“Gardens are a form of autobiography.”   


Spring is unfolding with daffodils, buds, blossoms and warmer days. Garden centres are bursting with colour, and the frenzy of growth is just around the corner. After a recent trip to Bell River Nursery, several trees are now waiting to be planted: a Teddy Bear Magnolia, Bay Tree standard, Silver Birch Trees, and several large Topiary Buxus plants, all delivered just in time for our present rainfall. So, now the garden has had a real boost both design-wise and practically. The pots of Armandi Clematis are in situ in large pots in the courtyard, and there is a sense of excitement that the garden is taking shape.

The shift towards Spring as the garden evolves is exhilarating. The light is welcome, extending the day, and this week has been warmer. There is nothing better than the realisation that one can garden for longer each day without so much protective gear on. Soon, only light clothes and a sun hat will replace beanies, work coats, and thick gloves. Due to the recent rain and all the digging and planting, good boots are a necessity and a dominant feature of the garden.

Each persons environment is unique to themselves

John Bolby
Gustave Caillebotte, Garden in Trouville, c.a 1882

Relocating a large rust coloured fountain was a triumph last week as well and the culmination of many trials and ideas of where to place it. Originally, the fountain was in the courtyard but was not working properly and was positioned off to the side, which appeared out of kilter. When we removed it to lay down the turf, it was a golden opportunity to find a better position. I think I’ve nailed the best spot: right outside the front door in a dear little garden area of Camellias and Hellebores. I’ve added white Azaleas and dwarf Stachys byzantina to the border and the garden looks lush and attractive as one comes and goes in and out of the front door, and also in the glow of the evening sunset.

Georgette Agutte, Coffee in the Garden, 1905

Our courtyard has developed with the laying of turf, excess pots removed, climbers planted for the trellis on the wall, and the arch-style seat previously known as ‘ The Tea Garden Seat’ relocated as a feature mid-centre on the wall. This poor steel seat/arch has been carted from one end of the garden to another and placed in many spots only lasting a day or two because it simply was not right. Today, in a moment of clarity, I found it is perfect in the courtyard.

Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.”

William Cowper
Claude Monet, Monet’s Garden at Giverny, 1900

The large raised garden bed has been transformed, and the soil is ready for planting. All the pots meant for elsewhere have been relocated, and the potting table is in place to style. Once planting is complete, all that’s left is for nature to bring on Spring, and a secluded, verdurous courtyard will follow.

Henri Edmond Cross, Two Women by the Shore, Mediterranean, 1896

A garden is a place where the gap between the human race and the natural world is bridged.

Ben Probert

The newness of each garden area is captivating. And, after making many decisions on plants, trees, pots, or seating placement, once it has all been worked out, there is that eureka moment that typifies the very best in gardening. Each step of completion helps to make the garden our own. Small steps in the process of attachment, identity, and familiarity are the beginnings of a safe haven or welcome sanctuary that all gardens can become.

Francis Picabia, Saint-Tropez, Sun Effect, 1909

As each day passes, I’m reminded of the restorative nature of gardening, and I’m relishing the time being back in a garden after so long. I have missed it. There is an ongoing process of balancing the reality of what is present with our dreams and making daily adjustments because, for sure, many of our garden hopes and desires will be impossible to achieve or may involve many changes, so the outcome may be different than anticipated. Trial and error is the mainstay of gardening.


 A deliciously fragrant rose has the wonderful ability to both calm us down and raise our spirits 

Michael Marriot

Claude Monet, Bend in the Epte River near Giverny, 1888

I love this aspect of gardening: refining and developing one’s ideas, getting to understand the climate, being aware of what will or won’t work, and being flexible with change as we care for our plant collections. With each addition to the garden, and as winter ends and buds form on the trees, the garden becomes more our own- little by little. I’m forging a relationship with what is already present, and the landscape structure is almost complete, so I am relying on nature now to bring those individual unique ideas into our first Spring in the garden.

At the end of the day, your feet should be dirty, your hair should be messy and your eyes sparkling.

Shanti
Anna De Weert, Flower Market in Menton -Côte d’Azur, 1928

It is a fascinating process to be to‧ing and fro‧ing with nature, and as we do our bit, there is a hope that nature will take over where we left off. As time passes, the outcome of the reciprocal relationship is that the gardener’s vision and support of nature form a garden. Subsequently, the garden begins to embody the people who live and work there. It may take some time to establish and bring one’s own soul and personality into a place. For this reason, I always feel the more you can work in a garden yourself, the more the garden will reflect you and your aims.

Gardening simply does not allow one to be mentally old, because too many hopes and dreams are yet to be realized.”

Alan Armitage
Oscar Ghiglia, Mrs Ojetti in the Rose Garden, 1907

It is often said that people lose themselves in garden work in a similar way to creative pursuits like painting or playing a musical instrument. We can become one with the task at hand and just go with the flow, becoming fully absorbed in the activity. In this way, gardening can be very therapeutic, calming, and replenishing.

The more help a person has in his garden, the less it belongs to him.

W H Davies

Blanche Hoschedé-Monet, Claude Monet’s Garden at Giverny

One of the highlights of rose lovers at this time of year is when the bare-root roses arrive at the end of winter. Usually, roses are ordered in Summer via the rose growers, so it has been a long wait anticipating their arrival. My selection that arrived yesterday has been soaking overnight. If the weather permits, and it is looking good so far, they will be planted this morning. This year, I feel spoilt, having had someone over late yesterday to dig all the holes with a large auger. It took only a few minutes, and I’m grateful I can enjoy the planting without hours of digging.


This is the real secret of life – to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realise it is play.”

Alan Watts

Pierre Bonnard, Sunlight, 1923

I am about to make the most significant change to our new landscape as the roses are planted. Yesterday, when I paused in the rain, I thought of all I had learned from the last time I planted those initial roses in our rural garden. I came up with this list to ensure I do it correctly.

My rules for planting bare-root roses:

  • Do it once and do it right.
  • Take some time designing the colour scheme.
  • Plant roses of the same variety in a cluster of three.
  • Soak bare-root roses overnight before planting.
  • Do not let them dry out, so leave the roses in a bucket of water as you plant.
  • Trim the roots back before planting.
  • Loosen the soil at the bottom of each hole and add water.
  • Add Seamungus to the hole before planting.
  • Make sure the roots are facing down to prevent suckers.
  • Position the graft of the rose 2.5 cm above ground level.
  • Fill with soil and press down firmly into place.
  • Trim the branches to 20 cm above the graft after planting.
  • Water thoroughly.
Henri Le Sidaner, Window with Carnations, Gerberoy, 1908.

Content Di Baker 2024

Title Quote Robert Dash, Horticulture 1993.

Title Image Blanche Hoschedé Monet, Chemin dans le jardin aux rosiers – Path in the Rose Garden.

First image Henri-Edmond Cross, The Rose Cloud, ca. 1896.

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