«
Helen
Peacocke reveals how she transformed a
wilderness into a delightful
rose garden. More gardening HERE; seasonal
recipes HERE.
It
is difficult to pin-point the exact
moment my garden in Acre End Street,
Eynsham turned into a jungle - but it
did. Suddenly the lawn vanished. In its
place an unkempt area of weeds tall
enough to hide a tiger or
two.
Flowerbeds
that once boasted fragrant collections
of herbs disappeared under a
tangled mass of woody sage bushes,
twisted shoots of ivy wrapped
themselves over the wall, and the path
dropped out of sight
completely.
It
was a mess and I was ashamed, mainly
because I'd failed to notice
that exact moment of transition from
garden to wilderness. I had to
bite the bullet and start the garden
all over
again.
But
where to start and what to plant? The
name of the cottage finally
determined that. What else can you
plant in the garden of ROSE
COTTAGE apart from roses?
And
so began the extraordinary task of
selecting the rose bushes, which
arrived by mail as bare-rooted plants
clothed in brown paper shrouds
and bound with
string.
Foxgloves,
campanula, pansies and hollyhocks were
also chosen to complement the
roses and create a cottage garden
feel.
And
all the while, throughout the various
changes, the robin looked on.
The blackbird too. Both surveying the
scene, waiting for my fork to
expose yet another worm.
Then,
as May gave way to June, the moment of
truth approached - but had I
got it right? Would William Lobb, a
rose chosen for his heavily
mossed buds and large purple-magenta
blooms, be happy on his own at
the bottom of the garden? Or should I
have given him some female
company - Gertrude Jekyll, perhaps?
Would
Capitaine John Ingram, considered to
be the most charming of all moss
roses, accept the crumbly conditions
of my soil and provide me with
the purple blooms I required, or would
this arrogant gentleman turn
dark crimson and throw my colour
scheme of pink, white and purple
into complete chaos?
I
was told he could turn from purple to
crimson if soil conditions or
weather don't agree and chose the
classic damask rose Comte de
Chambord instead, which, having
flourished in English gardens since
1863, would provide a constant supply
of deep pinkish-lilac flowers
throughout the
summer.
Then
there was Paws, a short bushy shrub.
Ordering this highly perfumed
beauty seemed a good idea at the time -
I wanted to pacify the dog,
provide him with a link with the newly
created garden on which his
paws were now
banned.
I
was confident that Reine des Violettes
will be happy. This beautiful
queen, who bears few thorns, was
planted just a few feet from The
Prince, known for his fragrant royal
purple full-rosette blooms. They
would certainly make good
bedfellows.
But
should I have planted them quite so
close to Brother Cadfael?
Reliable highly perfumed chap though
he is, he needs space to develop
naturally. Would he hold back if their
antics embarrassed him? Turn
towards the wall perhaps - ashamed to
watch their friendship develop
for fear that hybrids will emerge?
Such things have to be
considered.
Tuscany
Superb was certainly given enough
space and privacy to allow his
velvet blooms to emerge in full
strength, so was The Rambling Rector,
who has an entire lawn and an apple
tree in which to declare himself.
When a fellow is described as a
rampant climber renowned for vigour,
he has to be respected. Space he
needed - space he was given. He
rambled immediately as one possessed,
having accepted the challenge
of reaching the top of a 20 foot tree,
while thrusting out small
branches near his roots on which small
cream blooms formed perfectly.
What a sight he's going to be in a
couple of
years.
Then
there's: Pegasus, Carefree Days, Cider
Cup and Silver Anniversary,
would they get on with William Morris,
planted nearby?
Sally's
Rose would definitely flourish - I
had no concern about a rose which
shares the name of a much loved and
very tenacious friend who knows
how to fight for her own space. Others
such as Sweet Dreams, Flower
Power, and Peace will settle too - of
that there's no doubt. And
Albertine, (a gift from Oxfordshire's
leading rose grower, Robert
Mattock), a rambler known for her
superb double pink flowers, vigour
and strong constitution, who snuggled
into her corner by the shed
immediately.
The
late arrivals Picasso, the first of
Sam McGredy's hand-painted roses
and his companions Claude Monet, Paul
Cezanne and Grimaldi who
travelled from Delbard's French
nursery to bloom in my garden could
have been a problem particularly as I
don't speak French - but even
that's been sorted. I've planted them
close to Reine des Violettes,
who understands where they are coming
from.
With
all the roses in place - all I could
do was wait.
It
was when I noticed fledgling
blackbirds swooping round the garden
and
banging snail shells against the
paving stones I knew I'd got it
right.
click here to register your interest in participating in the community
