Digging myself into a hole lot of bother

IN the lull between Storms Ali and Bronagh, I dug a deep hole in the back garden.

When the leaves had finally settled I dug another. Now I’m on to my third, and if I hit rock again, then our plans to level the slope will have to be redrawn.

Instead of digging down, we’ll have to build up, creating terraces to support borders and a flat lawn.

On top of this, there’s a suggestion that access to the back garden is too steep and narrow for a mini-excavator, so we could be faced with doing it all by hand.

I’m sure there were days during the construction of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon when builders stood around, shaking their heads and saying that it couldn’t be done, so I’m refusing to be daunted by the task ahead.

Instead, when I’m not digging holes, I’m continuing to propagate everything I can get my hands on.

The latest arrivals are a large clump of Japanese anemones dug from my sister’s garden.

If I keep on raiding her plot then she’s not going to have any plants left, so I’ve promised her some lily of the valley to fill out the gaps.

I have crocosmia to swap, too, so much in fact that if I can’t find a new home for it, some may end up on the compost heap.

Meanwhile after delving about amongst the oriental poppies that have seeded themselves into the gravel at the front of the house, I managed to extract some roots with leaves attached and these have also gone into pots.

One day I dug out so much Lady’s Mantle that I couldn’t begin to pot it up individually, so I laid a couple of compost bags flat, cut around the upper surface to remove a rectangle of polythene, scooped out two thirds of the contents, then planted straight into the sacks, piercing them first on the underside to let water drain away.

If the weather gets too cold during the winter, then I may have to lay fleece over the top of these to protect the roots, but otherwise the plants should be fine until they go back into the ground.

There’s so much to do at the moment that it’s hard to keep on top of everything.

I have still to gather up the last of the leaves brought down by the storm and the salads in the polytunnel need pricking out.

But the first the of the sweet peas have been sown so it feels as if preparations for next summer are under way.

Next, it’s the turn of the bulbs to go into pots. As well as the usual line-up of spring favourites, I’m growing Imperial fritillaries.

Yes, I know that they smell like a rabbit hutch, but the flowers are worth it.

I also have dozens if Snakeshead fritillaries to plant under the Azaleas.

These little bulbs, with their delicate, chequered flowers, thrive in damp places so they should feel right at home here.