In the worldâs largest Victorian glasshouse, a heavily laden trolley is heading my way, one man pulling from the front, three more steadying its load. On board is a tree I donât recognise. It is horizontal, which doesnât help, but to me it looks a bit like a palm with a Mohican, the stout trunk topped by a mass of long, spiky leaves.
âItâs a grass tree from Australia,â says horticulturist Scott Taylor. âI can never spell the name,â he confesses, seeing me poised to make a note of it. âHas anyone got the label?â he yells. Someone has: Xanthorrhoea johnsonii â Queensland. The tree trundles past on its way to a newly dug hole in âAustralasiaâ, where it will be upended and manoeuvred gently into what will be its home for the next century or more.
We are in the at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, the largest survivor of the era of grand glasshouses. It is an unseasonably hot day ahead of the official opening, with blazing sunshine and a brilliant blue sky â the perfect conditions to see how ÂŁ41 million and five years of restoration have transformed the leaky, decaying building into the architectural treasure it once was, while reinventing the interior as a 21stâcentury refuge for some of the planetâs rarest plants.
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For the contractors, it is a chance to make up for time lost to the worst winter weather in decades. For Taylor, it is a day of mounting tension: his role in this mammoth project has been to oversee the removal of the overcrowded plants, some so tall they hit the roof, and then direct the installation of 10,000 specimens, some returning veterans, others vigorous youngsters grown from seeds or cuttings. Among his charges are exceptional plants, some as old as the Temperate House itself. For everyone working on the project, time is running scarily short.
New lease of life
âThe Temperate House is unique because of its size, age and complex history,â says Andrew Williams, Kewâs director of estates, who has overseen the project from the start. âNow it has a new lease of life and people will be able to see how special it is.â
Heâs right. I have been visiting Kew for decades and the Temperate House has always suffered by comparison with the Palm House. Both were designed by Decimus Burton, the master of glasshouse architecture, in very different styles. The Palm House, completed in 1848, is all elegant curves created from iron and glass, while the Temperate House, begun in 1860, is big and chunky, more utilitarian than glamorous.
As for the plants, the Palm House provided a trip to the tropics: a steamy atmosphere packed with exotica. The plants in the Temperate House didnât capture the imagination in the same way. The restoration should change all that, elevating the great glasshouse to the same iconic status as the Palm House.
The mid-19th century was the heyday of plant exploration, when specimens were flooding into Kew. This posed a problem for its first director, . Once he had his Palm House, he began to campaign for another glasshouse for plants from cooler climates with marked seasons, but that wouldnât survive an English winter. These were arriving daily from South Africa, northern India, southern South America, Australia and New Zealand. Only when he had such a glasshouse would âthe national establishment be perfectâ, he argued.
To persuade the government to fund it, he promised to keep down costs. Utility was key, he told Burton: use brick not stone, wood not iron for the rafters, and cheap pine window frames in a straight, sloping roof. The central part of Burtonâs glasshouse opened in 1863, but lack of money meant the outer wings had to wait another 40 years.
At 195 metres long, the finished glasshouse was twice the size of the Palm House and undeniably impressive. But the cheeseparing took its toll: the ironwork corroded, paint peeled, timbers rotted and windows leaked.
During the massive restoration project, 69,000 pieces of the building were removed and cleaned, repaired or replaced, including 15,000 panes of glass. The aim, says Williams, was to restore the greenhouse to its original state, remedying problems caused by previous restoration and introducing modern technology. Ironically, while digging a trench to install more heating, the team found they were simply turning back the clock. There had originally been heating in the same place, but it was removed in the 1970s. In Victorian times, too, Kewâs gardeners could open windows high in the roof with hand-operated cranks. Many windows were sealed up in the 1970s. Now they open again, but with a higher-tech control system. Light pours in through the gleaming glass and rainwater is harvested to feed the plants.
Longer lifespan
The first change returning visitors will spot is the gleaming new paintwork, no longer hospital-bright white, but soft, creamy white. There is no record of the original, so why this colour? âIt doesnât show the dust,â says Williams. More importantly, the paint lasts: it is the stuff used on North Sea oil rigs, has a 25-year lifespan and can be painted over. âThere will be no need for a major refurbishment for another 100 years or more,â he says with obvious relief.
The building certainly looks fit for another century, but what of the plants? As well as more light and better ventilation, the beds have all been emptied and refilled. âWe have replaced all the soil â 1300 cubic metres â with a special mix developed here in the 2000s,â says Taylor. Staff at Kew now know things their predecessors didnât, he adds, âmore about the conditions in which these plants thrive and how tall some will grow, so we know the best places to plant themâ.
You can still stride the world in 195 metres, moving from the warm and dry climate of the Mediterranean to the cool, moist interior of a temperate rainforest, but where once the plants were chosen to showcase the worldâs botanical wealth, now they highlight our dependence on plants â and how so many species are at risk of extinction.
Individual plants tell important stories. Dombeya mauritiana, a tree from Mauritius, was assumed extinct, until Kew horticulturist Carlos Magdalena found one in the islandâs highlands and took cuttings. Kew is now the only place in the world that has this tree in cultivation.
Then there is the red angelâs trumpet (Brugmansia sanguinea) from South America, already settled in and blooming. âThis species is relatively common in cultivation, so people think itâs safe,â says Taylor. âBut itâs extinct in the wild because its natural habitat has disappeared.â Erica verticillata highlights Kewâs role in saving plants. This South African heather was thought extinct until 1984 when a few plants were rediscovered and Kew set about resurrecting it.
Alongside such critically endangered species are important historic specimens, such as the South African cycad Encephalartos woodii, which has been at Kew since 1899. This venerable specimen was grown from an offshoot of the only one ever found in the wild, which died in 1916. Itâs not just old, itâs huge at over 3 metres tall, with a massive canopy. Getting it safely out and in again was a Herculean task.
Given the enormous scale of the project, what was the biggest challenge? âThe doors,â Taylor replies. âThey were designed for people.â
