Horticultural

Inspired to garden: The Morville Hours and a visit to Kathy Brown's garden

I am currently reading - and adoring - The Morville Hours by Katherine Swift. It's a book about the creation of a garden in Shropshire, but so much more than that: astronomy, agriculture, history, geology and countless other areas of knowledge feed into Swift's description of turning a bare field into a series of gardens inspired by former residents of Morville. (This woman's learned, writes beautifully and created a huge, wonderful garden, Yes, I want to be her.)

This book has thrown up a hundred different trains of thought in my mind, but the current one is the different forms of inspiration for creating gardens. Swift's garden conjures up an imagined place inhabited by different characters from the past: but others seek inspiration in eveything from quantum physics to the music of Bach. Last Sunday I visited a garden inspired by art: not individual paintings, but the style of an artist.

I think my favourite part of Kathy Brown's garden in Stevington, Bedfordshire was the Barbara Hepworth garden (pictured above), which was sparkling in the September sun. I don't know much about Hepworth but this garden certainly made me want to learn more, which was perhaps part of the point. There were other gardens inspired by Kandinsky, Mondrian, Monet, Hokusai and Rothko, plus French parterres, a cottage garden and an orchard: I'll try to upload a gallery of more images later in the week: in the meantime visit Kathy's blog and site for more info.

The other wonderful thing about Kathy's garden was its playfulness - which was handy as I took my two-year-old daughter along. She adored the playhouse and the tyre swing. She insisted on stroking a huge bumblebee resting (along with dozens of honey bees) on the Sedum spectabile 'Autumn Joy' but fortunately it didn't sting her. She also loved the shells in the Hepworth garden and the Humpty Dumpty figure on top of the Mondrian-esque wall (just visible in the picture above). And the squash and chocolate sponge at the church hall afterwards went down very well, too.

Anyway, this garden, along with the Morville Hours, led me to thinking about the inspiration for my garden revamp (which I am hoping to get under way next year, building work allowing). Up until now I've been lusting over individual plants, planning shapes of borders, mulling over shades of patio stone and whether a pergola or an arch would be best. But perhaps there should be something more cerebral behind the pretty flowers? A overarching concept, a theme? Or is that a tad prententious for a 70ft garden on the back of a 30s semi? I wouldn't want anyone to think I was taking myself too seriously, after all. Advice welcome, in the usual way below.

Did I kill Victoria with kindness?

I took this photo of the Victoria plum tree in my garden yesterday. As you can see, it's not exactly a picture of health. There's a few sad leaves clinging on, rusty and crumpled, and some fruits - just starting to shrivel - left on the tree.

When we moved to this house and garden a year ago, I realised the tree had been badly pruned in the past - some branches carelessly lopped, the water shoots that followed left to form a mass of whippy replacements and protrusion with sheared-off, jagged edges like an open door to pests and diseases.

I read up on plum pruning and did what I thought was best, following the received wisdom, leaving the job until the sap was on the move in May or June to try to prevent the disease silverleaf taking a foothold. I didn't tackle all the pruning in one go, planning a phased programme over three years. I used a sharp saw, made judicious cuts, took my time.

First to go were the three "d"s - dead, diseased, and damaged. Then branches that crossed with other branches or were rubbing against the fence. I didn't attempt much more than that for year one.

But from the look of the tree now, it seems pretty poorly (click on the pic to the left and you can see a close-up on the leaves): is it the dreaded silverleaf (which enters through pruning wounds) or something else? Was it my fault for attempting to sort out the mess someone else had made? Perhaps I should have just left well alone?

On the plus side, this tree's  still a prolific fruiter, so I shall wait and see what transpires next year. I'd appreciate advice from anyone who can give me a diagnosis, too.

The path that leads back to Horticultural

It's been a while, I admit, but it's time to bring my personal blog out of cold storage.

Why? I did an interview about blogging the other day in which I was asked for my advice to other bloggers, and one of the things I said was "keep blogging". I stopped blogging here for a number of reasons, mainly because the new Guardian gardening blog, set up in January, ate up all my blogging mojo. The other reason was not much was going on for me garden-wise - we moved house a year ago, and there was a lot to do inside before I could tackle the garden. it's hard to keep the blogging momentum going when all you're feeling is frustration that you can't do any gardening while waiting for the plaster to dry.

Now things are getting easier at home, the garden revamp is on the horizon, the fruit trees are heavy with fruit and I have stuff to blog about again. So I am making like Robbie Williams and staging a comeback.

So what's happening around these parts? Well, I am in full preserves mode, making good use of my two fruit trees - a Victoria plum and an as yet unidentified early pear tree*. My tomatoes have seen off a touch of blight and romped through to a successful harvest - I'll post soon about my favourites from the varieties I tried this year. But pretty they ain't. The plants look a complete mess, due to a staking disaster, again, more of which later. And I've been experimenting with various houseplant planting schemes which I'm looking forward to sharing with you too.

