by Margery Fish
A bonfire burned in the middle of that desolation for many weeks, until one day Walter announced that the time had come to level the ground for a proper drive into the malthouse, which we used as a garage. I was told I must find another place to burn the barrowloads of weeds and muck I collected every day. I can remember arguing, without result, that the place where the bonfire burned could be left while the rest of the barton was tackled. I think Walter was very wise in being so firm with me. The only way to get jobs done is to be ruthless and definite.
There was no rubbish collection in those days, which was undoubtedly the reason for the horrible collection of stuff we found. Small things, such as china, glass and tins were collected by us in barrowloads and as a short cut Walter had holes dug in odd places and the stuff tipped into them. In course of time, as I have put more land into cultivation I have run into quite a number of these caches, and have decided that it really does not pay to take short cuts. Luckily we now have a regular salvage collection and having retrieved the grisly mementoes they are banished for good and all.
Between the barton and orchard were two walls, and Walter suggested we could make quite attractive rock gardens against them and thus add colour and interest to the barton. It was only after I had given my enthusiastic agreement that I discovered he wanted some way of disposing of the bigger rubbish that couldn’t be buried. So all the old oilstoves, bits of bedsteads, lumps of iron and rolls of wire netting were distributed against the walls, and the rest of the job was handed over to me.
Luckily we had a garden boy working for us then and he was allowed to help me cover the hardware with earth, and between us we ransacked the heaps of stones for the nicest looking specimens. Neither of us had ever done anything of the sort before but we constructed what we thought were two very fine gardens.
Soon after this some visitors appeared one day. One of them was an expert gardener and she didn’t get further than the first rock garden. I thought she was filled with admiration for our handiwork and was waiting for the applause. But I discovered she was trying to get up her courage to tell me that all the stones were put in at the wrong angle. Instead of tipping slightly inwards to make a good pocket of soil which would hold the rain, mine had an outward tilt so that the first really heavy shower would see a lot of the soil washed away and the water would run off what was left.
The stones had to remain as they were for several months, a monument to my ignorance, but one happy day a cousin with a genius for gardening visited us and remade the gardens for me. Although there is a distinct downward slope towards the gate he placed the stones to give the effect of level strata of outcrop, something I could never have dreamed of and have never ceased to admire. From the house the effect is a luxurious display of rock plants growing out of the wall.
I had very few real rock plants to begin with, and those that I had were very small, so the first season I kept up a succession of colourful effects with annuals. I do not know whether the soil was particularly good or as a beginner I took more trouble and followed instructions implicitly, or perhaps I was just lucky. Certainly I have never again grown such superlative Phlox Drummondii, dwarf antirrhinums, mignonette, zinnias, clarkia, godetia and candytuft, to mention only a few. For once, and once only, I achieved displays that really looked like the pictures on the packet, and I thought that it was all just too easy.
Not being an orthodox gardener I do not even now restrict myself to rock plants on these gardens, although I have quite a lot of them there. I like something a little more generous, so there are hyssops and ceratostigma, trailing potentillas and penstemon and, to give body a few dwarf shrubs, and against the wall such things as Veronica Haageana, coronilla, Salvia Grahamii and S. Greggii,and fabiana.
It was Walter’s idea to lay some flat stones in front of each of the rock gardens. He thought it would look more generous than having the gravel right up to the stones. To begin with they were only flat stones, but very soon I started planting between them and tried a few Dresden China daisies that had been given to me. The little daisies were an immediate success, because they enjoyed the cool root run between the stones, and I think found the ground that had been used for chickens produced a very rich diet. They increased so rapidly that it wasn’t long before I had every crevice filled with them, and in the spring when they were in full bloom the effect was very good.
Walter never showed much enthusiasm for the smaller plants I cherished so lovingly but the daisies were an exception. He wanted them everywhere, bands on either side of the path, and later when we planted flowering trees I was asked to encircle them with daisies.
I am afraid the manurial legacy from the chickens must have disappeared long ago but the daisies continue to thrive, and I think it is because I divide them so frequently. I give away hundreds every year and I meet them in the gardens of all my friends. There is only one thing to remember when dealing with these little daisies and that is to make sure the birds don’t uproot all the newly planted divisions. Nothing excites their curiosity or cupidity more, unless it is shallots. If I am doing a large area I find it saves a lot of time and casualties if I cotton them until they are firmly settled.
Having disposed of the rubbish we were at last able to consider the lay-out of the garden at the back of the house. We wanted it to be as simple as possible, as much grass as we could get and a generous drive to the old malthouse, which we were using as a garage. We had to leave enough room for a paved path from the house to the barton, and the rest of the level ground was to be taken up with a lawn that would stretch to the gate leading into the barton. We knew that the bigger the lawn the more spacious would be our garden. Just as a plain carpet pushes out the walls and makes a room bigger, so a wide stretch of uninterrupted grass gives a feeling of space and restfulness. Why, oh! why, will people cut up their lawns and fill them with horrid little beds? Usually the smaller the garden the more little beds are cut in the lawn making it smaller still. I can sympathize with the desire to grow more flowers, but one long bed grows just as many plants as a series of tiny ones, and avoids the restlessness and spottiness of small beds dotted about the lawn.
