Design and choices

The naturalistic style has come to encapsulate …... imagery of the open countryside. …. It brings us into direct contact with living nature and the processes of seasonal cycles. Michael King 

The first thing to say is that I have always been suspicious about the use of grasses in contemporary gardens. I adore the flowery meadows that are now so popular. The look of unimproved grassland, with its succession of flowering plants sprinkled among the texture, with the addition of extra, colourful, natural flowers can be stunning in the right context.

However, in France we have a courtyard garden, and not a garden that flows naturally into a distant landscape, where this kind of planting is to my mind most appropriate. In most of the consciously designed village and urban gardens that I have seen, where grasses are planted in clumps to edge paths or mixed with flowering plants, it has seemed to me to be a fashion statement rather than an ongoing positive. But my ideas are changing!

I am taking my major inspiration from the courtyard garden at Durslade Farm, where one small area is planted in the shade of old farm buildings. This equates much more to our situation than Oudolf Field does, and although I would not expect to reproduce it, I can look closely at the way that the grasses form green shapes and paths and  punctuate the planting. Sesleria autumnalis is low-growing and bright green towards the end of the year, when the flowering plants tend to be losing colour. Deschampsia goldtau throws a feathery spray of seed heads that wave and flutter in the breeze. I will investigate these grasses. Where shall I put them? In structural drifts, is the way I am thinking.

When it comes to the flowering perennials, I need some that appeal to us, are not over-bred and do not need staking. They will be left all though the winter, so they need to keep a good structure or retain seed heads, giving some texture to what might otherwise be rather a barren look. Euphorbia and alchemilla mollis I already have, potted up from seedlings found in the garden in Dorset. Thalictrum, Astrantia, Aster, Echinops, Persicaria, Sanguisorba, Echinacea, Veronica, Salvia. Sedum, Achillia, Geranium, Papava, all spring to mind, but I must be careful to choose the right cultivars. That will be the result of lots of research and then finding which ones can be obtained at a reasonable cost. Many happy hours ahead, with my nose in my books and going down the digital rabbit hole.

Inspiration, and exasperation

"A complicated layering of seasonality, energy, endurance and reward – both before, during and after flowering". Piet Oudolf

I have recently been inspired by the work of Piet Oudolf (Dutch and working internationally, including in Britain) and Michael King (British, but working mostly in Holland). How do I marry my own principles with those of gardeners who are so expert and inspiring?

Having just visited the garden designed and planted by Piet Oudolf for Hauser & Wirth at Durslade Farm in Bruton in Somerset, I am flush with new ideas. The images I have brought back with me have filled my head with possibilities that I hadn't before envisaged in a garden. But how to capture the flavour of them in the garden in France?

So far in our courtyard, which measures 30 meters by 23 meters, I have got to know the feeling of the site during the work of moving all the existing plants to the borders that edge the walls, introducing shade-loving plants into the dinosaur garden and under the trees, and hydrangeas in the lea of a north-facing wall. I am left with a large, existing bed which has been cleared to facilitate the building work and some graveled areas either side of the place where the table is placed when the weather is very hot.

The relevant work of my two current heroes is based on the principle of the flowering prairie. They aim for a natural look, as reflected in nature, but since a garden is not nature, they select plants that will fit with the landscape but not compete with each other. Therefore it is largely perennials that are chosen. The plants should look good throughout the seasons and throughout their life, attracting wildlife and creating mood.

My own wishes revolve round a garden that gives interest at all times of the year (doesn't everyone want this?), shows a purposeful design without looking contrived, fits into its architectural, climatic position and its 'terroir', and will look after itself when we are not there (ha ha!).

My instinct would be to go for a structure of shrubs with coloured annuals and perennials, as in the traditional herbaceous border. I should be a little more imaginative in my approach! How do I marry instinct with inspiration?

Phew, what a scorcher!

'Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.'
Russel Baker

During the record-breaking high temperatures in England at the beginning of July, most people's gardens were drinking copiously from the hose and deep-breathing to stop from wilting. We were in France, so our garden had to suffer in silence. On our return, we found that, all of a sudden, everything had come together – healthy neglect was obviously a timely recipe.

Rocket and cut-and-come-again lettuce were ready for eating, along with all the herbs that had been biding their time before we left them. The thymes, sisyrinchium and alchemilla mollis planted among the pavings were looking happy and the tiny plants poked into crannies in the walls had put on weight and were trailing or blooming. Self-seeded nasturtiums had started to flower, as had the cosmos and antirrhinums(given the Chelsea chop in May) that had been put into spaces to give us some colour in our first year.

Now the new plants are finding their feet, I can imagine which ones will need to be moved in the autumn, and where I need to bring in plants of a different height, habit or colour. I am hoping that at the end of the season I shall be able to split some plants that seem to like these conditions and have spread enough to be divided. So far I don't have the problem of plants becoming too big for their spaces; next year, perhaps, or the year after.

We have been enjoying meals in the garden, taking in the scent of dianthus and roses, looking forward to the scent of honeysuckle and night-scented stocks in the next few weeks. I must savour the moment, and not constantly cast my eye from one place to another, anticipating the little jobs (weeding, dead-heading, pruning) to be done tomorrow.