Last week, we became aware of the change of the seasons, with the first frost making its appearance. The leaves are really starting to change now – the beech hedge in the flower garden forms a multi-coloured backdrop to the roses, which are bravely clinging on as long as they can.
We took advantage of some mild weather and some autumn sunshine over the weekend to do some much-needed tidying up. D started with the tall evergreen hedge which separates us from next door. Getting out the old hedge trimmers, he made a start. It is not a job he enjoys – it is time consuming, the trimmers are heavy and the results are never as good as he would like. Clearing up afterwards is hard work, too, raking and shovelling leaves and branches from the lawn, just praying it will all fit into the brown garden waste bin.
This time, disaster struck, Before he got very far, there was a smell of burning and black smoke started to belch from the trimmers. The thick hedge had finally broken them. Cursing, we made an emergency dash to Screwfix for a new set of trimmers. Well, it made a change from B&Q, I suppose.
Regular readers may remember that garden power tools are not my field. The summer D spent cutting my grass in Scotland using a mower with no blades in it was a case in point. As the hedge trimmers were even older than that mower, it should have been no surprise that replacing them was one of our better decisions. We got back in time to finish the hedge, which D did in record time. The new tool is lighter, sharper and far more effective than the old one. In what felt like a few minutes, we had a neat hedge which looked better than it ever had before and D was finally happy with the result.
In the meantime, I had weeded and tidied, dead-headed and dug to remove remains of summer annuals from the rose and hydrangea beds. All that remains to do in the flower garden is to tame the herbs (again!) and clear the bed near the Pampas grass, which regularly becomes overrun with an insidious, mat-forming and foul-smelling weed. We have no idea what it is, just that it is impossible to get rid of. We decided to save all that for another day, though.
Buoyed up by the success of his new toy – sorry, power tool – D was keen to carry on the next day, turning his attentions to our much-neglected front garden. It is intended to be a low-maintenance space, but it is amazing even here how quickly nature reclaims its own. The privet hedge creeps higher and fuller every year, almost without us noticing, while the ivy spreads its tendrils, taking a firmer hold of the hedge and spreading outwards across the gravel towards the house. The holly which grows through the yellow forsythia (itself reaching ever higher towards the sky) becomes denser and spikier and guests climbing out of their cars on the drive find a treacherous welcome as the decorative grass trips them up, intending it seems to lure them into the arms of yet another holly. This one is ludicrously shaped into an overgrown lollipop and appears as innocuous as the Ghostbusters Marshmallow Man, while being just as dangerous. And everywhere, curling its stems through everything it can, there is bindweed.
In short, without us realising, we were slowly being enveloped by foliage worthy of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Unfortunately, though, I hadn’t slept as well as her the night before, so I was not in the mood to face it. D, ever-sensible, talked me round. “Half an hour,” he promised. “Just to get the hedge cut, that’s all it really needs.” Longing for a bath and a nap, I reluctantly agreed.
It is remarkable how gardening restores a tired body and a lethargic spirit, recharging batteries better than any nap could. Two hours later (so much for D’s half an hour!) we had tamed the wilderness, at least a little. The hedge was cut, the bushes trimmed to an even height and the ivy thinned. There wasn’t much we could do with the grass – it desperately needs moving further away from the drive but it is so huge, we wouldn’t know where to start (and even we know that November is not the month to try). I was determined, however, to reduce the lollipop holly to a more manageable size. I certainly did that, but I think we can safely say that topiary is not my strong point.
There is still a long way to go to make the front garden into a space we will be proud of. Nettles are still threatening the plants we bought earlier in the year and the bed near the front door is still terribly untidy and eye-catching for all the wrong reasons. However, the space feels twice the size that it did and, for now at least, we can go bed without fear of waking up in a hundred years, with the house totally smothered in forest.