Signs of Spring in the Borders

I’m sitting in the March sun facing the partially cut privet hedge. Two days work were not sufficient to complete it, but the two thirds that are done are an improvement. I must admit to feeling totally daunted by the garden this year (2006), having made three attempts at progress which were hampered by the unreasonable (!) but necessary demands of proper work, as well as winter ailments and poor weather. There are still so many massive jobs to do, and big decisions to make. Never mind it’s only a garden.

In the big borders there are impressive signs of spring, new shoots and a burgeoning greenness. I decided to start in the comparative warmth of the Polytunnel, but actually found the mess overwhelming, so moved on to the grass garden. Again, I was indecisive about how on Earth to make progress.

In for coffee. Here I am ; post – winter; sluggish, lazy, unfit and looking for excuses to do something indoors. By this time of year I have usually made a better start. Once I get going there will be no stopping me. I’ll procrastinate for a bit longer by picking some wild daffodils to brighten up the kitchen ( and myself, hopefully).

The pond looks like a huge dark mirror today. Hardly a ripple. One of Mum’s neighbours, Mr Pettit used to maintain there were only five cloudless Sundays like this each year. I wonder?

Starting on the sunny side of the herbaceous border, there’s a lot to clear out, and many new shoots to avoid treading on. Cutting back and raking through the Stipa gigantea is hugely satisfying, like combing a giant’s hair that has been tangled by the wind. I’ve taken two, 1 cubic metre gravel bags of dead stuff out. No proper hands and knees weeding, just cutting back and pulling out dead and spent stems. This is a good time of year for dramatic transformations in the big borders, and the main reason we plant spring bulbs, primroses and small, early flowering plants in other parts of the garden or in tubs where we don’t have to work round them.

In the autumn and well into the winter, the borders here look lush and voluptuous. Masses of textures, seedheads and colours that gradually bleach out, look sensational covered in frost, snow or raindrops and create a framework for rime and cobwebs.

How I detest this suburban view of ‘tidying up for the autumn. Cutting everything back in September/October and mulching the gaps with woodchip. Six or seven months of dull plant blobs surrounded by brown. Why? I think there is a time and place for order, pruning, deadheading and cutting down to the ground or removing altogether, but not for the sake of proving you are a tidy person, or that you are in control.

I’ve continued to clear away the debris from the borders. There was a lot of moss which was pleasing to scrape away with my hands. I’ve completed the end nearest the parking area and there’s about another half-day to go before planting up, feeding and mulching. I’m pleased with the progress. It didn’t turn out to be a cloudless Sunday after all, but it was bright and cold with a little wind.

I’ve had willing help from Boyo the dog, interspersed with sleeping on my discarded coat and kneeling pad. He woke up and started enthusiastic frantic digging, feigning total deafness when shouted at. He stopped eventually, jubilant, with head and tail held high and barking defiantly. Fifteen years old and still naughty. Good for him!