In the meantime enjoy this rather mysterious pic above, which really is the path to Horticultural - well kinda. It's the footpath from my old house to my allotment-as-was. It's looking pristine-ish here, but it always used to amaze me that people in the houses backing onto the alley chucked their garden waste over the fence as if no one would notice. People sometimes as if I miss having an allotment - the answer is yes, sometimes, but now I have a 70ft garden I don't have the energy or time for both. But I do hope I've got the energy for two blogs.

*I suspect it's Jargonelle or Onward - if you have either, please take a look at this pic of a slightly underripe specimen and tell me if I am right

Gardeners' World gets a new home

Berryfields is no more.

No, I don't mean it's been smashed to smithereens by a meteorite, just that Gardeners' World won't be filmed there any more. This comes as no surprise, really - each new lead presenter likes to make their mark on the show, and so it is with Toby Buckland. The new territory will be a chance for him to stamp his identity on a new arena. The BBC press release says:

In the new series, starting in April, new presenter Toby Buckland and his team will face the challenge of transforming a muddy grassy playing field into the nation's new back garden, and viewers will be able to follow its progress across the coming year. Toby's ambitious plans for the site include creating a huge and colourful "urban meadow" sown from hardy garden annuals and featuring a stunning range of sunflowers and dahlias. This will be a haven for city insects and especially for the declining bee population. His new city vegetable garden will give inspiration to the many trying to grow their own in their own back yards. The garden location will also feature a row of front and back gardens, reflecting the very small urban and suburban spaces that many of us have to garden in.

Sounds as if this new garden "in the heart of Birmingham" won't have the feel of "country estate garden" that Berryfields has always carried. And that's got to be a good thing, right? I mean, who on earth has room for a pond that size? I likek the sound of the city veg garden, being that way inclined, but wonder what the front and back gardens will be like. It's really hard for these kind of supposedly "real" TV gardens to feel genuine because, well, unlike most of our gardens they'll be preened for TV. No cat poo on the lawn, no faded plastic children's wheelbarrow half-slung into the flower bed, no compost heap with the lid half off and and adorned with a fetching old pink sheet - or is that just my garden?

Interestingly, the presser also says that viewers will be invited into the "new GW potting shed at the end of the show, to discuss pictures and messages and decide "what's hot and what's not" in the gardening world each week". Can't figure out of this is going to be cool or deadly or just boring. Guess it depends on what viewers they pick.

 

The slow gardening movement

I can't remember who it was I spoke to (by which I probably mean "had an email exchange with") recently about "slow gardening"  - maybe it was fellow blogger Allan Shepherd - but it's something I am dwelling on at the moment.

Since moving into the new house in late August, I have managed to plant up a few containers, repot a Japanese maple, plant about half my spring bulbs, fill a compost bin and pick a lot of plums and pears. Oh, and apply grease bands. And keep my wormery happy. And sow some salads, foxgloves and herbs.

Wow, it sounds like a lot more than it looks when I write it all down, but when I look outside all I can see are the numerous tasks that I can't get around to yet - either lack of time to plan (replacing decking, getting garden office rebuilt) or time to get stuck into big jobs (ripping out garden path and increasing size of borders) or just a lack of five minutes to spae (removing mummified fruit from plum tree, collecting leaves for leaf mould) are to blame. (Not to mention the piffling matter of money for such serious hard landscaping ...)

So I have to remember that gardening is meant to be about enjoying the outdoors, not ticking a list of jobs to be completed and getting stressed when I don't meet my expectations. And that, like the bulk of people who read this blog and the gardens features in Weekend, which I edit, are in the same boat: not so much Ground Force as Ground to a Complete Stop at this time of year.

I am trying to stop mentally beating myslf up that my garden won't win a Chelsea medal for the forseeable future and start setting myself more realistic targets. This month's target is to get the rest of my bulbs planted,  and put a couple of thyme plants alongside the Erigeron karvinskianus in the front garden. December targets (yes, I do plan ahead!) are putting a new tap on the wormery and sorting out a leaking water butt. Yes, I do love to live the high life ...

Coke, flames and big fat toads

In her Thrifty Gardener book, Alys Fowler recommends using Coca-Cola for killing off weeds in pavement cracks. Now, I have a particularly evil dandelion nestled in a crack outside my front door, so I bought some cola and applied it liberally.

Nothing. Nada. Dandelion thriving, growing even.

Damn you, Fowler!

Now here's the question - is it something specifically in Coke that kills weeds as opposed to the cheapo 39p Tesco own brand bottle I bought? Or is it one of those old wives tales that persists despite being useless, like knotting daffodil leaves after flowering? What about Diet Coke? My colleague Lia Leendertz tells me Coke is also supposed to remove limescale from toilets too but that didn't work for her either - just made the bowl brown.

Maybe it's all part of some cunning marketing ploy by Coke PR people looking to expand their market into new terrain, ie people with weed and/or limescale issues.

Anyway, I now have half a bottle of flat cheap cola sitting in my porch and I am going to be getting out my weed wand for a bit of late night flame throwing. This method definitely does work, although with something as pernicious as dandelions you need to keep at it for several weeks in a row. At least it puts the fear of god into any local ne'er-do-wells who happen to wander past after dark and see me laughing maniacally while prancing around crispy dandelion leaves and cackling "die, you bastards, die!"

