If there is one flower that’s out of fashion at the moment it’s the hardy chrysanthemum — and it doesn’t deserve it. Few plants are capable of flowering in the second half of October with such panache, and there is something hugely comforting about having buds in the garden when autumn is in the driving seat. It’s rather like having money in the bank.

I started growing hardy mums about ten years ago after being wooed by a display in front of a cottage on the main street in Hook Norton. Bright pink nerines jostled behind a pink single called ‘Clara Curtis’, lighting up the crisp days of late autumn.

The display returned year after year and the simple, single-pink flowers of Clara were a perfect foil for the wavy ribbons of the more exotic Nerine bowdenii — the Guernsey lily.

After the simplicity of Clara, I moved on to the fuller charms of the ‘Emperor of China’, a much later performer that often waits until November to open its flowers. This is a laxer plant with double silver-rose flowers centred with a hint of crimson. This colourful eye is picked up by the reddening foliage. In the past, this was grown as a cut flower for November and every grand garden had its stand. William Robinson (1838-1935), the famous gardener and writer from Gravetye Manor in Sussex, grew it and wrote about in The English Flower Garden of 1893 although it is labelled ‘Cottage Pink’. Graham Stuart Thomas recorded in Perennial Garden Plants ( 1976) that it’s possibly the original Chinese form grown centuries ago. It apparently resembles those depicted in old Chinese paintings.

‘Nantyderry Sunshine’ (a tiny button yellow) came next. Although it performed well year after year (and spread well) I found its summery bright buttons hard to place in jewel-box autumn among all those ornate golds and rich purples. So I tried ‘Rose Madder’ (pictured) instead, and this curious colour (midway between brown and pink) fitted the autumn palette better.

The dusky orange colours are the ones I admire most, and I grow a lovely soft butterscotch-orange form for Great Dixter — name unknown. I take cuttings in sand in case it dies away. Last year’s still lie neglected in the bucket of sand. They are flowering their heart out in the greenhouse. This surely must indicate the chrysanthemum’s preference for poor soil and good drainage. They should always be planted in spring, not in autumn.

I am still await the opening of ‘Chelsea Physic Garden’ (described by Bob Brown of Cotswold Garden Flowers as a dusky orange-red with bronzed backs). There’s a tempting dark middle to every bud and it sounds like my sort of ‘mum’ — almost gilded.

Bob Brown is convinced that hardy chrysanthemums are going to be the next vogue plant and he is propagating a wide range. I hope he’s correct, for the one sure thing about the changing climate is that although winter still comes, it arrives later. Twenty years ago, frost always descended in September and stopped the fun. Now we might get one in October (and I often fleece) followed by a four-week respite. Bob Brown of Cotswold Garden Flowers in Badsey near Evesham has a number on sale. (www.cgf.net/ 01386 833849)