Peter Dowdall: We associate fuchsia with Cork and Kerry, but its origins lie thousands of miles away

Peter Dowdall charts the horticultural history of the bloom so many of us take for granted

Fuchsia's origins lie mainly in Central and South America. File picture

There are few sights more beautiful at this time of year than the hedgerows alive right now with hardy fuchsias, their hanging blooms dangling like jewelled earrings on a sea of green. I’ve just driven the byways of West Cork where the ditches on either side were thick with arching branches studded with these hanging crimson and purple flowers, thousands upon thousands of them, busy with bees.

It’s a sight so common here that we almost take it for granted, and it’s a phenomenon that never fails to surprise visitors who expect fuchsias to be pampered garden plants The plants, now synonymous with West Cork and Kerry and regarded as quintessentially Irish, are not native, of course; their origins lie thousands of miles away, mainly in Central and South America. 

So, how did these beauties, so often thought of as tender, end up thriving in the wild here? It’s a story that ties together global plant hunting, Victorian fashion, and the climate of Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way.

In a classic bit of horticultural history, Fuchsia magellanica, originally from the cool, damp woodlands of southern Chile and Argentina, made its way to European gardens in the late 18th century, carried by the wave of plant hunters feeding our insatiable appetite, at the time, for the exotic.

Finding Ireland’s mild, moist climate very much to its liking, it quickly became a fashionable choice for country estates. Over time, it escaped from cultivated gardens into hedgerows, where it flourishes so well that it is now often mistaken for a native plant.

Not all fuchsias are this tough, though. The hardy fuchsias we see growing untended along our lanes and in old cottage gardens can handle salt-laden winds and can cope with quite poor soils, provided they have enough moisture.

The showier bedding types and greenhouse varieties that fill garden centres in early summer, often with double flowers in bright combinations of pink, purple, and white, are far less hardy.

These tender hybrids are incredibly showy and are bred from different species to flower beautifully through the summer, but have no hope of surviving an Irish winter without protection.

They’re best enjoyed in hanging baskets or pots that can be moved under cover once winter frosts are near.

Fuchsia riccartonii, probably the best known hardy cultivar, combines toughness with a slightly showier flower than the straightforward Fuchsia magellanica, whilst Mrs Popple is slightly more upright, and Tom Thumb is a neat dwarf type ideal for the front of a border.

One of the things that makes them so noticeable, apart from their very obvious beauty, is the length of their flowering period. Starting in June, they continue well into autumn, especially if you keep up with deadheading.

They’re also beneficial to pollinators. Bees and hoverflies are drawn to their nectar-rich tubes, while later in the season, birds will often strip the small, dark fruits that follow the flowers.

Watching bumblebees visit a fuchsia is magical to watch. They hover and then push their long tongues deep up into the tubular corolla to reach the hidden nectar. In doing so, they brush against the flower’s stamens and stigma, transferring pollen from bloom to bloom and ensuring a good set of fruit.

Honeybees, with their shorter tongues, sometimes take a shortcut by nibbling tiny holes at the base of the tube to steal nectar without contacting the pollen, a clever trick, though less helpful for the plant’s reproduction, as they “rob” the nectar without transferring any pollen.

Hardy fuchsias are naturally a little sprawling and arching, which gives them such a relaxed cottage garden feel. If you prefer a tidier look, you can prune them in early spring.

Because hardy fuchsias often die back to near ground level in harsh weather, it’s best not to prune them in autumn. Instead, I always leave the old growth standing over winter; it provides a bit of extra protection to the crown against frost.

Come late March or April, once you see fresh shoots emerging at the base, you can cut away the old wood down to just above these new buds. This annual haircut rejuvenates the plant, encourages bushy new growth, and sets it up to flower profusely through the summer.

Watching the hedgerows right now, alive with hardy fuchsias humming with bees, it’s easy to see why we have fallen in love with our South American settlers.

They connect us directly to the wider story of plant collecting and adaptation; they have woven themselves so thoroughly into our landscape and our gardening hearts. They connect us to faraway places yet feel entirely at home here, thriving in our hedgerows and gardens. They have become, in some ways, even more Irish than the Irish themselves.

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