Speaking of pernicious weeds, there are plans afoot to release a new biological control to deal with Japanese knotweed. This stuff is evil incarnate so I can see the attraction, but I'd urge caution: remember Toadzilla, folks...

First view: my new garden

Ignore the washing line in the corner: this is the new garden.

Actually it looks a bit better here than in real life. That's the pear tree in the corner - a Williams I think. The path has got to go because it's horrible and rubbly, and the border on the left is way too narrow. The border where the pear is is covered in grazel and some rather nasty little azaleas. It's a big area but it needs a total overhaul. That area could end up as veg beds or as a chicken/quail area (not if my partner has anything to do with it).

The  grass is the best it'll ever look because I don't care much for lawn maintenance. And maybe it's not very trendy but I rather like the hardy fuschia in the foregruond.

Mexican daisies come my way

One of the few downers since moving house has been the inevitable loss of a few small but useful things in the post-move chaos. The cable for my digital camera and the tiny person's changing bag being the most annoying. After several days of fruitless searching I am giving up and buying new replacements, which will of course be the cue for both items to turn up.

This is my longwinded explanation for the fact that I haven't posted any pictures of the new garden yet. There are only certain things I can work on at the moment, as I have already explained, and one of these is the front garden. Well I can't really call it a garden - it's a gravel driveway really. While that's all useful parking space, it needs what you might call softening - all that gravel and brick is a bit harsh, only eased by a pyrancantha by the front door.

I'm starting out simple. I bought a couple of small box balls and put them in tapering pots either side of the porch. But I needed some plants that wouldn't mind a gravelly, sunny outlook - I've been reading Margery Fish who was something of an obsessive on this front, and I had my eye on some Mexican daisies, or Erigeron Karvinskianus.

I've also seen it used to great effect against stone steps, as per Point and Shoot Kinda Gal's picture above - for example on some steps at the lovely Kingston Maurward gardens in Dorset. In one of those rare instances of synchronicity, someone at the local cafe was replanting some containers when the tiny P and I stopped for tea and a scone today, and I noticed she was turfing out some Mexican daisies. RESULT!

For a small donation (it's run by volunteers from local churches so I felt obliged) a Tesco bagful of E. karvinskianus were mine. We'll see how they get on - there really is very little in the way of soil so they'll have to be tough. (Cunningly I've put some in a pot in case the rest fail). Any other tips for what'll go with the daisies and cope with south-facing gravel? I am thinking the white forms of Campanula carpatica and C. pyramidalis and lots of thymes.

Hitting the deck

My animosity toward decking is well-documented. So it's only right that the garden gods have bestowed upon me a large patch of the stuff in my new garden.

In fact I shouldn't grace the surface with the title of decking, as it's not easy as swish as that - just a lot of wooden planks really. As my daughter and I discovered the other day while walking about on it, it's devilishly slippery when wet. She could hardly keep her Peppa Pig wellies from shooting out beneath her, and I fared only a little better. We rapidly retreated inside before we were, quite literally, decked.

I shouldn't moan about my new garden, as it's got a lot going for it. It's about 70ft (so the estate agent's bumph claimed) and has the aforementioned lush plum and pear trees. There's a tumbledown garage alongside the decking that we're hoping to turn into a useful building, with a garden office at one end, with my potting shed domain at the other. The rest is mainly lawn and a weird gravel bed at the back with a few sad looking shrubs. But it's got oodles of potential and I am looking forward to licking it into shape. Very slowly, probably - but first things first, the decking has to go. I am thinking of slate paving, or maybe Yorkstone or brick, broken up with some railway-sleeper raised beds for some veg and so forth.

It'll take a while to get this organised, as I think the garage renovation will need to go hand-in-hand with the new patio. So, in the meantime, anyone got cunning tips for saving a little girl and her mum from slippery wood surfaces every time it rains?

My new garden: plums and pears galore

If I had to pick just two fruit trees to cultivate, I'd choose a plum and a pear.

In a rare bout of happy coincidence/fate/God's will being done (delete according to your prevailing ideology) the garden of my new house contains those very trees. Even better, the plums are at their peak right now: the tree is dripping with them and the lawn beneath is littered with windfalls. My daughter, who has up until now been in thrall to the organic desert pear ("PA" was one of her first words), spurned her cereal this morning in favour of three plums. The pear tree looks equally productive but the fruit isn't quite ripe yet. No pictures as yet, until I can locate a camera amid the wreckage of boxes that is every room in the house right now.

I've never owned these trees before so I'd love some guidance on good books for fruit tree care (idiot-proof guide to pruning, please) and also on how to identify what varieties they are. I suspect the plum is a Victoria and the pear a comice or similar but it would be good to have a definitive answer.

In the meantime, it's fresh fruit all round and some serious jam making at the weekend - unpacking will have to wait.

Also - don't tell Rick, but I have a blue hydrangea. A small one. As Garden Monkey has pointed out, these are controversial plants. My plan is to get some Hydrangea 'Annabelle' to convince him of the worth of this group of plants, and then convert him to the more 'old school' varieties in time.