A Blenheim gardener turns a tiny garden into a lush plant repository.
Gifted, swapped or moved – the plants in this delightful small garden come from all sources
Even the dreariest garden patch can be turned into a place of enchantment with green fingers. Anne Bassett’s garden in suburban Blenheim is testament to this.
When Anne bought the property 20 years ago, there was no garden to speak of, just a fringe of dead lavender around the house and red geraniums up the drive. Anne, then in her mid-60s and with a wealth of gardening experience, had a vision: “I wanted to create a secret garden.”
She started by wheelbarrowing in her favourite plants from her previous property down the street. They were soon joined by dozens more, many snips and swaps from gardening friends. Two decades on, and the once-sterile small section is a luxuriant haven oozing charm at every turn.
Anne’s first love is for foliage, and size matters. “I prefer green because it’s restful, and I love all textures,” she says. The result is a rich tapestry in every shade of green with the over-sized architectural foliage of ligularias, plume poppies and oak-leafed hydrangeas among the giants adding drama and a sense of the surreal.
The stage set, then comes the sleight of hand. “I just put bits here and there to give a magical feel,” says Anne. A wrought iron
gate set a metre out from the wall leads nowhere but suggests infinite possibilities; a short path through spires of buxus lures the inquisitive to a tiny corner dell; mirrors are strategically placed to create both depth and illusion.
But perhaps the garden’s best-kept secret is the presence of a two-storey building just behind the back fence. When she learned that a rest home was going to be built on her boundary, Anne feared her little backyard was going to lose all its privacy. The space, once a small lawn with a rotary clothesline, is now a leafy courtyard more secluded than before.
The shady sanctum was created with a mix of hard landscaping and layered greenery. Plastered concrete block columns were erected along the boundary, with nautical wires running from their tops to pillars alongside the house. Anne trained Boston ivy along the wires, creating a leafy canopy that has blocked out the neighbouring building and turned the space into a garden room.
“I chose Boston ivy for its autumn colour, and because it holds its leaves for quite a long time,” she says. The cool green ceiling of summer becomes a fiery red roof in autumn and, when the leaves eventually fall, the welcome winter sun filters through.
Raised garden walls capped with