose, Forsythia, and Japanese Kerria. I saw a dazzling display of tall yellow tulips yesterday, and will include those next year in the back as well.
I love the idea of a ‘forbidden garden’, a home for plants that you love but that conflict with colour schemes elsewhere in the garden.
Very interesting the different choices. I love tints of most all colors. Dark shades of yellow are one of the few colors I don’t enjoy. Bright light sunny yellow is a first choice.
I garden for color. While there are many colors that look horrible together, complimentary bright colors in flowers are my favorites.
I love copier paper white variegated edging in plant leaves, but not so much white flowers.
White flowers die so poorly.
All of the colored flowers still look half way OK from a distance, when they are long past prime.
White just turns brown.
A white flower garden is very elegant at first blush. But not as much later on.
Color is life.
I can’t imagine gardening for an entire palette of just forest greens.
Lol, it doesn’t have to be some of the newer screaming chartreuse hostas. But certainly some colored foliage can be blended in.
We are fortunate that we can do an entire garden without relying on a single conifer.
Broad leaved evergreens thrive here. Numerous choices that don’t require sunglasses are available.
Indeed colour is life.
I wonder if those who complain about certain colours would like to live in a world absent of colour? How much would they relish every colour if there was a chance that they might never see those colours again.
Reminds me of a line in a song by ‘Wax Fang’ that goes “A sight for sore eyes to the blind would be awful majestic…”