Winter Ruminations

Winter for obvious reasons is the traditional time for such an activity, in an ideal world sitting in front of an open fire, with some thing liquid to hand, and surrounded by various plant and seed catalogues with which to plan  next years offensive. Here I have been doing rather more of this than usual, since though not a cold winter, it has been a very rainy one - last year was the driest one we have experienced, but during the month of January we had practically 200mm of rain, when the average for January is around 60mm. Some people may take this exceptional rainfall as yet further evidence of 'global warming', since for them any slightly exceptional weather, whether 'hot' or 'cold' supports their case. For me it is merely evidence that as always the weather is unpredictable. But since living in South West France I have vowed never to complain about too much rain, since normally it is its lack that is the worry, so my only comment on the high rainfall will be that it has given one even more time for reflection than usual.

All in all, despite the dryness, 2012 was a good gardening year for us. Trees planted some five years ago when rather small are at last beginning to be noticed. The south facing bank below the house has been more or less cleared of unwanted scrub, though not as yet, of all unwanted weeds, and is beginning to look at least meant. Our biggest change was the result of the removal of an electric poteau, this at the end of our chief vista. Getting rid of it required enormous patience, and a good deal of money, but in the end has been worth it, especially as it involved making significant paths through our small wood resulting in a glimpse though to the end of our property with the result that the garden seems to have lengthened considerably. But the chief reason for removing the poteau was that, being extremely close to, it distracted the eye from what is perhaps the chief feature of this garden, a very fine oak about 400 meters away, and more or less directly in front of our front door.

I have mentioned before that I consider myself a rather inadequate garden designer, being amongst other things too distracted and excited by individual plants to worry too much about how to put them together. But I guess that over the years  one learns a little, and I suppose that my one advice to a beginner would be to try and concentrate on one or two simple decisions, and the simple decision here was to concentrate on the aforesaid oak. This in turn decided the shape that the garden has taken: house, gravel garden, lawn - better called grass - pool, prairie garden, orchard, oak. Of course for this to work one needs to have the oak in the first place, another way of saying that it is the situation, with as sub clauses weather, and soil, that is all important. Do you have a view?  Are you very dry? Do you have a river? Are you on solid clay, etc, etc.? All these things are obvious, but in front of the winter fire is perhaps a good moment to ask whether amongst all the choices available one has got ones priorities right.

The conflict is often between what one likes and what is practical. I was brought up with what one might call English woodland gardens - snowdrops, bluebells, azaleas and rhododendrons - and such a garden still remains for me a kind of ideal . Here we have plenty of woodland, but when I contemplate my few remaining  snowdrops,I realise that such a garden is not going to work out here. I love an herbaceous/mixed border but are they happy here. Fortunately I do like roses, but if you don't you are in trouble, since in my experience it is the plant best suited to our conditions. What we do well out here is views, especially of the Pyrenees, but my one refection about this, and I fear not very original at that, is views tend to be more exciting, if focused and directed, or to put it another way, not too obvious. So I am a great believer in vantage points and surprises, easier said than done, since blocking off a wide view requires time and money, something that the 18th century aristocrat possessed but perhaps most of us do not.

Meanwhile the daffodils are up, though not as yet in flower here,while the little Iris reticulatas are. The weeds are beginning to grow, as indeed the grass. The time for reflection will soon be over, and only too soon the battle will recommence.