‘One is nearer God’s heart in a garden than any where else on earth’. Patience Strong
There are various ditties, rhymes, melodies, and phrases which unprompted have run in and out of my consciousness over the years. This is one such line.
Although I grew up with very little in the way of a garden, I can remember what we had with a keen intimacy.
The rather scraggy privet hedge behind the bus-stop; perfect for crawling inside of; the sweet hairy gooseberries, creeping through the fence from the neighbour’s plot, the spring-flowering currant and the perfumed jasmine, probably also from next door; the water butt by the back door shrouded by privet, which always needed a good trim; the window box which mother tried to keep full of summer colour; the cherry – did we really grow it from a pip? The swing on the corner of the kitchen, our enthusiasm for which nearly brought the wall down.
The magic of the daphne bush by the never-used front door. How could it produce the sweetest of blossom from the barest of branches, when it was still winter? And the wondrous japonica, with its blood red flowers and strong thorns rambling its way up the side of the house and into the upstairs sitting room window. And under the japonica, masses of fragrant lily-of-the valley.
A feast for the senses: the colour, the taste, and above all the perfume
Around the back was a separate world; somewhat derelict and neglected, nothing much seemed to grow. A rather rusty tanker housed the paraffin sold in the shop, and around the corner was the coal shed, to which delivery men regularly trudged with large lumpy sacks on their backs. I think there was an air-raid shelter around here, which in the post-war years of childhood provided the perfect play-house.
No visit to grandparents was complete without the walk around the garden, blackcurrant bushes at the end of one and raspberry canes in the other.
Leaving home for university marked the temporary end of these more intimate relationships with gardens. It was only when I lived off Ladbroke Grove in London that I began to thirst for green. In the summer we could escape onto a roof and sit in view of the plane trees, and, despite the parks, weekends usually brought a strong pull to leave the concrete jungle.
Then came our first family home in Walton-on-Thames: and there was the garden again, and the shed, and the opportunity to grow things. Singapore was next, where it was too hot, and someone else did the gardening for us. Watching the speed with which things took root and flourished in the tropics was magical.
A small cottage garden in back in England with lots of lovely pots from Singapore to grow things in was followed with the classic long back garden of suburban Croydon. Peter took refuge from suburbia right at the end under the Ash tree, I took refuge in the veggie plot, overrunning it with flatulence-inducing Jerusalem artichokes. Lucy played. Rupert watched and wondered. When the hurricane of 1989 felled the apple tree and destroyed the garden shed, he built a new one.
A temporary sojourn in a Winchester rental was a fallow period, though some plants survived in pots, and cuttings were rooted from an oversized bay tree. And then came 31 North Walls, where a stay of 15 years saw the growth of my first very own garden. There was planning to start with, but over the years spontaneity ruled. Plants were lost, put in all the wrong places, until eventually a sacred space emerged, and each morning began with the stillest and most special part of the day, the walk-around-with-the-first-cup-of-tea-time.
Now here we are in New Zealand, with, rather than a garden, more a space around the house. The previous owners and original planners of the property had chosen lots of pavers, lots of weed-matting and lots of pebbles. It was hard to find any soil at all. But we are getting there. I cannot create a whole garden, but I can create small garden-spaces.
We started by taking out most of the plants which had been dotted around the perimeter fence, and have provided a framework in the different beds with new planting, trying to put in as many natives as possible. At the moment there is a lot of green in different shades; getting in some colour is the next challenge. Seeds are now in seed trays, there are plans for some raised veggie boxes, and a larger project to mask the breeze-block wall which dominates the back area.
And spring is definitely on its way!