“At last I can be creative”
With the pond now taking care of itself, Adrian Thomas shares the progress of his wildlife garden in suburban West Sussex
With the pond now taking care of itself, Adrian Thomas shares the progress of his wildlife garden in East Sussex
FOUR YEARS ON, it’s hard to believe how much has changed here. This garden had been much loved by two sisters who had lived here since the 1940s and I was determined to create something in their spirit: a place to grow food, to delight in flowers and to allow wildlife to flourish. The first two years were dominated by getting on top of the garden, including removing many dangerous leylandii and asbestos-bonded roofing sheets dotted across the garden. Since then the work has been more creative and rewarding. You may remember that last year I dug a large pond, making use of the mouldering, longabandoned outdoor swimming pool. By considerably enlarging its area and removing tangled vegetation and earth banks, the pond now sits centre stage, a focal point for wildlife where I can sit and relax. I made it as large as I could, designing the pond’s shape by drawing over the top of photos of the existing garden.
It took five months to excavate by hand, a full 15m long by 8m wide (49x26ft) and just over a metre at its deepest, but with extensive shallows. It was lined with heavy duty butyl rubber, protected by a layer of pond felt below and on top. The first two summers were successful in terms of the pond’s colonisation by frogs and smooth newts, and as a bathing place for birds. However, blanketweed and other algae proliferated, despite having only put in a layer of gravel rather than nutrient-rich soil. My essential allies for sorting this are aquatic plants, pond snails and time. Together with tiny pond creatures such as daphnia, they mature into a self-cleaning ecosystem. As long as there isn’t an external source of nutrients upsetting the balance, such as run off from flowerbeds, excess dead leaves or tap water, a mature pond can look clean enough to drink.
A balance at last
This year, in its third summer, the new pond finally began to sort itself out. There was no daily fishing out of algae scum with a net, the pond plants began to thrive rather than languish, and waterlilies started to cast some all-important shade across the depths, suppressing algal growth. It has meant that the pond has required no work at all. This is what you want in a garden – areas that look after themselves, so you can sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labours or get on with work elsewhere. Grassy areas full of native wildflowers are the best habitat for many butterfly species; not only are they a place to drink nectar, but more importantly, they contain special food plants for their caterpillars. No caterpillars = no butterflies. The millions of garden lawns in the country are a bit like meadows, but because they’re grazed regularly by a ‘mechanical cow’, they’re useless for butterflies and caterpillars. So, I decided to create my own mini-meadow. I’ve been doing three different trials. In one area, I removed the top 15cm (6in) of
The pond has required no work at all. This is what you want in a garden – areas that look after themselves
soil to get down to poorer subsoil. This is the Holy Grail of meadow creation; in rich topsoil grasses grow thick and lush at the expense of flowers. I split this in two: in one half I sowed a wildflower mix in September 2017, then sowed the other in April 2018. My third experiment (see p70) is to turn an existing lawn into a wildflower meadow. I laid this area of bog-standard turf two years ago, and this September I mowed it, scarified the surface, and sowed a seed mix including cowslip (Primula veris, below) lady’s bedstraw (Galium verum) and bird’s-foot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus). The results from the autumn-sown meadow are very encouraging; for example, grasshoppers – usually such a rare insect in gardens – have started to colonise. By next summer, I’ll begin to see how the other two mini-meadows are doing, both for wildlife and aesthetics. At the start, I set out a seven-year plan for getting the garden basics in place, with a clear design of where all the paths and different ‘garden rooms’ would go. Although I’ve tweaked the layout in places, it’s pretty much stayed the same. What has changed, however, is the timescale. This summer, an attack of viral labyrinthitis destroyed my sense of balance for a month, and sapped me of energy for even longer. Several projects planned for the long summer evenings just didn’t happen. But a garden is always a work in progress, and the important thing is to enjoy the journey. So the schedule has been extended, and instead of taking on energetic projects, the garden became a vital part in my recuperation. I would wobble out onto a bench and just doze in the sunshine, the fresh air and birdsong, and in doing so feel that little bit better.