Recently I counted the rose bushes in my garden and was surprised to have more than forty. You'd exepct from that number to overwhelmed with rose blooms when you enter the garden but they are well spaced and blend in to the other planting. There is plenty of room for more. At my previous home I had a designated rose garden that was a mass of roses and clematis is summer but here I have to be more subtle. Looking around, I am constantly seeking new places to plant them. Luckily my trusty under gardener loves them too so when I suggested building a rose walk he was very willing. The shady place we walked right past Choosing the site took some time. We could place arches over the existing path, or a pergola against the house but in the end we opted for a shady part of the garden that was in definite need of brightening up. Although the ...

It is absolutely ages since I last posted and I have no excuses. I haven't stopped gardening, or breathing either, for that matter. I've published two more Historical Fiction novels and made a few historical gowns in that time as well as ordinary life things. There have been some changes in the garden too. The area near the greenhouse is now a very well established with soothing English country garden style planting. We added a central bed a few years ago and that is now chock full of plants that will need thining next spring. We also made a raised pond with planting area either side that adds another dimension to the space and added a pergola to the shed so that, having run out of ground, we can grow vertical climbers.                               I've also begun to experiment with jungle planting. I keep them in pots mainly. Our patio is shaded all morning and baking sun in the afternoon and into t...

You really don’t need to spend a fortune on equipment in order to create a pretty garden. For many years I gardened on a very tiny budget. Of course it is lovely to have the fanciest pots and planters, and buy ready grown plants from the garden centre but it is possible to fill your plot with colour and vegetables in just one season. Doing it all from scratch is immensely satisfying, get your kids involved if you have them, get your partner involved and reach out to the community of gardeners around you. Start sowing seed early in the season. February to March is the time to get salad crops started, and choose what annuals what you fancy. If you are a novice go for easy to grow things like marigolds, chives, cosmos, antirrhinums, nasturtiums and sunflowers; climbers like sweet peas, morning glory and canary bird to hide an ugly fence or grow up rustic obelisks. The seed packet will be labelled as annuals and will flower in the first year. You can either sprinkle where you...

Troublesome bed last summer Last week, despite the temperature, I piled on my jumpers and ventured outside to clear away more winter debris. Once I raked away dead leaves I could see the new shoots thrusting up from the soil and felt instantly better. At this time of year it is mostly 'housework' - it is rather like tidying up the morning after a heavy party but without the beer cans. I managed to surface tidy every bed, and lightly forked a few. Then the rain came back and after being chased out of the greenhouse by a monstrous spider, I was housebound again. Yesterday, it was sunny for a while so I went out again and today although the sun didn't put in an appearance, it wasn't cold. I persuaded my old fella to take a short break from the bathroom he is installing and replace the greenhouse glazing that was blown out over the course of the winter - now, I am worrying it will get windy and smash it all over again! I've cut back the fuchsias and tucked them...

It is the last day of January and already it's been a tough year for me so far. The first month is always the worst; no money after Christmas, cold, long evenings, the garden assaulted by wind and salt and rain, not much fun on the beach in the biting cold wind. Since the end of autumn, as can be expected, we've had nothing but gales and rain, with just the odd bright day to keep us from total despair. I have always suffered with winter blues, perhaps I should live in a climate that allows you to garden all year round for it is the number one cure for depression. But now January is over; I have made it through the dark times, and can now venture outside to see what is happening. The bulbs are up, the daffodils just beginning to bloom, but unfortunately a nasty little mouse has eaten all the crocus I planted last autumn. (Note to self: Next year take precautions to protect crocus from vermin.)  Some things are blooming that really have no right to at this time...

A month of so ago my old fella and I were sitting on our swinging hammock, sipping coffee, listening to the birds, enjoying the sunshine and the feeling that all the major tasks we'd set ourselves for summer were over. I'd begun to toy with the idea of days out, walks on the beach, leisurely picnics ... "I've had an idea," he says, jerking me from my dreaming. "I'm going to build you a better greenhouse." "O - kaaaay," I said, interest piqued. old teeny tiny greenhouse interior (see massive phormium behind) When we moved I said I wouldn't need a greenhouse with such a comparitively small garden but that had quickly proved false and we soon realised we couldn't do without one. Luckily enough, early last year we purchased a small second hand one from a local swap shop. It was a snip at £20 and we only had to buy a few bits of glass to complete the glazing. I was thrilled with it but by spring it was bursting at the seam...

The night before It was late June, we'd had weeks of lovely mild weather, long afternoons and evenings of tender care had produced a joyful, tranquil effect.  I could barely tear myself away to go to bed. That night, smug and happy with my garden. I lay awake thinking of it, picturing it in my mind. Circling the pristine lawn, the roses were in full bloom, the foliage of the trees lush and green, diffusing the sunshine; the ornamental grasses swaying in the slight breeze, the giant daisies standing proud, the fuschias dancing in the late evening light.  Miss Bateman (clematis) unknown Rose and Hardy Geranium The next morning I stood, coffee in hand, in dismay as I watched it lashed by rain brought in on a ferocious north westerly wind. The trees dashed their arms like mad men, their leaves falling like confetti; the roses dripping wet, their petals swept away to stick fast to the patio windows. I could not bear to watch but I could not look away. battered cou...