Little better than weeds? Think again

Kim Auston in defence of leylandii and sycamore

Two of the fastest growing plants in this country have become two of the most scorned. Yet attitudes to leylandii and sycamore are not entirely fair.

Few gardeners will be unaware of the extraordinary effect that leylandii can have on normal, law-abiding citizens. Neighbours in Tillyard Craft, near Birmingham, have apparently been through pounds 100,000 in legal costs in a seven-year dispute over a leylandii hedge. It seems that where leylandii is concerned, everyone wants to put the boot in, or better still, to get the herbicide out.

Those who have no personal experience of leylandii tend to dismiss it with the special contempt that the gardening cognoscenti reserve for plants such as marigolds, begonias and dahlias. Basically, leylandii is common. For gourmets it is fish and chips; for opera buffs it is Gilbert and Sullivan; for serious gardeners it is leylandii.

Aside from its phenomenal growth rate (it can reach 60 feet in 25 years), its faults extend to a big appetite and an ever-increasing demand for space. But it does have its good points.

Left to its own devices and given enough of the things it requires, it can form a magnificent specimen, with a slender, columnar shape, reaching about a 100 feet at maturity. There is a wonderful example at Bicton Park, Devon, and another at Wakehurst Place, Sussex. The truth is that few of us have the space to grow leylandii properly and so it is those looking for a quick screen who have claimed the plant for their own.

Considered dispassionately, its growth rate, tolerance of exposure and ability to withstand drastic pruning would be considered assets in most other trees and shrubs. It is a victim of its own success, however, for these qualities have so endeared themselves that it is now planted everywhere: a dangerous weapon in the hands of gardeners and landowners who lack sensitivity to the nature of landscape.

Lines of leylandii marching across the countryside shriek "suburbia" as surely as pony paddock fences do. Apart from the roads programme, it is difficult to conceive of a greater abuse of our countryside. However, before we make a grab for the nearest chainsaw, it is worth reminding ourselves that this is not the fault of the tree itself, but of the people who plant it.

Sycamore is another tree in need of some slick PR. As long ago as the 17th century, the great John Evelyn was bemoaning the fact that its leaves "turn to mucilage and noxious insects, and putrefy with the first moisture of the season; and are, therefore, by my consent, to be banished from all curious gardens and avenues". Today, many people consider sycamore little better than a weed; it seeds freely in gardens and lawns and can appear to choke unmanaged hedgerows. In my experience, ash is just as invasive and just as difficult to eradicate but, in general, people are far more tolerant of it. Perhaps this is because ash is a native whereas sycamore is a relative newcomer; it has been with us probably only since medieval times and therefore has still to be accepted. Newcomers to an English village will empathise.

Once upon a time, sycamore was actually rather fashionable. Capability Brown seems to have used it occasionally as a specimen (for example at Ugbrooke Park in Devon), and selected forms, particularly the variegated kind, continued to be planted throughout the 19th century.

Its historic credentials aside, a mature sycamore is a most handsome tree. Next time you're visiting a country house or garden, look out into the park and make your own judgement. You can recognise a sycamore by its dappled pink-and-grey bark, its heavy, curving lower limbs and its broad dome.

If you are not convinced by the aesthetic argument and require practical reasons for selecting your trees, sycamore is a great doer in exposed situations; it is tolerant of salt winds and thrives in shade. It also produces fine, easily worked timber that can be turned to produce, among other things, those huge wooden bowls that you see in antique shops. So there you have it: admirers can enjoy this magnificent tree where it stands; detractors can simply enjoy products made from it instead.