Month: January 2021

The Well Bed is circular, about 5m in diameter, edged with the local stone, in the centre of the courtyard at the front of the house. The bed had established conifers and lots of heathers – several varieties which flowered at different times of the year. Not being a huge fan of heathers, I have come to appreciate them, especially the one which spread out on the southern side of the bed facing the road, with purple flowers from December through to May – a plant in the right position to earn its keep. But it was the side facing the house, which we looked out at daily, which was disappointing. A large blue‑green prostrate conifer spread out, with a vigorous dark green heather pushing up amongst its branches, creating a dark and unattractive sight.   I had tinkered with this bed, planting annuals, bulbs and perennials around the juniper – but my efforts of improvement were thwarted!

Yes, rabbits.  I had been aware of what appeared to be rabbit holes in the Well bed when we arrived – I dug them over and placed stones over them. I enjoyed watching the occasional garden visitor but in 2020 it got out of hand.  In January four young baby rabbits were seen regularly emerging from underneath the juniper – the shoots from the bulbs, the heucheras and cinerarias I had so carefully planted gave them plenty of sustenance. They gradually got braver venturing to other beds, making short shrift of the small hebe plants I had carefully nurtured from self-sown seedlings.  After four weeks or so they were seen less often, and fewer of them – perhaps predated or at least left the garden?  I disturbed the holes I could reach, threw rubble under the juniper. Done. Oh no. Towards the end of February another litter emerged, this time at least five were seen. Again, the damage they did, this time to primroses and geranium shoots, was exasperating. The trouble with rabbits is that they breed – like rabbits! By the time the third litter appeared I’d had enough. The juniper and the rabbit warren underneath had to go.

The juniper was fully mature. I set about cutting the branches back, hard work – the branches were thick and gnarled – and painful from the vicious spines amongst the needles.  Gradually it was removed, and the chainsaw used to get as much of the root out as we could; it was piled up to dry before making a bonfire much later in the year.   As we worked, we finally uncovered the rabbit holes – several of them. 

Fearful that I might be burying the next generation – but hoping that the mother would have been scared off by our work – I dug them over, checking for other entrances elsewhere in the bed. My intention was to retain some of the heather, I cleared the bed, dug it over, spread some compost. On the day we finished clearing it, we were amused to see, just as the light was failing, a youngish rabbit, looking about himself in a rather bemused fashion: ‘I’m sure home was here somewhere…?’.  The following morning a much larger rabbit – the mother I assume – came and sat on top of the earth. Surely, this was no longer a safe place for her to raise another litter? She looked about under the other conifers and heathers before lolloping off. Over the coming weeks I checked carefully for signs of burrows in the bed – and elsewhere around the courtyard, as presumably, I’ve just moved them on.

We then had to abandon the Well bed – hopefully no longer a rabbit nursery – while our attention turned to building the dry-stone wall. So, it was late May, early June when I planted up the space vacated by the rabbit warren and juniper.  The heathers I’d tried to retain had died, so I had a blank bed to fill.  Two small skimmias, a small pernettya, and several silver‑leafed cinerarias, all of which had been in pots over winter were planted out; a small yellow leaved fuchsia which I’d planted two years previously, but which had struggled beside the juniper now had some space. The heucheras despite the rabbit damage had recovered as had the primroses. I planted my usual perennial stalwarts: verbena bonariensis, red valerian, hypericin tutsan, sedum spectabile, lady’s mantle, creeping diasca. Plus cornflowers and annuals cosmos and salvia (again care of my daughter-in-law). Then from long willow prunings, I constructed a wigwam, which provided a somewhat feeble support for some equally feeble (late‑sown) sweet peas. And of course I couldn’t resist including little paths: to the side of the well, and also to an improvised bench.

Nature again did what it does best: the plants thrived in this open, sunny – and rabbit‑free – space and within a few weeks it was crowded with flowering plants, including nasturtiums, self‑sown from those which had been devoured by caterpillars in previous years. And, of course, I succumbed to the temptation of another rose – when ordering the climbing roses for the pergola, I added The Lady’s Blush, a gentle, free‑flowering pink English Rose.  At one point, we suddenly saw a rabbit hole in the middle of the bed – enough to prompt the purchase of a live rabbit trap; it was placed in situ but nothing was caught and we convinced ourselves this was just an exploratory attempt, and it has not, as yet reappeared.  Of course, there is still plenty of evidence and indeed sightings of rabbits in the wider garden, but at least they are no longer living right in front of the house.