Walter was rabid on this subject and never ceased to exclaim at the foolishness of some of the people we knew. There was one garden in particular which we both liked when we first knew it. Then it was the rectory, and was just what a rectory garden should be. A wide flagged path led up to the house, turning at right angles to the gate. The rest of the garden was grassed, with fairly wide borders all round, under the high walls. The garden was not particularly well kept, nor were there very interesting plants growing in the borders, a good rector hasn’t time for that, but it was adequate and pleasant and just the setting for village fetes and summer meetings of the Mothers’ Union.
In time it ceased to be used as a rectory and came on the market. The next owner left it as it was, probably from lack of interest. Then it changed hands again and the new owners felt they had to do something to improve it. We thought they could have achieved this by concentrating on what was there. They could have replanted those ample borders with better plants, and introduced interesting climbers on the walls, but they thought there were all sorts of things that ought to be in a garden, no matter what size. So they worked very hard to cut up that peaceful old garden with hedges. The lawn was cut in half, more beds were made along the new hedges, in one half trees were dotted about a small stone monument, and mean little narrow paths intersected it still more. On the other side little bits of rock garden cropped up from the grass, there was a pond and a weeping tree, more little bits of paving and more little beds. If ever a garden was ruined that one was, and the new owners spent their lives clipping hedges and cutting round the horrid little beds.
Another garden we knew was ruined for Walter because the paths were too narrow and completely out of proportion to everything else. He liked breadth and generosity and a feeling of spaciousness in the garden as well as the house, and the elimination of all unnecessary detail.
One of the things we tried to do was to make the garden as much part of the house as possible. It was easier for us than some people because we made the garden round the house, and the construction of the house helped. The big door in the hall, where we always sat, opens directly into the garden. The hall is paved with flagstones and we paved the garden outside, which is on the same level. It was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began, in point of fact a great deal of the garden usually came into the house with me, and attention was continually being drawn to the shoe scraper and door-mat! In the summer the garden door is open all the time and we are always in and out. The front garden we paved too, and as the only way to reach it is through the house or round the road there were more reprimands when I carried baskets of plants or weeds through the house. In the winter there is always a wood fire smouldering on the open hearth in the hall, and it makes a wonderful funeral pyre for dangerous weeds, and a convenient source of supply when potash or charcoal are required for garden operations.
3. The Lawn
And so our lawn was taken right up to the high wall. I was grudgingly allowed a narrow bed in which to plant a few perennials and the climbers that were to clothe the wall, but I was warned that it was not to encroach too much on the precious green grass.
We were lucky in having one tree in the garden, a variegated sycamore. That was the tree we saw through the open door the day we decided to buy the house, and today it is the only thing that remains in the garden from those days. It is in the lawn, rather near the house, and the aspect would be very bleak without it. It is one of the tragedies of a new garden that all the trees must necessarily be very small, and I think we were extremely lucky to find one ready grown for us.
It took us several weeks to make our lawn. Making a lawn isn’t just a matter of raking the surface and sowing grass seed. Certainly it wasn’t for us. First of all the ground was by no means level and had to be levelled by driving in pegs at intervals. A long strip of wood with a spirit level strapped to it is placed on top of the pegs to get the right level.
We made all the mistakes imaginable because we were in such a hurry to get the job done. Our worst mistake was not to put in drainage. In light sandy or gravel soils this is not necessary but heavy clay like ours needs draining. A simple way of doing it is to dig a diagonal trench across the lawn, with a slight drop of an inch in a yard, to a corner where a pit is made filled with clinker (our brickbats could have been used). Agricultural pipes are put in the trench, covered with clinker, then gravel and lastly with earth. Tributary drains run into the main drain on each side, filled with clinker, gravel and earth. I have often considered draining our lawn but there never seems to be an opportunity for such a big operation, and we continue to have soggy patches where moss grows luxuriantly.
Another mistake we made was not to remove all the top soil before we started levelling. Walter thought it was sufficient to put some good sifted soil on top of the levelled ground, but I am sure one reason why we have such a poor lawn is because a lot of the infertile subsoil came to the top during the levelling process, and the precious bacteria and humus-laden top soil got buried under neath. I admit we grow excellent daisies and plaintain in our lawn but I am sure there is not sufficient depth of good soil under it to produce grass of velvety texture that is the hall-mark of a good lawn.
Sowing should be done in April or September. We chose September, and late September at that, but we should have done better to allow the soil to settle until the spring. We had to wait several days before the weather was right. It is no good sowing grass seed in a high wind, nor after heavy rain. The ideal moment is when the ground is not too dry and when a soft gentle rain is going to start after the sowing is done!
The levelled top soil should really be allowed to settle before it is raked to a fine tilth. Next the surface has to be firmed. We used a light roller, and this is quite satisfactory if the soil is not wet enough to stick to it. I have heard of people putting a sack of sand on a flat board and dragging that over the surface, and I believe in the old days gardeners had large flat wooden boards which they fastened to their feet with leather straps, rather like snow shoes.
