ardener's Whirl

Last Summer we had our back garden landscaped. Having learned over the years that dogs and formal knot gardens don't mix, and spurred on by the fact that we were getting a new puppy, we became inspired. The chap who came to create this Eden couldn't get his mind round the fact that we didn't want any grass - the previous dog had 'watered' most of it to death anyway, so there seemed no point in replacing what was fast becoming a waste-land. We discussed ideas and off he went. Two weeks later he came back with his colour-coded design - in the middle a large patch of green! "What's that?" we asked. "Grass," he said, "you can't have a garden with no grass." "Watch us," we said.

Finally, reluctantly, he replaced the green with brown, and the grass turned to easy-care gravel (ha!) - it was that or bark chippings, and our other dog used to eat those. Eventually the building site/quarry turned from a 'before' to an 'after', and amid steps and terraces, patios and huge rockeries, a formal pond (with a 'get-out' shelf) and borders all the way round to be filled with dog friendly flowering shrubs, we stood back and admired. All planted out we waited for the new Kew to flourish, and then Tessa arrived!

The first to go was a five foot lilac, chewed off to a height of about nine inches. Then two columnar plum trees - one down to two inches, the other to about eighteen - but with no bark. The garden centrepiece had been carefully prepared, dug deep, a porous membrane laid down, hard-core tamped solid, and three inches of gravel on top. Gradually, over the next few months, the holes that had taken to mysteriously appearing in the borders and along the fences moved to the central 'feature', as hard-core and pebbles flew and the weed-repelling skin was dragged out and shredded all over the rest of the garden. An outdoor yucca (given by a friend) just vanished overnight, and progressively other bushes, including roses and a berberis were 'hard pruned' - I suppose with no leaves they are only sticks to a Bernese puppy! Also during the Winter she tried to walk on water, but the ice cracked and a dirty, wet, weed-covered puppy climbed out of the pond and galloped indoors to share her experience with the sitting-room carpet.

Spring came, as did new bushes to replace those massacred, planted with chicken wire round them - not pretty, but functional. Bedding plants were replanted so many times that you could see them cringe every time she walked past. One morning a branch of the small apple tree disappeared, and as the flag irises and perennials came up they were demolished by a fat, fast-growing bottom plonking down on top of them.

Then came the fishing! All at once our girl noticed that the pond not only had swimmy things, it had snails. She would come in with her face dripping wet back to the throat and ears, indicating that it was time to go out and rescue half a dozen dried out snails from the path where she had spat them out, and return them to the water. She was most indignant - after all that hard work.

Finally we gave in - there was more gravel on the borders and paths than in the central area, sweeping it back was a losing battle, so in the words of the poet - if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Our gardener was called back (to his great amusement, I might add) and the gravel was all raked out, the hard-core and what was left of the shredded membrane reluctantly discarded, and the lot covered in a tastefully blended-in crazy paving - try digging through that, mate! Still, it looks nice, is so practical it hurts, and is O.K. for the grandchildren too.

Now ten months, and just over seven stone, she is still interested in horticulture. Just last week I noticed that the clematis going up the fence and shed started from a chewed stalk about a foot above the ground, and had no roots - we can replace it, I suppose. The half barrel filled with bulbs and pansies has been demolished (several times), and there are chicken wire fences round the flower-filled borders in the courtyard.

Each time she comes in with mud on her nose and paws our hearts sink; but yesterday I noticed that where the long-gone yucca was planted, a small, green, pointed shoot is bravely pushing its way up - into its newly erected wire cage. Hopefully, the rest of the garden will survive long enough for her to grow up and enjoy it - although I think she probably does that anyway, don't you?

June 1996

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