Time to ask not what your garden can do for you

Kirsty Mcluckie on the delights of blooms

ext Tuesday sees the opening of the Chelsea Flower show, and writing about glorious gardens for the feature this week concentrated my mind on my own outside space. It is not a happy story. We built the house in what was essentially an overgrown orchard 12 years ago and apart from seeding the ground and mowing the resulting lawn and planting the odd tree, we have done little to it since.

I’m well aware that making the most of the garden can add a great deal – some estimate that an excellent, practical garden can add up to 20 per cent of the value of the house – and that is aside from all the health and soul benefits of being surrounded by beautiful blooms, wellkept terraces and wildlifeattracting plants.

I don’t even have the excuse of lacking green fingers.

When it comes to growing fruit and vegetables, both in the community polytunnel a mile away, and the apple, plum and pear trees I have planted in the garden, I’m very enthusiastic.

My one raised bed, set in a picturesque spot outside the dining room window contains cabbages rather than more ornamental plants and my hanging baskets will be planted up this year with tumbling tomatoes.

Being more of a vegetable gardener, I actually feel a bit resentful at spending time and money tending greenery that gives nothing edible back.

It is an irrational thought, I am aware, like being vaguely resentful of the Made in Chelsea types of the beautiful rich, who, while aesthetically pleasing don’t seem to have much purpose in life or do anything useful.

I feel the same way about wasps compared to bees, or keeping guinea pigs as pets rather than hens – why appreciate the former when the latter can actually contribute something?

However, this year I am determined to change my attitude, and my garden.

My new mantra will be ask not what your garden can do for you, but what you can do for your garden.

I’m also aware that with the children growing up and leaving home, we won’t need this place much longer and an attractive garden, given a few years to mature, should make the house more saleable when the time comes.

While I would love to be able to call in landscapers for a thorough makeover, I don’t have the funds to commission professionals.

Nor do I have an engaging back story to tempt a TV production company with the sort of Ground Force team likely to transform the space in a weekend.

I doubt that the reasons for the house being surrounded by overgrown wilderness – my inherent laziness – would make for a good emotional journey, compared to more deserving cases.

But I’ve started already, compiling a plan for the front of the house, which is unfortunate in that it gets little sun, has a high water table and I suspect, contains a lot of rubble left over from the build just under the surface.

It isn’t the most fertile place to begin, but apparently shade-loving ferns might do well, and possibly a witch hazel tree, although being a useful plant that perhaps goes against my new aesthetic.

Starting the work while I still have teenagers in the house to be persuaded, or chastised, into the heavy digging means that time is of the essence.

Any advice from readers will be gratefully received.