I've got some photos to share. I'll apologise in advance. I know most people's photos can often mean a lot more to them than they might to others (dog and cat photos excepted). But I'm hoping anyone viewing will understand the emotional attachments and maybe get a sense of how that works in what I do outside.
And I'll thank Simmo for kicking it off, because I always wanted to get some of this down. And now there's an opportunity.
Some preamble to set the scene.
So we lived (until last Nov) in a house in a small village. A pleasant enough cul-de-sac with about 30 houses in it. So a village setting, but still a (pleasant) estatey-type feel. Moved there from Maidenhead (a postage stamp garden attached to a new-build) about 13-14 years ago. I couldn't do much with that, so it was a great opportunity to take something that was almost a blank canvas ( a rectangular plot, sloping from the left-hand top corner all the way to the bottom right, probably around a 4-5 feet drop over the 20 metres or so) and transform it.
All that was in it was conifers - the big ones that get totally out of control. Right round the whole outer edge of the garden. They had to be cleared, then the slope taken care of by hand and by creating levels. I learned by doing that how much levels can create interesting and varying perspectives when seen from different angles.
You'll see from an upcoming photo that my planting is based on what I like to call 'organized chaos'. So the harder landscaping gives a canvas and contemporary form, and the planting isn't regimented (as in what some would call traditional borders), but is carried out to present a seeming mish-mash of form, size, and colour (more foliage, as opposed to flowers). But there's some up-front thought to how my brain perceives the overall whole, and how that overall whole might evolve over time and as plants grow and merge.
Anyway, separate from that, there was a (semi-run down) bungalow about 400 yards away which we used to pass every day on the way to the hilly area bordering the village. It was roughly the southernmost property in the village. Lovely outlook, 4 ft hedge at the bottom of the garden with just hillside stretching away for about 800 metres. There was a public footpath leading down its left-hand side where everyone would walk their dogs up to the hills.
I remember thinking every time how great it would be to own it. All the dog walkers could pop in for a cup of tea, a piece of cake, and a chat. Lovely. One day about 7 years ago it was suddenly up for sale at a very fair price. The owner - Mary - was well known in the village and had owned it since it was built sometime in the 70s. She had to go into a nursing home but wanted to sell to someone in the village who wasn't a developer just out to make a fast buck. We were lucky and got it.
But we couldn't afford to do anything with it. A fortunate big win had paid a chunk of the other mortgage (thank you Imperial Commander and Paddy, now that's another story!) but we still needed to borrow to cover it. We had to park the dreams of what to do with it and rent to cover the payments. We just did up what was practical with a bit of painting here and there, made it pleasant and liveable.
Back to the home around the corner. Here's a photo from late spring last year. Bearing in mind the plants herein were my babies. I'd grown some from seed, and others from a foot or so high over the last 12 or 13 years. 15 different Acer varieties, a rare horizontal silver-tipped fir, the only known example of a Japanese Pagoda tree ( Styphnolobium Japonicum) in Leicestershire, a stunning fastigiate Pine that had reached over 20 feet high and a couple of feet wide. Laburnums in pots grown from seed from the offspring of Dad's original Laburnum back in Southall. And of course, his other original ferns and Geraniums. And several others besides.
Oh, and you might picture some mad punter when Solemia won the Arc, standing roughly in the middle of what was previously the sloping lawn, in between rain-storms, listening on radio, on at 160 on the Exchange, and can probably imagine the 'encouragement' when she sounded beat but somehow came back to deny Orfevre in the final strides. Surely one of the greatest final furlong come-backs of all time. Certainly, the neighbours would have been wondering what was going on. Containment of the excitement was just impossible
Around the start of last year, the then current renters of the bungalow had decided to move on, and we were thinking 'maybe now's the time to do something with it'. But it was going to cost an arm and a leg. All building work does now. So this one had to sell or no way could it work. We took the plunge anyway. Borrowed the cash and got things moving.
I spent the autumn digging up whatever was feasible and ended up with twenty or so pots around the side of the house. For the established stuff, there was no way I'd be able to move most of them. I just had to hope the new owners (when they eventually came) would understand that there were several 'money can't buy' plants and trees in the garden (fortunately, that was ultimately the case).
Over at the back was my favorite Acer, a stunning small, red-leaved variety. Bit blurry, but in its glory mid last year...
And a few weeks before it turned this pinky shade...you can get a sense of the more red hues of the new season's growth...
But something went wrong that summer. I don't know what. By October, she was struggling badly. 13 years in the ground, I had to try and move her. And this is the result...now in a pot in the new garden.
But...look closely... about 6 inches up from the base...true resilience...
She's fighting, and might make it. Changed forever, no doubt. But the next 5-10 years might be interesting.
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A few posts back, I mentioned some less-than-ideal bricklaying skills.
I spent the whole of this last weekend on this one (including knocking a third of it down twice and rebuilding). But actually the end result isn't that bad. Even possibly one of my best. It looks like it slopes a little to the left, but that's more optical illusion than a pronounced slope (because it actually curves)...
It's not easy working with reclaims, especially for a pretend bricklayer working without lines and relying on eyesight and a spirit level. Some bricks are bent slightly already, so a non-skilled 'brickie' can find it even harder to keep a level. There are flaws, but I'll live with it. The rough-looking lower couple of courses will be hidden by seating.
That area to the left is the footpath where the dog walkers go. The plan is to leave the wall that high. I've already met dozens of people stopping to look at the transformation. Soon, the tea and cake bit might become a reality!
Now, looking the other way up the garden towards the house, a similar wall there done the weekend before has a definite slope down to the left. It'll have to come down. But clever disguise might work for a bit till I can get the brain into the right mode for knocking it all down and starting from scratch!
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If I don't get messages saying ' hell's bells, Chaumi. Give it a rest with the garden monologue, won't you', then I'll continue when time allows with some transitional photos of the rest of the new garden
And with that, it's good night from him and good night from him.