This is of course the Well bed – the stone well from which it takes its name, sits on the western side of the circular bed, protected by a timber and tiled roof. The ‘well’ however, is just a garden feature – disguising a manhole cover – not an ancient water source for farmyard animals; to some it might appear a bit twee, a bit of a cliché, but to my mind it is attractive. An established clematis grew on its western side when we arrived, which I was nervous about pruning; so far, the clematis had been disappointing, rather small dark red flowers, barely noticeable against the well roof tiles. I did some research and early in the year I made the bold decision to cut the old shoots right back down – it grew from beneath one of the more attractive golden heathers. I had expected to have killed it off – but no, new healthy shoots sprung up, and by August the well roof was clothed with a mass of good‑sized ruby-red flowers – even the colour appeared to be reinvigorated. I was delighted.

What was a rather unattractive bed prominently visible from all the rooms of the house has been transformed into a bed with a mix of small shrubs and perennials with plenty of room for colourful annuals to put on a summer display. Objective achieved. 

A couple of weeks of rest after completing the drystone wall, then we set about constructing a pergola between the end of the outbuilding and the raised bed – the fun bit for my other half. An ivy was removed from the end wall, which was cleaned, cracks filled and then painted brilliant white.

Three uprights were concreted into place within the raised bed, and the main horizontal struts fixed securely – and horizontally – to the outbuilding. The rafters – ten of them – were shaped at both ends, notches cut and then precisely positioned across the rafters. The end of the outbuilding faces west and gets a lot of sun, so we chose wide rafters which we hoped would provide some slated shade. Once erected a bright sunny afternoon showed that it did indeed give some shade.

Now for the fun bit for me – planting up the raised bed on the two sides of the seating area. I dug over the clayey soil and included some compost from the huge heap in the south‑west corner of the garden – hopefully lots of nutrients but also, I knew, countless weed seeds.  In mid‑summer retail premises were allowed to re‑open, so we visited our favourite nursery and returned with: ten small euonymus ‘Silver Queen’ to provide low hedging by the grass; a choisya Aztec Pearl an evergreen to screen off the rear of the outbuilding; lavatera and berberis shrubs to give some height; and penstemon Southgate Gem, Salvia Hot lips, and a schyzostylis Red Cape lily for bright colour. 

Then came the deliberation about what to get to climb over the pergola. Something with lots of flower, quick growing but not too vigorous. I considered a range of climbers, but inevitably I settled on roses – they grow so well in this garden, and they flower for so long. I made a careful selection and ordered them online – a pale pink climbing rose The Generous Gardener for the front upright and the white climber Iceberg for the rear, both have relatively few thorns, which hopefully will make training them up and across the pergola easier. From our local garden centre, a pink clematis, Empress was selected for the middle upright, with the low growing escallonia Red Dream to shade the roots of the clematis.

Over the next few weeks, I added various plants from elsewhere in the garden – the floriferous creeping diascia, flag iris rescued from beneath overhanging shrubs, a lavender also crowded out in the terrace, red lobelia Queen Victoria much loved of the rabbits, and the ubiquitous verbena bonariensis plus red valerian, aquilegia, wild marjoram and montbretia. And then plants raised from cuttings, division or seeds: perennial wallflower, salmon coloured heuchera, stipa Mexican feather grass, perennial monarda and annuals pink cosmos and godetia. The planting looked sparse and new.

It always astounds me how quickly plants grow in the summer. In just a couple of weeks the bed looked full and we were able to enjoy our new seating area surrounded by different coloured flowers, an abundance of foliage and the pleasure of watching the pollinating insects.

A sun-sail hung beneath the rafters gives more shade when needed, and is easily removed. Sharing it with family and friends has been very limited, as the pandemic restrictions continued.  But oh, how fortunate are we to have such a peaceful place in which to stay safe and look out at what we have achieved so far: three years ago there was nothing in this part of the garden other than grass, now there are borders, walls, steps, hedges, shrubs and trees, all nestled within the surrounding hills. Bliss.