I must have another bite at the cherry tree

THERE’S a small cherry tree in my front garden that’s clearly not thriving.

The lichen on it suggests it has been in its present spot for quite some while, but it has only four or five spindly branches and is showing few signs of having put on any fresh growth.

I suspect damp soil is the problem. Despite being on quite a steep slope, the ground here acts like a sponge and parts of it are constantly saturated.

Other things meanwhile are flourishing, including the camellias which are covered in fresh shoots that are at least 40cm in length.

You can tell all this growth has been made this year as it is still pliable and hasn’t had time to season into old wood yet.

At times, the excessive damp and mild conditions give my new garden an almost tropical atmosphere and while that’s good for many plants, it doesn’t suit everything.

Roses, I suspect, would like the heavy soil but are likely to be blighted by fungal conditions while Fuchsia magellanica thrives, throwing up long, green shoots from which slim, shell-pink flowers dangle like mother-ofpearl earrings.

I was talking about the conditions to Maurice Parkinson whose Ballyrobert Garden & Nursery in Antrim sits on a band of heavy clay in acres of free-draining farmland.

“Not all shrubs like this kind of soil, but it is ideal for perennials,” he told me.

“They cope with clay in ways that other things can’t.”

That’s good news, because most of my favourite plants fall into that category and even though some, like the big, shrubby euphorbias may be shorter-lived in damp and heavy soil, they are easy to raise afresh from cuttings so are still worth growing.

Some gardeners avoid many of the fussier perennials, preferring to grow plants that give them less work, but I like the business of nurturing the prima donnas into growth, coaxing them through cold earth, staking them against wind and rain, deadheading them to keep the show going and dividing them in autumn to retain their flowering potential.

These are the stars of the show, emerging in spring like actors on a stage, unfurling foliage and then flowers, before bowing out again when autumn comes to an end.

They add colour, scent and excitement and provide something to day dream about during the dark days of winter, when summer seems very far off.

Yet it never pays to ignore your supporting cast, so I’m going to have to find a way of rescuing my sad cherry tree.

But what? Digging it up might finish it off, and leave a huge hole in the grass, so I think I’ll give it a good, thick mulch while muttering “wood burner” under my breath and hope that it takes heed of the warning and starts to revive.