A garden with character

Frances MacDonald tells of her love affair with her southern Irish garden

Have you ever visited a large garden and felt envious of the usually small, but extremely pretty, head gardener's cottage - thinking how lovely it would be to live and work in such surroundings? It is probably the situation that most professional gardeners find themselves in at some stage during their career.

But working, and living, in those circumstances is a bit like having an affair with someone else's partner. The garden is beautiful - you lavish love, care and devotion on it, knowing deep down that it will never be yours. You also know that at some future stage, you will have to retire and be replaced by a younger model. This means your home goes also. The time comes when you have to go out in the real world and get your own garden - and preferably a house along with it.

It was 1989 - I was a late starter, but I drew inspiration from the wonderful Miss Jones, of Pencarrig, who began her garden from scratch at the age of 66.

I had fallen in love with the perfect plot about 10 years previously. It was now on the market. With the help of an understanding bank manager, my husband, Iain, and I managed to buy it. An added bonus was the lovely old farmhouse, but the main attraction was the land. Invisible from the road, behind a high wall and an old Lonicera nitida hedge was a sweeping acre and a half; an orchard neglected for more than 25 years, infested with ash trees and Rhododendron ponticum, plus the complete range of perennial weeds. What more could anyone ask for?

As we took possession in early spring, with greenhouse, more plants than furniture, one would have expected us to start planning beds immediately but for the first year we sprayed, removed ash trees and sprayed again and again. When I give lectures and mention this to the politically correct, organic, peat-free audiences, you would think I was akin to the garden version of a serial killer.

In the second year, we created levels, grassed everywhere and dutifully cut the endless lawn. Of course, we still spray paths and roses, but in the last 20 years we have never had to use another spray in the actual beds. We have no perennial weed problem and a sharp hoe on a hot day gets rid of the annuals.

Gardening to me is not about dealing with bindweed, ground elder, etc. It is all about planning, patience and then planting. Unless you are in your 90s, I would recommend a slow start. If you are in your 90s, just plant what you want and leave the problems for someone else.

I am lucky I live with a brilliant - and much younger - gardener. Someone with an overwhelming obsession could be very boring to share one's life with - it is easier when you can just bore each other. Of course, there are disadvantages - two visions must compromise. Sometimes I would like to be Snow White with seven strong dwarfs (without the singing) at my beck and call - the Prince could stay with the witch in the forest. I am sure Iain feels the same.

We started planting part of our main garden in the third year. We expected to finish it all in 10 years. We have underestimated by at least 30. It was exciting. The soil is perfect, neutral bordering on acidic, fertile and free draining. Living in what is regarded as the 'sunny, south-east', we have never experienced more than five degrees of frost. Wind was initially a problem as it is on every island, but hedges now filter it and we only lose plants in very wet winters - or summers.

An imaginary figure of eight is grassed. Serpentine borders run away from this outline. Trees, shrubs and herbaceous perennials that had been cared for while the preparation work was tediously done were planted. The advantage of working in other gardens helped, as the usual mistakes of over-planting were resisted. Structure was all important. Each of the six large borders contain some main characters - Parrotia persica, Cornus elegantissima 'Variegata', Arbutus unedo, Pittosporum tobira - glossy gree leaves shine through the year and the clusters of white scented flowers drift to the door in the summer. Rhododendron 'Christmas Cheer' flowers from November to February, calling you across the garden when most of it is dormant. Hamamellis 'Pallida' looks shapely but unexciting to the summer visitor, but scents the area in spring.

Betula pendula 'Dalecarlica' and Juniper hibernica provide vertical full stops. Phormiums 'Maori Chief', 'Cream Delight' and 'Yellow Wave' give a contrast leaf shape. Cornus kousa 'China Girl' sits on the point of a bed, smothered in white bracts in early summer, concealing the other inhabitants.

Although they had a sparse appearance initially, these plants now almost fill their allotted spaces. Spaces that had been temporarily filled by fast-growing shrubs with a shorter lifespan - hebes, ceanothus, cistus, and everywhere herbaceous perennials that could be divided and moved as the permanent plants required a bigger area.