It is most important to sow the seed evenly, and for this a double sowing is best. The lawn is divided by lines into sections a yard square. An ounce of grass seed is allowed for each square yard, and the first sowing is done walking up and down the lawn. Then the process is repeated walking across the lawn. We found the easiest way to get the right amount of seed was to measure it and for this we found a wineglass that just held an ounce.
After the seed is sown it must be raked well so that it is covered with earth, and then the surface has to be firmed again. After that we require gentle rain but, if it is not forthcoming, artificial watering must take its place, using a spray or a fine rose. The idea is to have the seed as closely embraced by damp earth as possible so that when germination takes place there are no air pockets to discourage the tiny thrusting roots. Birds sometimes enjoy a meal of grass seed, so it is really safest to cotton the ground after sowing.
Once a lawn is made it really should not require a lot of attention if it is cut regularly. To keep it in good condition a light dressing of granulated peat mixed with a little bonemeal and dried blood should be given in the winter. If there are weeds a selective weed-killer is used at the end of March, and in April a dressing of lawn sand will encourage new growth. Moss can be removed by raking and if rolling is done a spiked roller should be used to aerate the soil. Rolling with an ordinary roller does more harm than good, particularly with very heavy soils. The use of a lawn mower regularly gives it all the rolling it needs.
The question of dealing with the edge of a lawn is always a problem. If a paved path borders it there is no trouble, provided the path is slightly lower than the lawn so that the mower will not touch it when cutting the edge of the grass. But if a gravel path is next to the lawn there is always difficulty. The earth from the lawn inevitably falls on the gravel path, however carefully it is trimmed, and inevitably there is a crop of weeds at the edge of the path.
In the grand old gardens, which were made when cost did not matter, very often a neat stone coping was let into the ground, with a little gully between it and the lawn so that the mower could be used right up to the edge of the lawn. The gardens at Montacute House have neat rounded curbs of the local hamstone between all the lawns and paths. Very neat edgings can be made of concrete— not so awful as they sound because the concrete can be tinted to match the prevailing colour of the local stone, and then if they are still too new and glaring application of manure water will give them a weathered look.
We used stones between our lawn and the drive, but not even formal stones. Having enormous piles of rough hamstone from the various walls we had taken down, we thought it would be a good idea to build a low wall between the lawn and what was to be the drive. Our stones were all shapes and sizes but we chose the biggest and flattest and arranged them on top of each other, with earth between, to make a wall about eighteen inches high.
This was my first attempt at dry-stone-walling and I found it so fascinating that I repeated it in other parts of the garden. Between the stones and in every available crevice I tucked alpine plants. To begin with I hadn’t very much beside white arabis and stonecrops, with some rock campanula, but now the little wall is much more interesting, with great mounds of lemon alyssum and rock roses, lavenders and helichrysums, erigerons and cheiranthus, and occasional groups of dwarf iris and Campanula carpatica on lower levels. Walter was very pleased with our first wall and egged me on to make others, but he was less enthusiastic as time went on as he thought I was spending too much time ‘poking belly-crawlers into rat-holes’ instead of doing jobs he thought more important.
I made quite a deep gully between the lawn and the little wall, to give room for the mower, and that I endeavour to keep weeded, the grass cut regularly and the edges nicely trimmed.
I cannot stress too much
the importance of well-cut grass, good paths and well-trimmed hedges. With wifely stubbornness I am afraid I used to argue the point in my husband’s lifetime, resenting his oft repeated assertion that my part of the garden—the flowers— didn’t really matter. I know now that he was right when he said that the four essentials of a good garden are perfect lawns, paths, hedges and walls. No matter how beautiful they are, if the surroundings are unkempt, the flowers would give no pleasure, whereas one could have a perfectly good and satisfying garden without any flowers at all. I used to argue this point most heatedly but I have come to agree with him wholeheartedly. We all know how restful and beautiful a purely formal garden of grass and shaped trees can be. Italian gardens are lovely, and some of the formal gardens surrounding our stately homes would be spoilt by the introduction of flower-beds. And we all know the feeling of dissatisfaction of seeing a garden full of the most wonderful plants, everything rare and exotic, but quite ruined by weeds, unkempt lawns and untidy paths. Walter would no more have left his grass uncut or the edges un-trimmed than he would have neglected to shave. Do not think that he did not like flowers. He did very much, if they were properly grown and the setting was good. But he always looked at a garden as a whole, and the perfection of one plant did not compensate for neglect elsewhere.
4. Making Paths
When it came to the job of making paths I discovered that this was a subject on which Walter had very strong views, and I had many lectures on how to achieve perfection. He felt that there was nothing to beat a good gravel path, and a good gravel path was so hard that nothing would spoil the surface and weeds would find no foothold.
Turning the barton into a well-made drive, big enough to take a dozen cars, was a big operation. We were lucky in being spared the problem of drainage. There is a big slope from the malthouse to the gate-as friends have discovered when they have not braked their cars properly!