Horticultural arts can be a challenge at any level

Kirsty Mcluckie on getting value for money in the garden

ardening spans a sliding scale of both talents and be left behind when we eventually move.

Not everyone manages to let go of their horticultural efforts, however. A friend bought a Victorian manse, having been charmed by its ivycovered exterior.

On moving day, he discovered that the previous owner had dug up the plant and transported it away, leaving the odd dying tendril stuck to the peeling render the ivy had presumably been covering for years.

He wouldn’t have minded had he not known that the seller was moving to a bungalow, and the three-storey-high plant would have to have been wrapped to fit the new house in the kind of combover that Donald Trump would be proud of.

But I can see the temptation to take as much horticulture as possible when you move.

In my garden, the thing I’m most proud of is an espaliered pear tree, trained up against a south-facing wall that has survived my inexpert pruning for a decade.

Countless hours have been spent up a ladder in a stiff breeze, drilling in wires to keep it in place, and it is now so impressive that I insist every visitor to the house views it and is encouraged to make admiring noises.

It is not only beautiful but productive, and this year is shaping up to deliver a bumper crop.

I would be heartbroken to leave my pear tree behind, but as its branches now reach the first floor bedroom window, perhaps it will pay for itself another way.

It is almost sturdy enough to climb down, and so in the coming years I will subtly encourage the children to use it to stage an elopement should they be so inclined – at least that way it might save us the cost of a wedding.