Our next move was the obvious formal Rose Garden. I should say that the hedging around a square area had already been planted. It would have been perfect to have yew, but that was struggling elsewhere so we settled for Thuja plicata. It works wonderfully, the only disadvantage being that the casual observer presumes it is leylandii - a pet hate of many, although not all are connected to gardening. However, unlike the dreaded leylandii, they can be cut back into old wood and will regenerate.

The four rose beds, one colour in each but not the same variety or species, are defined with box hedging. It constantly amazes me that dead sticks in winter which require pruning, spraying, feeding and deadheading can produce the magnificent display of flower each year. A garden without a rose, to me, is pointless; although some people seem to prefer to have a dying banana or a struggling restio. Roses have crept into other parts of the garden, too. 'Wedding Day' is winning the fight to cover the barn, climbers and ramblers attempt to hide the house and shrub roses infiltrate the borders. Do roses have to have a scent to earn their place in the garden? The beautiful 'Pierre de Ronsard' should be viewed from a distance - the expected perfume doesn't materialise... a bit like someone who attracts you, then bores you stiff; it's preferable not to destroy the illusion.

We thought we had finished our plot, but were then confronted with the oppportunity to purchase another acre. This allowed us to be indulgent. Iain had somewhere for his Hot Border and I had a place for my Funereal Border. For some reason, our local undertaker finds it morbid. I love it. I like being prepared for death and this is where my ashes will go, mingled with the cats who have gone before me. It is a challenge. Plants must be dark leafed or sombre in name - Phormium 'Platt's Black', Physocarpus 'Diablo', Sambucus 'Black Lace', Pittosporum 'Tom Thumb', Eupatorium 'Chocolate', a dark form of Berberis 'Helmond's Pillar', Geranium phaeum (The Widow Geranium), black hellebores, majestic black irises.

I hope to die in summer when it is looking at its best, boosted by the clumps of Aeonium 'Zwartkop', the towering black hollyhocks, the cornflower 'Black Ball'. It is fronted by my favourite, Ophiopogon planiscapus 'Nigrescens' - an underrated gem, its dark lily-leafed foliage, shining in all weathers. Like most people who are arrogant enough to plan their funerals, I regret I won't be physically - or spiritually - present at mine. I don't want a party - there will be champagne, but plenty of weeping and sobbing; black-edged handkerchiefs provided.

We tried to develop a new area each winter - 2000 was the year of the water. A formal pond with classic proporations was dug out by hand and a neighbour obliged us and filled it with his slurry tanker, specially cleaned out for the operation. Pale yellow water lilies were given by a friend and symmetrical borders in a Gertrude Jekyll colour scheme were planted on either side. The yew hedge has provided shelter in this area. Most visitors who don't know me think this is my planting idea, but I explain it is Iain's - exploring his femininity.

Winter Interest

Behind our barn was an area that had poor soil and had been used during its farming days as a dumping ground for all stones and rubbish removed from the cultivated pastures. This has become our Barn Garden, a place for grasses and herbaceous perennials; winding borders with crushed slate paths. Although it is late to show its beauty, interest extends into winter. It is perfect in late summer when it seems to flow into the cornfield beyond it.

Our ongoing project since 1998 has been the creation of a woodland garden. Trees were planted on a sloping site down to a damp corner of the field. Slowly the areas around them have been extended to include shrubs - viburnums, rhododendrons, azaleas, camellias, magnolias. The under planting is covering well and now bulbs are finding a place. The lawned areas have narrowed into wide paths. It should look good in another 20 years. One of the trees is Pinus monezumae. Grown from seed by Iain, it moved with us and was confined to increasingly bigger pots for nearly 10 years. It was so thrilled to get into the ground and it now dominates the boundary.

Why do we garden? The cliché of exercise and communing with nature is probably true, but it is more - therapy for the depressed and broken-hearted, an acceptable creative outlet for the repressed male, a passion for the menopausal woman, a common bond for the empty-nesters, a fashion for the bored? Or most likely because, on a rare occasion, when we are not working in it or agonising over it, we get that exquisite rush of pleasure at the beauty of a plant in our garden which we have nurtured.

Our garden will never be finished. Each year we keep trying... visitors come and to them I am extremely grateful. Our plant sales help us to develop and maintain the garden and their entrance fees provide underwear and toothpaste for the local women's refuge. I think a career change is not an option..

From: Garden Answers, September 2008