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| As God intended? The front border before work began. |
I can recall my parents taking a very dim view when a new headmaster was appointed at my Comprehensive school who openly stated that he was an atheist. I have never figured out why this troubled them, since we never went to church - except for 'hatches, matches and dispatches' related services - never said 'grace' at meals or did anything else vaguely religious, but Mr Wilson's appointment was seemingly an irrevocable step down the slippery slope to 'progressive' teaching methids, the triumph of the 'permissive society' and complete educational and moral collapse.
I don't remember much about how Mr Wilson filled his non-religious assemblies, as I spent a disproportionate number of them in the Medical Room recovering from faints and dizzy spells, since my teenage circulatory system seemed ill-equipped for coping with my rapidly increasing height, but I do remember the story he told the school when he 'came out' as a godless heathen, as I was reminded of it when I began my major project of the last gardening year.
Mr Wilson's tale went like this. A country vicar leans on the wall of a cottage near his home, admiring the garden bursting with colourful flowers in pretty beds and healthy vegetables in neat rows. Seeing an elderly gent tending the plot, he remarks 'With the help of the Good Lord you've made a glorious garden, sir!' To which the canny old gardener replies, 'I don't know about the help of the Good Lord, Reverend - you should have seen the bloody state He'd let it get into when he was managing it on His own!'
I was reminded of this story when I popped across the road from one of my favourite gardens to consider a request to tackle the front garden of the local vicarage. Clearly, the Lord had been left to manage that alone for some time, and it truly was in a dreadful state. So bad, in fact, that I very nearly said 'no thanks'.
But I do like a challenge...
I was warned that a lot of old holly trees and bushes had been taken out of it some time before, but it was impossible to assess how much root and stalk might still lurk in the plot since most was smothered in meadow grasses practically my own height. However, there were bluebells and foxgloves making a bright, brave display to one side and the prospect of half-decent soil under the scrub (on the basis of the well-loved garden across the road), so I set to work.
The grasses pulled out surprisingly easily, with some encouragement from my big stainless steel fork, and after a couple of gardening sessions a truly mighty compost heap had appeared in the far corner of the border. Luckily they keep some chickens at the back, so there's no shortage of compost-accelerator, and the original 'Great Pyramid' has subsided well. I won't try and turn it until the spring now, in case it's in use for hibernation.
There is still a lot to do but I have to say that, having transplanted a lot of my favourite spring and early summer perennials into the border, I really am looking forward to the next growing season. The front border is almost clear of weeds and fully replanted, so the next task is to start working through the border at the side of the property which contains some lovely shrubs in dire need of pruning. And then there's a bed under the front window which needs ridding of horsetail.
If I can manage that, it will indeed be a miracle!
