Slowly but surely getting to knowmy new garden

IT takes time to get to know a new garden and I’ve only just begun to learn about mine. But already I’ve discovered a few of its secrets.

For instance, there’s a spot under the trees where sweet violets grow on the bank and wild strawberries have spread themselves through most of the borders.

Hypericum, with its glossy black berries grows everywhere and I like the way in which small ferns appear from crevices between the stones that form the front wall of the raised bed in the front garden.

The other day I found a pale pink rose still flowering on the tangled climber that grows against a stretch of wall. I had thought of removing it, but now that I’ve seen what the flowers look like and inhaled the subtle, old-rose fragrance, I’m smitten so it will be staying.

I’ve never been overly-fond of purple-leaved shrubs but I’ve inherited a dark berberis that looks magnificent and there’s a purple continus that looks perfectly at home in its spot, set against a tall laurel hedge.

Both have provided lots of foliage to use among cut flowers and they’ve changed my views on the place of darkleaved plants in the garden.

I’m going to have to brush up on my pruning skills because, as well as the pink rose, I also have a wisteria that’s in need of some care and attention.

Pruning wisterias is a twiceyearly regime and it is a while since I’ve tackled one, so before I get busy with the secateurs I need to doublecheck what should be done.

Making progress slowly is probably the best approach to getting a handle on the garden as who knows what lies just beneath the surface and won’t reveal itself for many months.

I don’t want to start unearthing bulbs or digging up things that appear to be dead when they could be simply resting.

Yes, I know that sounds like an excuse for just resting myself, but there’s still plenty for me to do including raking up leaves, which is a full-time job at the moment.

Meanwhile I’m going to have to think about re-siting the compost bin. The top of a very damp slope was never the best position but I thought running up the hill with every apple core or carrot top that passed through the kitchen would keep me fit.

And it might, but only if I don’t slip at the top again. It’s amazing how much speed you can pick up when your Crocs lose their grip on wet grass.

There haven’t been many sunny days since we arrived, instead the equinox has brought with it the usual spell of blustery storms, but I’m beginning to get some idea of which parts of the garden are the brightest and making a good guess about how far the sun will penetrate once the trees that surround us have lost their leaves.

If the winter ahead brings snow then trips to the compost heap look set to involve skis.