We all know there isn’t a lot of gardening in winter. The weather’s not much good and things don’t grow. You have to wait it out.
Which doesn’t mean that I haven’t wanted to get out there. Unusually I haven’t been working this winter, which makes the absence of gardening opportunities even more frustrating. Two freezing cold snaps in December and January didn’t help – it was hard enough to get out of bed, never mind outside!
So over the past couple of months we did a few chores that will pay off in the future. And we’re looking forward to Spring.
Waste not, want not
I’ve mentioned once or twice or twenty times that we get a lot of fallen leaves in the autumn. Until now we’ve allowed some leaves to lie where they fall, in little-trodden spots, like the bluebell wood, where they gradually become lovely mulch for future growth. And we’ve raked most of the rest up from paths, grass, beds and borders (where they might harbour disease) and stuck them in the garden bin. You know, the one the council collects every fortnight.
But that seems silly. Why not redirect the the leaves for the garden’s own benefit, rather than sending them away? So we dug out some stakes, a roll of chicken wire and a few bits of bamboo from the shed, et voila! A leaf cage.
The key is to make sure the leaves are really wet when they go in. Leaf mulch takes a surprisingly long time to break down – easily 2 years if you want the fine crumbly compost. But after a year is should be a good soil conditioner to dig into the vegetable beds and mulch the borders.
Long overdue surgery
That’s tree surgery, of course.
We have a mix of trees – holly, cherry, hazel and laurel – at the front of the property, where it meets the lane. It would be too generous to call it a hedge. It’s pretty dense and ragged. In fact it’s a mess. It menaces the power lines and overhangs the lane so far that it nearly reaches the other side. We are supposed to keep overhanging trees at least 5 metres clear of the roads – some of these branches are well below that.
In full leaf it blocks out light to the driveway so you seem to be entering a darkened tunnel. Which in turn means that it’s hard to get anything light-loving to grow beside the drive.
Not only that, but there are a couple of dead or diseased trees in there which, with a foul wind, might fall on the lane, or on people’s cars parked directly beneath.
So after talking it through with Gabe, our lovely tree surgeon, I made my first ever planning application all by myself (I don’t count the one we needed for the dodgy conifer in 2021 because that was done for us). Actually it’s called a section 211 notice, and it gives the council 6 weeks to object to cutting trees in a conservation area.
Of course they didn’t object and in mid-January we were able to go ahead. Gabe and Josh spent a day removing the diseased trunks, climbing with ropes to reduce the height of the remaining trees, and cutting the overhanging branches back to the boundary.
They shredded tons of twigs and smaller branches, and the chippings are now spread underneath the trees to gradually compost back into the ground. The logs from the diseased cherry and holly will sit in a shady place to create a habitat for small animals and insects. We even got a decent amount of firewood out of it and Simon is all set for a few chainsawing and log splitting sessions.
More light and more lambs
We expected the driveway to feel lighter, and it does. But we were surprised at how much better it looks and feels from inside the garden. There are now glimpses of fields and an attractive art deco house through the trees. It gives a greater sense of space and a relationship with the outside world, rather than being enclosed behind a dense wall of greenery.
The view from the house is much better too. By lowering the trees we can see more of the fields beyond, where sheep (and sometimes alpaca) graze. Just in time for lambing season – we should be able to see around 50% more gambolling this year.
In truth, the cut branches and stems all look a bit sparse in the middle of winter, but they will soon be covered in leaves again.
Dealing with the driveway
Of course by sorting out those trees, we now want to make the drive a bit nicer. It’s easy to forget about it when you’re just passing through, and consequently it’s one of the more neglected areas.
It’s steep, narrow and tight, with a hairpin bend thrown in for good measure. The shape is determined by the roots of our impressive Atlas cedar, and there’s another large conifer at the very top, before it widens out into parking space. Opposite the conifer is a collection of plain and spotted laurel, a scraggy, wispy, fir of some kind, elder and various fuchsias and whatnot. This is all threaded through with a solid covering of ivy. Have I mentioned how much I hate ivy?
There’s a rough stone wall on one side of the hairpin, with ferns and geraniums dotted about. They look good amongst the stones, but it’s a bit intimidating the first time you try to drive up there. We will soon be bringing home a new car, so there’s another incentive to keep stray branches and twigs in check.
There’s not much to tell about the actual work. Cutting, pruning, weeding, trimming. One revelation, once Laura had cut back the laurel and wispy bits, and cleared the compost that accrued underneath, is that the paving is at least 30 or 40cm wider than we thought. Check your edges, kids.
Last chance for the crap orchard
I’ve pruned the so-called ‘crap orchard’ (that’s what Peter called it when he showed us around). It consists of 4 fruit trees, at least some of which are apple but I couldn’t tell you which ones and what the others are. Why? Because since we moved here, there were about a dozen blossoms shared across all 4 trees. And ONE fruit.
Since we’ve removed some of the surrounding growth (a hawthorn and a rosa rugosa hedge), it’s allowed the area a bit more light. I figured we should give the crap orchard its best chance of doing something. The 3 bigger trees have just been growing directly upwards – I can’t blame them with the lack of light – so I’ve been trying to tackle that and give them an approximation of shape.
I did most of it single-handed, and roped in Simon for the last few, very tall branches. Let’s see if that makes any difference this Spring.
This is the crap orchard’s last chance. If it continues to be useless, it may have to make room for something else in that spot.
Looking forward
It’s the beginning of February and there are already signs of Spring. Snowdrops, the first camellia flowers, hellebores and buds on the earliest rhododendron. Bulbs pushing up leaves in borders, lawns, under trees and in the bluebell wood. Once again the garden is preparing to get busy.
Speaking of snowdrops, these are closely associated with Shaftesbury. There have been snowdrop festivals in the past and there are lots of unusual varieties planted all around the town. The Shaftesbury Arts Centre, where I’m a volunteer, has an annual snowdrop exhibition in the gallery. This year I decided to buy a picture to remind me of Shaftesbury always, wherever I may be. Here it is …
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