The Education of a Gardener

Rain Stops Play

 

After a frustrating delay of several weeks, we've finally started building work on the garden. The first step is to dig out steps- which will lead out from French Windows, which we've yet to install. The steps will be built from re-claimed creamy yellow London stock, leading onto a small raised gravelled terrace, and the new French Windows will line up with a slightly off-centre Gothick trellised arch- which should act as a focal point. 

 

 

I've got a thing about wide steps. I remember my grandmother (an expert gardener) lecturing me on this. Broad, generous steps are what you want; avoid those mean, narrow, mealy-mouthed things. At the same time, I'm not that keen on deep steps, with a high rise. The challenge is that the current level of the garden (the area which is going to become the gravelled terrace) is about 2 ½ ft higher than the basement ground level; so we've got quite a way to go, and in such a tiny garden, there's no space.

 

 

By the end of yesterday, I became neurotically punch-drunk through staring at the space for too long: had we dug out the steps too far back, leaving too small a space for the upper terrace? It looked like quite a squeeze.  This morning, I'm more rational, and I think it's going to be all right, especially when higher trellis is installed, emphasising the verticals; currently it's all about horizontals.

 

 

We've also excavated around the base of the Victorian ironwork pillar, revealing scraps of old mauve coloured paint. Mauveine was discovered in 1856, the first chemical dye. I suspect that this was the colour the ironwork was originally painted in- a far cry from Farrow and Ball.

And last night, the rain returned. Torrential rain, leaving the building site looking like something from The Somme.

 

Creating a plan

 

 

Trying to take photographs in such a small space is difficult. Here's another view of the border, taken from the dreaded point, looking back west, towards the house. We've inherited a fantastic jasmine, which over two years has really taken off. It's currently growing over a small garden shed in the corner (I suspect that it used to be the outside lav; I can just see Dad sitting there reading the Daily Mirror). Both it, and the barred kitchen windows are going: French windows (in a vaguely 1840 ish style) are going to replace the prison-like windows, so that they open out onto a small terrace, which will lead onto steps made from London brick. To give room for the new French windows to open properly, we're going to demolish the shed, and rebuild it the other side, underneath the ironwork steps.

The clipped topiary box ball is staying. At the moment there's a manky climbing rose (unknown variety), which has been planted far too close to the jasmine. It's actually a rather lovely colour (a deep red), and I suspect it may even be an old variety, but it ain't happy- has bad black spot, the leaves are turning yellow and falling off. I think it has to go. In the foreground, is another inherited unidentified rose climber. Again, nothing especially wrong with it, as such- it's a subtle creamy pink colour, but it's got the dreaded blackspot, and the flowers seem to be stunted. I'm probably going to rip it out and start again. I've already dug up another rose, which had been planted just behind the topiary ball. I suspect this some form of hybrid- it seemed to be disease resistent, and enjoyed vigorous growth- all good things, but was a nasty, bubble-gum pink colour. I'm delighted that it's gone. It was a horror.

 

Here's a photograph of the Marsh Spurge (Euphorbia palustris)- or at least, I think that's what it is- I've brought from my previous garden. It's currently in a terracotta pot- and seems to be reasonably happy, although the bottom leaves are turning yellow and dropping off. I've been feeding it like crazy. Unlike most euphorbias, being a marsh plant, it likes, or tolerates, damp, moist conditions, so I don't think that I am overwatering it. During the spring, you get fresh, lime coloured flowers. In the autumn the stems turn an interesting red/brown colour. It's slightly more unusual than the Euphorbia wulfenii. It's going to stay.

The brick wall in the background is in desperate need of re-pointing. I quite like it. There are decent Victorian bricks at the bottom, but the top half is built from modern, mass-produced bricks which don't do anything for me. I'm very tempted to paint it white. And as there's shade from four o' clock onwards, this would be no bad thing. But I'm not sure that reds will work especially well against it. Blood and Milk. It's not a good combination...