My Garden Story

As I said in an earlier article, I wanted to look out of every room in the house into the garden and see something lovely.  There were two other things I thought I’d strive for; to plant a tree for every year I lived here, and to have something in flower every day of the year. The trees I managed, until the Great Wet when I lost six of them and I’m still trying to catch up, but the plantings took many years of trial and error to achieve. I’ll deal with these later.

The north-facing aspect where the sun rises in my bedroom window, and the kitchen, where the sun streams in for most of the day contains a table crammed with orchids and catalogues, where I spend most time. It gives on to a terrace. When I first moved in this was covered in faded black and white tiles and hemmed in by a white plastic fence which was in danger of falling over. With a little help it did, and we set about remaking it. The tiles went and were replaced with medium sized terracotta. Two sets of three sandstone steps led down to the lawn There was no fence. I fancied a couple of extras so I asked Peter the builder if I could have an adobe fireplace in one corner. like the ones in Georgia O’Keefe’s house in New Mexico. I didn’t know if he had ever heard of Georgia O’Keefe, but felt certain he’d look her up.

What do you want an outside fireplace for? Asked my son.

To barbecue, I said

But you’ve’ never barbecued in your life Mum.

He was right of course, I hadn’t, but it was an idea.

Next, I suggested a perspex roof so we could sit in the sun in winter.

No, chorused the architect and son. Why not? Because said the architect patiently, it would be so hot in the summer you wouldn’t be able to go out there. What about Sue and Peter’s Conservatory, I said, they live there summer and winter. It’s totally glassed in.  Yes, said Mark, and it’s in Buckinghamshire and, if you remember, Peter has to get a man every month with a long-handled broom and hose to come and clean off the bird shit. He was right again.  In the end I got a pergola across the width of the terrace which foams with white wisteria in the spring.  There are big tubs of camellias and gardenias, a climbing rose up one pillar, seasonal pots of tulips, a garden bench for potting up things, and in the corner nearest the house, a small flower bed with some dahlias, a couple of roses, a big red geranium, sprawling thyme and a ten year old sorrel, next to zucchini the most boring vegetable on the planet. Right in the corner is a big terracotta pot with a small olive tree – so I got my olives, but only one. The builders made me a table and benches out of leftover floorboards, and for the first few summers we ate here by candlelight. As the foliage around the perimeter increased the mosquitoes became a real nuisance, so we retreated indoors and now the table and benches support half a dozen hostas elevated well away from the snails. In the beds bordering two sides of the terrace, at one set of steps a pair of osmanthus fragrans whose scent drifts on the air from almost invisible flowers, three lilacs interspersed with two daphne, and a red carpet rose on the corner.